897 words | Prince Loz learns to love (sequel to A lonely night)
Content | Slavery, implied non-con
Notes | Ivin and Beau have a disagreement. Loz is not the only one who has some growing to do
Taglist | @painwithoutplot @suchprettypieces
The new Consort found him in the orchard the very day after her wedding, in one of his favourite spots by a babbling fountain, reading.
They had briefly met at the wedding. Unlike Consort Loz, she had been keen for him to be introduced to her. Now there was earnest concern on her face.
He had some suspicion where it came from, of course. The Vasikyans didn’t keep slaves, one heard, as outlandisch as it seemed.
»Good morning, Beau.«
»Good morning, your Majesty.« He smiled a reassuring smile at her. It did nothing to smooth her expression.
»May I sit with you? I wanted to talk to you.«
»Of course, your Majesty.«
She sat, folding her hands in her lap. He set his book aside and watched as she collected her thoughts.
Finally, she asked, »Is… is Beau your real name?«
»Yes, your Majesty.« It was the name Tulya had given him so many years ago. Then, even he, Tulya, seemed taken aback that it was his to choose, but he had been so young. It seemed mind-boggling that a woman of the Consort’s age could not know that.
Beau — Tani — had learned it even younger; learned fast not to contest it. Now, he could probably have, with Tulya. But there was no need, and Tulya had never again asked after their first clumsy meeting.
The Consort eyed him for a moment, then nodded. »Are you alright?«
He beamed another smile at her. »I’m very well, thank you, your Majesty. And yourself? I expect you do not quite feel at home yet, but are you liking it so far?«
She smiled back, but only briefly. »Some things more, some things less.« She looked at him as she said it, but before he could ask any more, she continued, »You read?«
»Yes, your Majesty.« A little defensively, he added, »His Majesty the King was so kind as to teach me.« Not everyone liked a slave who could read.
Another brief smile. »That’s good of him.« She hesitated, then quietly asked, »Do you feel safe?«
»Yes, your Majesty.« He looked her earnestly in the eyes. It was true, though even she must understand that such a question, posed to a slave, couldn’t always produce a true answer.
»… that’s good.« She didn’t seem convinced, so Beau decided to go out on a limb.
»His Majesty loves me. He would not mistreat me.«
»Is that so? He loves you?« She didn’t believe that, either.
Beau nodded, a little irritated. He reined it in. Really, he was spoiled in terms of being taken at his word, and he wasn’t a fool — she had good reason to doubt him.
»I love him too,« he added softly, a smile seizing his lips without his doing this time. »We have been together for many years. He…« He didn’t know how to end that sentence. There was nothing he could say she would believe, anyway, and how was he to encompass in words the trust and love, the sense of safety and understanding, that had grown between them as steadily as a tree now in bloom?
»That’s sweet.« She took a deep breath, as if to brace herself, then pushed on. »I do not understand how he can claim to love you, yet still keep you enslaved.«
It was a thought that had never once crossed Beau’s mind. »I… don’t see the connection, your Majesty.«
She stared at him. For a moment, he thought he saw outright horror flash in her eyes, then there was just a deep sadness.
»Our customs are different from yours,« he tried.
»I… see.« She sounded oddly defeated.
»I am glad to be his. He’s good to me.« She didn’t see, it was plain. »I wouldn’t know where to go if I were free.«
»He need not send you away. He could just give you the liberty to leave. Or to be a real courtier. Or whatever you prefer. It should be up to you.«
»I’m exactly where I want to be,« he replied softly. »Are you?« A little part of him flinched at the audacity of the question. How dare he-
»I — I made a choice out of my sense of duty. No one forced me to.« The Consort’s look had flickered away, but now returned to him. »And what if he hadn’t… purchased you?«
»I was given to him as a gift.«
»And what if you hadn’t been?« she insisted. »What of you were subject to a master who hurt you, who- I’m sorry.«
She had caught him turning away. He didn’t want to think about these things — about growing old in the brothel until he was too ugly. About being kept by Tulya’s uncle intead because Tulya hadn’t wanted him. About a million worse possibilities.
»Customs or not… I’m sorry, the concept of slavery is abhorrent to me. I suppose I just… I just wanted to know you’re — he’s treating you well, at least, if he’s doing nothing to abolish this abomination altogether.« Her voice trailed off into a whisper, her eyes now staring into the distance.
»He’s done lots to improve the living conditions of slaves,« Beau ventured. It was true. One of his first acts as a king had been to ban slaves younger than Beau from being worked in brothels. Sometimes it was even enforced. More had followed.
"Penguin Bloom" de Glendyn Ivin - d'après la biographie éponyme de Bradley Trevor Greive et Cameron Bloom sur la relation de sa femme Sam paralysée suite à un accident avec une pie recueillie par leurs enfants - février 2021.
1,081 words | Prince Loz learns to love (sequel to Reveals)
Content | Political marriage, war themes, slavery
Notes | Plots are plotting, schemes are scheming, and a new player enters the field.
Ok so the viewpoint characters for this are officially all the King's bedmates! Yay
Taglist | @painwithoutplot @suchprettypieces
It was scarcely a half-month before the calculated response came: the elder princess of Vasikya proposed to become Tulya’s second spouse.
It had been a quiet time. Loz had spent most of it in the training grounds, not bothering to search for allies in a court he knew he would soon leave — something he had never been good at, anyway. He tried to irgnore the fact that Tulya’s bedslave was sometimes there too; what an absolute travesty, letting a slave learn how to fight.
Even Tulya left him in peace, for the most part. He was friendly, which Loz didn’t appreciate from what was essentially a stranger; he didn’t push for sex again, which he did. His bedslave shared the bed again. Next to Loz, kisses and cuddles and who knew what else were exchanged while he tried to find sleep in this alien country. They seemed so pleased with one another, in a way Loz knew couldn’t be real. The slave, to his master’s credit, did not try to speak to him again, but picked up on his habits and preferences silently, like he should.
It was odd, at first, sitting amidst all the quiet and simply waiting. He missed his drills; in some twisted way, he even missed Gela’s poison-laced comments. It was disconcerting, the quiet.
In time, though… he knew it was despicable, but the strange quiet seemed to encroach upon his heart.
But the letter came, and now, Loz seemed to feel his dagger in his hand wherever he went.
Before long, the matter was settled, and it was him up at the viewing platform of the arena, waiting for Princess Ivin to show her pitiful abilities.
He was sitting next to Tulya, of course. There was drink and snacks, as if they couldn’t sit for an hour without. Beau was there, too. More creature comforts.
Because it was going to be an hour; Loz hadn’t realized it, but there was a whole spectacle ahead of the fight, acrobats and gladiators and athletes. He was glad he hadn’t known. It had been degrading enough.
»You don’t like it.« Tulya’s voice was gentle as always. A little amused, perhaps.
»I didn’t realize it was entertainment.«
»Ah. We consider it respectful to stage a big show for a big occasion. We did it for you, too, did you not know that? I’d hoped you could see some of it. But if you don’t like it anyway…«
»It’s undignified.«
»That’s not the way we see it.« Still gentle, but with a hard edge underneath.
Loz shrugged, unwilling to pursue a pointless argument.
»There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.«
Of course. There was always something else.
»I hope you and the princess can get along.«
Loz snorted softly. It was ironic, given the leaden secret in his chest. But even so — »You talk as if her passing the trial was a foregone conclusion. They’re no fighters to speak of, the Vasikyans.«
»She’ll have trained for this. But, see… I understand you are enemies. But now you are both my spouses, and I would like for you — both of you — to… try.«
Loz stared out into the sand. An acrobat flew through his field of vision and was expertly caught by their partner. It was ridiculous, all of it.
It didn’t matter, either, but he couldn’t very well tell Tulya that. »Fine.«
Dagger in his hand, even as it was properly tucked away in his belt.
»She has requested not to share a bedchamber with you, however.«
»Ah. And that’s trying?« Now there was some grim amusement. She was perfectly right not to feel safe by his side, of course, but- »I thought the entire point of your harem was that we protect you where you are.«
»Well, it also means you won’t have to share a bed with her.« A faint smile ghosted across Tulya’s face before he turned serious again. »She’ll be one bedroom up the corridor. Perfect to intercept intruders. Which, as we’ve discussed, won’t happen anyway.«
Loz marked the room in his mind, his guts squirming at the dishonour.
»I’ll try to make sure you’re both getting your due attention and care. Don’t make it harder.«
»I’m not the one who requested an extra bedroom,« Loz retorted drily.
Tulya nudged his shoulder, gently, like everything he did. »Can’t you understand her, at least a little?«
»Oh, I understand her alright.«
*
Ivin felt sick to her stomach.
The head of the bodyguard, the one who had trialed her for this position she never wanted, helped her out of her armour. »Nervous?«
»Nervous« wasn’t quite it. Tulya seemed nice enough; he had indulged her every request so far; she had tried to stay reasonable. But underneath it all was the unshakeable truth that Trinura had refused to support Vasikya in the defense against the Solganian invaders killing and enslaving people — her people — right now, as she was stuck at this pompous ceremony. If Tulya wasn’t evil, he was either a moron or a coward. The whole reason she was here was the very real risk that Prince Loz would drag him out of neutrality, and everything Ivin had seen proved him so indulgent.
And then, like practically all Trinurans of a certain standing, he was a slaver.
Yet, it all paled next to the fact she would be sharing a household with Loz of Solgania. He’d been up there next to the King, still wearing the Solganian soldier’s garb, black amid the rich colours of the wealthy Trinurans.
She had never met the younger prince; he didn’t even have much of a reputation of his own; but the fact that he was a member of Solganian royalty was enough on its own. She knew he’d seen battle, as well — battles fought to subjugate Vasikya.
She knew she must control her hatred. If there was the faintest trace of hope she might open negotiations, once they were bound together through their vows to Tulya, she must seize it. Any end to the brutality they had suffered during the past years, no matter how undignified for her personally, was good.
And on top of it all, she was supposed to put an heir into this whole mess. It might give her an advantage — one thing she could provide to Tulya that Loz could not. It was an awful way to think of an innocent child. Her child.
»A little, Milady,« she replied. »I thank you for your compassion.«
1,409 words | Prince Loz learns to love (sequel to Unfolding)
Content | Political marriage, war themes, slavery, half-hearted dehumanisation, implied dubcon and past non-con
Notes | No-one is alone, but who's feeling lonely?
Basically two for the price of one!
Taglist | @painwithoutplot @suchprettypieces
Ivin’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and her heart hurt from its falseness. She’d never enjoyed court games. But she knew she had to make allies, as many and as fast as possible. Many of Tulya’s courtiers seemed agreeable enough. Tulya seemed agreeable enough.
There was always the shadow lurking in the corner of her eye, though. She’d greeted Loz politely; he answered as little as he could get away with. The dislike was mutual, it seemed, though she could not possibly imagine what propaganda lie the prince himself could have bought into to make it so.
They hadn’t spoken any more, and she was glad for it. She’d have to, of course, but maybe she could allow herself to face the day’s other challenges first.
Finally, Tulya walked her to the bedchamber. Her bedchamber, not theirs. She knew she was taking a risk, creating that distance between herself and the King, but she couldn’t have suffered sharing a bedroom — perhaps even a bed — with Loz.
She could suffer sharing a bed with Tulya. She had to.
He seemed nice.
»Permit me to ask a question, my husband.« She walked over to the washstand, watched her own hands in the polished silver as she started letting down the complex sculpture of twists and braids towering on her head.
»Of course.« She saw him, too, in the mirror as he sat down on the bedside, as relaxed as anything. He watched her, but there was no malice in his expression.
»Why did you choose to marry Prince Loz?«
He didn’t immediately answer. Her hair finally fell down to her waist, and she went to wrap it in silk for the night.
»The Solganians proposed,« he said softly. »It seemed prudent. Perhaps even helpful. Now here you both are, on neutral ground.«
She turned to look directly at him. »And if there is no helping the massacre of my people this way?«
»It’s the only way I can offer you.« The faintest edge appeared in his voice. »I will not push my people into a war that does not concern them.«
»Do you not think that once Vasikya falls, Trinura might be next on the Solganian itinerary?«
»It would be a hard fight, even if they had Vasikya. And I am married to Prince Loz now.«
»Do you really think that would stop them?«
That gave him pause. »I did.«
»For all these people talk about honour, they have none.« She realized she was too in his face now, but she couldn’t back away, too desperate to make him grasp what was at stake, to shake him into doing something. »Innocent people are dying as we speak. Children are being enslaved-« She caught herself; she’d made a blunder. The Trinurans were slavers too. It wouldn’t be shocking to Tulya. She nearly retched.
He reached out his hands, as if inviting her to take them. His face was serious. »You have to allow yourself to rest.«
She froze, her face sliding out of her control.
»I understand how much you care about your people. I also care about mine. But you cannot help them if you exhaust yourself. It is time to rest.«
»What do you expect me to do? Put it out of my mind?« She barely managed not to yell. »Like you do?«
»Not like I do.« His voice was unbearably soft. »It is right for you to care for your people. I do not fault you for it. But you need rest.«
She folded on the side of the bed, like he had spoken it into existence. The horrible truth was that he was right. She was exhausted. It had felt terribly wrong to leave her country behind, but here was where she could be most useful.
And she could only be useful tomorrow. Try and talk to Loz. Better if she was well-rested for it; Tulya was right. She could have cried over it. She didn’t want to, not in front of him.
She sat down next to him, using it as an excuse to avoid his eyes. »It is not time to rest yet, though. Our marriage is yet to be comsummated.«
He laid his hand over hers, very gently.
*
Not tonight.
It would have been foolish. Who knew how long the two of them would be awake on their wedding night? He’d experienced firsthand how slow and gentle Tulya would be, after all.
Loz stared into the darkness; sleep couldn’t seem to find him. Next to him, the slave rested, once again leaving the wedding bed to the newlyweds. He’d hesitated at the bedside, not fearfully, more questioningly. Loz almost wished he would have just asked out loud, the way he did with Tulya, what was so obviously on the tip of his tongue.
He hadn’t sent him away, and it seemed that had been endorsement enough. Loz could barely fault him for it; after all, he slept in this bed every night.
Now he listened to the slave’s calm breath, still the feeling of his dagger in his hand.
Until his breath was no longer calm.
A whimper escaped the slave. Then another. Then a mumbled plea — Loz couldn’t discern the words, but the tone was plenty familiar.
He sat up, looking down on the slave’s body, twitching now and then. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he was caught in some nightmare.
It was getting on his nerves.
He grabbed the slave by the shoulder and shook him awake.
»-please. Please-« The slave’s voice abruptly broke off into heavy breaths as he startled upright. After a moment, a weepy, »Sire?«
»He’s not here. It’s his wedding night. Again.«
Slowly, the slave seemed to catch his breath. He swallowed so hard Loz could hear it. »I’m sorry if I have disturbed you, your Majesty.«
He was still talking to him. That hadn’t happened since he had first told the slave not to. Something was wrong. Loz’ first impulse was to strike him, but this was, in a manner of speaking, his husband’s favourite pet, after all.
And it wouldn’t have made anything better.
The slave was struggling to control sobs, mostly successfully, but not enough to resolve the original problem of getting on Loz’ nerves.
»What would he do?«
The slave hesitated.
»I’ve asked you a question.« Loz heard himself sounding almost mild.
»Don’t worry about it. He’d — he’d just hold me, tell me I’m safe. I can handle it.«
»You are safe,« Loz snapped.
»Yes… yes. I… it’s just the dreams don’t make me feel that way.«
Stupid thing. Loz shook his head with irritation. The slave was still evening out his breath.
Loz reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
The slave made a surprised sound, but, after a moment, leant in to him.
»You are safe,« Loz repeated, still irritated.
»Thank you.« The slave’s voice was quiet, as was his breath. His forehead was warm against Loz’ shoulder.
»What do you dream about?«
For a moment, the slave was silent. »I belonged to a brothel. Before.« He raised his head, and suddenly his dark eyes were looking right into Loz’. »It was every night. For years.«
So what? He’s a slave. He had to cling on to the words over the haunting look the slave gave him.
»You know what it’s like.«
An ice-cold shiver of shame and fury ran through him. »Tulya told you.«
»He didn’t tell me anything.«
»Bullshit.« Loz let go of the slave, tempted to push him out of the bed. Something large and sharp seemed to be lodged in his throat.
»He didn’t tell me anything,« the slave insisted. »I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t — I know, I didn’t want to upset you. I just… I just wanted to say I understand.« His voice trailed off into a whisper.
»You’re a slave. We’re nothing alike. Know your place.« He spat the words out like venom — or like poison. He couldn’t tell. He could have thrown up.
He could make out the slave’s faint silhouette in the darkness, still sitting up.
»I’m sorry,« he whispered, and then, »Thank you for your kindness.«
»I wasn’t being kind.« Loz didn’t know what he said it for. What he even meant by it.
»Thank you anyway.«
Loz turned his back on him, burrowing back under the covers.
He listened to the slave’s breath for hours after he went back to sleep, leaving Loz alone in the dark.
770 words | Prince Loz learns to love (sequel to Customs)
Content | Mention of murder
Notes | Loz has a job to do.
Taglist | @painwithoutplot @suchprettypieces
The princess’ presence bothered Loz more than he would have expected.
To be fair, he hadn’t expected her to be this active in bothering him.
The very day after the wedding, she had hit him with, »Let us talk,« and he couldn’t avoid her every hour of every day.
»I only wish for peace.«
»You know how to effect it. We have been very clear about it.«
»Forgive me, I wish for two things. Peace and the freedom of my people.«
»That is one too many. Surrender, or perish.«
Ivin looked directly at Tulya, as if she was hoping for him to intervene on her behalf. It gave Loz less satisfaction than he would have expected that the King stayed completely silent, although his eyes were on Ivin, as if she was watching a ball game, waiting for her to take her turn.
When she turned back to Loz, for a moment she let slip the mask of civility, and he saw her hatred for him flare up in her eyes. It was a strange relief.
»Will you not even entertain the possibility of negotiation, spare your brave soldiers further bloodshed?«
»Our brave soldiers want bloodshed. They wish to prove their courage and honour.« Itraz knew he rather would have been on the battlefield than here. »Even if I could, I would not.«
»If you could? Are you not a Prince of Solgania?«
He bit back a bitter laugh. »Your efforts are wasted here.«
Three or four times they had the same conversation every day, with little variation. Then she started skipping days, staring blankly at her plate, for usually it was at mealtimes he could not evade her. He had hope she at least would soon give up and leave him be.
Not that it mattered. Neither of them would be here much longer.
Tulya attentively split his free time between his two spouses who would not stay in the same room. It was another thing that irritated him more than he had expected. That was his husband who was sharing his love with some Vasikyan. Surely she put out more.
Not that he could truly fault her for it, seeing as Tulya was, technically, her husband as well.
But the irritation only compounded as the days passed, and that irritated him more. He shouldn’t care, didn’t care about Tulya.
And then there was that other, nagging truth he had to face: now was the time to act.
Loz knew it. He lay in the dark and stared at the beautiful canopy now hidden from his eyes. He should never see it again. He could hear the slave’s soft breath beside him; no nightmares tonight, it seemed.
He should go and do what he had come to do: kill his enemy, then vanish into the night. Return home, reap the honours for what indignities he had gone through — though it was more likely that would be Gela, whose idea the whole ploy had been.
Tulya would sleep like a stone next to her; she might feel safe in his presence, and not expect the attack. One quick stab to the lung to stop her from screaming, and then he would be free, his task fulfilled.
Free to go home, where everything was as it ought to be. Resume his duties. Train the softness that had started creeping into it back out of his body. Rest alone.
For a heartbeat, an unbidden image flashed across his mind: the slave, silent and cowed, scrubbing the floor in his chambers, not daring to so much as look at him. Much less talk, much less smile — had he ever seen a slave smile before he came here? — much less disturb him in his sleep.
Dawn would break, and for Tulya it would break red, and soon his, Loz’, disappearance and guilt would be obvious, Tulya and the slave cursing his name together as they carried the princess to her early grave.
Now was the time to act.
*
»Are you well, your Majesty?«
»I’m fine,« Loz hissed, not enough sharpness in his voice to deter the slave.
»Would you have some tea today, perhaps?«
Daylight, albeit grey, was filtering through the curtains, and the slave looked at him with a faint trace of worry in his big eyes, repeating the offer that had been met with derision what felt like a long time ago.
»Yes.« It was barely more than a mutter.
He had to do it. He was going to do it.
Tonight, or maybe some other night, when circumstances were right.
"Penguin Bloom" de Glendyn Ivin - d'après la biographie éponyme de Bradley Trevor Greive et Cameron Bloom sur la relation de sa femme Sam paralysée suite à un accident avec une pie recueillie par leurs enfants - avec Naomi Watts, Andrew Lincoln, Jacki Weaver, Rachel House et les jeunes Griffin Murray-Johnston, Abe Clifford-Barr et Felix Cameron, février 2021.
معنى اسم ايفين وصفات حامل الاسم عبر موقع أسماء الأطفال؛ أصبحت الأسماء الحديثة واحدة من متطلبات العصر نظراً لرغبة العديد من الأزواج في تسمية أطفالهم بأسماء مميزة وجميلة وبعيدة في الوقت نفسه عن الأسماء المعروفة والمنتشرة بصورة كبيرة في الوطن العربي، وبناء عليه يحاول موقعنا تقديم أحدث الأسماء مثل اسم ايفين الذي سوف نقدمه في … https://www.nameskids.com/%d8%a7%d8%b3%d9%85-%d8%a7%d9%8a%d9%81%d9%8a%d9%86/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr
