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Eccedentesiast
Someone who hides pain behind a smile

The shackles pulled at my wrists and ankles as I turned onto my side. Trying to get away from the dull ache in my muscles, even though I knew it was useless. The dull ache pounded on. I could hear the servant’s footsteps as she and the guard came down to give me my daily meal. I kept my eyes on the cold stone floor as they drew closer.

“Hello, Augustus,” my eyes widened at the voice. At the name.

I shot up, frantically backing away and pushing myself against the wall, curling up and making myself small. I lowered my head as the cell door creaked open, not looking at him.

He scoffed, “Aren’t you going to say hello back? It’s not every day that I come down to this… place.” He glanced around at the dirty, dark cell.

I finally mustered up what little voice I had, “H-hello… Emperor Bianor.”

He smirked, crouching down to set the tray of food on the floor. “Well, go on, I know you’re hungry.”

I shifted, chains clinking. I reached forward and‒

He slammed his boot into my hand. I cried out at the pain that shot like a flaming arrow through my arm. Bianor put pressure on the back of my hand, pushing it into the cold stone floor. I whimpered, biting my lip.

“I have an… acquaintance,” Bianor said, “who has been a thorn in my side for far too long.”

“I won’t fight,” I quickly said. “I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

“Good boy,” he lifted his boot. “He’ll be arriving this evening.”

I shakily nodded, not going for the plate of stale food.

Bianor turned back to the door. “I’ll see you soon… little brother.”

⸺ ☽ ⚜ ☾ ⸺

Later in the day, although there was no daylight down in the dungeons, a few guards came for me. They unlocked the heavy fetters that held me to the wall, and put a cloth bag over my head, keeping hold of my arms as though I would claw them to pieces at any moment. They led me down the twisting halls, then up the stairs.

The hood finally came off. I kept my eyes on the floor. Wood, rather than stone, but still cold. The guards undid the shackles around my wrists, then shoved me towards the bath. I slowly dropped my tunic, stepping into the water.

The servants, as always, were rough in scrubbing me down, sometimes holding my head under the water. I gasped for air and through tears as they ran brushes through my tangled red curls, tearing what couldn’t be smoothed.

Once the dirt was scrubbed off my too-smooth skin, I was left to get dressed, with the guards still watching me, fiddling with their protective charms and looking disgusted all the while. I wrapped myself in the elegant yet easy-to-remove robes and picked at the peeling skin on my raw wrists.

When I was dressed, the guards put the hood and shackles back on, leading me to another room. The shackles were removed and the hood pulled off my head. The door was slammed shut.

After a moment, I slowly looked around the room.

The bed was neatly made, heavy curtains tied to the four wooden poles. There were only a few candles, lit and smelling like plants I couldn’t remember. Thick curtains stopped most of the fading sunlight from entering the dark room. I walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting on it and facing the wall. There was nothing I could do now but wait. That was all my life was: waiting, and pain.

I looked at the thick curtains of velvet. I swallowed. Dare I?

The door opened again, then closed, and I was suddenly very grateful I hadn’t decided to take a peek outside. There was silence for a moment, then footsteps.

“You must be the one I’m supposed to meet with to settle the deal,” the man said, sounding annoyed. “But why meet here?”

I didn’t reply, waiting for him to come around and see me.

“Hey, did you hear me?” He walked around the bed.

When he saw me, he gasped. He stepped to stand in front of me. I kept my eyes lowered, but slowly pulled my tunic away from my chest, showing him how easy it would be to remove.

That was all it took. He lunged at me, knocking me down to the sheets. I barely had time to get a breath in before he covered my mouth.

When I woke up hours later, I was back in my cell. The chains were heavy on my wrists and ankles. I blinked a few times, taking deep, trembling breaths. I was back in my old tunic. It had been washed. I shifted on the hay and threadbare blankets that acted as a bed. Slowly, I was able to get enough energy to sit up. My neck, chest, arms, and legs were covered in bruises and bitemarks and scratches. Every part of my body ached, more than usual, and I couldn’t help but sharply gasp and whimper as I moved.

But at least I was alone now. No one bothered me down here.

I leaned against the wall, breathing deep. I pulled my legs up to my chest, wincing at the feeling of the heavy shackles on my raw, peeling skin. The chains rattled and clanked against each other, echoing in the stone halls of the dungeons. A few tears streamed down my face. All I could do was sit there, silently.

Eventually, I heard footsteps. Only one pair, and only one scent. Then the jingle of keys. The cell door unlocked and creaked open. I glanced up to see Emperor Bianor, holding a ceramic platter. He crouched down in front of me placing the plater on the floor. A pastry.

I hesitantly reached out and took the plate. I balanced it on my knees, beginning to eat, and quickly becoming ravenous. Bianor stood and watched, silent and unmoving and almost looking sad.

“Remember when we were kids? Before this?” He motioned to the cell.

I thought for a moment, then nodded, face stuffed with the food.

“Use your words, Augustus,” Bianor firmly said.

“I…. I remember our parents locking me in here,” I mumbled, looking away from him. My voice was rough and scratchy, and my throat was painfully dry. I gulped down the rest of the pastry. I glanced up at the emperor, “Since when do you care what’s going on in my head?” I put the platter on the floor, curling up tight. “Why should you care about me now?”

“Watch your tongue,” Bianor snapped, making me flinch. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to disappear, not daring to look at him.

His voice softened, so low only I could hear it, “Despite what many, including you, believe, I do still hold some love for you. Even if you’re a monster who needs to eat people,” he crouched down, reaching out to brush a few crumbs off my face, “you’re still my baby brother.”

Bianor took the empty platter and stood up. I was left alone once more.

⸺ ☽ ⚜ ☾ ⸺

“Augustus, are you okay?” My brother knelt down beside me, a desperate and worried look on his face. He inspected my scraped and bloodied knee. “Okay, it’s just a scratch. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” Bianor helped me up off the ground. He wiped the tears and dirt off my face, then took my hand.

“It hurts,” I whimpered after taking a few steps.

The scrape was bleeding more now, and red blood slid down my skin. I tried taking a few more steps, but each one was met with pain. I whimpered, gripping my upper leg. More tears slid down my face. I held my brother tight.

“Mother, Father, Augustus is hurt!” Bianor called our parents.

They didn’t seem interested.

Bianor scoffed, “Typical. Very well, then, come on, let’s get you to the doctor.” He easily picked me up, holding me against his chest.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning on his shoulder.

When we walked past them, Mother asked, “Bianor, where do you think you’re going? Tea time isn’t over yet.”

“I’m taking Augustus to the doctor; he’s hurt,” my brother replied. He carried me out of the garden and towards the castle, one of his guards following close behind.

“I can take him, Your Highness,” the guard offered.

“No, he’s my brother, I’ll take care of him,” Bianor shook his head. He glared at the guard. “Besides, don’t think I don’t see the way you all look at him. He’s 9, for moons’ sake. Why you and yours are still here, I have no idea.”

When we got to the doctor, Bianor stayed with me, gently holding my hand. The doctor tended to the scrape, hands drifting up my leg more than they should have. I moved towards my brother, gripping his hand tight. Bianor kept harsh eyes on the doctor, practically daring him to try something.

“Don’t put too much stress on it, Your Highness,” the doctor said once he finished bandaging the scrape. “Come back tomorrow to get the bandages changed. Should heal within a few weeks.”

“Thank you,” Bianor coldly said. He pulled me off the bed, supporting me as I limped out of the infirmary. The throbbing pain in my leg was different from the dull ache in my back, but at least I knew it would pass.

“Bianor?” I softly asked.

“Yeah?” He glanced down at me.

“Do you think I’m weird?”

“...What?”

“Everyone looks at me… strangely.” I messed with my orange curls and felt along my ears, which were a bit smaller and more rounded than my kin’s pointed ears. “Not to mention I don’t look like you, or our parents, or our grandparents, or any of our other ancestors.” I looked down. “So, do you think I’m weird?”

Bianor was silent for a long moment. His earrings jingled and glimmered in the summer sun. Far more decorative than I was.

“Bia?” I lightly tugged at his clothes.

“No, I don’t think you’re weird,” he replied, shaking his head. “I think you’re unique.” He ruffled my fluffy orange hair, gripping my hand a bit tighter. “Besides, even if you are weird, it’s a good kind of weird. The kind of weird that lets people know not to mess with you.”

I smiled, looking up at him, “Can we go back to the garden?”

Bianor replied, “As long as you promise to watch your step. Don’t want you to get hurt again.” He motioned to the bandage on my knee.

I nodded, “Deal.”

When I opened my eyes, my face was wet with tears. What had happened to us? What had happened to him? Where had my protective, caring older brother gone? He had been so defensive of me, threatening the guards and anyone else who looked at me with hunger in their eyes.

When did he stop protecting me?

When had he become so cruel?

I turned onto my side, facing the wall. I wiped away the tears, breathing deep and slow. Part of me wanted to believe him, believe that he still held some love for me, no matter how small that love may have been. Part of me still had love for him as well. Because, like he had said, even if he was greater than me in every way, even if I was a flesh-eating monster….

He was still my big brother.

“Augustus?”

“Bia?” I turned to face the cell door. I crawled over to the door as much as the chain on my ankle would allow, but still had to extend my leg awkwardly in order to reach the bars. He crouched down to get on my level. I gripped the cold bars of the cell door, staring up at him with pleading, teary eyes. He gently touched my hand, then pulled out a folded kerchief.

“Here, I thought you would be hungry,” he held it out to me.

I took it, opening the kerchief to see a pastry. I began eating, savoring the taste. I gripped my brother’s hand through the bars.

“Are you okay?” He gently touched the bruise on my face.

“Now I am,” I whispered, nodding.

“I wish I could get you out of here,” Bianor breathed. There were tears in his dark eyes, but he forced them back. “I-I’m going to try to talk to Father again, try to make him and Mother see that this isn’t the answer. I-I don’t know what’s causing everyone to go practically insane with lust when they look at you, but‒”

“Your Highness!” It was the guards. “Step away from it!”

“He is my brother!” Bianor yelled. “I am not leaving him.”

“The emperor’s orders, sire,” they began to drag him away.

“Let me go!” Bianor screamed. “He’s a prince, too!”

The guards practically carried him down the hall by his arms.

I pressed myself against the bars, “Bia!”

He called back to me, "I love you, Augustus! Never forget that! I love you!"