Content warning: This novel contains strong non-con themes and themes of abuse, along with the misgendering of a transgender character, and depictions of gender dysphoria.

Valerius threw Forrest onto his bed. The door which led to the King’s bedroom was slammed shut mere seconds later.

Forrest barely had a chance to regain his bearings, before the King had joined him onto his mattress. “W-what—”

“No,” Valerius snapped. He pressed his palm to Forrest’s lips. “You will not speak, unless spoken to.”

The young King paused. His gaze darkened. “Understood, Halfling?”

At the risk of consequences Forrest refrained from imagining, out fear of seeming afraid before this man who was twice his size, the Halfling merely nodded—once—without uttering another word.

This, seemed to please Valerius, for the young King smiled, then said, “Good.” His lips found their way next to Forrest’s left ear. “I like it when they learn quickly,” he whispered, in a voice so nefarious and dry, that it made Forrest’s skin crawl with a myriad of tiny, sullen goose-bumps.

The room fell silent for the instance of a second, before Valerius took Forrest’s chin yet again, between his palm—large and calloused. He guided Forrest’s attention, forced the Halfling’s face to turn, until Forrest noticed his reflection in a tall mirror, whose lavish frame was the color of melted gold fields, Forrest could remember playing in as a child with the many friends he lost, decades ago.

As Forrest observed his and the King’s figures in the mirror, he could not help but find Valerius’s attire beautiful. The blue-dyed fabric around his cloak and the deep, darkness of his garbs made him look like the shadow of a long-gone demon.

In comparison, Forrest was not much to look at. Raven hair. Pale skin; sickly, someone had called it back at his village, where he had pretended to be human, for as long as he could afford to.

The young one, he looks ill, was the first thing an elderly man had told the woman who had adopted Forrest, whilst believing Forrest was much younger than he actually was.

In certain ways, Forrest found himself quite saddened by the fact that he could not play at this game anymore. He had long passed the hundreds of years where he appeared to others as a child, and now resembled more of a young man, in human words. This, made it much more difficult to get by, for the people of nearby villages always kept their suspicions around young men.

Valerius leaned forward. He dug his nails into Forrest’s shoulder. “Pray tell,” he said, “what gift have you been blessed with, Halfling?” The watchful glare he kept across Forrest’s person was intense.

Forrest could not help but tense under the King’s merciless touch. His throat tightened, as he carefully considered his reply.

If he were to give Valerius the wrong answer now, it was likely that Valerius would take one of the many swords hanging off his walls, and use them, to end Forrest’s life right then and there.

Forrest had to be useful.

No matter what, he did not want to die.

“F-foresight,” Forrest blurted the lie. “I—” The Halfling bit his lip. He looked away, then grasped at the bedsheets beneath his legs. “I have the gift of foresight, my Lord.”

Valerius laughed. He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. An amused grin formed across his lips, which were now so close to Forrest’s, that it was hard for Forrest to ignore the King’s heated breaths falling across his skin.

“My Lord?” The King let out a rather amused cackle. “Now, that is a good one.”

Valerius ran a hand across Forrest’s hip. “Tell me, little one,” he said, “why did you not run, then?” Valerius pressed his mouth to Forrest’s own.

And Forrest froze.

“Why,” Valerius asked him again, “did you choose to stay, and let me do as I please with you?”

The King hooked his fingers atop the waistband of Forrest’s underwear. “Is it true what they say?” he said. “That all Halflings are sluts?”

This time, it was a reflex—not thought out at all—when Forrest pushed Valerius away.

When the Halfing realized what he had done, however, his eyes widened. His breaths turned into heavy pants, as his throat tightened; he did his best to will the air back into his lungs. “N-no,” Forrest blurted, because it was much too late to back out now. He could feel tears rise to his gaze, but, he blinked them away, and swallowed down the pain. “I-I’m not—”

Valerius grabbed Forrest’s collar again; this time, the act was somehow a tad more gentle than before. “What are you, then?” the King stared at Forrest with a brief, expression of disdain. “What am I to think, when my guards found you parading in men’s clothing? Only perverts do such—”

“I am a man.” Forrest recoiled in on himself. He covered up his chest, that was much too revealed for his taste, in this dress the guards had forced him to wear. “There’s been—” Forrest parted his lips; they quivered, as he carefully considered his words. “There was a mistake,” the Halfling’s head hung low whilst he said this. His brows were knitted together, from the anxious nerves that had started to form within his gut. “But, I assure you, that I am a man.”

“And I am to believe you because?” Valerius cocked his head to the side once more. He rested an arm against his own knee. “Is it a Halfling thing?”

“Perhaps, my Lord, I… I am not quite sure,” Forrest found himself muttering the words. He did not sound very convincing; in fact, Forrest would not have blamed Valerius, if the young King were to mark his claims off as lies.

“How does one bed you?”

Forrest perked up. He cringed. “Pardon?”

“How does one bed you?” Valerius repeated, ever so calmly, as if Forrest had not heard it the first time.

The King was staring at his nails now, without a care in the world; this irritated Forrest slightly.

Forrest’s gaze shifted around his surroundings—from the tall, red curtains that surveyed across the room, to the plump, soft pillows on the opposite end of the mattress. He reached for his elbow and squeezed it, once. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I-I’ve… never…” Forrest cleared his throat. “Or, w-well, n-not all the way, at least… I don’t—”

“So.” Valerius hiked his hand up Forrest’s skirt, then thumbed at the Halfling’s inner thigh.

Their gazes met once more. “You are a virgin, then, is that what you are telling me?” he said.