Fortune's End [1/6]
Title: Fortune's End
Pairing: Luhan/Chen, Luhan/Xiumin
Rating: NC-17
Length: 53,444 words
Warnings: Slavery, concubines, explicit sexual encounters, implied violence.[Spoiler (click to open)]
This story contains and includes the consequences of war and slavery. Readers should be sensitive to the fact that some of the relationships in this story will be realistic and at times unhealthy. Does not contain non-con.
Summary: Luhan has spent ten years struggling to raise a ransom and free Minseok from the clutches of the Western Kingdom. When the same kingdom’s warpath ensnares Luhan, he thinks all is lost. But is it?
Note: written for deerofdawn round 2
He always managed to stay a step ahead of the Western armies, eternally skirting their line, aware of where they looted and plundered. It was in his own best interests to stay informed, to understand where the hordes were marching. It was a dark and dismal reality that pushed him from village to village. A constant move to escape the alternative- capture or death.
Luhan was never wanting when it came to information on the army’s movements. Knowing the shadiest mercenary was as useful as the forlorn refugee. Either would report on what had happened a day’s march away if plied with the smallest amount of coin, a loaf of bread, or in the direst of conditions, a drink of clean water. Life in a war ravaged land created endemic vulnerabilities for the sad souls who remained. Information was easy to come by if you had the upper hand, the populace starved for resources.
Coin was the one resource Luhan had plenty of. All earned on the hopes and dreams of those sad villagers who grasped at any possible hope of peace, no matter how ridiculous their desires were in retrospect. The coin that Luhan collected was not earned to line his own pockets, however. For the past ten years he had embarked on a life of fortune telling, the profession chosen because of the chances for easy coin. He hoarded what coin he collected in the hopes of one day paying the ransom that hung over one man’s life. Ten long years, and he still didn’t have enough.
He heard a cawing from a nearby tree, and looking up he caught sight of his constant companion. “Tao, we must be moving on.”
The black raven, a powerful looking bird, flew down from its perch and rested on Luhan’s outstretched arm. Luhan smiled at the creature, sensing its restlessness. The raven knew when it was time to leave as much as Luhan did. His bird friend was as used to the rugged and wayward lifestyle as he was.
“We made decent coin here, at least.” Luhan had counted out the stack of coins a few minutes prior, relishing in the desperation that came from plying fortunes near the front. Years ago, when he had first started telling fortunes, he had regretted taking money for his vague and unbelievable statements. Ten years and a wealth of hardships later his hesitation had morphed into acceptance and, dare he admit, a sense of pride. He gave the people hope, he gave those facing a third decade of war some calm before the inevitable storm.
In ten years he had learned two absolute truths - humans wanted to believe what they were told, especially when the message was hopeful. Humans also were willing to part with their hard earned, scarce coin if they believed learning such a fortune may help them escape certain death.
A lot of people asked Luhan where or if they should flee, if there was hope for them. He answered cryptically, relying on a well-honed sense of discerning what each person wanted to hear. They never argued when he asked for a shilling - it wasn’t a fortune after all. The cost of a loaf of bread. When he was lucky they gave him more.
After a few days in a village he would move on, exhausting those willing to take advantage of his services. He had already been in this particular village for four days, nearly a record. If the hordes were moving, as was usually the case, the village would be the site of an attack soon. They were too near the last series of raids for Luhan to believe any differently. Luhan didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a fight - assuming the Eastern armies were also near a battle was certain, he needed to move further to the east to avoid the bloodshed.
Luhan grabbed his worn leather pack. Slinging it on his back he picked up his walking stick from where it rested against a thick, ancient tree trunk. He had spent the last four days telling fortunes under the huge oak. It wasn’t terrible considering there were times he ended up reading fortunes on the sides of muddy roads or in animal waste-filled fields. He had once spent time plying his trade for an outfit of the Eastern army soldiers, setting up shop in a scorched building, the smoke still rising from the decimated village, an acrid atmosphere that made dishing out hopeful fortunes that much more ironic.
Tao, having flown to sit on a thick tree limb while Luhan grabbed his pack, let out a series of high pitched caws. The raven was growing impatient.
Luhan took one last look at the village, knowing that he would probably not see it intact the next time he wandered this way. The thatched roofs would catch fire easily, the embers catching on the wind and spreading the conflagration until nothing was left of the settlement. It would follow the fate of dozens - maybe hundreds of small villages situated near the border - gone with the swords and fire of the Western soldiers. Letting out a sigh Luhan mentally bid the place farewell, beginning his trek. It would be at least three days walk until he reached the next village, a long voyage that he was slightly dreading. Sleeping in the forest for two nights in a row was not an attractive prospect.
He was nearing the edge of the small village when he heard his name called. Turning around he spotted a small boy running towards him, flailing his arms and screaming excitedly. “Seer Luhan! Seer Luhan!”
Luhan stopped walking and waited for the boy to reach him. He stared down at the small form and smiled at the sight. The boy was doubled over, catching his breath, all youthful energy and excitement. He had read the boy’s fortune the day prior, for free, not trusting that the boy had actually earned the shilling he was carrying. Luhan did have some standards, after all, one of which included not taking the meager coins a child stole from his parents in exchange for the novelty of a fortune telling.
“Seer! It is true!” The boy managed to get out between sucking in gulps of air, attempting to calm his breathing. “What you said is true!”
Luhan couldn’t recall exactly what he had said to the boy but it was safe to assume it was as vague as most of his fortunes. “Of course it is.” Luhan patted the boy’s head, ruffling his hair.
“The,” gasp, “Westerners are coming.”
Luhan paled. But he hadn’t - there had been no word of the horde encroaching. “What?!”
“You said something exciting would happen today. It is! The watch says they are nearly upon us!”
Luhan stared towards the village. The normal din of the place shifted; a perceptible wave of panic overcoming the village. In the distance Luhan could make out villagers scurrying about, the distant view of the marketplace erupting into chaos. Crouching down so he was eye level with the boy Luhan implored, “Where are they? How far away?”
He didn’t have time to receive an answer, he didn’t have time to tell the boy to run to safety, or time to make himself scarce. The sound of hoofbeats, the whoops of war cries, the screams of terror were unleashed from the village. The Western army had arrived.
The young boy yelled something unintelligible then rushed towards the village before Luhan could stop him. Luhan watched in horror, his body stilling at the sound of screams, at the sudden smell of burning thatch. He saw smoke, he heard the hoofbeats pounding on the dirt road and then the riders came into view. Armored men atop warhorses, their swords in hand.
He needed to get away, out of their path, an impossibility when three riders spotted him and charged ahead at full speed, their imposing horses bearing down on him, the glint of armor in the sunlight a torturous sight. So this was it, he thought, he would die now, never having met the ransom, never seeing him again. Never…
His world went black, a splitting pain shooting down his neck.
The dripping of water was the first sound that Luhan recognized. It was a constant noise that cut through the crushing pain in his head. When he tried to open his eyes he winced. He raised his hand to clutch his forehead. It felt like his entire body was on fire, his nerve endings firing as the pain coursed through him.
“He is awake.”
“Get him some water.”
“You have a nasty gash on your head. I cleansed it, but you will likely be in pain for a while.” The voice was soft. Whoever was speaking was near, the words a whisper in his ear.
He tried to recall what had happened. The memory of the horses, the riders in full armor, their swords, sending him into a panic. Then he realized - he wasn’t dead, they must have spared him for some reason. “Where am I?”
“At camp.”
“Which camp?” Luhan didn’t really need to ask, he knew. He had been taken by the Westerners. He recognized the inflection, the accent. His head hurt too much to open his eyes to see who was speaking to him.
“The Western camp. We will be marching at sun-up, so you best rest while you can.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Luhan thought death might be preferable to captivity if the stories he had heard were to true. The Westerner’s brutal treatment of their prisoners were spoken of in taverns far and wide.
“I am not sure.”
Luhan drank when he felt a cup pressed to his lips, too thirsty to deny himself water in protest of his capture. After drinking half the cup he fell back onto whatever he was lying on. It felt like a pile of hay, soft but with a definite hardness under him. It wasn’t more than a minute before he lost consciousness again.
The next time he woke the sun was rising, birds were chirping. The sound made him think of Tao. He hoped the raven had survived the fight. A large part of him prayed the bird was near; the thought of losing his friend causing his stomach to churn.
The pain in his head had lessened. He could open his eyes without his nerve endings firing off and making him want to double over. Looking around, Luhan realized he was in a tent, resting on a pile of hay. He was alone, but the evidence that others had been in the tent were all around him. Indentations in the ground indicated others had rested here as well.
Luhan stood. He was wobbly on his feet and he had to still himself for a moment lest he fall over. Regaining his balance he made his way towards the entrance to the tent. He brushed pieces of hay from his tunic as he went. How he wished he could escape- but that would be a fool’s errand. Escape was no longer an option.
Pushing the flap of the tent open he found himself in the middle of camp, chainmail draped warriors dismantling tents all around him. The smell of fire was in the air, no doubt a result of the raid on the village.
“I wouldn’t snoop around if I were you.” A man approached, lean but imposing, a shock of black hair framing a tanned face. Luhan recognized the voice. It was the man from the night before. “I am going to need to bind you, until we arrive.”
“Arrive where?” Luhan asked, anxiety coursing through him. Where were they taking him?
“You will see,” The man answered. He grabbed Luhan’s arm and lead him to where the rest of the captives were waiting, the others already bound by ropes and chains.
They marched for six days. It was a miserable rain soaked journey made all the worse because Luhan spent the entirety of the time in a caged wagon, alongside the others who had been taken. In half a day the wagon stunk of human waste and body odor. It was a nauseating mix that had Luhan retching for most of the journey. His arms chafed against the chains that bound him, his body quickly descending into near constant pain.
When he was first put into the wagon Luhan chanced a look around at his fellow captives. He recognized some of them as villagers whose fortune he had told. He didn’t dare look them in the eye after recognizing them, not when they cast him spiteful looks and whispered among themselves. He didn’t have the energy to argue, to apologize, or to explain that the fortunes he had told - some likely giving the villagers hope - were nothing but lies.
The only bright light during the journey was a loud cawing heard the second day. Luhan was sure it was Tao, likely following along. It gave him a measure of relief to know his friend was still alive. He needed something to hold onto, the realization that he had lost all the money he had saved kicking in, increasing the despair and misery he felt. He would need to start over…if he even lived, that is.
He had worked for it, for ten long years, chasing the memory of the boy he left behind, a price on his head. Now he was taken captive by the same people who had stolen away the light of his life, the same disgusting scum that caused the world to remain in a perpetual state of chaos.
On the sixth day the march slowed, a city became visible in the distance. The Western city of Dinas Gwynn, the great fortress built of white stone quarried from the coast, was before them. Luhan had never seen it in person, only heard it described by wandering minstrels or whispered of in taverns - tall tales that probably shouldn’t be believed. Since the war broke out decades prior no one in the East voluntarily made the journey to the place. The city was the second largest in the West, a fortress as much as a settlement. Imposing. Stark. Intimidating.
Through his near delirium Luhan found little time to be impressed with the looming fortress. The scale and size of the tiered castle on the hill, the tall and imposing walls, the massive gate, did nothing to him other than confirm his feelings of dread and pure hatred for the Westerners. Once he was inside he would likely never be able to leave. It was all over for him.
He didn’t even bother looking out the bars when the wagon rumbled through the gates, preferring to stare at the waste filled wagon floor instead of acknowledging his new prison. He was now in the stronghold of his enemy, the place where the man he hated more than anyone else in the entire world likely dwelled. It was a terrible predicament, Luhan had little hope left.
“Step to the left. Left. Right. Left.” The man was barking out orders as the prisoners were urged to leave the wagon, some of them having to be dragged from their mobile prison. A well dressed, sandy haired man, he had appeared from the depths of the castle to greet the arriving party. He was sorting, for what Luhan had no idea. The majority of people were sent to the left, whether that fate was better than what awaited on the right was completely unknown.
“Kai, didn’t you feed them?! They appear half dead!” The man barked at the warrior who had been accompanying the wagon, the same man who Luhan had met outside the tent six days prior. The warrior was visibly annoyed, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated manner.
“Rats got into our grain, we were short food. What would you have me do, Baekhyun? Feed the soldiers or the slaves?!”
A heavy sigh was the only response the sandy haired man gave, returning to sorting the prisoners.
Luhan could barely stand when he stepped out of the wagon, his legs felt like jelly from being kept in a confined space for so many days. He was hungry, the only food he had been given during the journey was a corn mush that made his stomach turn. The pain in his limbs had intensified with each passing day. He was likely dehydrated due to the scant amount of water that rationed to the prisoners every day. In short he was a mess, ready to collapse at the slightest push.
“Right.” The man ordered Luhan towards where another prisoner stood, a tall and gangly man who looked as bad as Luhan felt. Luhan felt surprised when the man offered his arm for him to lean on. It was a gentle gesture that meant the world to Luhan in his current state. He shifted his weight into the man, focusing all his energy on keeping himself upright. If he fell he was afraid they would kill him. A part of him wondered if death would be so bad - the pain coming to an end.
The sorting of the prisoners ended, those to the left marched towards an unknown fate through a door into the castle complex. Luhan and the tall villager were the only two ordered to stand to the right. If Luhan had more of his senses about him he would have panicked at being so singled out.
“This way,” the shorter man beckoned for them to follow. When they didn’t move at once he rolled his eyes. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Luhan felt the tall man stumble forward, and by default Luhan did too. They followed the man through a door, into the castle, an unknown fate before them. A dark future that was their only option- a wall of armed guards blocking any potential escape.
Luhan stumbled down the snaking passageways, more than once having to rely on the tall man for support. A blur of white stone, flickering candles, and a musty smell accompanying the journey. Luhan hoped the small man leading them didn’t notice his weakness, but if he did he didn’t say anything. They walked up a winding stone staircase, down another long hall, their guide producing a ring of several keys.
“This will be your home, for now.” The man gestured towards a large door. “I will see that food and water are brought to you.”
“What are you going to do to us?” the tall man asked, his voice raspy and dry.
The guide laughed, his mirth echoing in the stone passage way. “Don’t look so afraid. I am going to feed you and get you cleaned up. You two are the lucky ones.”
Lucky ones…Luhan swallowed, the fear he was feeling growing tenfold with the man’s words.
It was three days before Luhan felt normal again, the pain in his limbs subsiding, his hunger and his thirst sated. What the guide- Baekhyun was his name, Luhan learned after the man all but hovered over him for the last three days - had said was true. They were treated well, there was definitely some luck involved in their current situation. How long that luck would continue, however, had Luhan living in fear.
“What about the others?” The tall man asked. His name was Chanyeol, a brief exchange of names given on the first day they were thrust into the strange situation.
“Some will be working in the stables or with the tradesmen. Most will be sent to mines or quarries, a few may even work towards becoming personal servants in the court - if they are trustworthy, of course,” Baekhyun answered, his words not conveying any emotion on the matter.
“And if they are not trustworthy?”
“I don’t think I need to tell you what happens then,” Baekhyun answered. Chanyeol’s face paled at the statement. Later Luhan learned that Chanyeol’s older sister was sent to the left to an unknown fate.
Chanyeol had proven to be a savior during the first three days. Luhan was greatly indebted to him. He had tried to make some sort of light of the situation, soothing Luhan with calming words when the other man was on the verge of complete mental collapse. They forged a bond, strangers in a strange situation, having only each other to rely upon.
They had given up hopes of escaping the first day. The sight of well-armed guards evident as they peered out the small, barred windows in their room. Trying to escape would be impossible, at least now.
It gnawed at Luhan, day and night, why he was treated the way he was. He was being taken care of, fed, and kept in comfort. Yet…he was most definitely a prisoner. A prisoner with his mortal enemy likely dwelling somewhere nearby; a decade old memory of the Western noblemen as vivid as it had happened the day prior. The hatred raged through him. He needed to find a way out. He would have to escape as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
His situation changed on the third day, Baekhyun entering the room in a flourish. Two serving women trailed behind him, their arms full of silken robes.
“It is time to dress.” Baekhyun’s words were an order. Luhan and Chanyeol stood up as he entered the room, nodding as he delivered his command.
Luhan had marveled at the richly embellished garment that Baekhyun wore, a deep forest green color with golden embroidery along the sleeves, framing the collar, and trailing along the hem. He had seen such rich fabric from far away, once, when he had chanced to observe one of the Eastern nobles traverse the countryside as his stronghold was overrun by the Westerners. It had to have cost a fortune, leaving Luhan to wonder if Baekhyun was some sort of nobility.
The robes that Luhan and Chanyeol were dressed in were white, with much less decoration. Yet the garment was clearly well made, the fabric the softest that Luhan had ever felt against his skin. A small black cloth belt secured the robes.
“I shall give you advice, considering you have done little to trouble me over the last three days,” Baekhyun spoke slowly, “Bow when you enter. Do not make eye contact. Do not speak unless spoken to and do not show emotion no matter the outcome.”
“What is about to happen?” Chanyeol demanded, fidgeting with the long sleeves of his robe.
“It is best if you find out once is all said and done.” Baekhyun retained his habit of answering vaguely, directing the two men to follow him, as if he wouldn’t answer any more questions no matter how incessant the two men were.
Luhan and Chanyeol walked side by side. They followed Baekhyun down the winding stone stairs, the silence heavy.
Luhan, now of sound mind, paid attention to the passages, the grey stone floor, the white stone walls, and the carefully crafted glass paned windows filtering the castle halls with natural light. As they walked further into the keep of the castle, the décor became more sumptuous, tapestries depicting hunting scenes hanging on the walls, furniture carved with the minutest details resting along the white stone walls. Luhan would have been impressed if he didn’t know where such wealth came from. It was plundered, stolen, born through the blood of those who were slaughtered. He had a burning desire to tear at the rich decorations, disgusted at what they represented. A thirty year war, a sign of riches stolen from the impoverished and decimated Eastern Kingdom.
Accompanying the increasing wealth of décor came the presence of guards, armed warriors standing sentinel, swords at their sides, chainmail weighing heavy on their shoulders. Servants were more numerous too, barefoot women and men running to and fro, bowing to Baekhyun when they encountered him.
Their journey ended in front of a great set of carved wooden doors. Luhan had only a second to consider who may dwell on the other side of such doors, if he would face the man whose name he had cursed every night for a decade. His stomach turned, adrenaline rushed through his body as his heart began to pound. If only he could take revenge then and there, if only he wasn’t in his current situation. The sound of the doors opening redirected Luhan’s attention towards self-preservation. Later, he could take his revenge later.
Baekhyun entered the room with his head bowed, Luhan and Chanyeol following suit out of fear.
“Your highness, I have brought the two men we spoke of.”
Luhan memorized the pattern on the large blue embroidered carpet, keeping his head bowed, not daring to look up.
The sound of footsteps, leather boots hitting the floor only feet in front of him, made Luhan stiffen. It had to be him, he was sure of it and the monster was approaching, closing in, intentions unknown.
A hand grabbed Luhan’s chin, forcing his head up. Luhan opened his eyes wide, he wouldn’t let the man see him afraid. He would defy him. He was prepared, ready to stare his enemy in the face without flinching. Yet he was taken aback when the face in front of him wasn’t the man he had expected to see.
The man hovered only inches in front of Luhan, his dark brown eyes dragging over Luhan’s features. His grip on Luhan’s chin was tight, Luhan ignoring the pain as he stared back at the man. The man possessed catlike eyes, high cheekbones, the corner of his lips were slightly upturned as he smirked, a challenge. As quickly as he had grabbed a hold of Luhan he let him go, walking to Chanyeol and repeating the forced inspection.
Luhan watched as the man stalked back towards his throne, a great wooden monstrosity that dominated one end of the large room.
“Give him to Kai.” The man gestured lazily towards Chanyeol before pointing at Luhan. “I want to keep him. He looks like he has some fight in him. ”
A long silence followed, Luhan unable to do anything but clench his fists as he stared at the man. He couldn’t be certain what transaction had just occurred, what Chanyeol going to Kai really meant. He had no way of knowing for certain, but he had a feeling he understood what had just happened. He had an inkling of what being taken care of, what being fed and bathed and dressed well could indicate. The desire to revolt, to run, was stronger than ever.
“Yes, your highness.” Baekhyun bowed, herding Chanyeol and Luhan out of the room. Luhan shot the man a glare before he turned, his scowl met with boisterous laughter from the nobleman.
When they were out of the room, Baekhyun turned to Luhan. His expression was dark, distaste evident in the way he looked at Luhan. “Your fun has just began, Luhan.” His words were biting, callous, and spiteful.
They were not returned to the room where they had been housed for the last three days. Instead Baekhyun ordered two guards to take Luhan to what he referred to as the blue room. Luhan wanted to cry, the tears threatening to spill as they led him deeper into the keep.
He was all but pushed into a large, richly decorated room. A four poster bed covered in royal blue embroidered coverings dominated the space. A trestle bench, a plethora of cushions of blue scattered about, and a large table rounded out the décor.
The click of the key in the lock was the final straw, the tears flowing freely as Luhan slumped against the heavy wooden door. He cried for many minutes, his sorrow flitting from his own failure to remain free, to his own failure to free the one man that had ever meant anything to him.
Could he…the thought had Luhan wiping his tears. Could he be here too? No, likely not. The man who had greeted Luhan was not the man who had taken Minseok so many years before. The Western Kingdom had many strongholds, he was probably held somewhere else. But now who would free him? The tears returned.
Many minutes later Luhan wandered over to the windows, curious if perhaps there was a way out, a glimmer of light amidst his sorrows. He realized that the room was in one of the castle’s towers - attempting to flee by smashing the glass would be a death sentence. He was trapped, with a horrible fate before him. For a moment, a brief moment, he considered hurling himself from the room. He halted the painful train of thought when he remembered what he had to live for. Minseok.
Hours passed before the door opened. Luhan had nodded off for a moment, his body exhausted, his tears dried up as he faced the brutal path ahead of him. He startled awake, eyes wide as he took in the form of a woman entering the room, a tray in her hands. A man followed her, carrying a deep blue robe. The door locked behind them, a reminder that there would be no chances for him to escape.
They bowed to Luhan, a completely unexpected gesture that left him confused. He watched as the woman set the tray down. She bowed once again before she tapped on the door, a guard opening it and giving her leave.
“I have brought your official robes.” The man - no, boy, he was young, probably a few years short of his twentieth year - presented the garment to Luhan.
“Official?” Luhan questioned, the man nodded. He was small, wide eyed, dressed in robes that were less elaborate than those worn by Baekhyun but still finely made. His demeanor hovered somewhere between indifference and disdain.
“Yes, official.” The man did not look amused by the question.
Luhan took a chance, hoping the man would answer some questions. He noticed an eastern inflection in his tone. Perhaps he would humor his countryman. “I shall put them on if you tell me what is going on.” He spoke in hushed tones, not wanting the guards outside to overhear.
The man tilted his head to the side, not bothering to look shocked or annoyed. “What do you want to know?”
“What is official about these robes, who is the man I saw earlier, and have you ever heard of a man by the name of Minseok.” Luhan rattled off his questions, not knowing if he would have another opportunity to ask them.
The man kept an even tone as he explained, “You are now the official concubine of Prince Jongdae of the Western Kingdom.”
“Official...concubine?”
“It is a custom for the lords and knights to take a concubine from the ranks of those captured.” He explained. “A trophy of war they say. Your robe marks you as such, you wear the color of your master.”
Luhan bit his bottom lip, clenching his fists he stalked to the window. So it was true, they were taking care of him so he could warm a Western noble’s bed. The thought of ever lying with one of the scoundrels made him sick.
“Please, wear the robe.” The man pushed the robes towards him. “I don’t want to bear the brunt of their anger if you resist.”
“Is Jongdae related to King Junmyeon?” Luhan waited, needing to know. It didn’t matter, not truly, but he wanted to know.
“The king is his father,” the boy responded. So, Luhan thought, Jongdae was his son, the spawn of the man who had so efficiently ruined his life.
“What of Minseok. Have you heard that name before? Is he captive here?” Luhan implored, the answer to this question more important than anything else.
“No, he is not captive here,” the boy replied, gesturing once again towards the robe.
“Have you heard of him?” Luhan felt a flutter in his chest, a foreign feeling. Had he seen Minseok? Was he well? Was he alive?
“No.” He picked up the robe, pushing it into Luhan’s arms.
Luhan felt crestfallen, picking up the robe he thanked the boy. It wasn’t his fault, he was likely as much of a slave as he was. “What is your name?”
“Kyungsoo, keeper of the keys. Please say I treated you well.” He bowed deeply, taking his leave.
Luhan traced his fingers along the edges of the royal blue robe, deep in thought. Minseok. It had been so long since he had said the name aloud, the sound of it shocked him. It was almost foreign. Yet the name still invoked a deep and long lasting response in him; a stirring in his chest that could not be ignored.
Ten years ago they had been so happy, both barely past their sixteenth year, a life ahead of them. Minseok was an orphan, a trait he shared with Luhan, both losing their parents to the swords of the Western armies when they were barely children. The pain of living without family had shaped Luhan into a headstrong, disillusioned teenager, quick to distrust others and lacking in deep seated bonds. It had made him tough, made him grow up fast, and that pain was mimicked in the wide eyed boy he met during his sixteenth year.
They met in a village called Ty Du, a small outpost that no longer stood, destroyed years ago during a raid by the Westerners. It was a friendship first, Minseok stumbling across a passed-out Luhan and attempting to not so cleverly run off with his small pouch of coins. Luhan had woken up and caught him. After a nasty verbal altercation they had fallen exhausted into the grass, exchanging a few snippets of their lives and realizing they would benefit from keeping each other’s company for survival reasons. Four hands were better than two.
Minseok was the more mischievous of the pair, bolder and less fearful of the chaotic world they called home. Luhan found excitement with Minseok, sometimes wrongly so. They had been chased out of more than one market as they stole food or a new pair of boots, ran out of town with an angry shop owner hot on their heels. Luhan still chuckled at the memory of the time Minseok amazingly beat three Eastern mercenaries at an arm wrestling match, walking away with a stack of coins and enough bread to feed them for a week. The day that Minseok managed to break a wild horse, winning the beast from its bewildered owner and then selling it for a month’s supply of ale also stuck in his mind, as did the escapades that followed.
Yet there were more poignant, personal memories. Minseok was the one that found Tao, a baby bird with a broken wing. Minseok had nursed him, alongside Luhan, earning a constant companion along the way. Minseok had been the one who gave Luhan his first kiss, a shy peck under the light of a full moon while they made camp at the edges of the great Eastern forest. Minseok was the first person to tell Luhan he loved him, the first person to whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he drifted off to sleep.
Luhan had liked Minseok as more than a friend for months before the other boy reciprocated the feeling, Luhan stunned Minseok felt the same way. It was an easy transition, from friends to lovers. Minseok was perfect, Luhan would take that thought to his grave, he was sure of it. He was perfect for him and Luhan would do anything for him.
Ten years ago the knights of the Western lands bore down on them during a raid on a village, taking Minseok but leaving Luhan with a promise. Raise enough gold and they would set Minseok free, the King Junmyeon delivering the threat himself. Riding on a great white steed he had sneered at Luhan, taunting him with the promise of a ransom as he rode off, leaving flames and death in his wake.
The last time Luhan saw Minseok he was bound with rope, his face a bloody mess, tears streaming down his cheeks. He would never forget, he could never forget. Minseok. He would free him if that was the last action of his sad and despicable life. Minseok. His Minseok.
Yet he had failed, or so it seemed. His stash of gold lost, his own life forfeited to sexual servitude. He was angry at himself for being so foolish as to stay in the village for four days, not leaving earlier. He had ruined everything, dooming Minseok to a lifetime in captivity.
In many ways leaving Minseok to such a fate was worse than living through captivity himself. A sense of complete and utter failure, an inability to save the one he loved worse than any pain that lay before him as the concubine of Prince Jongdae.
Luhan pounded his fist on the side table, tossing the blue robe aside. He wouldn’t wear it, he couldn’t.
Baekhyun entered the room a few hours after the sun had set, Kyungsoo trailing behind him.
“Why aren’t you wearing the robes?” Baekhyun was clearly not pleased at the sight before him. Luhan had spent the afternoon in a fury, having to stop himself from destroying the contents of the room. He had retreated to the wooden trestle bench in the corner of the room, spending hours in deep contemplation. He wallowed in his fate and his powerlessness to do anything - other than protest what a change of clothes signified.
Luhan stared at Baekhyun, not answering.
“If you refuse to wear the robe I will have no choice but to report your behavior. I cannot guarantee what will happen to you once I do.”
“The robe is a sign of ownership, isn’t it?” Luhan looked Baekhyun in the eyes, daring to ask, “Who is your owner, Baekhyun?” He had come to the conclusion Baekhyun must be a concubine as well, the robes were too similar.
Baekhyun wasn’t outwardly affected by the question. “A brave and loyal man that is worth a hundred of you.”
Luhan exhaled.
“Kyungsoo, leave us.” Baekhyun sent the boy away. Kyungsoo bowed furiously as he scurried from the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Baekhyun walked over to the trestle bench. Sitting next to Luhan he began to speak. “If you think you are the first concubine who has found himself at odds with his fate, then you are far more foolish than I made you out to be. What a concubine learns is how to survive, Luhan. You want to survive, don’t you?”
Luhan remained silent. Did Baekhyun’s question deserve an answer?
“If you want to survive, if you want that promise of possible freedom, you will use your position to your advantage. You aren’t stuck in a mine, slaving for the kingdom. You have the unique position of direct access to the nobleman who decides your fate. If you cannot decipher why wearing that robe is in your best interests, than you don’t deserve to survive.”
Baekhyun left without saying another word. Luhan stared at the robe, a decision before him. Survival. Could he do it to survive?
Luhan awoke with a start, the loud click of a key turning in a lock pulling him out of his fitful rest. He scrambled to sit at the edge of the bed and braced himself for who may be paying him a visit. It was late at night, Luhan having passed out despite his best attempts to remain awake.
The door opened, the nobleman that he had met earlier in the day striding in. Luhan heard the door lock. Panic set in as he realized the situation; he was locked in…with a Western Prince.
The man stood in the middle of the room, his gaze cold and lacking in emotion as he stared at Luhan.
Luhan stared back, once again not willing to show any amount of fear. He would fight if attacked. He had no qualms about protecting himself if the prince was going to take without his consent, consent that he most certainly was not going to give.
“What is your name?”
Luhan answered, his voice cracking as he did. “Luhan.” He clenched his fists, waiting for the assault.
“Luhan.” Jongdae stalked closer to the bed, Luhan backing up as the prince approached. “You are quite pretty, for an Easterner.”
Balling his fists, Luhan felt his entire body tense. He would attack if the man got closer, if he dared attempt to molest him.
“What a frightened little thing you are.” Jongdae laughed. “Do you want me to force you, Luhan? You are expecting it, aren’t you?”
“I will fight back.” Luhan gritted his teeth, ready.
“Ah, exactly as I thought you would.” Jongdae was closing in, nearing the bed, leaning in. “Do you think you would live another day if you dared fight me?”
“I don’t care.”
“I believe you are lying, Luhan.” Jongdae smirked, eyes raking down Luhan’s form, hovering for a moment on the royal blue robes Luhan had begrudgingly dressed in. “I wanted you for the fight and it appears I am not to be disappointed.”
Jongdae moved onto the bed, and planting his hands on each side of Luhan to steady himself, he crept closer. Luhan didn’t wait for the prince to bridge the gap between them. He raised his fist, striking.
Luhan’s fist collided with Jongdae’s hand, the prince displaying a split second reaction and stopping Luhan’s fist from colliding with his face. The block shocked Luhan, who stared at the prince in horror, his fist held securely in the man’s hand.
“There is something you should learn about me, Luhan,” Jongdae whispered, hand tight around Luhan’s fist. “I only take what is given to me willingly.” Jongdae released Luhan’s fist with a push, smiling as Luhan tumbled back onto the bed.
The prince stood, brushing off his clothing he walked towards the door. “Goodnight, Luhan.”
Luhan clutched his sore fist, watching as the Prince left the room. The sound of a key turning in the lock indicating the encounter was over.
Luhan picked at the breakfast that Kyungsoo brought him, unable to stomach food at the moment. Kyungsoo shot him several questioning looks, straightening up the room while Luhan poked at the plate of fruit.
“You should eat.” The boy scolded Luhan after he failed to take more than two bites in the half an hour he had spent puttering about the room. “You shall fall ill if you don’t eat.”
“Where are you from?” Luhan took an apple in hand, turning it over, examining it.
When Kyungsoo didn’t answer Luhan looked up from the apple. He found the boy occupying himself with rearranging the cushions in the corner for the second time. “Are you from the East?” Luhan asked again. Not receiving an answer he set the apple down, wandering over to the window.
The view below him was a steep drop into one of the multitude of winding stone passages that snaked around the castle. The maze of walls and pathways was astounding to someone who was used to small villages and wide open countryside. Luhan could make out white stone structures, the city surrounding the castle stretched on for what seemed like forever. Dinas Gwynn was larger than any city Luhan had ever set foot in, willingly or otherwise, a mammoth settlement that spoke of the unfortunate power of the Western Kingdom.
A caw sounded, muffled by the glass panes of the window, but still loud enough for Luhan to perk up at the noise. Was it Tao? Had he followed him all the way to the city? Luhan searched the sky for any sight of his friend, sighing in relief when a familiar black bird perched on the parapet of a walkway some feet below his window. It was most certainly Tao. Luhan fought back tears at the realization. He wasn’t alone, not entirely. Tao was there, watching over him even while he was a captive.
“I am from the East.”
Luhan stilled at the words, not expecting the boy to speak. Turning, he asked gently, “What exactly do you do here?”
“I serve the concubines, holding the keys to the chambers.” The boy answered shyly, as if he was hiding his inability to talk to others behind a front of disinterest.
“You keep us locked in?” Luhan wanted to confirm it.
“Yes,” Kyungsoo confirmed.
“Of your own free will?”
“I didn’t come here because I wanted to,” Kyungsoo answered matter-of-factly.
Luhan digested the fact. “Why?”
“Why, what?” Kyungsoo seemed disinterested with the question. “I found my fate the same as you found yours.”
Luhan spoke quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Why do you hold the keys?”
“I am a eunuch, they have nothing to fear from me.”
Luhan didn’t miss the sadness in the boy’s expression as he answered, a momentary flash of emotion that Kyungsoo quickly stifled behind a serious façade. He left a few seconds later, having nothing more to say.
The Prince returned to Luhan’s chambers that night, their second encounter drastically different than the first. Luhan was still prepared to fight if need be. Thankfully he was sitting on the trestle bench and nowhere near the bed when Jongdae arrived. Being caught on the bed was something he was not ready for.
Jongdae sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes roving over the concubine much as they had the first night. The difference was in his actions, for he did not attempt to get closer to Luhan, to frighten, threaten or mock him for his own amusement.
“Are the servants treating you with respect?” Jongdae questioned, clasping his hands together and leaning forward.
“Yes,” Luhan answered, still on edge, not knowing if the prince’s calm demeanor would change in an instant.
“Are you comfortable?”
“No,” Luhan answered firmly. “I am being held captive, aren’t I?”
“True,” Jongdae acknowledged. “Though you are living a rather rich existence for a captive, no?”
“Captivity is captivity, no matter the riches,” Luhan replied, Jongdae chuckling at his response.
Jongdae leaned back on the bed, watching Luhan, his face partially obscured by the dark overhang. He was tired, Luhan could tell, his eyelids heavy, dark circles under his eyes evident in the candlelight. The prince remained silent for a few minutes, observing. Luhan feared the man would fall asleep on the bed. If such a thing were to occur he would need to wake him immediately, abhorring the thought of having the prince in his bedchamber all night.
Thankfully Jongdae did not fall into slumber. He stood after a few minutes, muttering a good night before he took his leave. Luhan breathed a sigh of relief when he was alone once again, finding a strange measure of calm at the sound of the key turning in the lock.
He thought it was a trap, Baekhyun’s invitation suspicious.
“It is a custom you shall need to acclimate yourself to.”
He had wondered if he was being sent to his death, perhaps driven into a different sort of servitude via trickery. He didn’t expect what Baekhyun had told him to be the truth. Such an event spoke of a sense of freedom he hadn’t anticipated being granted. When armed soldiers escorted Luhan to the hall, waiting outside, any sense of freedom vanished. A long glance at Kyungsoo was meaningless. The eunuch held a ring of keys and watched as Luhan was paraded past him.
A large feasting hall greeted Luhan, an enormous wooden table placed in the middle of the room. The large rectangular table was nearly full. A dozen plus men and women in colorful robes- each garment a different hue- mimicking the pattern Luhan wore, were seated in high back chairs. A white stone fireplace was crackling, the flames dancing. The timber ceilings were replete with an ornate iron chandelier. Floor to ceiling windows let in sunlight, bathing the area in warmth.
“Welcome to Te Gariadon, the concubine’s tea.” Baekhyun led Luhan towards an empty seat at the head of the table.
All eyes turned towards the newcomer. Luhan noticed some of those gathered displayed signs of curiosity, others thinly veiled looks of disdain. Luhan kept his head high, only showing a hint of emotion when he spotted Chanyeol sitting nearby. The taller man smiling widely as he recognized his brother in captivity. Luhan hoped he had been well, that he had found his own servitude to be bearable. The fact that Chanyeol was smiling and appeared much healthier than the last time they had met gave Luhan some hope that the man was tolerating the unwelcome situation, perhaps better than he himself was.
Luhan found his position at the head of the table extremely uncomfortable. His discomfort grew when the other occupants of the room, Chanyeol included, stood and bowed to him as he sat. Springing up from his seat, Luhan entered into a deep bow in turn, earning whispers from those around him.
Baekhyun ignored Luhan's discomfort, or perhaps he didn't notice. “Gariadon, we have two new men who have joined our ranks. Please, welcome Luhan de Jongdae and Chanyeol de Kai.” Taking his seat, Baekhyun continued, “As protector of the concubines it is my duty to explain the daily ceremony to our new brethren.” Baekhyun made a point to look at Luhan as he spoke, ignoring Chanyeol completely. “We, the privileged of the court, meet daily to take tea together, unifying our bonds as the supporters of the great men and women who further the Western Kingdom as the one and only rulers of this land.”
Luhan had to forcefully swallow his response at the phrase “one and only rulers”, holding himself back from pointing out the bloodshed the Western Kingdom spilled, the terror they instilled. The horror of finding a roomful of Eastern captives proclaiming their captors as noble heroes was disorienting, disgusting and took all his will power to not challenge.
“Welcome, and be free with your speech here. You are among friends.” Baekhyun nodded at Luhan, then turned towards a man seated to the right of Luhan. “You may begin serving tea, Yixing.”
The man called Yixing began to pour hot steaming liquid from an iron pot seated on the table. He handed out cups of the liquid to his right, the man seated next to him passing them down as he received them. When everyone had a cup in hand, the silence ended, chatter breaking out among those seated around the long table. If Luhan had been somewhere in the East, if he had been somewhere among friends the atmosphere would have been welcoming, easy to acclimate to - but given the situation it was stiff and uneasy.
Luhan sipped at the beverage, grimacing at the bitter taste.
“You shall grow used to it.” The man Baekhyun referred to as Yixing, smiled at Luhan, a single dimple appearing. “I hated it at first as well.”
“Ahh. It is rather bitter.” Luhan set his cup down, the steaming liquid almost spilling with his strong action.
“I am Yixing de Sehun. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Yixing immediately struck Luhan as kind, easy to talk to, a far cry from Baekhyun.
“It is nice to meet you, I am Luhan.” Luhan smiled shyly, still unsure of who to trust and who to stay away from.
“You are likely overwhelmed.” Yixing nodded towards the long table full of chattering men and women. “You shouldn’t be afraid, you hold the highest rank among us all.”
“I do?” Luhan raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Yes. You are the concubine of the prince. We belong to knights and noblemen of various rank.” Yixing answered simply. “It was a rather large shock to hear the prince had taken on a concubine.”
Luhan glanced to his left, noticing that Baekhyun was staring. Baekhyun kept his eyes on Yixing and Luhan, seemingly hanging on every word they spoke, observing for some unknown reason. It made Luhan uncomfortable.
“You are the first concubine the prince has ever claimed.” Yixing was nonplused by Baekhyun listening in. “As the concubine, or Gariadon in Western tongue, of the prince you hold power over us all. Our hierarchy is that of our masters.”
“You are from the East, are you not?” Luhan asked, bracing for Baekhyun’s interjection. It didn’t occur.
“Yes, we are all from the East. It is a custom for the concubines and Eriall of the Western nobility to come from the East. A meeting of the minds, if you will.”
“Eriall?” Luhan hadn’t heard that term before. While the Eastern and Western Kingdoms shared a common language there were dialects that bore different words, terms that were foreign sounding to Luhan’s ears. In the short time he had been at Dinas Gwynn he had heard at least two dozen words he was unfamiliar with.
“A concubine may become Eriall, a consort, if granted the permission of their master. The status frees them, elevating them to Western nobility in a way that the status of Concubine cannot possibly confer.” Yixing took a sip of his tea, drinking down the hot liquid quickly. “Though your status of concubine is in no way forced.”
Luhan narrowed his eyes at Yixing. No way forced? He was kept in a locked room, told of his status - how was that anything but forced? Yixing picked up on the newcomer’s confusion, quickly rattling off an explanation. “You are placed into the position, but it is up to you to fulfill your role. The Westerners believe in a code of chivalry, if you will. They will not take what is not offered to them.”
Luhan glanced to his left, noticing that Baekhyun was no longer observing them. He felt bold without the man’s eyes on him.
“If I refuse?” Luhan asked, curious as to how his future would play out.
“You shall lose your status and any possible road towards freedom. A slave in the mines doesn’t have such an opportunity,” Yixing answered matter-of-factly.
Luhan pursed his lips; so it was a type of elevated captivity, dependent on his willingness to share his bed with a Western noble. Disgusting. In what way was the situation not forced? “How long have you been here?”
“Five full cycles of the seasons.” Yixing gestured towards Baekhyun. “He has been here for fourteen cycles. The rest vary between fourteen and one though concubinage may not start before the seventeenth year.”
Fourteen years. Baekhyun had been held for fourteen years. Judging by his age his captivity must have lasted most of his life. It was little wonder he was in charge of the others, having likely assimilated into the Western ways for years now. Luhan wondered if the man remembered what it meant to live in the East, in a place that colored red with the Western army’s greed.
“Thank you, Yixing, for sharing your knowledge with me.” Luhan found the man likeable, appreciating how open he had been about the unwanted situation they were in.
“It is my pleasure.” Yixing smiled, holding eye contact with Luhan.
Luhan felt a hand on his leg, under the table, a strange rubbing on his thigh. He almost jumped back in surprise until he felt a paper pushed his way. A piece of parchment was sitting on his lap, Yixing attempting to hand it off. Luhan took the paper, realizing Yixing was passing him a message. Slipping the paper into the sleeve of his robe he nodded at Yixing, the man’s hand retreating.
An hour later, after tea had ended, Luhan found himself locked back in his room. He pulled out the paper and read it, curious what his fellow concubine had wanted to tell him in secret.
Your body is your road to freedom.
Luhan crumpled the paper, throwing it in the small fireplace in his room, watching as the flames devoured the unwanted message.
Luhan found himself looking forward to the pretense of freedom that occurred with the concubine’s tea session. The day following his first tea found the concubine waiting impatiently for the event to roll around. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know, that a roomful of his fellow captives excited him.
It was a set time, always in the early afternoon, a tradition that Luhan would come to learn well in the ensuing days. The second tea session he attended was less formal than the first. He wondered if the show of formality the day prior was a test, a stiff and formal greeting for the newcomers. While the concubines still bowed at his entry, the giving of tea and the subsequent socialization was far more lax in comparison.
Once tea was served the concubines wandered the room freely, conversing. Even Baekhyun rose, walked to the other end of the table and was soon pulled into a conversation. With Baekhyun’s watchful eyes no longer fixated on him, Luhan took the opportunity to speak to Yixing.
“Who is your master?” Luhan started the conversation with a simple question, uncertain of where he should begin.
“He is a knight.” Yixing sipped his tea, smiling as he spoke of the man who called him his own. “Sehun, a childhood friend of the Prince.”
“Is he kind?” Luhan asked, clutching his cup with both hands as he waited for Yixing to answer.
“Yes, very much so. He is younger than I, rather shy if I am to be honest.” Yixing smirked. “Surprisingly easy to control, if I am to be even more honest.”
“Control?” Luhan asked, nearly spitting out his tea.
“Hm. Such is the concubine’s skill, my friend.” Yixing looked down the table, his eyes hovering on his fellow concubines. Luhan followed his gaze. “Every man and woman here has learned an important lesson, Luhan. One that I was trying to impart to you yesterday lest you misunderstand and miss the chances given to you.”
“My body…”
“The way to freedom, the way to live within these walls is to make your master happy.” Yixing turned his gaze back to Luhan. “You, out of all of us, have the best chance. You are the Prince’s Gariadon, it isn’t a position to laugh at.”
“You speak as though I should be proud.” Luhan found little to be proud of. Being captured and drafted into a form of sexual slavery was not exactly the shining moment of his life.
“You should be. My friend, you must make the best of what is given to you.” Yixing cocked his head to the side. “And what was given to you, Luhan, is a gift that most people in this room would kill for.”
It seemed so foolish, Luhan thought, to want what he had. Yet - those who sat at each side of the long table were apparently in essence worse off than he was. He could have the ear of the man who would be king, a man who could decide the fate of any one of those gathered, not to mention their masters. Luhan was at the top of their existence, as unwanted as that may be.
He had never been the top of anything in his life, never held power. His entire existence was avoiding those who had it - those who destroyed the land for some long forgotten ill that morphed into a terrible scourge of death, three decades long. Power…he considered, was before him in the unlikeliest of forms. A situation that was both revolting and enticing, if only enticing for the fact it gave him a means to an end, a return to the East if he was able to play his cards correctly. Aside from a return, there may be a chance, he considered, that he could find Minseok and bargain for his freedom. A chance, a remote chance, but still a chance.
He considered it, left to his thoughts as Yixing wandered away to converse with some of the others. Could he, would he dare embark on a quest to control, all in the name of freedom? There was powerful incentive to be free, there always had been. He hated the Western Kingdom, and not only for what they did to Minseok. Could he use his situation to his advantage? Could he free Minseok in the process?
“How are you, friend?” Chanyeol was looming over him, a goofy smile on his face, tearing Luhan from his thoughts.
“Chanyeol!” Luhan stood, reaching out to hug the man. “How have you been?”
“Well, I think.”
“Sit, please.” Luhan gestured to the seat Baekhyun vacated, Chanyeol eying it with suspicion. “Is it acceptable if I sit here?”
“I believe so, Baekhyun is otherwise engaged.” Just to confirm the fact he glanced at the concubine, seeing that he was in deep conversation with another man.
Chanyeol hesitantly took a seat, his discomfort disappearing. “How have you been, honestly?”
“Angry, afraid.” Luhan felt like he could tell Chanyeol more than he could tell the others, their bond forged by the three days they spent as ignorant captives, unknowing what awaited them. “Have you met your master?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol sighed. “He is…interesting.”
“Kai, correct?” Luhan recalled the prince designating the man Chanyeol was given to.
“Yes. I don’t think I can accurately describe him.” Chanyeol leaned back in the chair, sighing yet again. “He is hard to understand.”
“Does he visit you every day?” Luhan wasn’t sure what was normal in the situation. Jongdae’s nightly visits, all two of them, had been bipolar - from threatening to disarming, a confusing mix of wanting and concern.
“Yes.” Chanyeol leaned in closer, whispering, “Have you given yourself to him?”
“No!” Luhan found himself protesting the question loudly, not meaning for his voice to carry as much as it had. Lowering his voice again he asked, “Have you?”
“Yes, though he gave me a choice.”
“Such is their custom, apparently.” Luhan was still trying to decipher how a bloodthirsty and cruel kingdom would pride themselves on a code of courtly ethics. Barbarians playing civilized men, Luhan thought. He would have never have imagined the inner circle of the Western nobility to operate in such a manner. At least in the East they made no pretense of chivalry, the nobility as ragged and raw as the peasantry, the court - what little Luhan knew of it - as likely to ignore morality for gain as the lowliest peasant would.
“Was it worth it?” Luhan wasn’t sure the question was honestly appropriate, Chanyeol likely feeling the same revulsion that he was.
“I don’t feel alone,” Chanyeol said quietly, a hint of sadness in his words.
“Why are you in my seat, Chanyeol de Kai?” Baekhyun had returned, hovering behind the chair Chanyeol occupied, a scowl on his face. Chanyeol pushed the chair back, ready to stand, clearly alarmed. Baekhyun had to back up quickly lest he be knocked over.
“You shall always obey the hierarchy of the Gariadon, is that clear?” Baekhyun scolded the man, Luhan angry at the admonishment.
“I told him to sit.” Luhan spoke through gritted teeth.
Baekhyun paused, eyeing Luhan for many seconds before he spoke. “If Luhan requested so, such an action is permissible.” Baekhyun did not appear happy at the decree, but the hierarchy had been set. Chanyeol was still shaken up, bowing and scurrying back to his seat.
Luhan considered the encounter, realizing that he had exercised his power for the first time. Oddly, it felt good to put Baekhyun in his place. A dangerous affair, all around.
“Have you been enjoying the concubine’s tea?”
Luhan hadn’t expected Kyungsoo to start a conversation. He found himself momentarily devoid of words.
“That wonderful?” Kyungsoo was busying himself making the bed, not bothering to look at Luhan.
“Intimidating,” Luhan admitted.
“I should imagine.” Kyungsoo finished smoothing the bed covers, turning his attention to straightening the pillows.
“Kyungsoo?”
“Hm?”
“I am afraid,” Luhan admitted, an honest expression that was disorienting - in that he trusted the man enough to say it out loud.
“You should be.” Kyungsoo finished making the bed. “Goodnight,” Kyungsoo retrieved the dinner tray, leaving Luhan to his fate. Luhan watched him leave, his throat suddenly dry, a knot forming in his stomach.
Part 2>>
Pairing: Luhan/Chen, Luhan/Xiumin
Rating: NC-17
Length: 53,444 words
Warnings: Slavery, concubines, explicit sexual encounters, implied violence.[Spoiler (click to open)]
This story contains and includes the consequences of war and slavery. Readers should be sensitive to the fact that some of the relationships in this story will be realistic and at times unhealthy. Does not contain non-con.
Summary: Luhan has spent ten years struggling to raise a ransom and free Minseok from the clutches of the Western Kingdom. When the same kingdom’s warpath ensnares Luhan, he thinks all is lost. But is it?
Note: written for deerofdawn round 2
He always managed to stay a step ahead of the Western armies, eternally skirting their line, aware of where they looted and plundered. It was in his own best interests to stay informed, to understand where the hordes were marching. It was a dark and dismal reality that pushed him from village to village. A constant move to escape the alternative- capture or death.
Luhan was never wanting when it came to information on the army’s movements. Knowing the shadiest mercenary was as useful as the forlorn refugee. Either would report on what had happened a day’s march away if plied with the smallest amount of coin, a loaf of bread, or in the direst of conditions, a drink of clean water. Life in a war ravaged land created endemic vulnerabilities for the sad souls who remained. Information was easy to come by if you had the upper hand, the populace starved for resources.
Coin was the one resource Luhan had plenty of. All earned on the hopes and dreams of those sad villagers who grasped at any possible hope of peace, no matter how ridiculous their desires were in retrospect. The coin that Luhan collected was not earned to line his own pockets, however. For the past ten years he had embarked on a life of fortune telling, the profession chosen because of the chances for easy coin. He hoarded what coin he collected in the hopes of one day paying the ransom that hung over one man’s life. Ten long years, and he still didn’t have enough.
He heard a cawing from a nearby tree, and looking up he caught sight of his constant companion. “Tao, we must be moving on.”
The black raven, a powerful looking bird, flew down from its perch and rested on Luhan’s outstretched arm. Luhan smiled at the creature, sensing its restlessness. The raven knew when it was time to leave as much as Luhan did. His bird friend was as used to the rugged and wayward lifestyle as he was.
“We made decent coin here, at least.” Luhan had counted out the stack of coins a few minutes prior, relishing in the desperation that came from plying fortunes near the front. Years ago, when he had first started telling fortunes, he had regretted taking money for his vague and unbelievable statements. Ten years and a wealth of hardships later his hesitation had morphed into acceptance and, dare he admit, a sense of pride. He gave the people hope, he gave those facing a third decade of war some calm before the inevitable storm.
In ten years he had learned two absolute truths - humans wanted to believe what they were told, especially when the message was hopeful. Humans also were willing to part with their hard earned, scarce coin if they believed learning such a fortune may help them escape certain death.
A lot of people asked Luhan where or if they should flee, if there was hope for them. He answered cryptically, relying on a well-honed sense of discerning what each person wanted to hear. They never argued when he asked for a shilling - it wasn’t a fortune after all. The cost of a loaf of bread. When he was lucky they gave him more.
After a few days in a village he would move on, exhausting those willing to take advantage of his services. He had already been in this particular village for four days, nearly a record. If the hordes were moving, as was usually the case, the village would be the site of an attack soon. They were too near the last series of raids for Luhan to believe any differently. Luhan didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a fight - assuming the Eastern armies were also near a battle was certain, he needed to move further to the east to avoid the bloodshed.
Luhan grabbed his worn leather pack. Slinging it on his back he picked up his walking stick from where it rested against a thick, ancient tree trunk. He had spent the last four days telling fortunes under the huge oak. It wasn’t terrible considering there were times he ended up reading fortunes on the sides of muddy roads or in animal waste-filled fields. He had once spent time plying his trade for an outfit of the Eastern army soldiers, setting up shop in a scorched building, the smoke still rising from the decimated village, an acrid atmosphere that made dishing out hopeful fortunes that much more ironic.
Tao, having flown to sit on a thick tree limb while Luhan grabbed his pack, let out a series of high pitched caws. The raven was growing impatient.
Luhan took one last look at the village, knowing that he would probably not see it intact the next time he wandered this way. The thatched roofs would catch fire easily, the embers catching on the wind and spreading the conflagration until nothing was left of the settlement. It would follow the fate of dozens - maybe hundreds of small villages situated near the border - gone with the swords and fire of the Western soldiers. Letting out a sigh Luhan mentally bid the place farewell, beginning his trek. It would be at least three days walk until he reached the next village, a long voyage that he was slightly dreading. Sleeping in the forest for two nights in a row was not an attractive prospect.
He was nearing the edge of the small village when he heard his name called. Turning around he spotted a small boy running towards him, flailing his arms and screaming excitedly. “Seer Luhan! Seer Luhan!”
Luhan stopped walking and waited for the boy to reach him. He stared down at the small form and smiled at the sight. The boy was doubled over, catching his breath, all youthful energy and excitement. He had read the boy’s fortune the day prior, for free, not trusting that the boy had actually earned the shilling he was carrying. Luhan did have some standards, after all, one of which included not taking the meager coins a child stole from his parents in exchange for the novelty of a fortune telling.
“Seer! It is true!” The boy managed to get out between sucking in gulps of air, attempting to calm his breathing. “What you said is true!”
Luhan couldn’t recall exactly what he had said to the boy but it was safe to assume it was as vague as most of his fortunes. “Of course it is.” Luhan patted the boy’s head, ruffling his hair.
“The,” gasp, “Westerners are coming.”
Luhan paled. But he hadn’t - there had been no word of the horde encroaching. “What?!”
“You said something exciting would happen today. It is! The watch says they are nearly upon us!”
Luhan stared towards the village. The normal din of the place shifted; a perceptible wave of panic overcoming the village. In the distance Luhan could make out villagers scurrying about, the distant view of the marketplace erupting into chaos. Crouching down so he was eye level with the boy Luhan implored, “Where are they? How far away?”
He didn’t have time to receive an answer, he didn’t have time to tell the boy to run to safety, or time to make himself scarce. The sound of hoofbeats, the whoops of war cries, the screams of terror were unleashed from the village. The Western army had arrived.
The young boy yelled something unintelligible then rushed towards the village before Luhan could stop him. Luhan watched in horror, his body stilling at the sound of screams, at the sudden smell of burning thatch. He saw smoke, he heard the hoofbeats pounding on the dirt road and then the riders came into view. Armored men atop warhorses, their swords in hand.
He needed to get away, out of their path, an impossibility when three riders spotted him and charged ahead at full speed, their imposing horses bearing down on him, the glint of armor in the sunlight a torturous sight. So this was it, he thought, he would die now, never having met the ransom, never seeing him again. Never…
His world went black, a splitting pain shooting down his neck.
The dripping of water was the first sound that Luhan recognized. It was a constant noise that cut through the crushing pain in his head. When he tried to open his eyes he winced. He raised his hand to clutch his forehead. It felt like his entire body was on fire, his nerve endings firing as the pain coursed through him.
“He is awake.”
“Get him some water.”
“You have a nasty gash on your head. I cleansed it, but you will likely be in pain for a while.” The voice was soft. Whoever was speaking was near, the words a whisper in his ear.
He tried to recall what had happened. The memory of the horses, the riders in full armor, their swords, sending him into a panic. Then he realized - he wasn’t dead, they must have spared him for some reason. “Where am I?”
“At camp.”
“Which camp?” Luhan didn’t really need to ask, he knew. He had been taken by the Westerners. He recognized the inflection, the accent. His head hurt too much to open his eyes to see who was speaking to him.
“The Western camp. We will be marching at sun-up, so you best rest while you can.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Luhan thought death might be preferable to captivity if the stories he had heard were to true. The Westerner’s brutal treatment of their prisoners were spoken of in taverns far and wide.
“I am not sure.”
Luhan drank when he felt a cup pressed to his lips, too thirsty to deny himself water in protest of his capture. After drinking half the cup he fell back onto whatever he was lying on. It felt like a pile of hay, soft but with a definite hardness under him. It wasn’t more than a minute before he lost consciousness again.
The next time he woke the sun was rising, birds were chirping. The sound made him think of Tao. He hoped the raven had survived the fight. A large part of him prayed the bird was near; the thought of losing his friend causing his stomach to churn.
The pain in his head had lessened. He could open his eyes without his nerve endings firing off and making him want to double over. Looking around, Luhan realized he was in a tent, resting on a pile of hay. He was alone, but the evidence that others had been in the tent were all around him. Indentations in the ground indicated others had rested here as well.
Luhan stood. He was wobbly on his feet and he had to still himself for a moment lest he fall over. Regaining his balance he made his way towards the entrance to the tent. He brushed pieces of hay from his tunic as he went. How he wished he could escape- but that would be a fool’s errand. Escape was no longer an option.
Pushing the flap of the tent open he found himself in the middle of camp, chainmail draped warriors dismantling tents all around him. The smell of fire was in the air, no doubt a result of the raid on the village.
“I wouldn’t snoop around if I were you.” A man approached, lean but imposing, a shock of black hair framing a tanned face. Luhan recognized the voice. It was the man from the night before. “I am going to need to bind you, until we arrive.”
“Arrive where?” Luhan asked, anxiety coursing through him. Where were they taking him?
“You will see,” The man answered. He grabbed Luhan’s arm and lead him to where the rest of the captives were waiting, the others already bound by ropes and chains.
They marched for six days. It was a miserable rain soaked journey made all the worse because Luhan spent the entirety of the time in a caged wagon, alongside the others who had been taken. In half a day the wagon stunk of human waste and body odor. It was a nauseating mix that had Luhan retching for most of the journey. His arms chafed against the chains that bound him, his body quickly descending into near constant pain.
When he was first put into the wagon Luhan chanced a look around at his fellow captives. He recognized some of them as villagers whose fortune he had told. He didn’t dare look them in the eye after recognizing them, not when they cast him spiteful looks and whispered among themselves. He didn’t have the energy to argue, to apologize, or to explain that the fortunes he had told - some likely giving the villagers hope - were nothing but lies.
The only bright light during the journey was a loud cawing heard the second day. Luhan was sure it was Tao, likely following along. It gave him a measure of relief to know his friend was still alive. He needed something to hold onto, the realization that he had lost all the money he had saved kicking in, increasing the despair and misery he felt. He would need to start over…if he even lived, that is.
He had worked for it, for ten long years, chasing the memory of the boy he left behind, a price on his head. Now he was taken captive by the same people who had stolen away the light of his life, the same disgusting scum that caused the world to remain in a perpetual state of chaos.
On the sixth day the march slowed, a city became visible in the distance. The Western city of Dinas Gwynn, the great fortress built of white stone quarried from the coast, was before them. Luhan had never seen it in person, only heard it described by wandering minstrels or whispered of in taverns - tall tales that probably shouldn’t be believed. Since the war broke out decades prior no one in the East voluntarily made the journey to the place. The city was the second largest in the West, a fortress as much as a settlement. Imposing. Stark. Intimidating.
Through his near delirium Luhan found little time to be impressed with the looming fortress. The scale and size of the tiered castle on the hill, the tall and imposing walls, the massive gate, did nothing to him other than confirm his feelings of dread and pure hatred for the Westerners. Once he was inside he would likely never be able to leave. It was all over for him.
He didn’t even bother looking out the bars when the wagon rumbled through the gates, preferring to stare at the waste filled wagon floor instead of acknowledging his new prison. He was now in the stronghold of his enemy, the place where the man he hated more than anyone else in the entire world likely dwelled. It was a terrible predicament, Luhan had little hope left.
“Step to the left. Left. Right. Left.” The man was barking out orders as the prisoners were urged to leave the wagon, some of them having to be dragged from their mobile prison. A well dressed, sandy haired man, he had appeared from the depths of the castle to greet the arriving party. He was sorting, for what Luhan had no idea. The majority of people were sent to the left, whether that fate was better than what awaited on the right was completely unknown.
“Kai, didn’t you feed them?! They appear half dead!” The man barked at the warrior who had been accompanying the wagon, the same man who Luhan had met outside the tent six days prior. The warrior was visibly annoyed, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated manner.
“Rats got into our grain, we were short food. What would you have me do, Baekhyun? Feed the soldiers or the slaves?!”
A heavy sigh was the only response the sandy haired man gave, returning to sorting the prisoners.
Luhan could barely stand when he stepped out of the wagon, his legs felt like jelly from being kept in a confined space for so many days. He was hungry, the only food he had been given during the journey was a corn mush that made his stomach turn. The pain in his limbs had intensified with each passing day. He was likely dehydrated due to the scant amount of water that rationed to the prisoners every day. In short he was a mess, ready to collapse at the slightest push.
“Right.” The man ordered Luhan towards where another prisoner stood, a tall and gangly man who looked as bad as Luhan felt. Luhan felt surprised when the man offered his arm for him to lean on. It was a gentle gesture that meant the world to Luhan in his current state. He shifted his weight into the man, focusing all his energy on keeping himself upright. If he fell he was afraid they would kill him. A part of him wondered if death would be so bad - the pain coming to an end.
The sorting of the prisoners ended, those to the left marched towards an unknown fate through a door into the castle complex. Luhan and the tall villager were the only two ordered to stand to the right. If Luhan had more of his senses about him he would have panicked at being so singled out.
“This way,” the shorter man beckoned for them to follow. When they didn’t move at once he rolled his eyes. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Luhan felt the tall man stumble forward, and by default Luhan did too. They followed the man through a door, into the castle, an unknown fate before them. A dark future that was their only option- a wall of armed guards blocking any potential escape.
Luhan stumbled down the snaking passageways, more than once having to rely on the tall man for support. A blur of white stone, flickering candles, and a musty smell accompanying the journey. Luhan hoped the small man leading them didn’t notice his weakness, but if he did he didn’t say anything. They walked up a winding stone staircase, down another long hall, their guide producing a ring of several keys.
“This will be your home, for now.” The man gestured towards a large door. “I will see that food and water are brought to you.”
“What are you going to do to us?” the tall man asked, his voice raspy and dry.
The guide laughed, his mirth echoing in the stone passage way. “Don’t look so afraid. I am going to feed you and get you cleaned up. You two are the lucky ones.”
Lucky ones…Luhan swallowed, the fear he was feeling growing tenfold with the man’s words.
It was three days before Luhan felt normal again, the pain in his limbs subsiding, his hunger and his thirst sated. What the guide- Baekhyun was his name, Luhan learned after the man all but hovered over him for the last three days - had said was true. They were treated well, there was definitely some luck involved in their current situation. How long that luck would continue, however, had Luhan living in fear.
“What about the others?” The tall man asked. His name was Chanyeol, a brief exchange of names given on the first day they were thrust into the strange situation.
“Some will be working in the stables or with the tradesmen. Most will be sent to mines or quarries, a few may even work towards becoming personal servants in the court - if they are trustworthy, of course,” Baekhyun answered, his words not conveying any emotion on the matter.
“And if they are not trustworthy?”
“I don’t think I need to tell you what happens then,” Baekhyun answered. Chanyeol’s face paled at the statement. Later Luhan learned that Chanyeol’s older sister was sent to the left to an unknown fate.
Chanyeol had proven to be a savior during the first three days. Luhan was greatly indebted to him. He had tried to make some sort of light of the situation, soothing Luhan with calming words when the other man was on the verge of complete mental collapse. They forged a bond, strangers in a strange situation, having only each other to rely upon.
They had given up hopes of escaping the first day. The sight of well-armed guards evident as they peered out the small, barred windows in their room. Trying to escape would be impossible, at least now.
It gnawed at Luhan, day and night, why he was treated the way he was. He was being taken care of, fed, and kept in comfort. Yet…he was most definitely a prisoner. A prisoner with his mortal enemy likely dwelling somewhere nearby; a decade old memory of the Western noblemen as vivid as it had happened the day prior. The hatred raged through him. He needed to find a way out. He would have to escape as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
His situation changed on the third day, Baekhyun entering the room in a flourish. Two serving women trailed behind him, their arms full of silken robes.
“It is time to dress.” Baekhyun’s words were an order. Luhan and Chanyeol stood up as he entered the room, nodding as he delivered his command.
Luhan had marveled at the richly embellished garment that Baekhyun wore, a deep forest green color with golden embroidery along the sleeves, framing the collar, and trailing along the hem. He had seen such rich fabric from far away, once, when he had chanced to observe one of the Eastern nobles traverse the countryside as his stronghold was overrun by the Westerners. It had to have cost a fortune, leaving Luhan to wonder if Baekhyun was some sort of nobility.
The robes that Luhan and Chanyeol were dressed in were white, with much less decoration. Yet the garment was clearly well made, the fabric the softest that Luhan had ever felt against his skin. A small black cloth belt secured the robes.
“I shall give you advice, considering you have done little to trouble me over the last three days,” Baekhyun spoke slowly, “Bow when you enter. Do not make eye contact. Do not speak unless spoken to and do not show emotion no matter the outcome.”
“What is about to happen?” Chanyeol demanded, fidgeting with the long sleeves of his robe.
“It is best if you find out once is all said and done.” Baekhyun retained his habit of answering vaguely, directing the two men to follow him, as if he wouldn’t answer any more questions no matter how incessant the two men were.
Luhan and Chanyeol walked side by side. They followed Baekhyun down the winding stone stairs, the silence heavy.
Luhan, now of sound mind, paid attention to the passages, the grey stone floor, the white stone walls, and the carefully crafted glass paned windows filtering the castle halls with natural light. As they walked further into the keep of the castle, the décor became more sumptuous, tapestries depicting hunting scenes hanging on the walls, furniture carved with the minutest details resting along the white stone walls. Luhan would have been impressed if he didn’t know where such wealth came from. It was plundered, stolen, born through the blood of those who were slaughtered. He had a burning desire to tear at the rich decorations, disgusted at what they represented. A thirty year war, a sign of riches stolen from the impoverished and decimated Eastern Kingdom.
Accompanying the increasing wealth of décor came the presence of guards, armed warriors standing sentinel, swords at their sides, chainmail weighing heavy on their shoulders. Servants were more numerous too, barefoot women and men running to and fro, bowing to Baekhyun when they encountered him.
Their journey ended in front of a great set of carved wooden doors. Luhan had only a second to consider who may dwell on the other side of such doors, if he would face the man whose name he had cursed every night for a decade. His stomach turned, adrenaline rushed through his body as his heart began to pound. If only he could take revenge then and there, if only he wasn’t in his current situation. The sound of the doors opening redirected Luhan’s attention towards self-preservation. Later, he could take his revenge later.
Baekhyun entered the room with his head bowed, Luhan and Chanyeol following suit out of fear.
“Your highness, I have brought the two men we spoke of.”
Luhan memorized the pattern on the large blue embroidered carpet, keeping his head bowed, not daring to look up.
The sound of footsteps, leather boots hitting the floor only feet in front of him, made Luhan stiffen. It had to be him, he was sure of it and the monster was approaching, closing in, intentions unknown.
A hand grabbed Luhan’s chin, forcing his head up. Luhan opened his eyes wide, he wouldn’t let the man see him afraid. He would defy him. He was prepared, ready to stare his enemy in the face without flinching. Yet he was taken aback when the face in front of him wasn’t the man he had expected to see.
The man hovered only inches in front of Luhan, his dark brown eyes dragging over Luhan’s features. His grip on Luhan’s chin was tight, Luhan ignoring the pain as he stared back at the man. The man possessed catlike eyes, high cheekbones, the corner of his lips were slightly upturned as he smirked, a challenge. As quickly as he had grabbed a hold of Luhan he let him go, walking to Chanyeol and repeating the forced inspection.
Luhan watched as the man stalked back towards his throne, a great wooden monstrosity that dominated one end of the large room.
“Give him to Kai.” The man gestured lazily towards Chanyeol before pointing at Luhan. “I want to keep him. He looks like he has some fight in him. ”
A long silence followed, Luhan unable to do anything but clench his fists as he stared at the man. He couldn’t be certain what transaction had just occurred, what Chanyeol going to Kai really meant. He had no way of knowing for certain, but he had a feeling he understood what had just happened. He had an inkling of what being taken care of, what being fed and bathed and dressed well could indicate. The desire to revolt, to run, was stronger than ever.
“Yes, your highness.” Baekhyun bowed, herding Chanyeol and Luhan out of the room. Luhan shot the man a glare before he turned, his scowl met with boisterous laughter from the nobleman.
When they were out of the room, Baekhyun turned to Luhan. His expression was dark, distaste evident in the way he looked at Luhan. “Your fun has just began, Luhan.” His words were biting, callous, and spiteful.
They were not returned to the room where they had been housed for the last three days. Instead Baekhyun ordered two guards to take Luhan to what he referred to as the blue room. Luhan wanted to cry, the tears threatening to spill as they led him deeper into the keep.
He was all but pushed into a large, richly decorated room. A four poster bed covered in royal blue embroidered coverings dominated the space. A trestle bench, a plethora of cushions of blue scattered about, and a large table rounded out the décor.
The click of the key in the lock was the final straw, the tears flowing freely as Luhan slumped against the heavy wooden door. He cried for many minutes, his sorrow flitting from his own failure to remain free, to his own failure to free the one man that had ever meant anything to him.
Could he…the thought had Luhan wiping his tears. Could he be here too? No, likely not. The man who had greeted Luhan was not the man who had taken Minseok so many years before. The Western Kingdom had many strongholds, he was probably held somewhere else. But now who would free him? The tears returned.
Many minutes later Luhan wandered over to the windows, curious if perhaps there was a way out, a glimmer of light amidst his sorrows. He realized that the room was in one of the castle’s towers - attempting to flee by smashing the glass would be a death sentence. He was trapped, with a horrible fate before him. For a moment, a brief moment, he considered hurling himself from the room. He halted the painful train of thought when he remembered what he had to live for. Minseok.
Hours passed before the door opened. Luhan had nodded off for a moment, his body exhausted, his tears dried up as he faced the brutal path ahead of him. He startled awake, eyes wide as he took in the form of a woman entering the room, a tray in her hands. A man followed her, carrying a deep blue robe. The door locked behind them, a reminder that there would be no chances for him to escape.
They bowed to Luhan, a completely unexpected gesture that left him confused. He watched as the woman set the tray down. She bowed once again before she tapped on the door, a guard opening it and giving her leave.
“I have brought your official robes.” The man - no, boy, he was young, probably a few years short of his twentieth year - presented the garment to Luhan.
“Official?” Luhan questioned, the man nodded. He was small, wide eyed, dressed in robes that were less elaborate than those worn by Baekhyun but still finely made. His demeanor hovered somewhere between indifference and disdain.
“Yes, official.” The man did not look amused by the question.
Luhan took a chance, hoping the man would answer some questions. He noticed an eastern inflection in his tone. Perhaps he would humor his countryman. “I shall put them on if you tell me what is going on.” He spoke in hushed tones, not wanting the guards outside to overhear.
The man tilted his head to the side, not bothering to look shocked or annoyed. “What do you want to know?”
“What is official about these robes, who is the man I saw earlier, and have you ever heard of a man by the name of Minseok.” Luhan rattled off his questions, not knowing if he would have another opportunity to ask them.
The man kept an even tone as he explained, “You are now the official concubine of Prince Jongdae of the Western Kingdom.”
“Official...concubine?”
“It is a custom for the lords and knights to take a concubine from the ranks of those captured.” He explained. “A trophy of war they say. Your robe marks you as such, you wear the color of your master.”
Luhan bit his bottom lip, clenching his fists he stalked to the window. So it was true, they were taking care of him so he could warm a Western noble’s bed. The thought of ever lying with one of the scoundrels made him sick.
“Please, wear the robe.” The man pushed the robes towards him. “I don’t want to bear the brunt of their anger if you resist.”
“Is Jongdae related to King Junmyeon?” Luhan waited, needing to know. It didn’t matter, not truly, but he wanted to know.
“The king is his father,” the boy responded. So, Luhan thought, Jongdae was his son, the spawn of the man who had so efficiently ruined his life.
“What of Minseok. Have you heard that name before? Is he captive here?” Luhan implored, the answer to this question more important than anything else.
“No, he is not captive here,” the boy replied, gesturing once again towards the robe.
“Have you heard of him?” Luhan felt a flutter in his chest, a foreign feeling. Had he seen Minseok? Was he well? Was he alive?
“No.” He picked up the robe, pushing it into Luhan’s arms.
Luhan felt crestfallen, picking up the robe he thanked the boy. It wasn’t his fault, he was likely as much of a slave as he was. “What is your name?”
“Kyungsoo, keeper of the keys. Please say I treated you well.” He bowed deeply, taking his leave.
Luhan traced his fingers along the edges of the royal blue robe, deep in thought. Minseok. It had been so long since he had said the name aloud, the sound of it shocked him. It was almost foreign. Yet the name still invoked a deep and long lasting response in him; a stirring in his chest that could not be ignored.
Ten years ago they had been so happy, both barely past their sixteenth year, a life ahead of them. Minseok was an orphan, a trait he shared with Luhan, both losing their parents to the swords of the Western armies when they were barely children. The pain of living without family had shaped Luhan into a headstrong, disillusioned teenager, quick to distrust others and lacking in deep seated bonds. It had made him tough, made him grow up fast, and that pain was mimicked in the wide eyed boy he met during his sixteenth year.
They met in a village called Ty Du, a small outpost that no longer stood, destroyed years ago during a raid by the Westerners. It was a friendship first, Minseok stumbling across a passed-out Luhan and attempting to not so cleverly run off with his small pouch of coins. Luhan had woken up and caught him. After a nasty verbal altercation they had fallen exhausted into the grass, exchanging a few snippets of their lives and realizing they would benefit from keeping each other’s company for survival reasons. Four hands were better than two.
Minseok was the more mischievous of the pair, bolder and less fearful of the chaotic world they called home. Luhan found excitement with Minseok, sometimes wrongly so. They had been chased out of more than one market as they stole food or a new pair of boots, ran out of town with an angry shop owner hot on their heels. Luhan still chuckled at the memory of the time Minseok amazingly beat three Eastern mercenaries at an arm wrestling match, walking away with a stack of coins and enough bread to feed them for a week. The day that Minseok managed to break a wild horse, winning the beast from its bewildered owner and then selling it for a month’s supply of ale also stuck in his mind, as did the escapades that followed.
Yet there were more poignant, personal memories. Minseok was the one that found Tao, a baby bird with a broken wing. Minseok had nursed him, alongside Luhan, earning a constant companion along the way. Minseok had been the one who gave Luhan his first kiss, a shy peck under the light of a full moon while they made camp at the edges of the great Eastern forest. Minseok was the first person to tell Luhan he loved him, the first person to whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he drifted off to sleep.
Luhan had liked Minseok as more than a friend for months before the other boy reciprocated the feeling, Luhan stunned Minseok felt the same way. It was an easy transition, from friends to lovers. Minseok was perfect, Luhan would take that thought to his grave, he was sure of it. He was perfect for him and Luhan would do anything for him.
Ten years ago the knights of the Western lands bore down on them during a raid on a village, taking Minseok but leaving Luhan with a promise. Raise enough gold and they would set Minseok free, the King Junmyeon delivering the threat himself. Riding on a great white steed he had sneered at Luhan, taunting him with the promise of a ransom as he rode off, leaving flames and death in his wake.
The last time Luhan saw Minseok he was bound with rope, his face a bloody mess, tears streaming down his cheeks. He would never forget, he could never forget. Minseok. He would free him if that was the last action of his sad and despicable life. Minseok. His Minseok.
Yet he had failed, or so it seemed. His stash of gold lost, his own life forfeited to sexual servitude. He was angry at himself for being so foolish as to stay in the village for four days, not leaving earlier. He had ruined everything, dooming Minseok to a lifetime in captivity.
In many ways leaving Minseok to such a fate was worse than living through captivity himself. A sense of complete and utter failure, an inability to save the one he loved worse than any pain that lay before him as the concubine of Prince Jongdae.
Luhan pounded his fist on the side table, tossing the blue robe aside. He wouldn’t wear it, he couldn’t.
Baekhyun entered the room a few hours after the sun had set, Kyungsoo trailing behind him.
“Why aren’t you wearing the robes?” Baekhyun was clearly not pleased at the sight before him. Luhan had spent the afternoon in a fury, having to stop himself from destroying the contents of the room. He had retreated to the wooden trestle bench in the corner of the room, spending hours in deep contemplation. He wallowed in his fate and his powerlessness to do anything - other than protest what a change of clothes signified.
Luhan stared at Baekhyun, not answering.
“If you refuse to wear the robe I will have no choice but to report your behavior. I cannot guarantee what will happen to you once I do.”
“The robe is a sign of ownership, isn’t it?” Luhan looked Baekhyun in the eyes, daring to ask, “Who is your owner, Baekhyun?” He had come to the conclusion Baekhyun must be a concubine as well, the robes were too similar.
Baekhyun wasn’t outwardly affected by the question. “A brave and loyal man that is worth a hundred of you.”
Luhan exhaled.
“Kyungsoo, leave us.” Baekhyun sent the boy away. Kyungsoo bowed furiously as he scurried from the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Baekhyun walked over to the trestle bench. Sitting next to Luhan he began to speak. “If you think you are the first concubine who has found himself at odds with his fate, then you are far more foolish than I made you out to be. What a concubine learns is how to survive, Luhan. You want to survive, don’t you?”
Luhan remained silent. Did Baekhyun’s question deserve an answer?
“If you want to survive, if you want that promise of possible freedom, you will use your position to your advantage. You aren’t stuck in a mine, slaving for the kingdom. You have the unique position of direct access to the nobleman who decides your fate. If you cannot decipher why wearing that robe is in your best interests, than you don’t deserve to survive.”
Baekhyun left without saying another word. Luhan stared at the robe, a decision before him. Survival. Could he do it to survive?
Luhan awoke with a start, the loud click of a key turning in a lock pulling him out of his fitful rest. He scrambled to sit at the edge of the bed and braced himself for who may be paying him a visit. It was late at night, Luhan having passed out despite his best attempts to remain awake.
The door opened, the nobleman that he had met earlier in the day striding in. Luhan heard the door lock. Panic set in as he realized the situation; he was locked in…with a Western Prince.
The man stood in the middle of the room, his gaze cold and lacking in emotion as he stared at Luhan.
Luhan stared back, once again not willing to show any amount of fear. He would fight if attacked. He had no qualms about protecting himself if the prince was going to take without his consent, consent that he most certainly was not going to give.
“What is your name?”
Luhan answered, his voice cracking as he did. “Luhan.” He clenched his fists, waiting for the assault.
“Luhan.” Jongdae stalked closer to the bed, Luhan backing up as the prince approached. “You are quite pretty, for an Easterner.”
Balling his fists, Luhan felt his entire body tense. He would attack if the man got closer, if he dared attempt to molest him.
“What a frightened little thing you are.” Jongdae laughed. “Do you want me to force you, Luhan? You are expecting it, aren’t you?”
“I will fight back.” Luhan gritted his teeth, ready.
“Ah, exactly as I thought you would.” Jongdae was closing in, nearing the bed, leaning in. “Do you think you would live another day if you dared fight me?”
“I don’t care.”
“I believe you are lying, Luhan.” Jongdae smirked, eyes raking down Luhan’s form, hovering for a moment on the royal blue robes Luhan had begrudgingly dressed in. “I wanted you for the fight and it appears I am not to be disappointed.”
Jongdae moved onto the bed, and planting his hands on each side of Luhan to steady himself, he crept closer. Luhan didn’t wait for the prince to bridge the gap between them. He raised his fist, striking.
Luhan’s fist collided with Jongdae’s hand, the prince displaying a split second reaction and stopping Luhan’s fist from colliding with his face. The block shocked Luhan, who stared at the prince in horror, his fist held securely in the man’s hand.
“There is something you should learn about me, Luhan,” Jongdae whispered, hand tight around Luhan’s fist. “I only take what is given to me willingly.” Jongdae released Luhan’s fist with a push, smiling as Luhan tumbled back onto the bed.
The prince stood, brushing off his clothing he walked towards the door. “Goodnight, Luhan.”
Luhan clutched his sore fist, watching as the Prince left the room. The sound of a key turning in the lock indicating the encounter was over.
Luhan picked at the breakfast that Kyungsoo brought him, unable to stomach food at the moment. Kyungsoo shot him several questioning looks, straightening up the room while Luhan poked at the plate of fruit.
“You should eat.” The boy scolded Luhan after he failed to take more than two bites in the half an hour he had spent puttering about the room. “You shall fall ill if you don’t eat.”
“Where are you from?” Luhan took an apple in hand, turning it over, examining it.
When Kyungsoo didn’t answer Luhan looked up from the apple. He found the boy occupying himself with rearranging the cushions in the corner for the second time. “Are you from the East?” Luhan asked again. Not receiving an answer he set the apple down, wandering over to the window.
The view below him was a steep drop into one of the multitude of winding stone passages that snaked around the castle. The maze of walls and pathways was astounding to someone who was used to small villages and wide open countryside. Luhan could make out white stone structures, the city surrounding the castle stretched on for what seemed like forever. Dinas Gwynn was larger than any city Luhan had ever set foot in, willingly or otherwise, a mammoth settlement that spoke of the unfortunate power of the Western Kingdom.
A caw sounded, muffled by the glass panes of the window, but still loud enough for Luhan to perk up at the noise. Was it Tao? Had he followed him all the way to the city? Luhan searched the sky for any sight of his friend, sighing in relief when a familiar black bird perched on the parapet of a walkway some feet below his window. It was most certainly Tao. Luhan fought back tears at the realization. He wasn’t alone, not entirely. Tao was there, watching over him even while he was a captive.
“I am from the East.”
Luhan stilled at the words, not expecting the boy to speak. Turning, he asked gently, “What exactly do you do here?”
“I serve the concubines, holding the keys to the chambers.” The boy answered shyly, as if he was hiding his inability to talk to others behind a front of disinterest.
“You keep us locked in?” Luhan wanted to confirm it.
“Yes,” Kyungsoo confirmed.
“Of your own free will?”
“I didn’t come here because I wanted to,” Kyungsoo answered matter-of-factly.
Luhan digested the fact. “Why?”
“Why, what?” Kyungsoo seemed disinterested with the question. “I found my fate the same as you found yours.”
Luhan spoke quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Why do you hold the keys?”
“I am a eunuch, they have nothing to fear from me.”
Luhan didn’t miss the sadness in the boy’s expression as he answered, a momentary flash of emotion that Kyungsoo quickly stifled behind a serious façade. He left a few seconds later, having nothing more to say.
The Prince returned to Luhan’s chambers that night, their second encounter drastically different than the first. Luhan was still prepared to fight if need be. Thankfully he was sitting on the trestle bench and nowhere near the bed when Jongdae arrived. Being caught on the bed was something he was not ready for.
Jongdae sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes roving over the concubine much as they had the first night. The difference was in his actions, for he did not attempt to get closer to Luhan, to frighten, threaten or mock him for his own amusement.
“Are the servants treating you with respect?” Jongdae questioned, clasping his hands together and leaning forward.
“Yes,” Luhan answered, still on edge, not knowing if the prince’s calm demeanor would change in an instant.
“Are you comfortable?”
“No,” Luhan answered firmly. “I am being held captive, aren’t I?”
“True,” Jongdae acknowledged. “Though you are living a rather rich existence for a captive, no?”
“Captivity is captivity, no matter the riches,” Luhan replied, Jongdae chuckling at his response.
Jongdae leaned back on the bed, watching Luhan, his face partially obscured by the dark overhang. He was tired, Luhan could tell, his eyelids heavy, dark circles under his eyes evident in the candlelight. The prince remained silent for a few minutes, observing. Luhan feared the man would fall asleep on the bed. If such a thing were to occur he would need to wake him immediately, abhorring the thought of having the prince in his bedchamber all night.
Thankfully Jongdae did not fall into slumber. He stood after a few minutes, muttering a good night before he took his leave. Luhan breathed a sigh of relief when he was alone once again, finding a strange measure of calm at the sound of the key turning in the lock.
He thought it was a trap, Baekhyun’s invitation suspicious.
“It is a custom you shall need to acclimate yourself to.”
He had wondered if he was being sent to his death, perhaps driven into a different sort of servitude via trickery. He didn’t expect what Baekhyun had told him to be the truth. Such an event spoke of a sense of freedom he hadn’t anticipated being granted. When armed soldiers escorted Luhan to the hall, waiting outside, any sense of freedom vanished. A long glance at Kyungsoo was meaningless. The eunuch held a ring of keys and watched as Luhan was paraded past him.
A large feasting hall greeted Luhan, an enormous wooden table placed in the middle of the room. The large rectangular table was nearly full. A dozen plus men and women in colorful robes- each garment a different hue- mimicking the pattern Luhan wore, were seated in high back chairs. A white stone fireplace was crackling, the flames dancing. The timber ceilings were replete with an ornate iron chandelier. Floor to ceiling windows let in sunlight, bathing the area in warmth.
“Welcome to Te Gariadon, the concubine’s tea.” Baekhyun led Luhan towards an empty seat at the head of the table.
All eyes turned towards the newcomer. Luhan noticed some of those gathered displayed signs of curiosity, others thinly veiled looks of disdain. Luhan kept his head high, only showing a hint of emotion when he spotted Chanyeol sitting nearby. The taller man smiling widely as he recognized his brother in captivity. Luhan hoped he had been well, that he had found his own servitude to be bearable. The fact that Chanyeol was smiling and appeared much healthier than the last time they had met gave Luhan some hope that the man was tolerating the unwelcome situation, perhaps better than he himself was.
Luhan found his position at the head of the table extremely uncomfortable. His discomfort grew when the other occupants of the room, Chanyeol included, stood and bowed to him as he sat. Springing up from his seat, Luhan entered into a deep bow in turn, earning whispers from those around him.
Baekhyun ignored Luhan's discomfort, or perhaps he didn't notice. “Gariadon, we have two new men who have joined our ranks. Please, welcome Luhan de Jongdae and Chanyeol de Kai.” Taking his seat, Baekhyun continued, “As protector of the concubines it is my duty to explain the daily ceremony to our new brethren.” Baekhyun made a point to look at Luhan as he spoke, ignoring Chanyeol completely. “We, the privileged of the court, meet daily to take tea together, unifying our bonds as the supporters of the great men and women who further the Western Kingdom as the one and only rulers of this land.”
Luhan had to forcefully swallow his response at the phrase “one and only rulers”, holding himself back from pointing out the bloodshed the Western Kingdom spilled, the terror they instilled. The horror of finding a roomful of Eastern captives proclaiming their captors as noble heroes was disorienting, disgusting and took all his will power to not challenge.
“Welcome, and be free with your speech here. You are among friends.” Baekhyun nodded at Luhan, then turned towards a man seated to the right of Luhan. “You may begin serving tea, Yixing.”
The man called Yixing began to pour hot steaming liquid from an iron pot seated on the table. He handed out cups of the liquid to his right, the man seated next to him passing them down as he received them. When everyone had a cup in hand, the silence ended, chatter breaking out among those seated around the long table. If Luhan had been somewhere in the East, if he had been somewhere among friends the atmosphere would have been welcoming, easy to acclimate to - but given the situation it was stiff and uneasy.
Luhan sipped at the beverage, grimacing at the bitter taste.
“You shall grow used to it.” The man Baekhyun referred to as Yixing, smiled at Luhan, a single dimple appearing. “I hated it at first as well.”
“Ahh. It is rather bitter.” Luhan set his cup down, the steaming liquid almost spilling with his strong action.
“I am Yixing de Sehun. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Yixing immediately struck Luhan as kind, easy to talk to, a far cry from Baekhyun.
“It is nice to meet you, I am Luhan.” Luhan smiled shyly, still unsure of who to trust and who to stay away from.
“You are likely overwhelmed.” Yixing nodded towards the long table full of chattering men and women. “You shouldn’t be afraid, you hold the highest rank among us all.”
“I do?” Luhan raised an eyebrow, confused.
“Yes. You are the concubine of the prince. We belong to knights and noblemen of various rank.” Yixing answered simply. “It was a rather large shock to hear the prince had taken on a concubine.”
Luhan glanced to his left, noticing that Baekhyun was staring. Baekhyun kept his eyes on Yixing and Luhan, seemingly hanging on every word they spoke, observing for some unknown reason. It made Luhan uncomfortable.
“You are the first concubine the prince has ever claimed.” Yixing was nonplused by Baekhyun listening in. “As the concubine, or Gariadon in Western tongue, of the prince you hold power over us all. Our hierarchy is that of our masters.”
“You are from the East, are you not?” Luhan asked, bracing for Baekhyun’s interjection. It didn’t occur.
“Yes, we are all from the East. It is a custom for the concubines and Eriall of the Western nobility to come from the East. A meeting of the minds, if you will.”
“Eriall?” Luhan hadn’t heard that term before. While the Eastern and Western Kingdoms shared a common language there were dialects that bore different words, terms that were foreign sounding to Luhan’s ears. In the short time he had been at Dinas Gwynn he had heard at least two dozen words he was unfamiliar with.
“A concubine may become Eriall, a consort, if granted the permission of their master. The status frees them, elevating them to Western nobility in a way that the status of Concubine cannot possibly confer.” Yixing took a sip of his tea, drinking down the hot liquid quickly. “Though your status of concubine is in no way forced.”
Luhan narrowed his eyes at Yixing. No way forced? He was kept in a locked room, told of his status - how was that anything but forced? Yixing picked up on the newcomer’s confusion, quickly rattling off an explanation. “You are placed into the position, but it is up to you to fulfill your role. The Westerners believe in a code of chivalry, if you will. They will not take what is not offered to them.”
Luhan glanced to his left, noticing that Baekhyun was no longer observing them. He felt bold without the man’s eyes on him.
“If I refuse?” Luhan asked, curious as to how his future would play out.
“You shall lose your status and any possible road towards freedom. A slave in the mines doesn’t have such an opportunity,” Yixing answered matter-of-factly.
Luhan pursed his lips; so it was a type of elevated captivity, dependent on his willingness to share his bed with a Western noble. Disgusting. In what way was the situation not forced? “How long have you been here?”
“Five full cycles of the seasons.” Yixing gestured towards Baekhyun. “He has been here for fourteen cycles. The rest vary between fourteen and one though concubinage may not start before the seventeenth year.”
Fourteen years. Baekhyun had been held for fourteen years. Judging by his age his captivity must have lasted most of his life. It was little wonder he was in charge of the others, having likely assimilated into the Western ways for years now. Luhan wondered if the man remembered what it meant to live in the East, in a place that colored red with the Western army’s greed.
“Thank you, Yixing, for sharing your knowledge with me.” Luhan found the man likeable, appreciating how open he had been about the unwanted situation they were in.
“It is my pleasure.” Yixing smiled, holding eye contact with Luhan.
Luhan felt a hand on his leg, under the table, a strange rubbing on his thigh. He almost jumped back in surprise until he felt a paper pushed his way. A piece of parchment was sitting on his lap, Yixing attempting to hand it off. Luhan took the paper, realizing Yixing was passing him a message. Slipping the paper into the sleeve of his robe he nodded at Yixing, the man’s hand retreating.
An hour later, after tea had ended, Luhan found himself locked back in his room. He pulled out the paper and read it, curious what his fellow concubine had wanted to tell him in secret.
Your body is your road to freedom.
Luhan crumpled the paper, throwing it in the small fireplace in his room, watching as the flames devoured the unwanted message.
Luhan found himself looking forward to the pretense of freedom that occurred with the concubine’s tea session. The day following his first tea found the concubine waiting impatiently for the event to roll around. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know, that a roomful of his fellow captives excited him.
It was a set time, always in the early afternoon, a tradition that Luhan would come to learn well in the ensuing days. The second tea session he attended was less formal than the first. He wondered if the show of formality the day prior was a test, a stiff and formal greeting for the newcomers. While the concubines still bowed at his entry, the giving of tea and the subsequent socialization was far more lax in comparison.
Once tea was served the concubines wandered the room freely, conversing. Even Baekhyun rose, walked to the other end of the table and was soon pulled into a conversation. With Baekhyun’s watchful eyes no longer fixated on him, Luhan took the opportunity to speak to Yixing.
“Who is your master?” Luhan started the conversation with a simple question, uncertain of where he should begin.
“He is a knight.” Yixing sipped his tea, smiling as he spoke of the man who called him his own. “Sehun, a childhood friend of the Prince.”
“Is he kind?” Luhan asked, clutching his cup with both hands as he waited for Yixing to answer.
“Yes, very much so. He is younger than I, rather shy if I am to be honest.” Yixing smirked. “Surprisingly easy to control, if I am to be even more honest.”
“Control?” Luhan asked, nearly spitting out his tea.
“Hm. Such is the concubine’s skill, my friend.” Yixing looked down the table, his eyes hovering on his fellow concubines. Luhan followed his gaze. “Every man and woman here has learned an important lesson, Luhan. One that I was trying to impart to you yesterday lest you misunderstand and miss the chances given to you.”
“My body…”
“The way to freedom, the way to live within these walls is to make your master happy.” Yixing turned his gaze back to Luhan. “You, out of all of us, have the best chance. You are the Prince’s Gariadon, it isn’t a position to laugh at.”
“You speak as though I should be proud.” Luhan found little to be proud of. Being captured and drafted into a form of sexual slavery was not exactly the shining moment of his life.
“You should be. My friend, you must make the best of what is given to you.” Yixing cocked his head to the side. “And what was given to you, Luhan, is a gift that most people in this room would kill for.”
It seemed so foolish, Luhan thought, to want what he had. Yet - those who sat at each side of the long table were apparently in essence worse off than he was. He could have the ear of the man who would be king, a man who could decide the fate of any one of those gathered, not to mention their masters. Luhan was at the top of their existence, as unwanted as that may be.
He had never been the top of anything in his life, never held power. His entire existence was avoiding those who had it - those who destroyed the land for some long forgotten ill that morphed into a terrible scourge of death, three decades long. Power…he considered, was before him in the unlikeliest of forms. A situation that was both revolting and enticing, if only enticing for the fact it gave him a means to an end, a return to the East if he was able to play his cards correctly. Aside from a return, there may be a chance, he considered, that he could find Minseok and bargain for his freedom. A chance, a remote chance, but still a chance.
He considered it, left to his thoughts as Yixing wandered away to converse with some of the others. Could he, would he dare embark on a quest to control, all in the name of freedom? There was powerful incentive to be free, there always had been. He hated the Western Kingdom, and not only for what they did to Minseok. Could he use his situation to his advantage? Could he free Minseok in the process?
“How are you, friend?” Chanyeol was looming over him, a goofy smile on his face, tearing Luhan from his thoughts.
“Chanyeol!” Luhan stood, reaching out to hug the man. “How have you been?”
“Well, I think.”
“Sit, please.” Luhan gestured to the seat Baekhyun vacated, Chanyeol eying it with suspicion. “Is it acceptable if I sit here?”
“I believe so, Baekhyun is otherwise engaged.” Just to confirm the fact he glanced at the concubine, seeing that he was in deep conversation with another man.
Chanyeol hesitantly took a seat, his discomfort disappearing. “How have you been, honestly?”
“Angry, afraid.” Luhan felt like he could tell Chanyeol more than he could tell the others, their bond forged by the three days they spent as ignorant captives, unknowing what awaited them. “Have you met your master?”
“Yes,” Chanyeol sighed. “He is…interesting.”
“Kai, correct?” Luhan recalled the prince designating the man Chanyeol was given to.
“Yes. I don’t think I can accurately describe him.” Chanyeol leaned back in the chair, sighing yet again. “He is hard to understand.”
“Does he visit you every day?” Luhan wasn’t sure what was normal in the situation. Jongdae’s nightly visits, all two of them, had been bipolar - from threatening to disarming, a confusing mix of wanting and concern.
“Yes.” Chanyeol leaned in closer, whispering, “Have you given yourself to him?”
“No!” Luhan found himself protesting the question loudly, not meaning for his voice to carry as much as it had. Lowering his voice again he asked, “Have you?”
“Yes, though he gave me a choice.”
“Such is their custom, apparently.” Luhan was still trying to decipher how a bloodthirsty and cruel kingdom would pride themselves on a code of courtly ethics. Barbarians playing civilized men, Luhan thought. He would have never have imagined the inner circle of the Western nobility to operate in such a manner. At least in the East they made no pretense of chivalry, the nobility as ragged and raw as the peasantry, the court - what little Luhan knew of it - as likely to ignore morality for gain as the lowliest peasant would.
“Was it worth it?” Luhan wasn’t sure the question was honestly appropriate, Chanyeol likely feeling the same revulsion that he was.
“I don’t feel alone,” Chanyeol said quietly, a hint of sadness in his words.
“Why are you in my seat, Chanyeol de Kai?” Baekhyun had returned, hovering behind the chair Chanyeol occupied, a scowl on his face. Chanyeol pushed the chair back, ready to stand, clearly alarmed. Baekhyun had to back up quickly lest he be knocked over.
“You shall always obey the hierarchy of the Gariadon, is that clear?” Baekhyun scolded the man, Luhan angry at the admonishment.
“I told him to sit.” Luhan spoke through gritted teeth.
Baekhyun paused, eyeing Luhan for many seconds before he spoke. “If Luhan requested so, such an action is permissible.” Baekhyun did not appear happy at the decree, but the hierarchy had been set. Chanyeol was still shaken up, bowing and scurrying back to his seat.
Luhan considered the encounter, realizing that he had exercised his power for the first time. Oddly, it felt good to put Baekhyun in his place. A dangerous affair, all around.
“Have you been enjoying the concubine’s tea?”
Luhan hadn’t expected Kyungsoo to start a conversation. He found himself momentarily devoid of words.
“That wonderful?” Kyungsoo was busying himself making the bed, not bothering to look at Luhan.
“Intimidating,” Luhan admitted.
“I should imagine.” Kyungsoo finished smoothing the bed covers, turning his attention to straightening the pillows.
“Kyungsoo?”
“Hm?”
“I am afraid,” Luhan admitted, an honest expression that was disorienting - in that he trusted the man enough to say it out loud.
“You should be.” Kyungsoo finished making the bed. “Goodnight,” Kyungsoo retrieved the dinner tray, leaving Luhan to his fate. Luhan watched him leave, his throat suddenly dry, a knot forming in his stomach.
Part 2>>