A/N: Hi lovely people, I finally got around to updating this story! It still needs a lot of work, but I'm a perfectionist and trying to be a bit less critical. That way I might post more often 😅 How are you all holding up in quarantine? 🖤

This is unedited.

Chapter 10.

Servants entered Azel's chamber at dawn, carrying platters of spiced vegetables, eggs and fruit. Deon rubbed the grit from his eyes and frowned at Azel. The boy blinked at him and smiled serenely.

Deon frowned harder. He was sore all over from sleeping on the floor. Azel had never moved towards the bed last night and when Deon had tried to tug him towards it, the boy had resisted him and curled up on the blankets.

Deon didn't want to sleep alone - especially not since his nightmares had started - and he'd reluctantly settled beside Azel. The blankets were silken, but they hardly cushioned the stone floor.

It was difficult to get comfortable and whenever Deon began to drift off, he heard the steps of the guards as their shift rotated throughout the night. Silent, armed figures were always present and it was unsettling to catch glimpses of their stony faces in the dark.

The servants hovered over the boys, as they ate their breakfast, and Deon took the hint that he was expected to eat quickly. The minute his plate was empty, a girl touched his arm and gestured towards the door.

Deon's eyes felt scratchy from lack of sleep and his steps were heavy on the grand staircase. The warm water in the baths was a relief to his sore muscles and so were the efficient fingers scrubbing his scalp.

Azel and Deon were the only boys present and Deon was able to enjoy the servants ministrations, without feeling self-conscious.

Soft morning light flowed in from the terrace and the only sounds were the light chatter of the women and trickles of water.

When one of the servants unravelled his bandages, she washed and oiled his back, but didn't reapply the dressing. His wounds had closed.

He endured having his cuff reapplied to his arm and his hair elaborately braided, but he balked when they dabbed gold paint on his eyelids, earning a stinging whack to his hip.

Azel flashed him a conscillatory grin. The boy's black hair was arranged in soft waves, falling past his thin waist, and his eyes were lined in turqoise.

A slave girl showed them through the garden, and Azel took Deon's hand, threading their fingers casually. It was a chaste gesture, compared to everything they had shared last night, but it made Deon's heart flutter. Maybe because it was voluntary and not forced.

Perhaps, Azel could become his friend. Deon didn't know if he would be a good friend. He wasn't charming and talkative, like Alen or even Gell. But maybe, with the language barrier, Azel wouldn't mind.

With his brother absent for so long, it would be nice to have someone else to rely on. Azel might even be persuaded to sleep on a bed.

Deon snuck a glance at the tranquil figure beside him. Azel was humming a tune softly and trailing his free hand over the leaves, as they passed trees and exotic flowers. He seemed to be absorbed in his own world, grey eyes dreamy and unfocused, but his thumb stroked Deon's hand.

They reached the edge of the garden and followed a path to a training yard full of soldiers.

They were mostly grown men, but a few looked barely older than himself. They wore loincloths and moved with swift practiced grace, bringing down their opponents like wild cats. Their dark skin gleamed in the sun and their muscles bulged.

Deon stared and felt his breaths quicken. He was certain that if he got the chance, he could learn to fight like that. Then no one would ever be able to overpower him again.

The prince was among them, wrestling as competently as any of the soldiers. Deon hadn't noticed that his steps had slowed, until Azel pulled on his hand.

He reluctantly followed Azel up marble steps to a pavilion. A few Peraan boys were lounging decoratively on rugs and pillows, glittering with jewels and painted like dolls, a stark juxtaposition to the warriors in the yard.

Deon cringed with the knowledge that he was one of them.

Four more boys were circled around Roi, touching his bright curls and tickling his fair skin. Roi was flushed pink and giggling. Their eyes met briefly and the blonde's lips thinned.

He was still angry then. Deon didn't know what to do about that, so he looked away.

Further along the low wall, Jessa and Alen were lounging on cushions. Deon's heart leapt and he released Azel to stride forward.

His brother was ignoring him, it was easy to tell by the way he leaned into Jessa and whispered intimately in the boy's ear. He couldn't miss someone advancing on him this fast, he must have noticed Deon earlier.

Alen's raven hair had been braided in the same style as Deon's and his lids were also painted gold. The slaves must have matched them deliberately. His supple torso was bandaged and Deon's stomach twisted tight.

Why had Alen been whipped and when had it happened? Had he been bed-ridden all this time? Deon had thought Alen was punishing him for something, by staying away.

He felt a cold pang of guilt, followed quickly by anger. Because anger was easier to deal with.

"What happened?" Deon crouched beside his brother and scowled at Jessa. The redhead's green eyes brightened, as if Deon's ire excited him, and his smile showed a hint of teeth.

"What do you care?" Alen said and the ice in his voice made Deon's own hackles raise. "I haven't seen you in three days."

Rich, male laughter made the boys turn their attention to the prince and a man walking up the pavillion steps. The prince's lithe body gleamed with sweat and he moved with the lazy confidence of someone who knew his body well and trained it often.

The man beside him was older and powerfully muscled. His dark hair was graying at the temples and when he sat in a chair, it groaned beneath his weight.

A slave girl served the men sweetmeats on a tray and poured cups of pale wine. They spoke in Peraan, with an easy atmosphere between them.

The man suddenly looked straight towards the twins, eyes raking over them in a way that made Deon's skin crawl. When their eyes met, Deon angled himself slightly in front of Alen and lifted his chin.

The man smiled slowly and turned his head, speaking to the prince in low tones. Deon felt a chill run down his spine. Something bad was about to happen, he was sure of it.

He remained tense and expectant. And sure enough, the prince snapped his fingers and indicated his companion's chair. "Seya, entertain my general. Seyin, come here."

Alen stood and walked lightly to the warrior's chair. Deon moved towards the prince, but his attention remained fixed on his brother.

It was torture to watch him go to another man. One that wasn't even the prince!

He hated the way the general's large hand reached out to caress Alen's slim hip. He hated how Alen smiled and knelt slowly, hands reaching for the man's loincloth.

A second snap of fingers had Deon's head swiveling forward and a blow slammed into his cheek. He staggered to one knee and spat blood onto the marble floor. His teeth had cut the inside of his lip.

A fist clamped into his hair and forced his head up. He gazed up at the prince with stark terror, anger snuffed like a pinched candleflame.

"I thought you were learning." The man hissed.

He pushed aside his loincloth and dragged Deon's head down, forcing himself into the boy's mouth.

His cock tasted of sweat and musk. Skin hot and grainy with sand from the training yard. Deon tried not to gag, but the prince wasn't gentle, and Azel was much smaller than he was.

It wasn't long before Deon was shoved away with a kick.

The prince sneered and called for Jessa. The redhead eagerly finished the task, fingertips trailing teasingly over the man's thighs and scrotum.

When the prince's face went slack with release, he looked down at Deon through half-closed eyes.

"You want your brother? You can have him." He motioned to Alen. "Seya."

Alen lifted his head from the general's crotch, red lips wet with the man's essence. He approached them quickly and avoided looking at Deon.

"Here." The prince tossed Alen a flask of oil. "Use him."

Alen's eyes widened, but he uncapped the flask without hesitation, and poured oil into his palm. He took the ring off his cock and stroked his flagging erection to hardness.

Deon watched with growing dread, eyes flicking between the prince and his brother.