AN: Inspired by the Evanescence song Anywhere. It was originally much more depressing but then this AU monster came out of it. Well, I say monster but it's much shorter than potentially possible. So please play the song at some point (if you feel so inclined) and enjoy (if you feel so inclined).
No one knew the true name of the man who ruled over the kingdom. All they heard were the tales of tyranny, repression, and cruelty. Unfortunately, these tales held much truth. With a power none could compete with, the King ruled over all, unsuppressed and unopposed.
His people learned to live in the oppressive kingdom, going through their daily schedules and only asking for help when it was truly needed while knowing they would likely be ignored, save the scarce miracle. They even tried to appease him with gifts they could not afford for themselves in the hope that he would give them something in return, other than the cold shoulder. It often did not work as the King hid away behind his gates, locking himself high in his castle, refusing to bother with the lower class.
Not many were able to see past these large golden gates, towering high on the hill. Those that did were either guards, the Royal family -some intermixing-, or idiotic trespassers who were as good as dead.
Dean did not know about this when he entered the inner parts of the kingdom, thinking the stories he heard on the outskirts nothing more than rumors. After all, how could a ruler just ignore his people like that?
Dean was forced to the castle to look for work so he could send some money home to his brother and his uncle. His plan was to walk straight into the palace and demand a place in the royal court as blacksmith or welder. He had many talents when it came to fixing things and knew he could be of use. Even with those many talents, it had been impossible for him to find a job thus far. Once people caught sight of his mark he was turned down, no matter how skilled he showed them he was.
The marks were a curse to many, birthmarks determining how they were to be treated for the rest of their lives. There were many types of people in the world and it was just his luck that he was born to be one of the least desired, even below the unmarked humans. There were the high and mighty Royals, born with faded white lines crossing from the top of their shoulders down to the bottom of their spine. There were the Firebreathers, with thick red lines fading down the back of their neck. The Fangers, with either black, red or a combo of both twisting lines connecting at the forehead and wrapping around the front and back of arms. The Weres, with thick black lines fading from their eyes down the sides of their neck. The Psychs, with harsh green lines slashing over their eyes and chest. The Fairies, with bundles of neon colors twirling around their arms, hands, and legs. And a bunch of others including Humans who were clean from any marks at birth.
Usually, the lower the class, the darker the lines and only the Royals were born with the bright, white marks.
It all went back to the earliest of times when the marks were first appearing and personality traits seemed to follow the patterns. Those with lighter marks were suggested to have the brighter and better characteristics, touched by angels they said. Those with darker were the opposite. Darker marks meant those people had been touched by a dark spirit, a demon, and therefore would be dark themselves.
Of course, the system is not concrete. Many Royals are dicks and Fangers can be the nicest of people. Even with progressive thinking, many still linger on the old stereotypes.
That was why people flinched at Dean's all-telling thick black lines crossing and swirling in a circular form on his chest. It was the mark of the lowest class: Takers.
Many Takers had died out, as they were usually killed for being the lowest of the low with the worst reputation following them. When the marks first started appearing Takers were born with a solid black circle covering their chest but, due to the need to survive, they evolved. They were now born with dark, thick lines twisting over each other instead, as if the few glimpses of skin were some attempt made by evolution to give the Takers hope that they could be saved, that they didn't deserve to die. Dean wasn't quite sure if that was true. His gut told him otherwise. He usually had a few dark thoughts floating around that could only be described as Taker.
His little brother though, was a different story. After Dean's parents' death, he was left to provide him with the life he deserved to live. Their uncle was not going to do it on his own and though the family next door was very understanding and helpful, Dean hated to leave them with nothing. Honestly, it was better for them when he was gone. He was always causing trouble and Sammy, the little brother, was usually following him into it. Without him there and only his cash coming in, the kid had a real chance. He was smart. He could get a job anywhere he wanted to and his scar was practically non-existent compared to Dean's. It was part of the benefit of being born from a Taker and a Fairy. They were mixed. Sammy just got the better parts of that combination.
So even though Dean's scar caused him to be turned down job after job, he wasn't about to take no as an answer anymore. The outer villages rejected him so he was going to the head honcho. What a big mistake that turned out to be...
He did not know the royal castle was off limits. Alright, he figured it out when the gates were shut but it was mid-day. There was not a feast or a festival so there was no reason for them to be shut. Maybe it was just in his nature, needing to break the rules, but when he saw a locked door he just had to break it down. He figured they would not notice if he picked a lock and snuck in a side door. The job was what he was after but would anyone really notice a jewel or two missing in the meantime? Oh, he was wrong.
The guards grabbed him quick and did not listen to his totally reasonable reason for breaking in to see the King. Instead, they told him he would get his wish to work in the royal court but he would never be able to leave. Oh, and he would not be paid either.
He had become nothing short of a prisoner in that one night. They had him do work, whatever they felt like making him do, whether it was cook or clean or actual metalwork. On the days he refused, he was thrown into a prison cell and left without food or water. After a while he decided it would be better to be outside and think of a way to get past the walls rather than be cooped up where he could do nothing more than stare at stone.
That was over five years ago, back when he was only 17.
Five years.
The days started to blend in together. Escape was pointless. Believe it, he tired.
He came close once. He was with another captured prisoner, Garth. They had been planning for a while and all Garth had to do was meet him by the gate. He already had the door open and he was ready to go but, of course, Garth had to go and get caught.
While Dean had been waiting for him he was made and, after silently whispering his apology to the air, he ran for it. He did not get very far past the inner walls before they dragged him straight back in. They kept a closer eye on him after that. He was not allowed near the other prisoners and was always locked into his own lonely cell when he was not under close watch of one of the Royals. No one told Dean what happened to Garth but he was pretty sure it did not end well. He never saw the guy again.
It got pretty lonely, he wouldn't deny that. He missed his family and his friends, most of all his little brother. It had been so long -at least to him it felt very long. Sammy had been so small and he must have grown in that time. He had to wonder what he looked like and if they were all getting on without his money to support them.
The only people he came into contact with now were Royals. They were all dicks. He never saw the King but the family was bad enough on its own. How many kids did a guy need? There were so many of them taking up such a small space. There was no way they were all princes and princesses. No woman could put out that many children and keep on living. Especially not with the death rate he knew from back home. He figured it was a large family with third cousins and half sisters and once removed members living in there as well. He never felt the need to ask.
He worked directly under Prince Michael -who was a total douche. He had Dean do every little thing his heart desired and more, including humiliating him in front of all the people –prisoners and Royals- just for his own amusement. That included hard labor and physical and emotional torment. Usually, because it was Michael's favorite, he was stuck in the stocks and pelted with rotten tomatoes and other smelly fruits that clung to his skin for days.
It did not help that Dean had a mouth on him too. He could never keep himself from speaking out, giving just one more sarcastic comment, one last word, and he did not really want to stop. It also did not help that he was a Taker. Not only did the Royals think they were better but so did the prisoners he was kept from. They even appreciated that the Royals forcibly separated him from their little prisoner group.
As if he wanted to be friends with them.
Prison was no good for him. He lashed out in every possible way. Once he did manage to swing a punch and land himself in the cells for a week with the added bonus of visits from Alastair. Really, Zachariah had been asking for it –quite literally in fact- and Dean just could not resist a Royal saying 'Go on, hit me'. He just had to try.
That was not an enjoyable week. It was all pitch black and pain.
How original of a King to have a torture chamber in the dungeon. Run by a pure Taker no less.
It was pretty unusual for a pure Taker to openly roam around and to have one working for the palace was interesting to find out. It reminded him the reasons why his kind had a reputation. Alastair was one sick son of a bitch.
Every time a Royal got sick of him after that, they sent him to Alastair to pick up more scars. That was when he decided he was no longer going to give them the satisfaction.
A vow of silence seemed like a very archaic thing to do. It also seemed somewhat pitiful, or at least it did before he had been captured. Really, somebody thought it was a good idea to show defiance by not doing a thing? But after all his other options were exhausted, he had much time to think to himself and realize how powerful it could truly be. With this vow Dean could take control of what little life he had and make a point that not even the Royals could ignore.
No one owned him.
Maybe this was not the traditional, noble reason but it worked for his purpose. It was not like he had anyone to talk to anyway.
In his cell, almost two years into his imprisonment, he took up the sharpest rock on the ground and marked himself in the holiest of places. He created the symbol of silence by deeply cutting through his mark so it would create a scar and stay with him forever, just like his Taker symbol.
No one scarred a mark.
It was seen as a great offense to do so to others and an extreme measure for one to take on themselves. It meant the purpose was beyond the person's very being, forever imprinted on their soul, and immortal in their promise. There were exceptions based in ancient traditions such as marriages or vows such as this but it was rarely seen in the modern era as it's popularity had decreased greatly. Dean didn't have the luxury of modern options from behind locked gates.
The vow to stay silent until he was free was not so easy. Once the Royals realized what he did, they made it their job to get him to break his sacred promise. They almost had him a few times and Alastair sure as hell came close –getting him to scream. But he never spoke. Not to anyone.
Not even when he started to visit.