Title: Golden chains
Prompt: #26
For: oohhmygodson on aff
Pairing: JongKey
Author: >anonymous until reveals<
Word count: 31184(as of now, story is ot finished yet and will be continued by the author)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slaves, touches racism, questionable punishing methods, smut
Summary: Kibum never wanted to continue the tradition. It was sickening him. But even as a young lord he had no power to stop somethings that are written in stone. Therefore, at his seventeen's birthday he has no choice but to accept the gift presented to him. Kibum is gifted a man, someone that would please his every wish, fore fill all his needs , some one that would only live for him. And even if he is trying to push him away, this man with strange hair and large eyes only gets closer.
>><<
A/N: It is a little monster and I will continue writing the way I have. I want to finish it in the beginning of the summer. It was a bit of an impossible task to finish in the time span given. Still I hope you will enjoy it.
Chapter 1
The wind blew, a wave of sand taking flight with it, colouring golden when the sun hit it. A man covered his mouth with his scarf so not to breathe the glittering powder in. His hair was hidden with a cotton red turban. He groaned and pulled the rope once more. The camel on the other end protested just as much. The heavy sacks on his back clinking promising.
They were heading to the Charpur gate that was facing the endless sun kissed hills to the west. It never failed to welcome its guests with his magnificent art decoration and height. It was the entrance to the great city held by extraordinary strong walls to protect her kin.
Today the tower was booming, people calling, passing and selling. The man had no interest though. He handled the crowd with a praised ease and found himself on his path again without distractions. Here high housing formed a direct passage way to the palace. The streets were alive, with their open doors people worked. The smith hammered a blood red sword, the lady span her wheel, dyed wool becoming yarn. The man was in a hurry.
The camel complained again. She must have been thirsty from the long journey yet there was no time to waste for refreshments. The palace walls were in sight, the man was on an important delivery, he would not disappoint. It was his honour and his head alike in his art, and he hurried a bit faster. The closer he got to the great gate the more he started to shake.
Divaria, or as the nobles had called the public hall audience. It was constantly heaving with people and priming with noble men alike. Marble steps leading to a forbidden world behind the strong guarded and painted walls. The man smiled and took his breath, “My lord, I bring an order.” He spoke to the door as if the painted peacocks could listen and understand. Yet as expected, there was a loud creak and the door split, half of it pulling open.
A lady blinked at him, her skin covered with linen so thin you could see through. It was beautiful though, folded and placed in a shape so that she didn’t have to be shy. Small gold rings wearing heavy on her ankles, singing as she stepped closer. The man taken aback coughed and reached for the inside of his jacket. He produced a letter, the seal broken on his hand. He held it out for the slave to take and she did what was expected. She didn’t read it, it was not her place, she only took it to who would be waiting there on the other side.
The man now alone waited. His foot tapping as he looked up. The palace was impossible to see. He didn’t even get a glimmer of it from the other side of the great door. Stories had made it as far to his ear, though. Word had it over great gardens, bottomless pools and shimmering halls. But he would never see it. The camel beside him whined and that reminded the man. He got to his animal and heaved the heavy carrier off. To full for him to move he placed it with care on the ground.
There he opened the cloth to find what he was told he had to bring. His hand touched silk and he smiled, his treasure. The boxes were clothed in the rich colour of purple and gold as he pulled them out carefully, placing them on top each other. There was another creak of the door and the girl came in sight again. “My lady will come to receive the gifts. Please allow us to prepare.” She spoke as half a dozen other richly clothed servants rushed out.
One took the carrier another his camel. The man cried in confusion but even he was moved. In the middle of the courtyard there was a small open hall, the floor mosaic beautiful and not for a commoner like him to stand on. Yet the guards let him as he was guided on them. He understood what was happening.
Not soon after there was quite the commotion. There was a shushed silence in the court yet it was full. This time both doors opened and extra guards rushed out. With shield and spear, they made a route to where the man waited, his gift clutched against his chest. There was a ring, the twinkles of coins clinking together. The man gasped as his eyes saw. His knees hit the decoration as he kneeled.
Silks the colour of a moonless night swayed over the ground, the stars represented with silver beads waving into the dress that cover the noble lady’s body. Her hair was covered. A silver plate, hand engraved with fine designs hiding her face, leaving only the blue of her eyes to see. The blue lady seemed to glide, there was no sound of a foot step and within seconds she was in front of him.
The poor man held his gift up as an offering. It seemed to please her; The boxes were robbed from him by two strong slaves. They removed the silks and revealed the red wooden cases inlayed with mother of pearl. It was beautiful, truly a master’s art. Yet it was what was inside that was wanted.
With a flick of her wrist, she ordered the boxes to be opened. Gold met her eye, two heavy shackles, pure and strong. She smiled. The design was simple yet perfect to do the job. She was very pleased with the result.
"The key?" Her voice was melodic, a pleasure to listen to. That was her power. The man nodded as if he agreed, where was the key? Two guards placed the man's goods besides him and he briefly smiled at the noble. He produced yet another box. There on wine dark velvet lay a single key. One that could open both bracelets she was told. The gold object glistening even in the shade with countless flat cut diamonds. It was precious, worthy to belong to a Lord.
The lady gave a single nod and the gift was taken from the man by the slave girl, who had opened the door for him. The noble lady turned and the man sputtered yet soon was silence when another servant pressed a heavy pocket into his hand. It was a fair trade. Gold for gold and the man bowed again. "My lady, I thank you." There was nothing said. And the man was left in the public hall with his grumpy camel. The servants disappeared with his gifts after the lady, into the forbidden part of the palace.
~~
A trickle of water could be heard, a young man's laughter. The garden was a pleasure. With plants from all over the kingdom, the smell was sweet and the wind played the trees like a musical instrument. There was a tea party in the middle of the small lake. A tiny boat drifted, laid with pillows and food. Two young men conversed and laughed. Gold coins chiming over their heads, hanging from the open tent that shaded them from the sun. Rich silks of unimaginable colours clothed the Lords as they laid over the velvet, relaxing. The table of dark wood patterned with an endless spiral littered with sweet cakes, dried fruits and honeyed tea.
"My dear cousin, do you feel old yet?" The Lord joked, his hand on a dried fig, every finger heavy with precious stones. The other replied to him with a giggle. His chest shaking, bare between the mixed fabric of the thinnest Kashmir and gold threat. "I don't feel any different than yesterday."
The first Lord looked at him with a dear fondness. He looked much older than the other even though they only differ by three sun cycles. Still, his dear little cousin had turned of age today. "Thank you, Onew. I really enjoy this." The elder waved to confession off as if it was an annoying fly. "It is as much as I can do. I know how much you hate all this official stuff."
The other smiled. "I just think some of our traditions are bothersome." He said with a heavy voice. Onew gave him a stern look. "Kibum, you are air to the thrown after me. You need to learn that as part of the royal family it is custom and our duty to do so." The birthday boy rolled his eyes. "I won't be heir for long. After you produce an heir of your own, I will be free and as a little bird has told me. One of the royal courtesans travels with a rounded stomach." Onew chuckled in guilt. "Ah, I see whispers are faster than letters. But yes, I have made my mark. We are yet to see if it is a little prince or princess." He said, taking another dried fig.
"Either way, I'm not worried. You seemed to gotten a hang of it. What did your husband say?" Kibum asked out of curiosity. Onew shrugged. "It is my duty to produce, he has no say in the matter. Plus he governs another city, it is only just that I distract my loneliness with others."
Kibum shook his head. "I wish it would not have to be that way. I will be seventeen when the sunsets. I will have to choose a husband of my own. I just wish that I will be loved as much as I will love him." Onew snickered again. "A husband is not for love, you silly. He will be your partner, your studied council, your respect; love is another story. The court will choose a handful of ladies for your heart. But not today, today's gift is yet another. I heard the blue lady has prepared everything."
Kibum bowed his head, the conversation taking a turn he didn't want to. He wanted to be carefree today, his last day of childhood. By law, he would not have that opportunity anymore. The boat drifted closer to the sides of the pond. The young Lord took his hand and let a finger touch the smooth surface of the water. Ripple after ripple broke the mirror and he looked on. "I dislike having a slave. The idea of owning a man, all his time and affection. I will be what he thinks, what he does. It seems so unfair. Why did the gods give him a life that he could not live? Why would he give me his?" Kibum questioned, watching an insect on top of the water's surface.
Onew smiled. His cousin was still so innocent. A boy in a young man's body. The palace had always protected him. However, Kibum was a curious one. Intelligent beyond his years yet his body gentle and soft. "Because he will love you. He will be the one you will seek out. He will be your shadow. He will be a part of you." Kibum looked back at the prince again, confused. "How do you love someone you have never met? I could be the most selfish man on the land and you still say he would love me?" He challenged. But Onew just smiled. "You are selfless, the most beautiful man there is, Kibum. He will love you and you will fight it, I know. But he will simply love you unconditionally."
Kibum didn't want to be on this boat anymore. Why did Onew have to agree with this custom? He looked back at the main land, a handsome man with black hair waiting for them. Joon was always waiting for Onew; Joon was Onew's shadow. He was always there when Onew was there but he had never spoken. Joon was not alive; Kibum hated it.
"It is something that will be easy once you are used to it." The prince said with a gentle voice. It was the way to talk with his younger cousin. Kibum was stubborn, and had a good fight in him. Yet his heart was gentle and he could be smoothed into anything in the right mood. The young Lord heaved a sigh. After all he had fought it for many a year, but today his battle was lost. The sun was low in the sky, the feast would soon start. "We should head back."
~~~
The banquet was in full bloom when the guest of honour arrived. Kibum sat down at the table facing the party. Next to his father and the other guest of honour, crown prince Onew. He smiled and bowed at his royal cousin. "You are late."
Kibum rolled his eyes and received a cup of wine. "Of course, I'm dreading this." His father chuckled but didn’t say a thing. "Come on, it is not that bad." Onew said, watching the dancers twirl and swirl. The music was loud, drowning all hope for conversation if it wasn't private.
The room was otherwise filled with other tables, lords and ladies, their kin and counsel eat and talked in their marry way. Food was plenty and wine flowed. Everyone seen to have a good time. It made Kibum smile despite himself. He did not hate the feast, not when it made other people happy. "Kibum, eat. We have waited too long for you. The night is coming." His mother pressed. It made the young man pout. Sunset was what he was dreading. Soon enough, the food was taken away from the common tables yet for him it would be endless.
The music turned more traditional and his father stood up. It was time, Kibum sighed and closed his eyes. His father stretched out his hand and Kibum took it out of habit. He was guided out of the dining hall into the royal garden. Only the honour guests followed them there. Onew walked just behind them and that calmed Kibum slightly.
"My son, my little boy. It seems just yesterday that I could hold you in one hand. You where such a tiny thing." Kibum rolled his eyes. His father did like to baby him. But he felt warm inside, the feeling of affection trickling from his words. "I'm sorry that I had to grow up." He tried to joke but it was a truth he could not hide. His father chuckled. "You have grown up to be a fine young man. People will love you, like they already do. Once you take my place..." His father stopped. Why must they speak of such serious things on a day like this?
They stopped in front of the mirror court. A room with open arches and decorated with countless convex mirrors so that a single flicker of light could colour the entirety golden red. It was that now. The last of the sun reflected in the glass as the blue lady waited for them. His father left him there, and Kibum found himself a seat on the only chair there was.
"It's a right of passage, my dear lord. The sun has encircled you kindly and the gods have gifted you with adulthood. From this day forth; you will be a man in the world. A new chapter in your book. A story that will be told to many. Greatness awaits you, my Lord. And as they have please, there gift is a subject." The lady moved away and Kibum knew what was behind her. He swallowed thickly.
A body stood there. Clad in a cloak of dark royal purple, the crest of his family on his back. Behind him stood three richly dressed servants. They were holding beautiful wooden boxes. Kibum sighed. The slave stood still, his face hidden with the hood of golden detail. The servants passed him and kneeled before Kibum. The young Lord didn't fight his duty now, he had already expressed how much he disliked the tradition in private yet he would not shame his family by making a scene in front of their guests.
He opened the gifts already knowing what to expect. Yet a small gasp left him as the beauty of the jewellery surprised him. It was the slave that stepped forward now. He fell to his knees and kissed Kibum's feet. It made the young Lord hiss, hating how belittled the man must feel to do such an act. The slave played his part perfectly though, Holding up his hands with their palms up.
Kibum opened the final box, the key glittering in the last of the sun's rays. The Lord didn't want to gape at the riches of the object. He started to hate everything gold. He took the heavy key and opened one of the bracelets. One time, only once was it possible to open them. When the metal shut around the slave’s wrists he would never be free again. Kibum could do with his life as he pleased. He could order him to never see the sun again, to murder, to do terrible things. And he would do it.
"I promise, my life to yours."
Kibum swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard the slave start his vows. He didn't want his life. "Your wishes will be mine." He wished for nothing but his freedom.
"Your work on my shoulders." This was unfair, Kibum lifted the shackle, why was it so heavy? "Take me, my Lord."
Kibum bit his lip as he reach the poor man's wrist. His hands were already scarred, his palm large and rough. The young Lord couldn't do it. His eyes closed.
Click
It seemed to echo in Kibum's head. "My hands will be yours." Kibum wished the slave would stop talking. "My legs will be your speed." He had such a gentle ring to his voice. "My lips will say your words." How dare Kibum think to silence him? The Lord took the other shackle. Please, stop it.
"I will be your shadow. I will be yours only." A confession that was faults. It shouldn't be. Kibum didn't own him, he shouldn't.
Click
The key was useless now. Just stupid gold and stupid diamonds. The man was strapped. Never again would he breathe freely. Kibum commanded it now. And it was making him queasy. His hands were trembling. He was feeling faint. He grasped at the hands that where held up to him to not fall. But it had surprised his slave. His head snapped up.
Round big dark eyes looked up to him. Worry written in them, "My Lord?" Kibum was going to be sick. He stumbled and the slave moved quickly. His hood falling as he grabbed his Lord's hips to prevent him from sinking.
Gold, no lighter. Kibum gasped. There were whispers coming from the other party goers but Kibum ignored them. "My Lord?" His slave asked again. His voice so soft it was only for Kibum to hear. "I'm fine." He said getting back on his own two feet, angry that he wavered like that. He was not weak, he did not need another shadow, one that could catch him every time he stumbled.
The slave stood up himself and Kibum looked at him for the first time. It was hard to look away. He was strange, his hair was light, straw, his nose round and soft, his skin tanned only proving that he was not used to the sun here.
He must be from far away. His eyes big, irritated still from where they had pierced the outer corner of his eyes. A custom that looked painful as much as useless. A beauty standard that Kibum didn't understand. Something reserved to only royal personal slaves. They were easily recognisable and so were not questioned when they were on a mission. Yet here, on him it looked good. Only reflecting the twinkle that he still held in his eyes. He was curious as he looked over Kibum as much as Kibum returned the stare. What was he thinking about?
He was shorter than Kibum. Something that was not uncommon but this man was strong, his shoulders wide with endless training. The slave cocked his head, surely this man was fearless to look so intensely at Kibum that he felt weird. There was a thud and Kibum jumped a little but his shadow reacted better. He was on his knees again. Within the first minute, this slave had already broken customs.
~~
“Maybe he was not done training.” Kibum ignored the whispers he heard. The feast was over; the sun was gone. He just wanted to be in bed and forget. It was already hard to breathe as it is. The soft footsteps behind him getting more and more annoying. He reached his door and a hand that was not his pushed it open. He was fast. Kibum ignored him and stepped inside. His room was large and calming. A wall full of open windows, only silks protecting him from the winds, moving and playing in an enchanting way. Facing fire and the sides, two large bowls filled with scented oil burning to light.
A bed of pillows and furs in the middle of the room held higher than the floor with a heavy carpet. Books covering one wall as one of his habits was reading captivating stories from far and wide, a chair made specially to take him on that journey. A mirror present and a table with lotions, oils and scented milks covering and another corner close by with an open door that would lead him to his private bath.
Kibum’s chambers were laid out in every luxury. Something that the young lord cherished. But there was something new in his room, well many things new. Gifts, he expected. Furniture with elaborate designs, new books to dive into, silks and cottons to wear. Diamonds and pearls to fuss over. Kibum rolled his eyes. Not today. His most noticeable gift went unnoticed for a bit.
“What is your name?” He said a loud. He didn’t want to see where the other was, he knew that he was somewhere. “My lord, I have none, I am waiting to be renamed.” Right, today was the slave’s rebirth. The first day of his life as he was taught. “No, what is your name. What did your mother call you.” Kibum didn’t have to think about the fact that the other believed he had no life before him. He didn’t want him to live that lie.
“My mother? My lord I-” “You have a mother, don’t you?” Kibum cut him off. He didn’t want to fight this man just because he was brainwashed. He hoped he was not stolen when at his mother’s breast. “Jonghyun. My mother called me by Jonghyun.” It was soft when he said that. Like he had not said that in a while. How long had this man been denied his name?
Kibum turned around. The slave was near the books. The body clad in a simple kilt and gold belt with those horrible gold shackles. “Here you will continue to be Jonghyun.” The young lord said. After all he could give him back a little bit of his identity. Jonghyun bowed his head, the chosen name meaning a little bit too much. “That is very kind of you, my lord.”
Kind? Kibum snorted. Stealing and brainwashing was not kind. What was the matter with this man? But he didn’t want to waver on the trouble. Not tonight. There were many presents and he needed to know who to thank. Kibum took a look at the table near Jonghyun. “Open them.” he ordered to the letters, too tired to do so himself. He would be too busy as he unlaced his heavy pearl choker.
There was a little crack as the wax seal was broken but then nothing. “What are you doing? What does it say?” Kibum was starting to get annoyed. Why was this becoming so difficult? “My lord. I do not read.” The lord turned his mouth a little agape. He knew that slaves didn’t read but a personal one? How useless. “It is to protect you, my lord. To keep secrets a secret.” No, you idiot. It was to keep you stupid and happy. Kibum gritted his teeth.
“This will not do, how will you help me with office work if you don’t read?” Was Jonghyun only there to wash his back and tie his shoelaces? “My lord’s husbands are for these councils. You should ask him, not a simple slave as I.” Kibum laughed. This was sickening. Did Jonghyun choose to be stupid? “I was unaware I had married.” He said sarcastically. Jonghyun was digging his own grave like this.
“My lord, forgive me. I did not mean to be rude. It is against the procedures for me to learn such skills.” Kibum snorted. Of course it was. He pitied Jonghyun. “Well then, on the morrow you will learn such skills in order to fully please me.” The slave opened his mouth. Would he dare talk against him again? “As my lord pleases.” He said, and it did please Kibum.
He turned and yawned. This time Jonghyun followed him to help him out of his clothes. He untied the embroidered belt and let it slide of his thin middle. The layers of colour silk soon followed, slowly exposing more and more milky skin. Jonghyun swallowed loudly but took the cloth off his lord’s shoulders.
Kibum waited until Jonghyun came back with his nightgown. He stood still as the slave moved about him, tying the knot on his middle. Kibum watched his hands work. They were too large for his wrists. He moved his sight up. This man had really long yet thin eyelashes. His eyebrows were full, darker than his hair. His cheeks were a bit sunken, as if he was never treated a proper meal. His lips were full though, his lower lip taking dominance over the other.
Why did personal slaves have to be so handsome all the time? Kibum turned his head. The night was cool and the wind was picking up, making the curtains dance. It was a lovely night, but Kibum grimaced. Between the silk and window, he knew would be a matt. It would be where Jonghyun would sleep. Like a stray dog, vulnerable to the wind’s mercy.
“Get the matt and move it towards the fire.” Kibum ordered. He would not have it; treating a human like that. “And take one of the furs and pillows.” He concluded, getting himself ready for bed. “My lord…” No, don’t talk back. Kibum turned to give Jonghyun a stern look yet it fell when he realised that the slave had the eyes that of a puppy.
“Thank you.”
>Part 2<