Chapter Text
~One~
“Come on, sweetie, it won’t take long.” A familiar hand pressed against his lower back, an even more familiar sickeningly sweet smile covering dangerous intentions. Roier nodded briefly--as if his acceptance really mattered , was being considered --and let himself be shuffled towards a separate tent. He made the mistake of glancing at Bad and Foolish before the tent flap shuttered closed behind him and tried not to let the expressions bother him. Bad’s was familiar, as he always carried that perpetually worried expression. It was just a bit more saddened, a bit more grieving , as he watched Roier be hauled away.
Roier wondered how Bad still found it in himself to care .
Not particularly about him and Foolish, but about anything . Bad and Foolish were the most important people to Roier, the only people he valued in life, and Roier still didn’t really know if he cared about them. He was sure he did, probably, somewhere inside himself. He had to, right? He just couldn’t really tell where or how under everything else that was piled on top and strangling any sort of good feeling into dust.
Foolish’s expression was always more haunting to Roier, and one he tried to avoid catching as he was led away. The man was always so casual, so almost chipper about what they did that it was easy to forget it wasn’t a choice . Foolish had one hell of a coping mechanism, if his lack of spiraling into insanity was anything to go by, and it was at least ten times better than Roier’s. At least Foolish could joke about feeling things--whether he actually felt things was up for debate among the three of them, but the idea was there at least. Roier couldn’t even pretend anymore.
No, Foolish’s expression showed nothing , and that was how Roier was reminded that his life wasn’t worth living, one way or another. The face normally alight with teasing and mischief was clear of any and all emotion, maybe just the faintest hints of anger peaking through his emerald eyes. But trying to figure out why he was suddenly emotion less and why Bad was always full of emotions was too much thinking for Roier, which was something he should not be currently doing.
There were other tents in the camp specifically for such needs of the soldiers. The kingdom may not care if its people are happy, or if their families are properly fed, but if they’re sending soldiers into enemy territory to die for them, they’ll at least let them be physically relieved in peace beforehand. So special privacy tents specifically for people like Roier and Foolish were camp necessities, and soldiers were welcome to such wonderful luxuries whenever they weren’t busy. Roier knew the inside of this particular tent like the back of his hand--camp had been settled for almost two weeks in this one spot, so there was plenty of time for him to memorize every thread in the tent and blade of grass on the ground as he waited out his companions’ libido to wane.
Thankfully, war left most men quite tired, so most stays didn’t time very long. There were just…many a soldiers, and only him and Foolish.
Not so thankfully, Roier wasn’t being dragged away by a mere soldier with exhaustion trimming his eyes. Instead it was one of the generals, which one would think would mean he was even more exhausted. Instead that only meant the man had more physical capabilities than all the rest due to his complete lack of exertion--the generals were there to demand following of others, not to lead the war by their own hands. These falsely glorified men held no accomplishments in their own hands, just the blood and betrayal of his own men.
“Quiet as always, huh beautiful?” The gruff voice of the general was asking and Roier was briefly dragged from his headspace long enough to try and search for an appropriate answer. Did he want a response? Some sort of acknowledgement would probably keep Roier from being beaten in more ways than one, so a response was probably--
The special tent was zipped shut and Roier was shoved face first into the makeshift bed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have you screaming soon like I always do.”
Oh, Roier probably should have realized who he was with. This particular general liked him silent, unresponsive. Most soldiers understood Roier’s need to close himself off from them--they knew he wasn’t choosing to do this for a living. They still used him, but they didn’t ask for anymore of him, and Roier was fine with that. But anybody with any more authority than mere soldiers liked to play games. This particular general preferred Roier to Foolish because Foolish was too active , too lifelike . He liked Roier because he wouldn’t stop until Roier begged him to, and that was what he wanted. Roier wondered if he even really liked sex , or if it was just the powerplay he liked. Either way, he was Roier’s least favorite type of person to come to him. At least he could pretend to be certain ways for some people--with this general, the only way for it to end was to remember what breaking was like. Something Roier worked so long to clamp away that was ripped right back to the surface every time the creature put his hands on him. Roier was reminded of how his skin crawls and his lungs concave and his hands shake.
How all he wanted to do is scream, but he’s too far underwater for the noise to reach anyone.
Hands began tearing at his clothes and Roier shoved back into his headspace for as long as he was allowed. He had some time--it takes a while for the general to really get himself all in, so Roier sinks.
A passing thought of once family gets shoved away.
A conversation between him, Bad, and Foolish the night before the army left the kingdom to try and conquer the next gets waved through, but only holds his attention for a few moments. Something about a song Foolish had convinced one of the bards to play.
Hands on bare skin.
His old home gets shoved away.
What they had for breakfast that day gets to stay.
Things shoved into his mouth.
A handsome face with evil intentions gets shoved away.
A warm hand in his stays, then gets forcefully shoved away as well.
More things touching him in places he doesn’t want.
The introduction to the king gets shoved away.
The prince handing him over to the concubines and leaving him there --
Fuck
He must have made a noise because the general groaned, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking him backwards by the roots. His back arches unnaturally and he's ripped from his headspace way faster than he thought he’d be. Normally he had more time to not think about what was happening to him but his thoughts took him some place even worse. Roier slammed face-first into hell, his hands barely physically holding him up as the general tried to hold him up solely by his hair. Hips slammed against his ass, much worse inside, and Roier didn’t want to think about it . He’s immediately reminded that there was no preparation, no attempt at easing any kind of pain for him, and he feels like he’s being ripped open. The pain burned his skin and Roier sucked in a breath to hold it there in an attempt to have something to hold onto. A deep rumble of what was supposed to be a laugh reverberates from behind him, then the hand unclenches from his roots to instead snatch at the back of his neck. He’s driven back down, face ramming into the bedding.
“Don’t try to hold back, bitch. You know I like it when you cry.”
And there was no way Roier was going to cry, not that early in the hell session, but something was wrong . He never had a problem shifting back into a disassociated headspace, mentally leaving his current misery for a slightly less miserable time or two. But his mind kept dragging him down even more hurtful paths, memories of the past that were heartbreaking and torturing and worse than whatever physical pain they did to him. He couldn’t stay away in his mind if his mind was horrible .
Roier would rather feel the worthless “general” split him open against his will again than remember the betrayal that led him there.
He didn’t want to remember the warm brown eyes that held hidden intent, the gentle touches that were soaked in lies, or the once soft smile that now only mocked him.
If the prince saw him now, he would laugh at him. No--he probably wouldn’t even recognize him. His eyes would skim right over him as he lazily scanned through the crowd of concubines, and he would ignore Roier entirely.
Like he never spoke to him so gently, held him so close, told him such lies.
Roier was suddenly cold, the body uncomfortably hunched over and around him disappearing. Then he was abruptly flipped from his stomach to his back, immediately closing his eyes to keep himself from having to look at him. He wasn’t even sure if he would see the man above him or the face of the prince.
“What’s wrong today? Normally it takes so much longer to break your spirits.” Roier opened his eyes to meet another pair blown with lust and lost in hysteria that Roier couldn’t understand. One of the man’s hands clamped onto his thigh, dragging him to the edge of the bedding and holding him in place as if Roier would try to leave. The other shot towards his throat like a striking snake, immediately forcing the air out of him. The man’s grin only turned more manic, releasing Roier’s thigh to reach for his own dick. “I guess it’s just my lucky day.”
He slammed back into him, laughing as he watched Roier’s mouth slack open--he tried to scream but the sound was stunted by the grip around his neck. The general laughed and set a jolting pace before finally releasing Roier’s throat, just for a moment. He choked in a harsh breath, every other miserable pain momentarily forgotten in his panic to just breathe . But then his access was cut again, manic laughter filling the tent. Roier’s nails clawed at the man’s hand, his mouth stuttering for breath and his eyes pooling over. There was no way out of it.
The general would force him through round and round until Roier begged but why would he want to beg to live when he was already so broken?
Why did he bother trying to loosen the grip on his neck, to stop the hips from beating into him, to just be alive ?
Why couldn’t he just die?
The hand around his neck flexed loose again and Roier sucked in a haggard breath, the air immediately rushing back out of him in a sob. The words were tumbling from his mouth way faster than they ever had before, tears clouding his vision and somehow choking him too.
“Just kill me! Stop making me do this, just kill me!”
The general’s eyes lit up like he’d just been announced king, somehow darkening with even more lust. He moaned, throwing his head back and forcing himself into Roier harder. His hand gripped tightly around his neck again and Roier was back to dying but miserably living .
“You know just what to do to me, fucking whore.” The general panted out, his head still thrown back and his eyes slammed shut. He was close, Roier disgustingly already knew. Behind him, Roier could just barely see the flap of the tent shifting to the side. The general didn’t notice, chasing his release as Roier continued to choke. A man Roier had never seen before silently stepped into the room, cold blue eyes locked on Roier’s. Roier couldn’t see anything past his choked tears and the glaring blue stare, the eyes holding his as the man stepped only an arms length behind the general.
He was almost done. He would stop soon, give Roier a long few minutes of rest where he could attempt to crawl back into his own hollow headspace. Like clockwork, the hand around Roier’s neck loosened just a bit. The silent man behind the general seemed to notice at the same time Roier did, because his eyes widened just briefly before Roier was gasping,
“Help me.”
His voice was so quiet, so crushed and beaten and drowned out by the continued sound of pounding flesh as the general completely ignored him. But the man heard him and reacted immediately, so quickly that Roier couldn’t have blinked his tears away to see a better view. Those calculating blue eyes instantly hardened to ice before cutting away from Roier’s gaze. There was a swift swing of movement from the man before the hand around Roier’s throat was gone. Roier’s own hands immediately shot to his throat as he coughed and heaved in breaths, barely registering that there was no longer anyone touching him. There were sounds, movement, but nothing over the sound of air rushing back into his lungs.
“Acalma.”
Suddenly there was a foreign voice next to him on the bedding but nowhere near close enough to touch him, and Roier jolted backwards. He still choked on his intakes, a hand clutched to his mangled throat, but he tried to scramble away from whoever was by him. His eyes found ice blue again that had relaxed and Roier froze. Where had he just seen those eyes? What was he doing?
Oxygen brought answers he didn’t want to his mind and his eyes widened, turning to look . Where had the general gone? Certainly he couldn’t be done with him and he’d be even angrier that Roier had somehow gotten away and--
“Calma, por favor.” The man in front of him spoke again and Roier’s eyes shot back to that deep blue. Those eyes were just there--this man was just standing right behind the general. He was looking at him seriously, his eyes gentler than before but still guarded. “He won’t hurt you anymore.”
The mysterious man in front of him spoke like he knew that. Like he had anyway of knowing that that man would do anything in his power to keep from coming back to Roier, to keep dragging him through hell. Roier felt his eyebrows pull together and confusion shift through him.
“No, he always comes back. He-he wasn’t done , he’s going to--” Roier shoved a hand through his hair and felt his breathing pick up. His voice was shot and sounded nothing like himself, but he was used to not being able to speak for a few days after the general would come by. He was panicking, ice cold fear settling into his bones and threatening to suffocate him again. His eyes shot around the tent again to continue to find nobody but this strange man.
“Please, just listen to me.” The man reached toward Roier before freezing when Roier immediately flinched away from him. He frowned but instead put his hand on the bedding, leaning over only slightly. Roier’s eyes were locked on him then, unsure of what this man he didn’t know would do. “Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you. Not like these people seem to have been.”
He spoke the words calmly, smoothly, with conviction. Like he knew. Like he had seen , because he had . This random man had seen that happening to Roier, had seen him like that--
Tears blurred Roier’s vision and he felt himself begin to shake.
“It’s okay, don’t be upset.” The man sounded as if he was pleading, and Roier wanted to laugh. Why should he even be upset? This was normal for him. People of the kingdom knew who he was, what he did. Most of the men had seen him in the act before--this wasn’t new. Just because he hadn’t seen this man before, didn’t mean he didn’t already know even before he stepped in and saw. It shouldn’t hurt Roier even more just that he saw .
“Did he hurt you?”
Roier actually laughed then, the sound choking its way through his abused throat and sounding nothing like an actual laugh. The man continued to watch him as he stuttered into a small coughing fit, waiting for him to quiet down before he spoke again.
“I…I’m sorry I didn’t react sooner.” The man broke eye contact to glance down at his own hands and Roier stilled. He was… apologizing? “I didn’t know. At first I thought--I wasn’t sure,” Blue flashed back to Roier with such intensity that Roier felt a shiver rush down his spine. “I wasn’t sure. I needed you to tell me something was wrong, and you did. I’m sorry I didn’t end it immediately.”
“End it?” Roier was so confused--what was this guy even talking to him about? What was even going on? The general was here and then he was gone, and a man he’d never seen before was in his place but wasn’t , and that was almost as confusing as the general just up and leaving. Why wasn’t this guy just using him as everyone else did? Why was he apologizing when Roier didn’t even understand what he was talking about? “I don’t--where did the general go? Did he--I don’t--”
“So that was a general?” The man rolled his eyes with a scoff, leaning back again. The hand Roier hadn’t seen him move yet was moving then, and Roier flinched again. A dagger Roier hadn’t seen flashed in the dim campsite lighting and Roier froze. It was still slick with wet blood. Roier’s eyes followed it as the man wiped it clean along the far edge of the bedding, his expression visibly displeased. He sheathed the dagger somewhere at his hip and Roier could just barely breathe again before the familiar blue held him. “He won’t touch you or anyone else again. I made sure of it.”
His eyes flicked distastefully to the foot of the bedding where the general once had Roier pinned under him. Roier’s eyes dragged to follow, about to fall to the ground when they were met with nothing but empty air, but the man suddenly jumping to stand in his line of view cut him off. The man stood between Roier and wherever he himself had just been looking, and he gave Roier a wry smile.
“Maybe…maybe don’t look there.”
What seemed to be going on started crawling up Roier’s spine. The strange man, the dagger, the lack of an abusive general. This man’s words, his displeased look at the mention of the general, the obvious blood on his dagger. What he seemed to be hiding from Roier’s eyes.
The man studied Roier and watched him connect the dots with a small nod. His eyes were serious and loaded with secrets when he said,
“I took care of it, Guapito.”
Roier blinked at his words, not sure if the general meaning behind them or the pet name threw him off more. But the man chuckled, just a hint of the rough tension in his shoulders relaxing as he shuffled closer to the bed to wave off to the side.
“How about you just…turn that way a bit? I’ll find you some clothes, and you can watch me so you know I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to offer Roier a soft smile, and Roier tried not to be too trustful with his comforts. He knew what to say, like he knew what Roier was thinking, and maybe Roier was an open book at that point but he wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with it. But he turned sideways anyway, enough that he couldn’t see whatever the man was trying to hide from him on the floor, but not so much that he couldn’t see the man . “Just sit and rest for a moment, okay? I won’t leave you.”
And that shouldn't have triggered him but it did , his shoulders suddenly shaking as he tried to clamp down a sob. He didn’t even know this man but he had already gotten rid of the general--even if it was only temporary and he would come back later, at least for the moment Roier was saved--and promised him away with words only Bad or Foolish ever spoke to him anymore and that shouldn’t hurt but it did .
But he didn’t know him, didn’t know what he was trying to do with him now that he’d gotten the general to leave, and he wasn’t Bad or Foolish. Roier was just still mentally fucked up from being shoved in and yanked out of his headspace so many times just before that. He hadn’t yet gotten control of his emotions. Shuttering in a deep breath, Roier clamped down whatever emotions he had left floating around and shoved them back to the bottom of his chest. They would stay there for a while, once they were fully contained.
The man glanced at him as he moved towards the chests at the other side of the tent, but focused on finding Roier something to wear . How lovely, to be reminded he was stark naked in front of someone he didn’t know. But that wasn’t entirely unusual, so whatever.
Emotions strangled away, Roier concentrated on other things. He watched the man in front of him move, the muscles of his arms shifting as he dug through the trunk of clothes. Roier took in his build--sturdy, tall, scarred where he could see skin. His clothes were dark, almost black, as if to blend into the night outside. His gaze shifted farther up, past the long strands of brown hair pushed back by a pair of goggles that sat on his head. To the handsome face that held the blue eyes, worn with a type of wear and tear that Roier was used to seeing on the soldiers around him. When the same gaze found his again, Roier didn’t look away. The man’s lips twitched upwards, just barely, and Roier eyed him curiously.
“You seem more relaxed already.” He spoke the words casually, as if there was any way for Roier to be relaxed in the current situation he was starting to understand he was in. He handed a small bundle of clothes to Roier, not looking away from his face. Roier shrugged but didn’t respond. “I’ll turn away so you can get dressed. Just let me know when you’re done.”
Roier did as told, shuffling to stand on shaking legs. He forced them to stand steady whether they wanted to or not, aware of the man’s cautious glancing down at his legs despite doing what he said he would do and turning away. Dragging the low quality clothes over his irritated skin wasn’t fun, but he was satisfied to not be bare anymore. He mumbled a soft acknowledgement in the man’s direction to let him know he was finished, and the man looked back at him with a small sigh. Those blue eyes trailed down the side of Roier’s face down to his neck, then along his frame. Roier tried not to feel like he was being scrutinized under a microscope.
When the man brought his gaze back to Roier, it wasn’t filled with that nasty hunger that Roier was used to receiving after a man looked at him like that. Instead all Roier could find was apprehension and…concern?
“Are you hurt, Guapito? I know he didn’t--it wasn’t…” His face shifted with anger and he looked away from Roier, leaving the concubine even more confused. Why did he look upset ? “Are there any physical wounds I can help you with?”
All Roier could do was look at the man. The only people who had ever asked to care for his physical wounds weren’t him , so why was he asking? Not even the kinder of generals considered his health before abusing him, even if it later irritated them that he wasn’t up to full capacity . But Roier was sure that was what this man had just said…he just didn’t understand why .
Either at his lack of a response or the genuine confusion that had to have been radiating off of him, the man sighed. There was a small shuffling step made towards Roier that was made next, his hands raised slightly and eyes wide like he was approaching a hurt animal that would bolt if he moved in too quickly.
Although, once the thought passed his mind, Roier figured it wasn’t far off the mark.
“I’m going to touch you, but just to make sure you’re healthy.”
Roier took a swift step backwards on reflex. He hadn’t done anything to him yet, but all things like this lead to this end. Of course he was eventually going to come for Roier, since that’s what he was kept around for. What Roier didn’t understand was why he bothered to have him get dressed if he was just going to have him take everything off. And so soon, right after the general--Roier’s throat began to close and he could feel his own hands trembling at his sides. As much as he tried to clamp his fear and emotions as low as they could go, it was too soon, too quick. He couldn’t keep so many things shut away so soon after just having them thrown in his face. How was he supposed to--
“Guapito, calmate, por favor. No te haré daño. I swear to you.” The man almost pleaded with him, his eyes stormy with what looked like sadness . He hadn’t moved again, instead just staring Roier down with those confusing blue eyes. “I just want to check that you’re okay. Nothing else. Por favor?”
When Roier didn’t budge, the man moved to reach for his dagger. It wasn’t even with his dominant hand, Roier knew, but it still shot white hot fear down his spine. He was tired of arguing with Roier, tired of Roier putting up a resistance, tired of having to play nice when he should just be able to take what he wants--
The dagger was gripped in the man’s hand before it was yanked off of his waist, still in the sheath. Roier stayed frozen, eyes glued to the man’s movements in case he decided to strike. But all he did was slowly crouch to the ground, his eyes never leaving Roier’s face and his reactions, before tossing the sheathed dagger at Roier’s feet. The concubine watched the weapon land in front of him, far from the man’s range, before looking back into pleading blue.
“Please, Guapito. You can take my weapon--just let me check that you’re okay.” The man actually begged then, still crouched on the floor with his hands raised in surrender. He begged Roier, as if Roier was in charge--actually had a choice . He tossed his weapon at Roier’s feet in an attempt at showing he was no harm, and Roier wasn’t a fool , he knew this man could still kill him. But now he was attempting to show he was weaponless, and that Roier could trust him. So that he could check on him , and to make sure Roier was okay .
What was Roier supposed to do? If this man was going to hurt him, he would do it without Roier’s acceptance. It was all just a show, afterall. And the words he spoke were finally reaching Roier’s ears.
Roier laughed, the sound bitter and still laced with the pain of having been choked within an inch of his life. He watched the man frown through his own dead eyes, before gently kicking the dagger back to him. He was going to check if he was okay . What a funny idea. Roier hadn’t been okay in years.
When the man didn’t move and Roier stopped laughing , if he could even call it that, Roier smirked with a half assed shrug.
“Do what you want with me.”
The man frowned, his eyebrows furrowing angrily, and Roier wondered briefly if he’d done it. If he’d finally snapped the man's false patience with him, and he was going to strike him. There was a twinge of regret in his bones, something that was saddened that someone who might have actually been nice to him would be changing into the others. But he was sure it was all a facade, anyway.
Blue eyes rose above him as the man stood to his full height, the sheathed dagger clutched in his hands. Roier tried not to flinch, tried to slink into the familiar indifferent headspace he found comfort in, when the dagger was finally unsheathed and the man stepped towards him. But instead of the dagger going straight to his throat, or his stomach, or something similar as the man lunged at him, the dagger was instead placed in his hand. Roier’s eyes widened as his wrist was gently grasped and the blade was shoved into his hand, before the hand on his wrist was gone. Instead it wrapped around his own hand on the dagger, forcing him to hold it tightly. Before he could comprehend what was happening, his weaponized hand was being guided to the man’s throat.
“What are you doing?!” Roier shouted in panic, just as the dagger was forced to break skin. Serious blue eyes met his, the grip around his hand not loosening, and the man held Roier still with the look alone.
“I mean what I say, Guapito, I will not hurt you. No one will anymore.” The man spoke with the utmost seriousness, his eyes hard and his expression focused. Roier couldn’t have pulled away if he tried, but he was too scared to move. He’d never been in the position to hurt someone--to be the one causing pain. He was only ever the one being inflicted with pain. What was he supposed to do know that it was a possibility, even if only a small one? This man was still in charge of the situation, still had his hand under his full control. But even then, the smallest of movements from Roier could break the skin. How was he supposed to react? And the man’s words--ho could he promise he wouldn’t hurt him, let alone anyone else? Roier was confused .
“I’m giving you control.” The hand around Roier’s loosened just a bit, and Roier tried to pull the blade away. But then it was only pulled harder, and Roier gasped when it cut into the man’s neck. It was barely a scratch, a thin line of blood slipping through the cut, but the man didn’t flinch. Afraid to move and entranced by the sight of blood caused by his own hand, Roier didn’t move when the man slowly released him.
“I’m giving you control.” He repeated, raising both of his hands to surrender again and giving Roier his full attention. He didn’t look scared, despite the trail of blood and the dagger at his neck. Roier snapped his eyes back to blue at his words, his own lost with confusion. “If I do something you don’t like, or are uncomfortable with, do what you need to to protect yourself. I won’t be mad.”
Roier immediately shook his head--even if the man tried to take him, Roier wouldn’t dare try to use the dagger in his hands. But the man shook his head right back at him, unfazed by the dig of the blade at his throat. Roier was too afraid to move away again, in fear that the man would have him harm him even more.
“ Protect yourself, Guapito. I’m going to check for internal damage or broken bones, only above the waist. Hold me true to my word until I’m done.”
“I don’t--” Roier shook his head, his grip tightening around the dagger as he frowned and tried desperately not to move. He didn’t understand what was going on, didn’t understand why this man was trying so hard to get Roier to let him check him for wounds, to theoretically protect himself , but Roier didn’t like it . He didn’t like the idea that this man thought Roier didn’t trust him, because he didn’t , he didn’t trust anyone, but it was different . “I don’t want to.”
The man’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, and he looked ready to grab Roier’s hand in his again.
“You don’t want to what ?”
“I don’t want to--to hurt you.” Roier admitted, confused even as the words fell true from his own lips. He didn’t want to hurt anyone , but he knew, presented with the option, he would’ve harmed any one of the men that had hurt him before. Without a second thought. If any one of them had held a dagger to their own throats by Roier’s hand, Roier would have tried to slit their throats, even if it meant they overpowered him and killed him a moment later. But this man was different--he wasn’t someone who had caused Roier any pain, he hadn’t taken advantage of him in any way. Roier was an idiot for letting himself hold on to the idea that just because this man hadn’t hurt him yet , meant he was some kind of a good person. But that’s why he couldn’t move, why he couldn’t get himself to simply bend his wrist and inflict pain. This man was innocent, at least for now, and Roier didn’t have it in him. He found himself desperately wishing the man was a decent person, even if every bit of common sense in him told him those people didn’t exist. But he wanted them to. So badly.
The man’s blue eyes widened with surprise, the emotion just barely consuming the rest of his face. His hand moved to wrap back around the hand of Roier’s that held the sharp blade, and Roier tried not to immediately panic. But he didn’t turn the blade on Roier, or even press the blade even farther into his own throat at Roier’s refusal. Instead, he held Roier’s hand gently in his before dragging it away from his throat and somewhere in between them. Roier didn’t care where--as long as he wasn’t going to hurt him anymore.
“You don’t…I don’t want to hurt you either, Guapito.” The man spoke softly, his other hand slowly moving to take the dagger from their joined hands. A thumb left a tender stroke to the back of Roier’s knuckles and the concubine tried not to be swayed. The dagger was slowly set on the bed beside them and the man continued speaking. “Will you please let me check you for… physical damages?”
Roier noticed the change in wording, and felt his lips lifting in the briefest of smiles. The blue gaze that had yet to leave him looked almost awestruck.
“Yes.”
The man blinked a few times in surprise, like he still expected resistance. Roier chuckled, the sound a ghost of true happiness, but more than his false mockeries from before. The look in the man’s eyes only worsened, and it took a few more silent moments before he visibly shook himself and refocused. Roier hated that a part of him thought it was…cute.
“Okay, alright. Okay. Let me just…okay.” The man rambled, before pulling back to take a quick deep breath. Roier watched him curiously as he apparently tried to recollect himself, before he was frowning seriously and eyeing Roier cautiously. There was a coldness to Roier’s hand that he tried to ignore. “Okay, I’m going to start with your chest. I’m just going to check for broken bones, alright?”
Roier nodded, and continued to watch the man. He looked nervous but determined, nodding back to Roier before focusing in. Those blue eyes were as serious as Roier had seen them, and they scanned Roier’s body critically as his hands began to poke and prod. It was strange--having hands touch him that weren’t immediately intent on roughing him up. Instead these hands were gentle but sure, only touching where they said they would and pressing in spots that could be injured. Roier wasn’t in any particular pain where he touched, despite a few bruises, so the man warned him before he moved on.
“Nothing painful?” A shake of the head. “Okay. I’m going to check your stomach area, but just shove me away if it gets too much.” Roier had nodded again, but the man didn’t see it. He was zeroed back, now kneeling on the floor while careful hands went back to work on checking Roier for any damages. Roier almost felt…special. Like he was somebody that needed to be glanced over for injuries, like he was somebody who deserved concern. Hands never strayed anywhere below Roier’s belly button, although he was positive the man had no idea where it was actually located.
He moved on behind Roier, reaching around his body instead of stepping behind him and out of Roier’s sight. It made it harder to see what he was doing, but the man didn’t seem to care. His brows furrowed as he felt around Roier’s back, feeling for any inconsistencies. Roier tried not to think about how he was essentially trapped in the man’s arms, as the man made no move to restrict him. Instead he watched the man’s face, how he frowned in concentration and stared at Roier’s stomach like the answers were written in the clothing he’d been given. He was so serious--Roier didn’t even think he cared for his own physical being as much as this man seemed to be. But it was interesting to watch, and Roier tried not to flush red when the man suddenly looked back up at him. He felt like he’d been caught red handed, staring at him.
But the man only unwrapped his arms from around him, standing back to his feet. He eyed Roier seriously, his head tilted curiously, before his frown deepened. Roier blinked up at him.
“I’m going to check your neck now. I promise I’ll be gentle.” The man almost whispered as he moved in close, hands slowly wrapping around the sides of Roier’s neck to tilt his head back. Roier’s breath caught in his throat, the touch so gentle and out of ordinary for him that it pulled an audible gasp from his lips. But he let his head be tilted back, let his neck be exposed for the man in front of him with the haunting blue eyes. Those eyes glanced back up at him for only a split moment to verify he was okay before he was staring intently at Roier’s neck. He could only imagine what it looked like--encased in dark, ugly bruising from being purposefully crushed. The frown on the man’s face deepened even further, his eyes darkening, and one of the hands on the side of Roier’s neck slid inward. “How often did this happen to you?”
The question took Roier off guard. Just what was this man asking? How often was he called upon by random men, how often was he taken away? Or how often was he choked? Or hurt without his consent, sometimes leaving him broken for weeks?
Eye flicked in his, again only for a moment, before the lit ablaze with anger at Roier’s confusion.
“Don’t answer that. Hearing whatever answer you might give me will only make me angrier.” The man ground through his teeth and Roier tried not to shiver at the sound. Was this man… angry for him? For what happened to him?
The gentle fingers on his neck pulled away and Roier almost immediately missed their warmth. He never liked anything near his neck, but soft brushes could probably be tolerated. Focus .
“I won’t mess with your neck too much--I’ll have an actual medic check it just to make sure I don’t mess around and make it worse.” The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. Roier watched the movement with interest, overwhelmed by the need to understand what this man was doing and why . Too much time had already passed, too many things had happened--why was he here?
As if sensing Roier’s twitch to ask and knowing he never would, the man spoke again.
“Okay, so I’m sure you’re starting to figure out what’s going on here.” The man said carefully, watching Roier closely. Roier shrugged--he had an idea , but it wasn’t Roier’s place to have ideas. The man nodded, his eyes squinting curiously. “I’m not the only one here.”
He didn’t add anything else, but Roier knew what he meant--he wasn’t the only person that entered the camp that Roier didn’t recognize. Whoever he was, there was more than just him.
When Roier didn’t respond, the man’s thoughtful expression stayed.
“What kingdom are you a part of?” He questioned, and Roier couldn’t keep the snarl from covering his lips. Apparently, as time passed, he’d begun to lose some of his facial filters. The man’s lips twisted upwards just a bit again.
“I hail from Kingdom Valgary. But I am not a part of them.” Roier tried not to spit the words as harshly as he felt them, but the man’s lips still continued to twist. A small thrill began to fill Roier that he desperately tried to ignore.
“Interesting. But I can’t say I’m surprised, with how they seem to treat you.” The man’s eyes flickered down to whatever was blocked from Roier’s view, and Roier looked to the tent threading. “Do you happen to know why you and your troops are not in your own kingdom?”
What another funny question. Roier’s eyes locked back on twinkling blue ones, the man’s lips still curled in a hint of a smile. The man was either baiting him, in one way or another, or he was excited for Roier to out the entire army. And maybe he shouldn’t say, shouldn’t risk his own life at the hands of a man who could be baiting him into treason, but the slight curve to the man’s lips had Roier tingling with hushed adrenaline.
Maybe the contrast of gentle hands on his skin had Roier losing all of his common sense and his sense of self preservation.
“Why would I tell you something that could get me in trouble, Gatinho?” Roier heard the slight tease in his own tone, heard the pet name slip from his lips. The man’s eyes widened just a bit, the twist to his lips increasing, and Roier felt light on his feet. The man made a small huff of a noise, raising an eyebrow.
“Because maybe you owe me, just a little bit. I did spill blood in your name, tonight.” The man’s eyes were sparkling, the curiosity from before ever present as he eyed Roier closely. The words forced Roier to bury unwanted adrenaline ever farther down than just his chest, down his legs towards his feet. It threatened to climb through where he held it his chest and instead settle in his throat, spilling things from his mouth he didn’t need to be speaking of. His hands twitched at his sides, the need to move in some way slipping through, and the man’s eyes didn’t miss it. They continued to shine, a smile finally fully covering his lips. “What’s your name, Guapito?”
Roier watched the man take a few small steps towards him--still far enough away that Roier wasn’t uncomfortable, but close enough that Roier could feel his proximity tingle on his skin. He shouldn’t tell him his name--shouldn’t tell him anything of what he was asking. But if what the man was saying was true, and he really had spilled blood in Roier’s name, gotten rid of the general--if he was who Roier dared to hope he was, Roier’s hand was forced.
He would do whatever it took for even the chance of it being true.
“My name is Roier.” The man’s eyes suddenly lit like blue fire, the smile on his lips blooming like he’d just found out where Roier’s king slept at night. Roier tried not to shiver as the man reached for his hand, pausing only to let Roier pull away if he wanted to, before wrapping the hand in his own. Roier’s next words just seemed to tumble from his lips without meaning to as the man’s touch sent a burning nervousness through his being. “The troops are here on orders to invade Sinfonia.”
The man’s smile widened even more, his eyes still alight with something Roier couldn’t place more than bemused curiosity, and he slowly pulled Roier’s hand to his smiling lips. Eyes not leaving Roier’s, the man placed the slightest of kisses to one of Roier’s knuckles, the gentle sensation stealing the breath from Roier’s lungs. Oh, fuck--
“Well, Roier. I, Cellbit, and the rest of Sinfonia, have beat them to it.”