Chapter Nine

P  O  S  T  U  R  E : A HAND IN THE HIVE

Osiris stood staring dead eyed at the obnoxiously large, arched, and carved wooden doors. 

He was exhausted.

Osiris tried to lift an arm. Pain shot up and splotched back and forth between the different blackened messes across his skin. 

He had yet to try and move his legs. 

The men had beaten him anywhere a piece of cloth could hide. It was a very textbook abuser sort of deal, and very much something Osiris tried, and failed to defend himself against. The men hit like bricks, and he was, like, ninety percent positive they weren’t pulling their punches. 

Osiris looked at his chest. He was covered in the finest cloth he had ever seen. The uniform reminded him of fanart Isabella used to throw his way back in her college years. A lot of the fans loved to draw a young Osiris dressed as a little soldier. 

Osiris then looked at his hands. They were small.

A  N  G  E  R

Osiris felt his body sway as he tried to even out the headrush he received from his rage. 

A little body with  B  I  G  feelings. 

Osiris looked at his hand once more.

He clenched his fist so tight it crinkled. 

Right. 

He was seeing the King today. 

“What a joke.”

The guards at the door said nothing. Their eyes only stared straight ahead, guarding a door to a room with a man in it who was waiting on him. Osiris gave a tiny, nearly non existent sigh. 

Again, no one cared to explain anything to him. A bunch of threats for things he doesn’t even get. A bunch of rules when all they’ve ever done was push him, pull him, pinch him, punch him-

Enough. 

Osiris’s eyes hardened. 

The soles of his feet lit up. The smell of melting leather filled the small room. 

Again. 

People are trying to keep him down, again. 

Ridiculous. 

Adam’s ego reared its wild head.

He has had enough.  

“-nouncing Prince Osiris Von L-”

Osiris forced his entire being to stand at full height, fanning out his shoulders, and lifted up his little leg to kick the door out. 

The force was sudden and caught everyone off guard. The wooden doors knocked against the wall with a small thud. 

Osiris prowled into the room with his head held high and pulled at the collar of his shirt. He stretched the cloth, stressing the buttons below. 

“Sorry for running late. The fucking maid wouldn’t shut up about keeping my mouth shut, so-”

Osiris kept stretching his collar out like a dad of five kids coming home from a late night. He felt like he had worked at least three 12 hour shifts. 

“-here we are.” 

A button popped. 

Osiris stood with his showmanship on full display, face twisted nasty to match his mood. He kept his eyes on the King and side-eyed the rest. 

He has no clue who the rest of those fucking people are. 

Silence.

It was heavy. Osiris kept his frown as he straightened his stand and finally allowed himself to release the King’s stare and see what was happening.

A dinner.

These fucking people were having a dinner.

“Listen.” Osiris started to scratch his head roughly. “If this is your way of fucking with me, than I’d rather not.”

Osiris’s stomach growled angrily and loud.

Silence.

“Hello?”

Osiris glanced around again. Then he saw it. Every single person was hunched in on themselves and looking down, necks strained. The air around them looked heavy.

Submission. 

Weird..

Osiris patted himself down and looked beneath his shoes and touched the tips of his hair. He didn’t even feel a smidge of that weight. 

“Weird.”

Still no one said a thing. 

Osiris took a step to the right. The faces closest to him seemed to ease. Two steps to the left. Same reaction, and the other side an opposite reaction. 

!

The weight can be controlled. 

N  E  G  L  I  G  E  N  C  E : BONDS OF A FAMILY

|            Something was wrong            |  

All heads began to turn as the announcer started, but then snapped towards the door when the knobs hit the wall. A slam. A small, heated slam. The Queen then watched as a complete stranger walked into the room. 

Loud.

The boy was loud. 

She wasn’t even given a chance to take in his state when the WEIGHT hit. The Queen’s throat became dry. Everyone, save for that boy, was feeling the full brunt of the King’s shock. 

He was not even mad yet. 

Claudia stole a glance around the room. Even their own children were not safe from him. Strong thongs of a forgotten pain throbbed in her chest. 

She had forgotten what this felt like. 

Osiris’s stomach gave another loud, upset cry for help. 

“So.. am I a ghost or something? Am I real? Can anyone even see me-”

“What. Happened.”

A no-nonsense voice. 

Osiris looked back at the King. He sounded like a parent. A concerned parent. 

Osiris’s face twisted in exasperation. 

What the fuck.

The King raked over his form five or six times before he looked up at him, body leaning towards Osiris subconsciously.  

“Answer me.”

His voice had softened until it sounded desperate. 

‘Talk to me son.’ He destroyed a training dummy. Its plastic parts were tossed and ripped and thrown. Adam looked at the old man. Short. Stubby. He just wanted to help but how can he ask for he-

Osiris bared his teeth at the memory.

“What the fuck do you meean, old man?”

Guards tried to move, but the weight stopped them. 

Smoke started to form beneath his feet. The little puffs being too light to be seen, but hot enough to feel. Osiris began to sweat. 

“I’ve been ‘ training ’ since I woke up. As per orders, or something.”

The color drained from the surrounding room, the pressure shook the air and shifted back and forth, visual weight lines coating the world gray. 

Then the spill started. 

As the King stood, neon green seemed to droop up his hands in thick, wild, neon vines. Osiris watched as green ooze tried to find a form but twisted into a mess of mantis, katydid, leaf, insects-

The glow grew and grew until it reached the man’s elbows. The very man himself was becoming a black, void-less clutter. 

He looked big mad. 

At the center back of his hands an eye appeared. Osiris paused. 

The eyes were different than before. 

“On whose orders.”

Osiris stared at the eyes. They looked only at the King.  

“On whose-”

The King was suddenly beside him, his hands still hot with green liquid, body still blacked out with rage. 

“Lock him away.”

The steps clicked harshly against the tiled flooring as they reversed back. 

A ringing noise filled the air.

“Lock him away. I don’t even want a whisper of that boy in this castle until I say so, do I make myself clear?”

“Disgusting.”

Fear.

Adam was engulfed by fear. 

A hand touched his shoulder. 

He didn’t have to think, he moved. He slapped the hands away and spun until he was facing the threat. The man’s face was genuinely shocked as Adam balled up his fist and aimed it straight at his face. 

Adam was then completely entrapped.

He hit the ground hard, tongue clipping slightly on his teeth. Like all major arteries it might have been a little cut, but it sure knew how to bleed. Red dripped from his clenched teeth as he tried to buck off whomever was on top of him, little hearts beating harder and faster the more panicked he became.

That seemed to be the last straw for the King.

His men, the very soldiers meant to serve and protect him, were all beheaded on the spot. Adam stilled as he watched three heads spin in place before bouncing a few times off the floor and rolling to a stop a few feet away. Someone screamed, others gasped. 

Adam had never seen someone die before. 

The bodies over him grew even heavier and began to suffocate him. He didn’t even have the strength to nudge them.

Powerless.

All the years he’s trained, all the hours he’s sweat and bleed and cried- all of it meant nothing. Adam grit his teeth as he wildly tried to get the dead bodies off of him. Hot, angry tears pricked his vision.