Epicaricacy:

The joy that comes from others misfortune.

The ship glided smoothly into the landing terminal and workers wasted no time in unloading Cadence after Sol and his Master had departed. The faster they did their work, the more time to rest they had. Meanwhile, Sol's Master had run into the occupants of a nearby ship, their tall, dark skinned leader intent on making conversation.

"Earth's representative." The alien - a Bǫlverkr - surveyed the two, its tongue twisting around the syllables of the Galaxical language.

The Galaxical language is a language spoken through the galaxies by every species with sufficient intelligence. It was created to ensure easy communication between species. However, due to the lack of exposure to these extra terrestrial beings, very few humans have learnt the language, only those intelligent enough to pick it up through the rare visits could speak it. Both Sol and his Master could understand and speak the Galaxical language fluently, Sol having picked up several languages throughout the years spent with varieties of slaves, his Master learnt it easily due to his advanced memory, being able to recall every moment with perfect precision.           

Sol kept his eyes lowered, being careful not to disrespect the Bǫlverkr. Instead, he studied the unusual Bǫlverkrian appearance; dark green skin, almost black with matching, pupiless, dark emerald eyes and long hair rested listlessly on the top of the crimson belt tied loosely around the waist. The alien had a large, stretched upper body, with an extra set of ribs jutting from nutrient rich skin. Of course, not all Bǫlverkr's shared this appearance; their skin colour could range anywhere on the colour spectrum in an almost black shade, their eyes and hair also matching this characteristic.        

"Bǫlverkr representative." His Master acknowledged, "And is that the new merchandise you have brought in for tomorrow's gathering?"

Sol knew that his Master was not actually curious about the boy in the other representative's arms, but he was scouting the other party for potential weaknesses. 

"Indeed," The Bǫlverkr lifted the slave into the light, showing off its beautiful multicoloured scales that glittered under the spotlight, silk white hair and limbs dangling limply.

Sol shuddered at the sight of the unresponsive pet. It was like a doll; silent but beautiful, crafted that way through days of violence. 

The one downside to the Bǫlverkr's were their violent nature. Rejoicing in the pain of war, suffering and rough sex, to be a possession of these beings was like signing your death wish. Most of their slaves had short lives full of agony. This species was the very embodiment of evil.

 At Sol's movement, the Bǫlverkr's attention was drawn to him, its eyes hungrily taking in his appearance; fluffy silver hair, creamy, pale skin and eyes like lavender jewels. He was immediately recognized.

"That must be the rare hybrid many speak of," It drawled, "I would be willing to pay top price for him."

Sol stiffened against his Master's taught muscles. He trembled, chewing his bottom lip anxiously. Being on the Black Planet had stressed Sol considerably, his fear of being cast away from his Master for riches gnawed at his mind. And now, with the sudden proposal-

Sol  bit through his lip, both pain and blood distracting him from his thoughts. He whimpered softly. His Master's thumb stroked Sol's thigh gently.

"Sol." His Master's eyes glowed with rage, "Will never be for sale. Least of all, to a Bǫlverkr."

Then, he strode past the company, leaving them behind in a fit of outrage. 

***

Safely out of range from the company, his Master stopped, hand raising to help inspect Sol's face. His thumb brushed over the wound on his lip, a slight frown creasing his brows as he leaned forward, catching Sol's lips in his own, cleaning the blood from the cut. His Master sighed as he pulled away.

"Let's get you to the hotel." He brushed a kiss against Sol's forehead before setting off,  intent on bringing his pet to where prying eyes could not see him.