For His Kingdom (part 10)
Masterlist
Content: isolation/solitary confinement, secondary whumpee, forced to watch, humiliation, secondary whumpee, tw death of minor character, defiant whumpee breaks, forced to beg
He was left in the cell alone for a long time.
The only interruptions to the lonely silence were the guards leaving gruel and water in his cell. Hunger and thirst drove him to eat and drink, overruling the fear that still danced at the edges of his mind every time.
No one spoke to him. Even the guards that brought the food did not even look at him, if he was even awake when they brought it. He assumed the meals were once a day, perhaps twice, but with no way to make any markings he lost count. He spent much of the time tossing and turning in the dimness, his sleep fitful on the cold floor.
He began to think he heard voices of people he knew, down the hall, in cells he could not see. He cried out, calling to them, only to be met with hollow echoes.
He had finally come to think this would be the rest of his life — alone to go mad in the silent dark — when the general reappeared.
The cell door opened with a loud bang, jarring him from his half-asleep trance. Two soldiers dragged him out — different ones than before.
From a throat unused to speaking for days, he croaked, “Am I to finally be executed?”
The general just laughed.
In the torture chamber, he was dragged to a tall rectangular wooden frame. His hands were bound to the upper corners and his feet to the lower. He tried to force his body to relax, to prepare himself for whatever was coming. But instead, they left.
He began to panic, pulling at his bonds. Afraid he would just be left here.
But they returned moments later, dragging an elderly man. Cinn did not recognize the man, but the man’s ragged clothing bore a crest he knew too well — the symbol of one of the outer fiefdoms of his kingdom. The soldiers threw the old man to the floor in front of Cinn.
The elderly man looked up, taking in Cinn’s exposed and battered body in confusion. His eyes widened as he finally recognized the young king. He bowed his head.
“Your majesty!”
One of the soldiers kicked him. “Quiet, old man.”
The young king looked down at the old man. In this place of blood and pain, he had nearly forgotten what it was to be a king — not just the defiance, but his people. Being looked to as their lord. Trusting him. Seeing this man bowing to him, he felt something wake in him again. Rage thrummed through his veins.
The general sneered at Cinn. “Your refusal to surrender has tried my patience long enough. Perhaps it is time one of your people paid the price for your stubbornness.”
Cinn yanked against his bonds. Heat rushed to his cheeks in fury as he met the general’s icy gaze. “You signed the treaty! You are not allowed to hurt my people! Only me!”
“Ah, but that does not apply to those taken as prisoners of war, especially those who fought against the emperor’s men across your border.” The general gestured to the soldiers, and they roughly bound the old man’s hands and dragged him towards the suspension hook used to torture Cinn before.
“No! No, stop!” The young king’s voice was a howl of despair.
The old man looked up at Cinn. “Your majesty, do not give them what they want. It is not worth my life — I am dead already.”
The general himself hooked the chain to the old man’s bonds, then looked back at Cinn. “How much of what you have endured do you think he can take? I suppose we will learn that together.”
“Please, no…”
The general strode back to where Cinn was suspended and grabbed the young king’s chin with his hand. “You think he is the only one I have?” He laughed, cold and cruel, and stepped back. “Your former people are fools, boy. Filthy peasants trying to leave your borders and the flimsy peace you arranged just to keep fighting the emperor. If you let this one die for you, you will watch another take his place until every one of them dies screaming.” The general tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Or perhaps I will break them and send them mutilated to your successor, so he can see your failure.”
A tear escaped Cinn’s eyes, carving through the dirt on his cheeks. “Please… I am the one you want, the one you hate. Just let them go. Please.”
“Where is the fun in that?” The general signaled to one of the soldiers, who began to turn the crank of the chain.
The old man cried out in pain.
“I will give you one chance to stop this torment for this one. Fail, and nothing you say will cease his torment until he is dead and replaced with another. What. Is. Your. Name?”
The old man looked confused, but Cinn slumped in his bonds. He bowed his head, jaw clenching. His voice was quiet as he answered. “I have no name.”
“Speak louder, boy!”
The young king squeezed his eyes shut, tears of shame welling. He had already sold his own life, but the lives of his people would never be negotiable. “I have no name, and I throw myself upon your mercy to give me even the name of slave for I am below even that.”
“Your Majesty, no-!” The old man’s shout was cut off with a cry of pain as the soldier struck him.
The general ignored him. With a few movements, he released the bonds on Cinn’s feet, then his hands. “Convince me you mean it.”
Cinn fell to his knees. His teeth ground hard enough that his jaw ached with the pressure. He looked over at the old man, and despair clawed at his heart. “I am no one, I have no name.” A sob rose in his chest. “I am less than nothing, and I beg of you to grant me the name of slave.”
“Kiss my foot and prove your obeisance.”
Heat flushed higher in the young king’s cheeks, even his ears burning.
I am a king!
No. I was a king.
I will not let him hurt another of my people.
I can’t.
That is all I have left.
Though everything in him wanted to fight it, he forced himself to crawl forward and press his lips to the dirty boot of the emperor’s general.
The general let him, then when he pulled back after, the same boot crashed into his barely-healed ribs. Cinn collapsed to his side, arms wrapping around his midsection in fetal position.
Steel scraped against leather. He looked up, eyes wide, only to see one of the soldiers draw his sword and slit the old man’s throat.
“NO!” An animalistic howl burst from his throat. As the man’s body collapsed, arms still held up by the chain, Cinn screamed again, weeping. His mind felt as if it had been packed with wool. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move.
He was broken.
They had taken everything.
Even his sacrifice.
No.
The general spoke again. “Get up, Slave.”
He slowly forced his body to respond, dragging himself to his feet.
“Walk.” The general turned and began to lead him out of the room.
He followed, his head bowed.
He would find a way to make them pay — for that man’s life, and for every life of his people they had taken.
They should have just killed him.
