Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader
Mini Series. Synopsis:
You were the Disgraced Princess, no longer pure or of any use to your Father- your kingdom, outside of entertainment in his beloved Gladiator Arena.
He was the captured commander of a neighboring Kingdom, a Prince whose punishment for his war crimes against your own Kingdom were to fight in the Arena you had become a “hostess” for.
With the irony of your tainted titles, your fates became entwined, both fighting more than the foes pitted against you for the crowd’s pleasure. Especially at the prospect of becoming star-crossed lovers.
Chapters:
1: The Fall 2: Fate Sealed 3: To Covet 4: (coming eventually)
also, taglist (message or ask to be on): @lelaleleb / @ammystri / @candypop1611 / @inkpot-winters / @avantalem / @piratequeen-queenofgames / @nstarqueen / @huachengsbestie01 /
Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of r*pe, manipulation, trauma, bloodbath, mentions of death, panic attacks. let me know if i missed any!
Word count: 4.6k
An: this took me awhile as I'm still trying to get back into writing regularly but here ya go <3 gentle reminder this does have some dark themes!
Taglist now at the bottom!
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Much to my surprise, there was no difficulty in retrieving food and supplies for my new charge. Despite the King agreeing to my proposal I had expected some trouble, as the sadistic fuck loved to see anyone struggle. But there was none.
Food was supplied even if it was stale bread and scraps of cheese. My own meals seemed to be a bit more in abundance, and I would set some aside for him. The only true difficulty was that I could only see him once a day, and it was now monitored.
A week passed, my visits were short as I tended to his wounds and changed the bandages. He wore the clothes I had brought him as they fit quite snuggly, and on more than one occasion I found myself admiring the muscles accented by the fabric. If he noticed, he did not say; in fact he said nothing at all.
But he didn't need to. With his back to the guarded bars, his eyes always held the same question as he would look over the dark dresses I would wear, covering all the wounds he had inflicted on me. They weren't deep, nothing that needed more than a few stitches like a gash on my arm, but I was fine. His gaze was always looking for proof that I was, and his concern would flutter my heart in a way I wasn't so keen on.
I was resigned to my fate, I did not want him incenting dreams or desires in me. That was a cruelty I couldn't handle.
After I would dress his wounds, I would leave the food and water for him and leave without a word. Our silent exchanges felt like anything but, yet it seemed lost on the guard.
The guard was just as silent as we, which had me on edge. Nearly every guard or man under my father's command would have some snide remark to make, with the exception of a few, but this was not one I was familiar with. I suspected he was ordered to watch for something, but I don't know what. I could only hope he was satisfied.
The day for another round in the arena came, and as per usual I was stepping into the center of the coliseum in some semblance of a red dress, this time one that showed off every wound I had. In a week's time they were not as bad, but the maids who had dressed me had applied makeup to make them stand out more- in particular one on my exposed stomach as the dress seemed to be a two part piece inspired by the island kingdoms in the South.
There was a gash on my upper right arm accentuated to look worse than it was with the stitches, and a few extra 'bruises' painted on. The crowd seemed to enjoy the view of my battered body, with my hair and face done up just like a pristine doll for contrast. I assumed it was just for the people's entertainment, as that was all I ever was now.
I should've thought about it more.
While I awaited instructions, prisoners were brought out by the dozen- war prisoners. Some seemed to recognize me and I realized that even the men of the nobles that had joined the rebellion were held here. Dozen by dozen, until half the arena was packed with the war prisoners. The last one to enter was him, my charge, wearing the same clothes he had worn the last time in the arena, the cut up fabric showing the dirty bandages underneath.
We locked eyes for a moment, but I was the first to look away. I did not like this stage the King was setting up. All prisoners of the rebellion, from both kingdoms, were present, as was the head of the noble faction that was now considered a traitor.
Today he was making an example out of them no doubt.
"How fitting, our tainted Princess standing in a crowd of traitors. Despite how dirty you are, you are still royalty though no?" The King's voice boomed over the crowd, effectively silencing the arena. "They should all be on their knees to you, Princess of the Arena."
Bestowed with a new title it seemed, one that wasn't as derogatory as the others, I could only stare up at the King's dias in shock. Something was wrong, something was different, and I did not like it.
What game was he going to play with me now?
The shuffling of chains drew my attention to Yeosang as he climbed down to his knees, half the prisoners following suit quickly. My mouth hung agape, eyes wide. Despite the forced show of respect, I saw it for what it was: they were all bowing because their Prince was.
Whether the King was aware of it or not, I couldn't tell from here, shrugging off the kneeling prisoners with a wave of my hand I turned and stared up once more at the dias. "A title comes with responsibility, Your Majesty, so what duties are you giving your humble servant?" I made a show of a modest bow, keeping my head lowered but eyes on him.
"I'm glad you asked, my dear, as it pertains to today's events. See, we have far too many prisoners for our dungeons... killing all these traitors seems pointless. Since you so graciously took their leader as your charge, I will give you the responsibility of deciding the rest of their fates."
My stomach dropped, the weight of so many lives on my shoulders felt unbearably crushing. I fought off the urge to look back at Yeosang, wanting his guidance on this matter. He led them before, he would know what to do- but I couldn't ask him.
Instead I turned slowly, taking in the worn faces of every prisoner in the arena, half of them with expressions of anger or disgust at this predicament, but the others seemed nonchalant, or not at all worried. "There are too many-" I called out, gaze briefly landing on Yeosang's figure, but he tore his own from me. He probably didn't like this predicament either.
"Well?!" The King called out, drawing my attention once more. "What shall we do with them, hm?"
Letting them go was out of the question, he would just kill them and I on the spot if I tried. He would refuse to feed them if I didn't make a decision either, let them die out slowly. Or... I couldn't save all of them, but I could most.
Clearing my throat I held my head high and arms wide. "Let them fight! They were so eager to do so before. Here is a plethora of entertainment for your People, Your majesty! Have them fight for their cells, then their food, and if you wish to show your merciful side... perhaps even freedom? The conditions of their fight are whatever would please you, as you know what your people need the most do you not?"
The stands roared at the idea, even more entertainment, more bloodshed for them to watch. The King's laughter mingled with the cheers until he called for silence. "You have earned the title Princess of the Arena, as you have learned well how to please the people and myself. Your idea certainly is better than having them all fight to the death here and now for only one winner. However... it would be a shame to have brought them all out here just to have you decide their fate."
So there was still going to be a bloodbath today.
"Since this will be the last day for some, I will grant them some mercy. They can witness that sinful dance of yours. So many already think you are worth more than freedom, I wonder if these scum will."
Cheers once more erupted but I didn't care, my heart was beating for an entirely different reason now. He was once more dangling me as bait in front of his fighters, once more shaming me in a new way. I should be used to it, no I was, but this was a humiliation on a different level. It was a humiliation to the men around me: to Yeosang.
Oddly enough I did not want to be shamed in front of him either; not when he has shown me more respect, more kindness, than anyone before him.
Yet I had no right to protest, not in the eyes of the King or the people in the stands. I was still a puppet and my strings were being pulled. So when the music started up somewhere in the stands, I danced.
Shortly after my fall, the moves for this particular dance were shown to me by a prostitute the King had brought in. 'Since you are now the royal whore, you should know how to perform like one' was his excuse. Even still, the dance was not that sinful, not that seductive... only paired with the exposed skin was it.
My bare feet glided over the sand beneath me, the eyes of hundreds of prisoners fixated on my form but only one I was even more aware of than the rest. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him, he seemed as transfixed as the soldiers around him but by the clench of his jaw it was not for the same reason. Eyes on my stomach, then my arm, the bruises on my exposed thighs- each flicker of his gaze darker than the last.
I didn't understand why he was concerned, or was it guilt? Guilt I could understand, as I could see the bandages as plain as the sand beneath my feet. I could still picture his lashed and raw back in my mind, the guilt heavy stones in my stomach knowing I put them there.
Just thinking about the damage I had done to him had me stumbling over my own feet in distraction. I caught myself quickly enough, but it wasn't missed by the nearby onlookers.
Relief washed over me as I finished the dance on my knees, head lowered and arms held out at my sides in a way to submit myself. I could hear the cheers, the crowd familiar with my dance, but the men around me were silent. For war prisoners, they seemed awfully lifeless... or obedient? I spared a glance up through my lashes at the man I knew they were obedient for, briefly catching pain on his features before it was whisked away and replaced with a nonchalance.
Once more the King quieted the audience before speaking up. "Even wounded you still put on a good performance fitting of the Royal Whore. Let's give the deprived scum something more to fight for, say a kiss from you today?" Chills ran down my spine while the crowd loved it. A kiss? "It was scum that defiled you first, so that seems rather fitting. Very well! I will announce today's game!"
I shifted in the sand, turning my back to Yeosang and staring up at the red canopy shielding the King from the sun's rays. After a bit of chit chat with those around him, he spoke into the magic tool once more.
"There are just over four hundred prisoners in the arena currently, the last one hundred left alive will live another day. The best fighters will be assessed by the guards around the arena and will participate in a fight for the grand prize. With only one exception- the fallen Prince shall be the final opponent and will not partake in the blood shed today, as he is under the protection of our dear filthy Princess. What say you?"
The idea of bloodshed, of deprived men fighting to kiss a whore, excited the crowd while it terrified me.
The King was skilled in making his puppets shine as fools. Skilled in stripping them of their pride and will until they were obedient brutes who played into his hands. He enjoyed dangling me as a toy for even traitors to play with, and was enjoying making light of their rebellion, their fight to attempt to overthrow this kingdom. He wanted to see them toss it aside for something as shameful as a woman's kiss.
No honor, no pride, no morality or dignity. He wanted all that stripped of each person in the arena.
The guards approached Yeosang and I, leading us off to the side near the arena gates. The guards went through but instructed us to stay put, leaving us with the best seats in the house. Our backs to the bars, we had to face the four hundred other prisoners who were slowly standing up. There were no weapons handed out, nothing but the chains around each prisoner's hands.
It wasn't often I was present or watched a fight to the death, and usually there were weapons involved. When the gong sounded, at first none of them moved. They looked to each other, and several looked in our direction; no, they looked to their Prince.
I could see the slightest of nods from him out of the corner of my eye, and only then did the bloodbath occur. And it was indeed just that.
Four hundred prisoners of war tearing each other apart with their bare hands and chains was a gruesome sight. It was not easy killing another in the crowd, and no death would be quick enough in such a situation.
It was easily one of the most terrifying sights I had to witness. I wasn't sure where to look, or why I should, but it was nearly impossible to keep a straight face as I watched. I couldn't tear my eyes away either.
My stomach lurched when a body fell just a few meters from us. Sure we weren't that far from the bloodshed considering how many bodies currently filled the sands of the arena, but this was close enough blood splattered on the sand just in reach of my feet.
"Gods-" I turned quickly, shutting my eyes while my hands went over my stomach. This was almost too much, they were being so brutal, screams and cheers ringing so loudly my head pounded. I wished for nothing more than for it to stop, or to be in a position that I could be ignorant to what was happening. Oblivious and unawares.
Yet I will never forget.
A soft touch on my arm startled me, hand lashing out and slapping away the perpetrator.
"It's alright-" Yeosang's sweet voice rang through the noise, drawing my wide eyes to him. "I'm sorry you have to see this."
"Sorry?!" I couldn't believe this, why was he apologizing to me? "Those are your men. Men you knew, that fought with you and followed you- were loyal to you. Why are you saying sorry to me? Are you unaffected watching them tear each other apart??" Panic had my voice rising a few octaves, the sounds of death still ringing in my ear and peripheral.
Yet he was so calm. Why was he calm? Why did he seem so apologetic as if he was the one doing wrong... to me?
A loud cry nearby startled me enough i physically jumped, eyes wide with obvious fear. This felt no different than the bandit raid that changed my life. "Yeosang-" Yet I had something to latch onto now; a comfort I hadn't had before.
Why he was a comfort was lost to me, perhaps because we were undergoing this psychological torture together. That had to be it, right?
"It's alright. You can't break just yet Princess, I know you can withstand more than this." He spoke low and evenly, a vast difference to my growing erratic breathing. "I am here." Those three words struck a chord in my chest, finding new strength in my core to regain control over my breathing while our eyes stayed locked in what felt like an embrace. His shining with a steady comfort, and my own reflecting my fear even as it dissipated.
With a slow nod I kept my eyes locked on his, reaching out and grabbing onto the loose chain around his wrist. The movement was subtle, and only for a moment of comfort; any more and I'd risk too many onlookers seeing and risk a punishment.
I wasn't sure how much time passed, forcing myself to stare straight ahead once I put some distance between us. Even still I watched him out of the corner of my eye; it was the better option compared to watching the bloodshed. His own expression was impassive, his own eyes remaining forward. Since I was to his left, I could notice the mark on his left eye. I've admired it a few times, probably a birthmark. This close and just peeking out from the strands of his black hair it almost resembled a heart.
It was the sound of a gong reverberating through the arena that drew my attention back to the slaughter. The fight seemed to be over, only one fourth of the prisoners remained standing and most did not look spared their own damage.
"It's over..." with a sigh of relief I squared my shoulders, awaiting for the announcement that would come shortly. But just as the King began congratulating the remaining fighters, the gate behind the two of us opened and the guards ushered us through. It seemed neither of us were going to witness this next part.
We were brought to a nearby room, much like a cell but a bit more decorated to be a waiting room. I usually sat here during matches, unable to see the arena but you could hear the cheers well enough. The wooden door was shut behind us, leaving us alone and out of sight, which just perplexed me.
Rage filled me as well; rage that if they intended to bring me here anyways, why wait until after the bloodshed? Why did I have to be subjugated to that ghastly sight!?
But I knew the reason, he was standing right behind me.
Exasperated, and overwhelmed, I stumbled over to a nearby bench, sitting down a bit roughly. I heard him approach, but I didn’t lift my head, not even when he stood before me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?!” My head shot back to look up at him, my brow furrowed and trying to make sense of his apologetic expression. “For what? What could you possibly be sorry for, Your Majesty?” It’s not as if you forced them to murder each other like that. Not as if you forced me to watch.” I emphasized through gritted teeth, tears burning just behind my lids. “I should be apologizing to you- it’s my father that forced this, that demands it, for his own sick and twisted games. So why are you? Why are you-” The words broke off on a sob, and before tears could fall I lowered my head into my hands.
He just followed suit, kneeling down before me, hesitantly placing his hands on my bare knees. “Are your wounds really as bad as they look?” The care in the way he ran a thumb over a bruise on my outer thigh matched his tone, soothing the raging storm inside my heart a bit.
“No- they were enhanced for the crowd’s entertainment.” I replied, watching his hands through my fingers until a realization hit. “You…” Slowly I lifted my head, staring at him incredulously.
Were you apologizing for these wounds?”
He nodded, his own gaze refusing to meet mine. “I do not wish to hurt you, or see you hurt.”
“And why not? I’m a part of this kingdom even if they don’t treat me as such. I still have that bastard’s blood in my veins- the one who just ordered your men to die like that. I am not deserving of your concern.”
“My men knew what they were getting into with this war, the price they would pay should it fail. No man followed me to this city without accepting that this could be their fate.” He took my hands in his. “Not a single one of them faults you for your father’s deeds. It would warm their hearts to know you shed tears for them.”
I wanted to protest, but the tears running down my cheeks were evidence enough. “No one should die like that.” In need of comfort I no longer could deny myself, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his unburdened shoulder, my body shaking. “How can they cheer for such cruelty?”
Sobs escaped me, and in an effort to muffle them I pressed closer. He didn’t push me off, instead reaching up and wrapping his arms around my shoulders in an embrace. I didn’t feel as if I deserved his kindness, his care, sympathy- whatever this was. It ignited emotions in me I didn’t not need, because it was hopeless to feel these things. This anger, sorrow, and the urge to be spiteful and fight.
I could not fight, in the end I was just as much a prisoner here as the men out there. If the puppeteer asked me to tear another to death with my bare hands, I would.
It was that irony that dissolved me into a mess in his arms. Someone who should have been my enemy, but acted as my ally.
By the time the door opened once more, I had collected myself and put some distance between us. He hadn’t said anything to my broken babblings while I had cried, but his expression had seemed distant since, jaw clenched tightly I could notice it across the room.
“Come on scum, it’s your turn to fight.” The guard motioned for Yeosang to exit but he had turned his eyes towards me. “I can’t tell if I’m jealous of you or find you pitiful, to have to fight for that whore’s lips. Always wanted to kiss a Princess, not a whore though.”
I didn’t have the energy to be angry after all that crying, my gaze downcast. Really I should be used to this by now.
Yeosang threw me for a shock, however, as a scoff escaped him as he passed the guard. “If she had to kiss you, I’d pity her.”
The guard just laughed it off, patting Yeosang heavily on his injured shoulder when I looked up. “Smitten with the Whore already? I think you two are perfect for each other. Better go win your prize then bastard.” He pushed him forward and out of sight, slamming the door and leaving me be.
Alone I could feel how warm my cheeks were, and not from humiliation. Had he really taken a jab at the guard for my honor? I shouldn’t be happy about that; it could give the king the wrong message if Yeosang appeared smitten with me. He would use it to toy with him, dangle me as bait in front of the man and use me as a way to hurt him. I shivered at the many possibilities that would entail, and most were not good.
The only idea that didn’t sound repulsive was Yeosang actually winning myself as a prize. Not because I wanted to do anything with him, but I was sure he would do nothing to me the way one of those brutes would.
Whilst trying to wrap my head around that idea, the cheers rang through the arena, disrupting my thoughts. Oddly enough I was escorted out of the room and back into the arena the next moment, perplexed by how fast that battle seemed to be.
My heartbeat should not have quickened at the sight of him standing in the center of a couple hundred dead bodies. My breath should not have hitched when we locked eyes, and I should not have found myself in awe at how nearly unscathed he was while his opponent was being carried away unconscious.
This is dangerous. I told myself, hands gripped together in front of me as I stopped just a few feet from the man.
“Well, claim your prize prisoner!” The King called from his seat, cheers and cries of discontent filling the space all around us.
None of that scared me more than the look in his eyes. It wasn’t cold or fierce, but I was familiar with a look akin to it: desire. If this man desired me, I was afraid it would consume us both. I had to think quickly, something to deter the impending struggle that would come from this prize, as it would seal our fate in a different way.
In a panic I was the one who closed the distance, reaching up and grabbing his chains to pull him down to my level while crashing my lips to his. Tears pricked the back of my eyes once more, nasty emotions welling in my chest at the realization that yes, I desired this man too, and it was a shame this was all I could do of it. That it would be a show of entertainment, that even these emotions and actions were to be pulled by the puppeteer and used against me to entertain this crowd.
I made the kiss quick, pulling away before he had a chance to respond. I made a show of wiping my mouth and spitting, giving a glare before turning to face the Royal Dias. “I hope my shame pleases you, Your Majesty! Giving me to even a traitor of your great empire? Is there not more entertaining things you could use this man for? Rather than kiss a whore?” I raised my voice as loud as it would go, unable to look Yeosang in the eyes and playing it off as disgust.
The King laughed, apparently pleased with my outburst. “It would be amusing to give the rebellious spirit something to fight for in here. You may be a useless gem, but even the lowest beings covet something. What say you, Kang Yeosang? Would you fight more for prizes from my daughter? Is that something you covet?”
Turning to Yeosang, I hoped he would say nothing, just lower his head and submit just for this. But with a small shake of his head I felt my stomach drop. “I coveted all that was yours, that was why I dared to raise my sword to your walls. That desire doesn’t dissipate with chains, even if all means of achieving have all been thwarted. I’ll covet anything of yours, including whom you consider a whore.”
There were mixed reactions from the crowd, some enjoyed the speech and laughed with the King; others screamed profanities and wished death upon him. Ultimately the King silenced them, approaching the rail to appear before his people. “I like your spirit, it would be amusing to have the fallen Prince a puppet in my hands. Very well, I’ll give you the opportunity to lay claim… eventually. I’m eager to see just how far you will go, to have what is mine.” He continued on, giving a speech to the crowd to draw today’s activities to an end.
“You’re insane- going to get us both killed.” I hissed out, shocked he would do this. “And I’m not an object for you to have!” Guards approached to escort us out of the arena, but I stormed ahead, shaking my head at the man who had a half smirk on his face, and humor glinting in his eye.
Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of r*pe, manipulation, trauma, reader is a royal “puppet”, Yeosang is a captured prince of a neighboring empire, Yeosang in chains. Reader is lowkey a badass. Mentions of death, fights to the death, torture, gladiator ring- gladiator fights. Lashes, some slight flirting, sexual implications, non-con implications (not yeo, never yeo). Blood, sword-fighting, injuries.
Word count: 4.6k
An: figured it was time for part two of this, and honestly it didn’t go just as I imagined- Yeosang kinda took over and decided he was running the show xD any and all feedback is appreciated.
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also, taglist (message or ask to be on): @lelaleleb / @hwaightme-recs / @candypop1611 / @inkpot-winters / @avantalem / @ammystri /
.
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Part of me wondered how it managed to come to this, stepping down from the stage until I stood face to face with my opponent. He won all ten battles, with surprisingly less injuries than I expected, but it was clear he was at his limit… the fact he had handled ten of the strongest fighters this Arena had and was still standing, no deep injuries.
I should be scared, the fact this was my opponent, when I was still such a novice fighter myself. The King had sounded both pleased and disappointed at this outcome, and I wondered which one of us he wanted to see lose more. Which one he wanted to see lashed and bleeding for his audience. His own daughter? Or this captured Prince?
I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of this at all, but I knew I had to obey. What else could I do? They would not make my death quick, and they wouldn't make this man's death quick either. Obliging the horrendous demands of the tyrant King was the only option.
I didn't have to like it. "Just… make this quick." I called over to him, taking in his labored breathing, all sorts of scratches and brushes on his body, pieces of torn fabric darkened further by his blood. His dark eyes lifted to mine, an unreadable expression as we were both handed swords. I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my sudden dry throat even a little.
I should be scared, definitely, after watching how skilled this man was taking down skilled fight after fighter without a single weapon, no matter his injuries or the like, there was no comparison in our levels. This wasn't a fair fight, I lost from the beginning.
So why wasn't I scared? Why did I feel a sense of calm when I looked upon his form, more concerned that I might mar his pretty face or accidentally injure him [or myself]? I didn't really have time to process why, as the horns blew to signal the start of the fight. We were both given short swords, with him twirling his with ease with one hand and yet I still needed two- another contrast to our skill.
"I'm going to attack your left." He called out, just enough for me to hear, before he charged forward.
I moved out of instinct, jumping back but getting knocked ever so slightly in the stomach before I brought my own sword up, clashing with his. Cheers erupted from the stands but I paid them no mind. He announced his next attack, this time giving me more than enough to process and counter.
I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why he was doing this. The fight was getting dragged out, out of instinct I was following his commands, even when he told me to attack him. Was he doing this to put on a show? One the crowd was loving. He looked beyond exhausted, struggling here and there as we continued a sword dance that he was constructing.
Dodge left, swing up, roll back, press forward. Command after command, and yet I was obeying. Why was I following along? I should just let him land a hit, end this embarrassment. It’s not like I wanted to obey, I found that I rather detested it, yet here I was, following his commands to a tee.
The crowd loved it, the scene that this man was orchestrating; my lack of abilities still shone through, and it was his apparent exhaustion that led to my ability to dodge his attacks. Even I believed that he was simply exhausted, that he didn’t have the strength to put into each swing of his sword, if not for the gentle commands he spoke before each swing.
Minutes had gone by, sweat beading my neck and forehead and the sword beginning to feel heavy in my own hands. “Are you ready to end this?” He had muttered, our swords locked in a clash at the hilts, faces so close I could see the sweat running down his too pale skin, mingling with a cut to his cheek I had just put there a second ago. I wanted to reach out, wipe the blood away and apologize for hurting him, but this was not the time. So I simply nodded.
“I’ll take the lashings, you’ve done enough.” I breathed out, taking a step back and pushing his sword out of the way. His eyes widened with shock, the weapon flinging out of his hands to land several feet away.
My eyes followed the object, tensing up at this new development. “Aim for my right shoulder.” But of course he was giving another command, and I obeyed, hoping he would just dodge it and dive for the sword.
The sharp edge of the sword digging into his flesh as he fell to his knees before me was the last thing I expected, the last thing I wanted. He cried out, perhaps more for show than in actual pain, the stands rumbling with the loud cheers and stomping of feet.
Finish him. Cut off his head.
I tried to ignore the harsh chants, staring down as blood pooled from the wound I had made, pulling my sword out and stumbling back out of shock. All other wounds had been shallow, while this was not. A large gash- bone would probably be visible once the blood stopped gushing out and soaking the black and white fabric of his tunic- stared back at me tauntingly.
“Enough!” The King boomed out, quieting the crowd and effectively saving me from doing more damage to the man before me than I’d like. Except, I had forgotten in my panic that there was more to come. “The fallen Prince shall receive the ten lashings from our royal whore. Bring out the whip.”
Stiffening, I looked down at the top of Yeosang’s head, his hand covering his shoulder as if that was going to stop the bleeding. My mind was in overdrive, replaying the fight, his words, his actions, until I could only come to one conclusion: He planned this. He had every intention of taking the lashes from the beginning, to play the perfect entertainment and put up just enough of a fight no one else would question my victory.
My stomach churned with uneasiness as I blinked rapidly to fight back the tears. Whatever pride I had left was in shambles, as the realization hit that my opponent was more concerned about my pride, my wellbeing, then the kingdom that I belonged to. His concern cut deeper than any sword, spread and burned in my veins more than any poison, and threatened to consume me.
It was the sword being ripped out of my hand, and replaced with a whip, that had my mind focusing on the situation once more. “Ten lashes, my dear daughter.” I could only nod at the King’s words, watching as Yeosang was dragged and chained up to the pole. I had no choice but to follow, stepping onto the stage as his tunic was ripped in half, exposing his back while the torn fabric hung loosely on his arms. “Make them count.”
I swallowed to try and get some moisture into my far too dry throat, but to no avail. The whip felt far too heavy in my hands, the exposed skin on his back unmarred aside from some small nicks during his fights today, blood running down his shoulder but at a much slower pace now. That was my only solace, that perhaps he would not bleed out, that I could repay his fucked up kindness some other way even if I was about to scar the man ten more times.
My hand tightened on the whip, the guards giving me ample space and staying out of range, perhaps afraid I might try and use the whip against them in a fit of anger. Either way, they left me free to speak without being heard. “You should’ve let me take the lashes.” With as much strength as I could muster, I swung down, the whip cracking against his flesh, the sound echoing in the arena. “He’s going to do plenty more to you anyways.” The second whip, dragging a bit of the blood from the first lash, both beginning to welt almost instantly.
The fact Yeosang was silent, nothing more than a meager grunt with each new lash mark added to his back. Three, then four, then five. My hand was trembling as I lifted the whip for the sixth, angle off and hitting too close to his torn shoulder. He cried out, loud enough for the nearest onlookers to hear, and I felt my heart clench at their cheers. I had tried, as much as I could, to avoid his right shoulder, but I had never held a whip before or harmed someone in this way… I could only do so much.
As if he knew, which he probably did, he looked over his shoulder, a soft smile as if to reassure me peeking over the bloody gash for my eyes only. “It’s alright, I can handle more than this.”
I found myself once more blinking back tears, bringing down the whip for the seventh with a much louder crack. His back was more red than the pale white of his skin, from the blood to welts to bruises beginning to form. “I can as well, Your Majesty. In fact, it is only a matter of time before I am on the receiving end of this whip.”
It wasn’t a lie, I didn’t mention my fate to receive pity or sympathy, and he didn’t seem to give me either. There was a shift in his gaze, as if looking at me with new found appreciation. “And yet you aren’t afraid?”
I shrugged, bringing the whip up. “Why would I be? It is my fate, whether as a pure princess married off, or this-” I brought it down, catching his left shoulder dangerously close to his neck. Two more to go. “You can’t hope for more if there was never a chance to begin with.” I knew how sad, how heartbreaking my situation was- Clara would often cry for my fate as I had no more tears to shed. Any solace helped ease the reminder I had a nose around my neck since birth, a fate I long since grew accustomed to.
To spare myself the look in his eyes, the ninth lash was a bit harder than before, resulting in another cry and his head falling forward. It hurt more to hear his pained cry, than my own situation. He was someone who had more, and yet he had it taken. I had nothing, even this cursed punishment was more than my previous life, and even then it wasn’t much of an improvement.
I pitied him, but I could not pity myself.
The tenth lash came quickly, marring his lower back to avoid the cluster of gashes just below his shoulders. With disgust I threw the bloody whip to the side, turning to look up to the pavilion where the man responsible for all this stood with a sadistic smirk, hands gripping the railing. “Perhaps I underestimated you my dear Daughter, you could’ve been as cruel as I.”
The words stung, but they were an opening for something more, a string I could grasp on to get a bit more solace in this life. “Cruel? Your Majesty, allow me to prove how cruel I can be, for your entertainment.” I motioned to the bloodied man. “Give me responsibility over this prisoner, from his lashes to his care, as I’d like to see him live long enough to appease your entertainment, long after his skin is no more than raised scars and deformed features. What say you?!” I was amazed at how steady my voice rang through the arena, the cheers at the idea just what I liked to hear.
While they may take it as cruelty, I knew Yeosang could decipher the truth. It was my form of mercy, putting myself on the line to try and ease even a bit of his pain- but if he protested now, it would come back to me. I didn’t know much about this man, but I had discerned a weakness he didn’t show the hundreds of onlookers: he was a gentleman who didn’t want to cause even a tainted whore like I any pain. It was a kindness I wished to repay, albeit a little, and this was the only way I could think of.
“Very well.” The King called out appreciatively. “If he dies before we grow tired of him, then your head will fall with his.” Just like that, your fate was tied to the man before you; the man who was now being picked up and dragged towards the exit.
Perhaps he did see this move of yours as cruel, and not as the mercy you saw it as, but the dead was done.
He met your eyes briefly, and for the first time, seemed to glare at you, the rage you had long expected finally appearing in those gorgeous dark eyes of yours.
Your life was bound to his.
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Night was falling, only the torches lit the cells as I passed and yet the majority of them were still dark. There were few with barred windows that gave the prisoners some connection with the outside world, but the moon hadn’t risen just yet, the last bit of the sun’s rays unable to reach the dark crevices even through the bars. Only my lantern and the guard’s torch lit up Yeosang’s cell, a frown pulling on my features as I took in the sight of him.
“Why did you do it?” He didn’t look back at me, slumped in the middle of the floor once again covered in the chains I had removed from him before, no care what-so-ever had been given to him, not even a meal or clean clothes.
I had expected this, all such things in the large basket I carried as I nodded at the guard with me to unlock the door. I was silent as the keys jingled, the click of the lock opened, and I was let in. “One hour, and then I am to fetch you.”
“Thank you.” I nodded towards the guard, who only sneered before walking away with half my light. I turned the lantern up, moved past Yeosang to set the lantern on the table by the far corner, taking my time. I could feel his eyes on me, demanding an answer to his question, but I wasn’t ready to give it just yet. “Why did you show mercy on me? We both know that fight should have been yours, the lashes should have been mine.”
Keeping my back to him, thankful for the black fabric of the gown I wore, I slowly took out each item I had brought. Bandages, clothes, some bread and cheese, a large canteen of water, and a few rags to clean him up with. There was alcohol and some needle and thread, which I was hesitant to bring but I knew his shoulder needed it.
“Thank you.” I nodded towards the guard, who only sneered before walking away with half my light. I turned the lantern up, moved past Yeosang to set the lantern on the table by the far corner, taking my time. I could feel his eyes on me, demanding an answer to his question, but I wasn’t ready to give it just yet. “Why did you show mercy on me? We both know that fight should have been yours, the lashes should have been mine.”
When he didn’t answer, I glanced back, a brow lifted. “Well?”
He sighed, hands at his sides gripping the chains. “I did not wish to harm a lady.”
I had expected this, all such things in the large basket I carried as I nodded at the guard with me to unlock the door. I was silent as the keys jingled, the click of the lock opened, and I was let in. “One hour, and then I am to fetch you.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I am no lady, Your Majesty, has that not been obvious?” I moved closer, reaching out to grab the chains. “I am a pawn, always have been, always will be, to the Tyrant I ironically call father. I am what he says, and therefore I am no lady. This… arrangement is as much for me as it is for you.”
He watched my hands as I pulled each chain off him gently, setting them at the foot of the bed and out of the drying blood around him. “How so?”
“Well for starters, as long as this form of entertainment amuses him, he will not try to find another use for me.”
When I didn’t continue, he prompted softly, as if not really wanting to hear the answer. “And what other use would he have?”
I shrugged, pushing his torn fabric down his arms to lay at his waist with the rest of the fabric. With his torso exposed fully, I hissed through clenched teeth. “I am but a prize to his favorite fighters. A few of the men you had fought today had won before. They enjoy partaking in the fight, to win a so-called Princess for a night and do as they desire, and have chosen that over freedom.” I stood back up, avoiding his gaze as I grabbed the rags and equipment I needed, coming back to kneel before him, reaching out to wipe the blood from his shoulder with a rag. “It’s only a matter of time before he presents you with the same option- or, God forbid, gives one of them the option to have their way with me in that arena.”
I felt him tense under my hand at my words and I risked a glance. My breath caught at the unbridled rage crossing his features, the way his upper lip pulled up in a snarl. “He would do that- to you?”
Slowly I nodded, perplexed by his words. “He has mentioned it before, if I do not behave.” It was an odd thing, someone getting angry on my behalf: a stranger no less. “Were you not aware of how he is? You led a rebellion against him.” It was a poor attempt to get the focus off me, but I could only hope it would work so I could focus on the wounds.
He didn’t answer, opting for silence as I dabbed away as much of his blood as I could, exposing each wound that littered his chest. He was indeed beautiful, even with the gashes and bruises marring the muscles. The type of beauty I would often dream of as the male lead of those books Clara would bring me, that had me hoping for a Prince to sweep me away from this place. Perhaps I would’ve been married to him, or another one of his brothers, if I had remained a Pure Princess; a fact that was unlikely, but nice none-the-less.
We settled in a comfortable silence as I cleaned up him, a silence that was a little less comfortable as I moved to his back, my guilt eating away at me as I took in just how sweltered the lashes were. “You know… I try not to despair over my fate, over the things I have done, over what I am meant to do… but I would say today is the first time I regret this life.”
He stiffened over my wandering fingers as they lightly traced over each lash after I cleaned it. There was an unspoken question on his lips, in the way his breath hitched and he turned just enough to watch me out of the corner of his eye. I wonder if he saw the sadness I felt, the guilt, no doubt reflected in the set of my lips or the tears threatening to fall in my gaze. “The last time someone had shown me kindness, she died in this arena. And now this time, it is a stranger that shows me kindness, that questions my existence as if it is unnatural… I suppose it is, but I tried not to mind it. But this?” My fingers ran up the bit of smooth skin from the top lash to his right shoulder. “To harm that stranger with my own hands, leaves quite the nasty taste in my mouth.”
“Then why-”
“Because it is the only mercy I could think of. Better my hands, my damnation, than that of the brutes who enjoy the power play of harming someone who they believed to have been above them at one point.” Emotions clouded my head, my actions of their own violation without confirmation of a thought as I leaned forward and pressed my lips just next to his wound, my eyes meeting his. “This is the only kindness I can give to the man who has shown me more than I dare ask for.”
He didn’t say anything, all emotion falling from his face as he turned to face forward, leaving me to my own devices. The silence that followed was both heavy and yet comfortable; he didn’t protest as I cleaned him up and took care of each wound, even haphazardly stitching up his shoulder and a few of the lashes that were much deeper than I thought and intended. He winced, muttering curses as I cleaned them with the alcohol, and even more so as I wrapped the bandages around his torso and over his shoulder.
I stood up, motioning for his clothes. “Strip, I have clean clothes for you for now. Don’t worry, I won’t look.” I handed him the black coarse tunic and trousers, the only ones I could find really but they would have to do.
As he changed, the shuffling of chains and fabric the only indication, I busied myself with putting away the dirty rags that were now stained with his blood, and the empty alcohol container. Only when he cleared his throat did I turn, holding out the now half empty water container and the bread and cheese wedge. “I hope this will suffice for food for now, I will see about what other meals I could bring you.”
He nodded, taking them from me, before sitting on the harsh cot that was more wood than fabric. “And you? What about your wounds?”
I bit my lip at his question, my eyes locked on the cut on his cheek. “Mine can wait.” I had hoped the black dress would hide the fact I had yet to tend to my own wounds, but mine were not as deep or in need of care. “Your cheek-” I reached out, only for him to grab my wrist and lock eyes with me. “Your Majesty I-”
“Call me Yeosang, Princess, I am no royalty here.”
“Neither am I, so don't call me Princess.” I didn’t pull out of his grip, just watched as he turned to place a kiss on the inside of my wrist. It was gentle, but I was sure he could feel my pulse skip at the sensation of his lips.
“Then what am I to call you?” He pressed another kiss up my arm and I could feel my cheeks redden.
This time I did pull my hand away. “Please do not try and seduce me, Yeosang- while the King would gladly let you have your way, there is nothing I can do for you outside of what I have so far.” I warned softly, motioning for him to eat.
“I could say the same for you Princess. You are as trapped here as I, do you think I could free you from here?”
I shook my head without hesitation, taking a few steps back and avoiding his smoldering gaze. There was a shift in the tension between us, both accusing but also like a thousand sparks threatening to burn me alive in a way I was sure I would welcome. “If you think that is my true intention with the deal I made with the King, you are wrong. I am merely trying to make the last of my days as painless as I can, but I will not run from my fate.”
“I see… prideful to the end?” He took a sip from the canteen, breaking eye contact as I smiled wryly.
“Not prideful, merely stubborn. I cannot take my own life, I cannot do something to have it taken from me. Any attempt at escape would be meaningless as it would only increase the surveillance and suffrage I am meant to forgo until the day the King decides my head shall meet the guillotine. Perhaps it is simply cowardice on my part, to work with the hand I’ve been given and try for some semblance of a life in this hell, but it is all I’ve known so there is comfort in that.” I pointed a finger at him. “But you, you chose to come here, to fight, I do not see you sitting pretty as I do, nor playing into the hands of the crowd and the King. Does that not make you the prideful one?”
He didn’t answer, the only acknowledgement to my statement was a smirk playing on his lips before he bit into the cheese. I could hear the guard from earlier approaching, the hall illuminating slowly by his torch. “My time is up, I will stop by once more tomorrow. The Arena is only active two days per week, so you have time to rest.”
I went over to finish cleaning up my mess, grabbing his discarded clothes to add to the rags. “I’ll have these cleaned for you.” As in I was going to wash them myself.
Just before the guard came into view, I felt an arm wrap around my waist, the warmth of his body pressed against my back and his hot breath on my neck. “Four months.”
I turned to ask what he meant, only to hear the chuckle of the guard as he knocked the keys against the bars. “My, you work fast don’t you whore? Already have this fucker wrapped around your finger too? Just remember you don’t get to fuck anyone your father doesn’t give permission for, doll.”
I stiffened in Yeosang’s hold, pulling away and grabbing both the basket and the lantern before hurrying to the door as the guard unlocked it. “That must be tortuous for you then guard, that a prisoner like myself has a better chance of fucking her than you do.” Yeosang’s words were cold, pointed, and I nearly missed the clench of his jaw.
The guard just snarled. “I doubt this pussy is worth your freedom, scum, as for me it could be just a fortnight’s pay.” No sooner had I stepped out was the crude man gripping my chin. “I hear she’ll spread her legs for anyone for the right price, a Princess still likes to spend money after all.”
I slapped his hand away, forcing a smile. “Aye, and if you think a fortnight of your pay is enough for a Princess, even a slut like I, you are dumber than I as well.” I walked past him, scurrying ahead. “Don’t try to touch me again, as you said… my father likes to choose who gets the privilege to do so, beg him first.” The words were only added to prevent the man from acting out in anger, yet it was another guard making rounds that ultimately saved me from humiliation.
I didn’t look back, nor listen for any final words.
This was my fate, and I was not to be ashamed of it in front of him- he was not a knight in shining armor, but just a man who shared my fate. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder… What did he mean by that? Was it a declaration of his conquest over me? Was it an answer to my previous question over which of us would break first? Was it a prediction of how long this farce would last? Or how long he would have left to live?
Four months… there was no good outcome I could think of, so the time frame only filled me with dread.
Captured prince Yeosang[Ateez] x “tainted” Princess fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of r*pe, manipulation, trauma, reader is a royal “puppet”, Yeosang is a captured prince of a neighboring empire, Yeosang in chains. Reader is lowkey a badass. Mentions of death, fights to the death, torture, gladiator ring- gladiator fights. Yeosang in chains
Word count: 3.2k
An: I was going to make this longer but thought this was a good place to leave it off, this is going to be a mini series- probably no more than 10 pieces
Masterlist | Next
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A princess is the epitome of purity.
That was the rule I lived by my whole life. I was to be 'pure' until the day I would be gifted to whomever my father wished I would be wed to. Weddings were business transactions with the royal blood and title as the product sold: in particular my elder siblings and I were bargaining chips for our father, the king, to increase his power.
This was the reality I grew up with, knowing this was not a family, that I would see the servants more often than any of my actual blood. I was to only be cleaned and touched by women, my skin would only be exposed to the maids that dressed me and myself, otherwise I would be dressed head to toe in white and soft pastels that had me appear more as a doll than a human being. Every day was planned out, every appearance, every encounter with others- all of it set out as a master plan that I had no part of.
It was suffocating.
I had gone along with it my whole life, one maid whom I considered my only friend was also my only solace. She snuck me books, food I wasn't allowed to eat, would tell me gossip of the castle and stories I would otherwise need permission to indulge in.
It was her demise that started the events of my own, like a domino effect. To get favor with my father, another maid had informed him of my dear friend’s activities, and my doll-like room was searched. The few books I had kept in a chest under my bed were found, the materials burned, and she was sent to the arena.
The arena, a place where the most prestigious fighters could show their skill in favor of awards, or prisoners and slaves were forced to fight to the death in unruly tournaments for their freedom while the nobles and people watched for entertainment. It was a place a pure Princess was to never go… so I could only hear about my dear friend’s loss through the idle gossip outside my room.
However, her crime wasn’t well hidden from others, and while I was still technically a pure enough individual, it encouraged my father to ship me away to be cleansed at our holiest of temple’s, a day’s ride out by carriage from the castle that was my home. Except that this information was also not well hidden, some people already believed that I was tainted enough to be ripe for the picking, and they were given the chance to do so.
It was clear I was the target from the beginning, as no raid or bandits would ever occur so close to the Capital city otherwise, and yet as the sun was setting on the horizon and the temple just a bit further, the carriage was ambushed.
It was perhaps luck, or a curse, that the guards from the temple came moments after all sense of my purity was stolen from me, my white dress in tatters and soaked with the blood of the corpses of the few guards and servants that had been with me. The guards chased the attackers away, but I was the only one left alive.
Left alive… and tainted.
The temple treated me, word was sent to my father, and all hell seemed to break loose. I had lost my value to him, to the Empire he ruled, but I was still royal blood, and for that I was spared. Although I wouldn’t call this new life worth living, I found some solace in no longer being a puppet… I was now an example of what not to be.
The Tainted Princess.
As one of the younger Princess’s, this wasn’t a complete travesty in my father’s eyes, he believed that there would be something out there I would still be a good bargaining chip for. He changed up my routine, gave me more freedom to do as I pleased as long as I was out of sight, and learned my new place: that I was the scum of the royal family, and did not belong with them.
I was also another form of entertainment for the people.
They ate up a fallen Princess, royal blood who was seen as no more than the prisoners that fought to death in the Arena- the arena I was now a part of. No, I wasn’t a fighter, merely an opening act.
Clad in a red dress that was little more than a piece of fabric tied around my waist and up around my neck, I was exposed to the peers in the stands, commoners and nobles alike throwing insults, food, red scarfs, and more into the arena, enjoying the humiliation I was made to suffer. And at the end of each tournament, the winner was granted a kiss from me as a bonus prize- if they were favored enough by my father… they were granted more than that.
I wasn’t a pure puppet, but instead a stained prize, the royal whore. The only good thing about this was that no one would bat an eye at my uptake of certain interests; sword fighting, reading what I wished, eating what I wished, and wearing what I wished- as long as it was done out of sight and when I was not to be gifted out.
I lost track of time as this continued, for a few months my shame was put on hold as my father and the people focused on a rebellion, several nobles siding with a nearby empire, and it reached all the way to my home. Somehow, despite the grandeur of this rebellion, it was crushed quickly as the few leaders it had were captured… a fallen prince, their general, now in chains in the dungeons of the arena. The rest of the rebellion backed off, or should I say went quiet; the border went silent as well, and nothing was heard from the neighboring empire, so the fights began again.
And that was how I met him, Kang Yeosang. I had simply been curious, and allowed free reign of the dungeons, wanting to see the man that had led a charge all the way to the Capital, giving me a few months of peace. My heels clicked on the stone floor down the musty passageway, my chin held high as I ignored the perverted ramblings of the touch-starved (and probably actually starved) prisoners that I passed.
But not all the prisoners were like that, in fact I noticed that many were quiet, watching from their chains or cots with dried blood on them and impassable expressions: prisoners of war. I paid them no mind, aside from noting that they didn’t have the same hopelessness to them as the other prisoners, despite that the only way to leave here alive was to kill at least fifty other prisoners in battle.
No, they were not my concern- this man was. Stopping before the largest cell, furthest from the entrance, I peered into the shadows, only finding him due to the paleness of his skin reflecting the small bit of light in my hand. I could make out his back to me, his bare arms weighed down by countless chains that rattled with each heavy breath he took. He didn’t turn to look, nor make a single sound, the only sign I had that he was aware of my presence was the slightest turn of his head, but his dark hair still obstructed my view of his features.
The irony was not lost to me, that while he was a Prince in chains, our positions were quite similar. “I wonder…” Words were spilling from my lips as soon as they popped into my mind, having no care if he was listening, “Which fallen crown will break first.” I was almost certain I was speaking more to myself than him, as his presence here meant a continuation of my own personal torture.
Not only that, but I knew that the King who put us both in our metaphorical shackles, would find quite a brutal entertainment to use us for, as he too would find the duel irony amusing.
I didn’t wait for a reply or any acknowledgement, instead turning on my heel and heading back out of the dungeon.
I had been correct in my assumption… The King did indeed enjoy the dual irony, as by the end of the week, he had spread the word of a special fight in the arena the next gathering. I had thought it only concerned the new prisoner, so I didn’t pry- I never tried to pry. I just stood in the arena in the scandalous dress that covered so little, and did just as The King commanded: whatever performance he requested.
I should have known it would not be a dance or song or one of the many other talents he had trained into me as a pure Princess, only to twist the acts here now as a tainted Princess. No, today, I was staring up at a makeshift stage on wheels, a pole standing in the center with several large hooks haphazardly jabbed into the old, bloody wood. I had seen the Arena enough to know what this was, and dread pooled into my stomach.
Someone was getting lashed. With the King’s excitement over the ‘special fight’, I knew the punishment would be lashes to whomever lost. Throat suddenly parched, I awaited the command of the King, several meters higher up in the stands, staring down on a gilded throne under the deep red canopy that kept him safe from the sun’s harsh rays. With the help of a magic tool, his voice boomed through the arena over the loud cries and cheers of those in the stands, his usual spiel greeting ‘his people’ before he finally motioned to the staged pole and I.
“As promised, a special fight will end today’s tournament, the only reward being the lack of a punishment, and our entertainment! Bring out the other fighter!” My blood ran cold as his words registered in my head- I was the only one in the arena, yet he was calling for a second fighter.
He was going to make me fight today. Was it to the death? Or did the loser receive lashes? I had only been practicing with a sword since shortly after my fall, I would not last against a skilled warrior- I may very well be considered dead if it was one of the war prisoners.
And of course… it was.
The rattling of heavy chains silenced the crowd, all eyes turning to the entrance to the dungeons, and I saw the outline of the figure in the shadows before he emerged. I knew, just from the pale arms wrapped in chains, who my opponent was. Even still, my lungs halted as the sun bathed him fully, his skin not nearly as pale as it seemed in the shadows, but still lacked some color in contrast to his onyx hair and the black of his clothes, the dark iron chains a stark contrast as well, dragging behind him as they were wrapped around his torso and dangled off his wrists.
Today I was going to die by perhaps the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. The thought was almost comforting as I stared, tuning out the loud cries and boos of the people, the King's voice ringing above them as he introduced the man just as he stopped a little more than a yard from me, his eyes shut and hair brushing over his cheekbones as if to hide from the current situation. Yet I stared, both in awe and shock, that this man was going to be my executioner.
“The captured fourth Prince of the Zeeta Empire, Kang Yeosang, leader of the rebellion and abandoned by his own Empire to rot here, in this very arena. How fitting- two tainted royalty, a Prince of the Zeeta Empire, and a Princess of ours. There would be no greater fight, or irony, than between these two unwanted, shameful, eyesores… no?”
I barely processed the King’s words, for the prisoner across from me opened his eyes at the mention of my presence with an unreadable expression, aside from the slightest clench of his jaw.
“Again… I wonder which fallen crown will break first… your majesty.” I muttered the words, knowing that anything said here in the arena shy of screams would not be heard by onlookers, but he could hear me just fine.
He didn’t reply, nor did he have the chance to, as the King continued his tirade. “Now, I never start a show off with the main course, and it seems far too uneven a match like this- so my dear Princess, step onto that little platform. You’ll have the best seat in the house as we test our new guest-” I moved on command, but my eyes not once left the other man’s, and his didn’t drop from mine either. Once I was standing on the stage, only then did he pull his gaze away. “Ten fights, back to back, and then the captured Kang Yeosang will fight our tainted Princess. Not to the death, no, where would be the fun in that?”
His eyes met mine once more, recognition in them as he fully understood what was being said. He was to be worn down before he could bring a blade to my head, and even then he couldn’t cut it down. I imagined he was disappointed, after all he had attacked this Empire, and I was still of royal blood.
I’d want to kill me too.
“The winner will give the other ten lashes of satisfying degree. If they are not… entertaining enough, ten more will be given.” I saw the first reaction, the first sign of emotion then, a slight widening of his eyes and a sharp inhale between parted lips, a fraction of my own reaction.
Not once had he thought to give me lashes, but I was aware that today I would be. Sure, I was going to live another day, but even after ten fights, I was sure a general of a small rebellion, that made it to the capital of their enemy, could handle ten fights easily, as well as my own novice swordsmanship.
Resigned to my fate, I lowered my head, fiddling with the hem of the red dress that stopped mid thigh. “And why should I fight at all?!” My head snapped up, eyes wide as I stared at the prisoner who had called out in a beautiful deep voice that would be mesmerizing under other circumstances- but it was his words that left me, and the crowd, reeling.
A whirl of emotions swarmed me, from anger at the idea that I wasn’t even good enough as an opponent, to fear- if he didn’t fight, what would happen to me? What would happen to him? “Are you insane?” I hissed out, drawing his blank gaze for a mere second. “He’ll just find another use, for you and I.”
The man’s eyes widened with what I could tell was shock, but the expression was gone as quickly as it came. He mumbled something that got toned out by the boisterous laughter of the King. “Then perhaps a mutual torture? My dear Princess, perhaps that is a new skill you could learn: how to torture another soul, just as your existence tortures your dear Father’s heart.”
My shoulders slumped, eyes downcast as shame washed over me once more. He had made it clear that he believed it was my fault that those bandits wanted me, that they took my ‘purity’, stained my thighs and dressed with the blood as evidence. I was the shameful one, the disgrace, the mistake.
Where had I gone wrong with you? I raised you just as your siblings, and they all proved useful, bringing pride to this family. My, your eldest sister just gave birth to her third son for her husband, and yet you let a bunch of bandits fuck you like a whore. Disgusting. His words had shattered my heart as well as any hope that he saw me as family at all. No, I was, and still am, a pawn to him.
I didn’t want to be useful to him, but this existence I lived was merely survival; any hope I had of leaving it, of ending my own life, was nonexistent. Just needed to take this one day at a time, and perhaps something would spark the chance for either or.
“Very well, I suppose I’d prefer the challenge of a fight!” The stranger's deep call brought my attention back to the arena, back to him, taking note of his fists balled around the chains.
“Excellent! Better entertainment when it’s a fair fight, keeps me on the edge of my seat! I dare say, even in chains you are still a prideful Prince. I think we’ll keep you around until you break and grovel and beg- do my people like the sound of that?!” Cheers erupted in the stands at a deafening level, ringing in my ears even after they quieted a moment later. “Bring out the first fighter! Princess, remove his chains- all but the ones on his wrists.”
His command had me stepping down from the stage, quickly making my way over and avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was larger than I, towering over me just enough it made me aware of how easily he could pin me down and end my life. I spared a glance at his face, inhaling sharply as my eyes found his hardened ones, but I saw no malice in the deep brown of his irises.
We didn’t speak as I pulled the chains off his body, one by one, ignoring the way a jolt brushed through me with each touch of my fingers on his skin. The cheers grew loud once more, the first contender stepping out and giving an excited cheer of their own, drawing my attention.
“Shit-” Cursing under my breath, I nimbly dropped the large chain from around his torso. “He’s not making this easy for you-”
The softest chuckle escaped his lips, my eyes widened as I felt his breath fan against my neck. “You curse? That’s…” He shook his head when I turned to stare at him in confusion, only for my heart to thump wildly in my chest at the sweet hint of a smile on his lips.
“Go for his legs, and avoid him grabbing you.” I slipped the last chain down his arm, picking up the heavy objects and carrying them over to the stand just as the King commanded I do. I don’t know why I decided to give him that advice, or why I decided I wanted to see him win all these fights today- including my own- but I didn’t want to dwell on it. The only reason that did come to mind, was the faintest of thoughts: What would he look like smiling freely?
I could admit, I wanted to see that… I wanted to see him win.
