Sequel to the royal twin prompt
Content: public humiliation, caged whumpee, collared whumpee, mistaken identity, guilt, stress position, forced to kneel, compliant whumpee, stoic whumpee, falsely accused, mentions of: slavery, forced marriage, injustice, torture, maiming
Raulyn’s body ached from scalp to sole. Being dragged by his hair had left him with a pounding headache, and bruises and filth now covered nearly every bit of exposed skin — which was all but his entire body. The entire day, as the sun beat down on his bare back, the gathered crowd had thrown dirt and rotten food and rocks at him. Some even came close and spit on him. He could only keep his head down, eyes closed, and bear it.
This had angered some, wanting more of a reaction, and the rocks thrown had become larger. He could feel keenly the bigger bruises on his sides where the skin had split and blood now formed tenuous scabs.
His teeth began to chatter, his whole body tense as his muscles protested the chill of the night air. A light breeze ruffled the trees and bushes, sweeping away what little heat his body produced.
His neck ached. The collar was heavy and the wood rough.
His knees ached, too. Kneeling like this, unable to shift or relieve the pressure, drove a constant ache of pain where his knees met the cobblestones, and his feet began to feel numb from the cold and the position.
How many days, even weeks, had his brother forced prisoners to endure like this? He knew the stocks had rarely been empty.
Raulyn tried to shift his feet, adjusting so bloodflow could return to his limbs. It worked somewhat, but the prickling sensation was almost worse than the aching numbness.
There would be no sleep tonight.
He counted the cracks in the stones, the blades of grass and weeds that had forced their way through to thrive in the inhospitable substrate of the city.
Finally, dawn peeked over the horizon.
His knees had become swollen from being stuck in this position, but even as he could not help looking forward to relief from the pillory, dread of what more was to come clutched his heart in an icy grip.
The city woke slowly, the streets beginning to fill once more with the daily bustle. Many stopped and looked at him, seemingly disbelieving that the previous day had been real. But they were all to happy to see that it had been. A fresh audience gathered, mocking him, throwing stones and laughing when he flinched.
Not until the sun was high above, beating down once more on his aching back — a warmth welcome after the night’s chill, yet a warmth that he could already tell had turned his skin red and angry with the heat — did the new rulers return to the town square. He could hear sounds of hammering and heavy things being moved behind him, but he could not turn and see.
At last, the pillory was unlocked, though the irons on his neck and wrists were left secured.
Raulyn fell to the ground, muscles and joints aching and protesting after being held in position for hours unending. Before he could situate himself, he was dragged again to his feet and up a few short stairs onto the newly-erected platform. A podium stood in the center and a wooden cage sat to one side. His captors shoved him towards the cage. With a kick, the larger of the men dragging him pushed him fully inside. It was small, made for a large dog perhaps, and he could only sit in an uncomfortably cramped position.
“How does it feel to be caged like the rabid dog you are, your majesty?” The man’s tone was mocking.
Raulyn kept his eyes down and bit his tongue.
He had not been the one to treat these people as beasts and worse, but neither had he stopped it. Over and over again, he reminded himself of that. While these people suffered under his brother, he had heard only rumors, away to be trained with the army or sent off to negotiate deals for trade. He had not returned to investigate these or stayed long enough to see the whole of it until it was far too late.
Whatever they ruled, he would accept. He only prayed it was not too drawn out of a death.
The man who took the podium, Raulyn recognized as a minor lord, a distant cousin by the name of Maerick. Not a man he knew well, but one who had at least not engorged his wealth on slavery, as too many had eagerly done when his brother had begun to encourage such practices.
Cheers went up as Maerick raised his arms to the crowd. “Good people! Your villains are overthrown and our land is free of the scourge of the former king Roulant!”
Even louder cheers, accompanied by jeers and boos in the direction of the cage.
“But before we serve justice on the vile man that has plagued our land, let us read his crimes.”
An angry murmur swept the crowd, but they fell quiet to listen.
Maerick began to read out a litany of ills.
“Bringing slavery to the land and enslaving many good men and women.
“Raising taxes and levying harsh fees, and throwing those who could not pay into prison or slavery.
“Executing any who spoke against him, with cruel and public torture.
“Selling the daughters of his rivals as brides and concubines to allies and enemies for alliance alike.
“Unjust rulings, demanding recompense to the royal purse from both sides in any complaint instead of offering justice.
“Pardoning and rewarding lords and barons themselves accused of egregious abuses.
“Decorating his palace and courtiers with gold and jewels while the people could barely afford to live.
“Throwing great banquets while the people starved.”
Each charge was read out in a loud voice, met with angry shouts and glares of hatred towards the caged man.
Then Maerick laid down the scroll. “Any who have personal grievances, state it now that he may be held to account!”
Shouted accusations overlapped — men beaten to death for getting in the way of a carriage, daughters and sons taken and sold as slaves for failure to pay a debt or tax, artisanal goods taken without payment for royal use, limbs removed or eyes gouged out for looking or gesturing wrongly at the king.
With each horror, Raulyn’s stomach twisted. His mind felt as if it was held in an icy vise, slowing his thinking and ringing in his ears as the weight of it was piled upon him.
How had he not known all this was happening?
Why had he not tried to stop it sooner?
Finally, the shouts and accusations gave way to quiet.
Maerick turned to the shackled man. “And now, your majesty, how do you plead?”
“Guilty.” The word came out as almost a whisper.
Raulyn lifted his head, looking out at a sea of faces staring back with unbridled hatred. “Guilty!”
Taglist: @deerslayer14 @ghost-e-cygnet
