Precedent

There was a thin, sickly looking dog with a leather collar tied to an iron hook on the stone wall and Alex knew that the beautiful giant had a better chance of getting out of the king’s prison than he did. Alex would die here in a dark, hot dungeon despite being born with every luxury imaginable.

His mother had always said that his stubbornness would lead him to trouble, and he smiled now at how ironic that had been. His stubbornness wouldn’t only get him into trouble, he was going to die for it. He would die a hero, but how much could that mean? Wasn’t like he was going to be able to enjoy it.

The afterworld wouldn’t look at his activism with forgiving eyes. He had disobeyed the words of God and there was little to no doubt where he’d end up. The worst part of it all was not being able to say goodbye to his friends. His family would be in the front row, or maybe pulling the lever to hang him.

His friends would probably not be able to handle watching him die. He had already forgiven them and he hoped he’d never see them again because he prayed that he would be able to go through enough hell so that they could be free.

It had been the first and only time he had asked God for assistance and he hoped his prayer was heard, maybe considered. He didn’t want his friends to watch him die, he didn’t want them to come for him. He wanted Brandan to be safe, he wanted Zack and Brian to stay home. The royal guards would surely be looking for them when they were killing him if he didn’t starve to death first. He didn’t want the guards to find them.

He hadn’t moved from the stone floor in three days, having lost his strength, but he managed to adjust and sit up when he heard several voices coming down the stairs to the dungeon. He knew two of them immediately: the one commanding the others belonged to the man in charge of prisoners, a tall and fierce warrior who could break almost anyone with his growl-like voice alone; and Brandan, the country’s most wanted man and someone Alex had prayed he’d never see again, especially not here.

The warrior couldn’t break Brandan’s will, no one could. Though when candles were lit, Alex could see that they had succeeded in breaking his bones. Brandan was not a big man, his strength came mostly from lifting objects too big for his small frame. He was screaming insults Alex had never heard at all of them and they were doing their best to intimidate him into shutting up, an approach Alex wouldn’t take with this black-haired, black-eyed man.

He was thrown into the stall next to Alex’s but didn’t seem to notice who was there with him, his rage had blinded him from the surroundings. He’d have until he died to see how many roaches he’d die with, he may never see the pathetic excuse for human beings who called themselves warriors again. It was his duty to insult them, try to get an inch for the rest of the people, the common folk that were dying for a war that no one supported. “You cannot lead people by fear, they will rebel. I cannot wait for you to kill me because I will be proven right. Burn me tomorrow, I insist!” He reached out and hit the warrior over the head while he was instructing the others to have servants go get the dogs ready.

The warrior opened the cell door quickly and pushed Brandan to the ground effortlessly. He was strong and put his foot over the black-eyed man’s neck to hold him down, his sword to his back to keep him still. “He’d be less troublesome if it wasn’t so cool down here. Start the fire.”

Brandan tried to speak but the sharp sword dug into his spine to remind him of it. “It is said that if I would cut you right here, you wouldn’t be able to move at all. Perhaps I would need to cut further up to get to your mouth, but I am not against experimentation and will test the theory if you do not shut up,” the warrior threatened as he put a flat branding iron in the fire and knelt down.

His knee dug into Brandan’s face and he leaned over to rotate the iron. “You will never strike me again, for no other reason, perhaps, than you won’t have an arm to do it,” he said and pushed his sword below Brandan’s elbow with most of his strength until the younger man’s limb was detached completely.

Alex had seen many people come and go from the prison, and he had seen the warrior torture nearly all of them, but he had never heard anyone scream as loud as Brandan. He had never seen his friend even complain of pain and now he was in tears and screaming in agony. It was a sight he would never forget and something he would never wish upon anyone, especially his friend.

He felt guilty about looking away, but he couldn’t watch it. With red-shot eyes he looked at the prison wall he had slept by for so many nights now, and warm tears fell down his face. They were lighter than his sweat and fell to the ground faster than the beads of perspiration that all but soaked him whenever the guards started the fires. There were only small windows so that the flames didn’t cause the room to combust.

The screams got worse and Alex could hear his friend’s skin burning, he looked back to see the warrior cauterizing the wounded arm and the blood stopping. Brandan went quiet and his clothes were now wet with sweat. He was in shock, Alex had never seen his friend so fragile and it was disheartening. He didn’t want Brandan here, he’d actually prefer any other friend than Brandan because the others had a filter. They wouldn’t have hit the guard, they would be quiet and try to get out of the prison once the guards left, they would not have gotten their arm cut off.

“Here you go, Daisy.” The warrior threw the arm to the dog. “We’re finding your friends, Alex. I knew keeping you alive was a good idea. They’re stupid enough to attempt to rescue you,” he said with a laugh. “As though anyone could break into this castle. I’ve trained these men, your friends must have been too poor for an education.” He shook his head and stood up. “Get him in his stall, call me in the morning if he’s still alive. Let the dogs out just in case he wakes up and gets any ideas. Come on, Daisy.” He untied the leather leash from the iron hook and lead the Great Dane, who still had Brandan’s forearm in her mouth, out.

Alex scooted away from the front of the cell as big, black dogs entered and the warriors left. The dogs were hungry and lunged at the cells, trying to get in. They were fed only human remains and hadn’t had any in days. One nearly had their entire head in Brandan’s cell, licking the trail of blood it could reach.

“Brandan, come on,” the blond man pulled his friend by his arm closer to him, away from the dogs. “Bran, you’re freezing,” he had to pull his hand away with force and frowned when his palm was bleeding. His friend’s skin was ice cold, not like a dead man. Like a frozen man. He had never felt anything like it.

“You need to warm up,” He combed Brandan’s short, black hair back with his fingertips from his other hand. “Brandan, it’s so hot in here. Come on, I need you,” he cried. “Brandan! Warm up!” he urged and pulled his hand away quickly when his friend’s skin temperature raised drastically, almost to the point of being uncomfortably hot.

“Wake up?” He tried, thinking he was pushing his luck until Brandan woke up and he let out a sigh of relief. “Brandan!” He said happily and lay down to look into the black-eyes he had dreamt about so many times while in this hell.

“Alex!” Brandan smiled happily and scooted closer to the iron bars. “Come here,” He put an arm through the bars and put it around the younger man when they were laying parallel to each other, only the bars separating them. “You’re so thin... I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to find you. Do you know that they took you to a completely different country? I snuck into the wrong castle’s prison thinking you’d be there, but they sold you to this country. I found you though, I’ll get you out. I promise.”

“I was not told where I am. I’m sorry, you were probably hurt looking for me. I was half-hoping you wouldn’t come because I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you, but seeing you now is more than I could ask for. I’m so glad I get to touch you again,” the blond put his weak index finger to his friend’s bottom lip, then felt his jaw. “I’m sorry about your arm, mine feels as though it’s burning,” he admitted.

“I love you and there isn’t any man-made prison that will ever keep me away from you. My heart is content now, and that is more important to me than my arm. I can live without a limb, I would never forgive myself if I were to lose you. Is it common for them to leave the dogs and not man the prison? Will they be back down for a while?” he asked and turned his head to kiss Alex’s palm. “What happened to your other hand; did I hurt you?”

“It’s just skin. It will heal. They won’t be back, but there are guards outside of the door, we can’t leave,” Alex said with a frown, even though Brandan’s lips being pressed against his skin felt wonderful.

“The king will call for me in the morning, then I will get us both out of here. I’ll be back, love,” he pushed himself up and went to the iron gate, grabbed one of the dogs by the scuff of its neck and pulled it against the iron bars hard enough to kill it, then threw its corpse in the fire. He then shoved the gate hard enough to open it and growled at the other dogs, who nearly all laid down immediately, and the rest followed when he growled again.

“They think beasts can intimidate me. It’s insulting,” he said and shook his head. He reached into the fire and turned the dog so the flesh would cook more evenly and ripped a piece from his thigh and held it in his hands and took it to the blonde. “Here,” he offered.

“They’re going to realize right away when the dogs aren’t trying to eat us and one is missing, Brandan,” Alex said worriedly, but took the meat and starting eating. He was starving, he’d gladly eat one of the guards if he was as strong as Brandan, if he could do it. He didn’t mind dying trying to protect innocent people, but not here. He wanted to die out in the sunshine so at least he could remember how beautiful it was under the ball of fire that reminded him of Brandan.

“Alex, you trust me to get you out of here safely, so just eat,” he smirked and walked back over to the fire. He pulled all the flesh he could from the dog and pushed the rest into the hole to the side, where warriors pushed the corpses of prisoners who disobeyed. Alex had seen them do it twice.

Brandan could see the color come back into the blond as he ate, could see his eyes’ previously hungry expressions turn to the glittering green that was common when he was around Brandan. He could see hope now, and he smiled. “I’ve never been hurt so badly before,” he said, as the sharp pains in his arm shot up to his shoulder. “Do all of them have those swords or just him? He’ll die for what he did to me, but he’ll suffer for what he did to you. Are you still hungry? I can get you another one,” he asked when Alex was done eating.

“I feel like someone is coming. You should close the gate, it’s making me anxious. I don’t want them to hurt you,” he sat up slowly, then laid back down when he felt faint.

Brandan shut the gate again and locked it, then growled at all of the dogs until they were barking at him again, then went and laid back by the blonde. “No one is coming; they’re just switching out the guards, but that’s okay. Are you feeling any better?” he asked and put his arm back on Alex’s healthier looking skin.

He was always amused how hard the human body had to try. It seemed easy, a miracle even, how Alex’s blood pumped from his heart to his brain, how his brain told the muscles to relax because they finally had food now. It seemed simple, but Brandan could see all the details; they weren’t seamless.

Brandan could hear Alex’s body desperately trying to get every nutrition from the flesh of the dog, he could see the flow of events that caused the blonde’s skin to finally regain color. It was a blessing, every breathe that was in Alex’s lungs was a miracle to him and he was disappointed in himself for letting this happen to the person who meant the most to him; he should have been there.

If he weren’t a monster, he could have been. If he weren’t a monster, he would have never had to run away from home and he would have never met Alex. Alex would be safe, but they wouldn’t know each other. He didn’t know which would be worse only because Alex’s safety was concerned. He’d rather burn in hell when he finally died than not know the man falling asleep in front of him now.

“Hey,” he said, to pull the tired man from almost sleeping. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. We’ll sleep under the stars together tomorrow, okay? No bars.”

Alex smiled and intertwined their fingers, both hands resting gently on his side. “I love you also, no bars...” he repeated as he drifted to sleep.

When the blonde woke up, Brandan was out of his cell again. He looked different from what he normally did, his features were more defined and his eyes were red.

Brandan hated Alex watching him like this, so Alex didn’t move. He lay still and watched as his friend and lover drained the blood and life from the animal. He must have been hungry. His eyes weren’t usually so red, they were that way when he needed to eat.

Alex hadn’t noticed the night before but had been weak. He wasn’t sure if he just didn’t notice or if they were their normal black.

“It’s disgusting!” Brandan spat and threw the dry corpse in the fire, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook his head until his features became normal again and he smiled at Alex. “I’m sorry. Are you hungry?” He got meat from another one and brought it over to the bars.

“Brandan, they’re definitely going to notice this. I trust you, but I’m not sure you can get us out of this, Bran.” The younger man admitted but took the meat.

“I will get you out of here, I promised you that and I will keep my word. Only three dogs. They’ve been switching them out every two or three hours so I doubt they notice. Ask me other questions, I can tell you have some stored in that brain of yours,” he pushed the corpse out of the room and got the meat from the other one then got back in his cell, closed the gate and sat down.

“How did you find me?” Alex said, smiling as he was eating. He was feeling better now, he felt stronger. The thought of the guards not noticing three of their dogs having gone missing didn’t seem very realistic but he was feeling better now and he trusted Brandan to protect him.

He always did, he knew he was kidnapped only because he had gone too far away from what Brandan could hear, he was naïve enough to think he could defend himself but that was in the past now. He was safe now.

“I came to every castle until I could feel your presence. I’m not very good at it, I had to get pretty close to know whether or not you were there and it was often too late. I wasn’t careful enough. Brian gave me the chance to learn how but I was too impatient knowing you were somewhere else. Now that you are safe, I will take him up on the offer when e get back.” He said, returning the grin. Brandan was ecstatic to be here and with Alex. The land held fond memories, though he would have to go back into exile, he as sure, to get away from the military.

“That was nice of him to offer. I can’t get home, I miss it. I miss everyone, have you seen them? Are they okay? Has anyone else been captured?” He asked and toward the stairs. “Are they coming down?” He shoved the meat in his mouth and swallowed when his question was answered by the guards jogging down the stairs.

Brandan nodded. “They’ll take me away. Alex, I’ll be back for you, hey!” The black-eyed man yelled at the warrior when he knocked Alex out with his shotgun, saying it was against the law to torture prisoners, just to do so, and Alex hadn’t done anything wrong. He also mentioned the guard being the most unjustified living human on the planet as far as he was concerned.

The warrior didn’t seem to even acknowledge Brandan had spoken, just went into his cell and looked at Brandan’s lack of a wrist and thought for a good minute before shrugging and putting shackles on his ankles and tying his only wrist to them. He’d just have to watch for the other limb.

Brandan was fairly easily lead now because his body hadn’t yet recovered fully from the trauma. He was too weak to fight, though he made several snide remarks about the warrior leading him.

The comments went ignored as the warrior lead the scum to his king, unsure why the king wanted to be in the presence of someone so filthy, and then left when he was asked to.

“I should have you killed,” the king shook his head and unchained his son. “I send you to the best school in the land and you break free to join a group of criminals, you killed three guards breaking into a castle you disowned, but rightfully belong to, and get your arm cut off! You were always so shy, you would never go into crowds so no one knows you’re my son and look what it got you,” he said sadly, looking at his son’s severed limb.

“Kill or be killed, fewer warriors mean fewer innocent people dying. Have me killed, I’d rather be dead than have your blood through my veins. Isn’t my arm being cut off and branded enough of a testament that your guards are too violent? They’re killing innocent people! The real monsters are wearing your own uniform, I’ve seen the demons of which you speak and I see innocence when I look into their eyes and murder when I look in yours,” Brandan glowered.

“Which is exactly why you’re going to help me. You’ll go to them and bring them to me. You’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do, but also because I’ve held your friend alive until now to show you he’s alive. If I do not have the head of the demonic leader within a month, your friend will be burned alive the next day. Your choice really. You can choose as many guards as you’d like in order to get the demons any way you can.” He patted his son’s back between his shoulder blades and walked out, instructing the guard to do whatever the prisoner asks when he came out and let him take as many warriors with them as Brandan needed.

Brandan hated him.

He didn’t appreciate being put in the position where he could either save his lover and himself or his friends. This was his home, he didn’t like the idea of leaving, and he couldn’t run anyways. His father’s power spread wide through the continent and there was no one who would risk war with him over Brandan if the king was looking for him.

Zack and Brian would follow and kill him if he were to rat them out. Even his father’s military wouldn’t be able to destroy the army of demons. He didn’t know what they were. Brandan was different from the common people, he was stronger than most of them even though he looked small. His temper got the best of him often, but he wasn’t sure he could defeat them. There were too many and he wasn’t sure he should. Alex liked them, liked being part of a family.

Alex was from one of the noble families and looked back on his time with them as a treasure, he loved every one of his brothers and his parents were dear to him, so Brandan felt guilty about possibly taking his adopted family away from him too.

He screamed and picked up the chair to throw it and fell to his knees crying when it burst into flames. His father was conducting a witch hunt that would kill his own son, knowingly, if Brandan couldn’t hide his differences.

The kingdom that rightfully would come to him in his father’s absence was hunting and killing people like him. People like his mother, who couldn’t hide her differences and left when he was a child. His father never forgave her for leaving him, and he never forgave Brandan for being the reason she left, to protect his safety. This war was personal.

“I won’t turn into a monster,” he repeated to himself while rocking back and forth on the ground. He could think of an easy way out. He could do what his father wanted, knowing full well the warriors would die, and regain the king’s trust. He’d be announced the prince and if his father were to die, he would be king and could call off the witch hunt, save hundreds of lives, but was one life worth it?

Was killing the only family member who stayed with him and supported him worth it to save people who didn’t matter? Peasants would never equal much, they’d breed and continue the work force for the people who did matter but still, did they deserve to die?

He didn’t know.

He wanted nothing more than to run away from it all with the blonde in prison, but Alex liking being a part of a family ruined that, and he wished they had the same desires. He screamed again in frustration and put his hand to his skull, immediately regretting doing so when his hair singed under his touch.

His skin never hurt itself, he was never injured by the temperature his emotions caused, but his hair often fell victim to it when he forgot how much of a monster he actually was. When he remembered his kingdom was hunting people like him.

The guard was now in the hall waiting for him, he could feel it. The asshole that cut his arm off. Brandan had never been penetrated with a blade before, but this guard used a sword of pure diamonds and white gold. It was engraved and Brandan was fearful of the warriors finding out that worked, they didn’t know Brandan was abnormal.

They didn’t know he was cursed.

The guard knocked because he heard yelling, he knew the king was not in the room and was curious as to the sanity of the prisoner.

“I want my mother, tell him to bring her to me. Tell him!” He yelled when the guard didn’t obey him immediately. “I’m not leaving until I see her!”

She had left when he was a child but she’d come if he threw enough of a tantrum. His father would summon her from another land, and she would come because she was the only one who could calm him down, and his safety relied heavily on people not seeing him angry. Which only made his father even more angry with him. His father was jealous of how easily she could be summoned for her son, while all the love in the world wouldn’t keep her there for him.

It took two nights, but she came. She was a tall, beautiful woman with long, wavy black hair and eyes just as black as his. “Brandan,” she looked around at the room and took it all in.

There were burn marks against every wall, with ashes under them. The furniture was broken and the window was shattered.

Her son was in the corner on his knees, crying. The battle of what he had to do and what he wanted was eating away at him. He was born a monster and raised to hide it, and now he might have to do that for a very long time to protect others just like him from his own blood.

:: End Chapter, more to come