CHAPTER ONE: Sunlight

The afternoon sun lit the pale room through wide, floor-to-ceiling windows. Heavy velvet cream-coloured curtains were held on their sides by golden cords. A large throne made of rich decorated wood stood on an elevated platform at the back of the room, sole furniture to be seen. A man sat on the chair, his skin as pale as the cold marble floor and his silver hair shining under the sun. Prince Viktor was seated in his private audience room, fingers tapping restlessly on his chin. His gorgeous features were painted with annoyance, his normally clear blue eyes the color of stormy skies. Yakov, his closet counsellor and chief of the army, had requested to see him, and alone at that. The prince knew that it couldn't be anything good. At best, a sermon for whatever wrong move he did, at worst, the news of a battle lost. They were in an ongoing war against an exotic country whose resources had unfortunately caught the eye of their king. The conflict seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight. Their armies were growing tired, and even though they had won a brilliant victory a few weeks ago at a major battle, the troops were quickly losing motivation. Not that the prince had any interest in keeping the troops motivated to begin with... He hated war. It was complex, boring, expensive and above all, it hurt people who didn't deserve whatever horrors happened to them. All of this for the sake of a tiny piece of land, or some shiny metal that wasn't even that pretty. He sighed heavily, sulking as he dreaded the arrival of his general and whatever bad omen he carried with him.

Three precise knocks echoed in the otherwise empty room. Viktor gathered his courage and dignity, and spoke loud and clear:

"You may enter."

Two guards opened the double doors, as a third stepped in to announce his visitor: "General Yakov asks for a private audience, your Highness."

The prince waved his hand gracefully, granting him permission to come forth. Of course he knew it was Yakov. But he somehow still managed to follow the etiquette Lilia had spent so many years drilling in his head. The balding counsellor came in, and Viktor saw he was clad in his finest military uniform, evidently coming back from an official errand. However, what caught his attention was the small form hunched timidly behind Yakov, head bowed and upper back slumped in a sign of submission. Viktor could not see the face hidden behind a vivid pink veil, but judging by the flat chest and slightly broad shoulders, he could assume the figure was male. His legs were clad in loose-fitted yellow and orange silk hanging low on his hips, showing off most of his stomach. Transparent red and pink scarfs were draped over his arms and upper torso, ending right under his nipples and hiding nothing more. His feet were bared and his ankles were adorned with golden anklets connected by a small chain, and his wrists were bound in the same fashion. Heavy earrings, necklaces and other bands forged in the same metal covered the rest of his body, making him shine like a gem. His whole outfit was the color of sunset, the warm tones contrasting against his pale skin. Viktor frowned. The man was dressed in a dancer's clothes. A slave dancer. The prince had never ordered for one, and he never would. The thought of owning someone, as if a human being could be an object or a prized possession was enough to make him throw up. At best, they were a piece of furniture to expose in the ballroom along with the dishes, or at worst a sex toy, something to use in the most degrading way possible and then throw away when he got bored, was enough to make him throw up. As soon as he had gotten the palace's governance, he had banned any form of slavery in his county. No slave workers, entertainers, cooks, and certainly not dancers, which always ended up in a noble's bed just to keep food in their bellies. If there was one thing he could do for society, that would be it. The king didn't like it, and some other districts complained against his measures, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It disgusted him too much, and even if he was still forced to participate in the kingdom's military campaigns, at least he would try and bring a little peace and happiness to his home. But now, years after he had put the ban in action, there was a dancer standing in his castle, right in front of his eyes. What was he doing there? What had Yakov planned this time? Who was he? What was the meaning of this?

"Your Highness." said Yakov, bowing low. "Pardon the intrusion, but you have been offered a gift." The young covered man behind the general stepped forward hesitantly, and very slowly dropped to his knees in front of Viktor, where the counsellor had put a golden key on the ground. He looked like he had troubling moving, and felt very uncomfortable in the light clothing. His eyes were glued to the marble floor.

Viktor's brain took a moment to understand what was happening. A... gift? Realization spread through him like a spark, and he sharply rose to his feet. "Yakov! What... H-How... How dare you offer me... a human being?" He was shouting, he knew it, but he couldn't help losing his composure at the general's horrifying suggestion. The prince lowered his scandalized gaze to the veiled form at his feet and saw that he was shaking under the strength of his anger. He probably thought it was aimed at him, and that he would pay for whatever he did that made Viktor upset. A sharp pang of guilt and pity hit the prince, and he tried to speak more softly as he opened his mouth again.

"You... You know how I feel about our country's practices... with slaves..." The last words were uttered through gritted teeth, despite his attempts at calming himself. The boy in front of him probably didn't understand a word he said, since he spoke to Yakov in his native language and not the common tongue, and even still he looked petrified. The poor guy had done nothing to feel so afraid in front of Viktor, and it hurt so much to see him like this.

"I am aware, Your Highness. However, this is a gift from the king, to thank you for your involvement in our latest victory. It is hardly something that you or I can refuse. And even then..." Yakov cut himself off, looking hesitatingly to the side. The prince snapped:

"What?"

Yakov took a deep breath and spoke fast.

"... And even then I believe it will do you good, my Lord, to have some company. I know you feel lonely, and the boy is quite a beauty in all honesty, he should be of your taste-" Viktor sharply raised a hand to stop him. His eyes were shut tightly, mouth twisted with disgust.

He could barely speak.

"Get. Out."

After a short silence, he heard Yakov walking back towards the exit. Once the doors where closed behind him, he finally let out a deep sigh and slumped back on his throne. He covered his face with his hand, willing for all of this to be a joke, for the poor man to have disappeared when he would open his eyes again. But no, the chained form at his feet was still there, making himself look as small as he could, staying completely still and barely making a sound. It hurt so, so badly to see this much fright and resignation contained in one little, fragile body that Viktor felt his chest go completely tight. This. This was why he had ordered the ban. So he would never again have to see someone fear they would be treated as less than human. So he would never see again someone so terrified of him they could barely breathe, when really they had done nothing, nothing. They were simply born, in the wrong body, or the wrong place, and would spend their lifetime paying for an existence they never even asked for. The prince got up, and silently walked the few steps that separate him from the boy. He did not want this. He did not want to see this man so terrified, he did not want him to feel he had to lie on the ground like this, prostrate and submissive, offering his soul and body without any respect left to who he was to a man who had nothing more than he did. Viktor stopped a few feet away, and sat down. He would have to be careful in his gestures and words, as the boy was probably convinced he was about to either jump him, hit him, or kill him. He looked closer and he found that the colorfully clad figure was quivering, like a leaf caught in a breeze and too frail to resist it. Viktor sighed again softly, pained at how vulnerable the other looked. His eyes stung a bit.

"I... I am sorry."

The prince spoke as gently as possible as to not appear as a threat, and he took his time to articulate his words in common speech so he would be understood.

"I am so sorry that you have to be here against your will. I... I am sorry that you were forced into this, and treated as a mere possession that could be given or taken. I assure you this... this is not how I see you or how I will treat you. I would like to take responsibility for your situation, if you would allow it. I... I'd like to care of you to the best of my abilities. Only if you want to, that is. I... I also promise that I will not hurt you, and if I do so involuntarily, please tell me."

The smaller male did not speak, although Viktor could see his brows furrowed throughout the pink veil. He must have had dark hair if he could see them behind the fabric.

"Do... Do you understand what I say?" The little shape slowly nodded, albeit a bit hesitatingly. "He probably didn't expect me to say something like that", thought Viktor, sadness filling his heart and making his eyes water again. He took a moment to collect himself and breathe deeply. Once, twice. He could do this. He would talk his way to the man's heart, he would make him feel safe, then he would take care of him and set him free as soon as he would be ready for the real world again.

"You are in my country here, and I am responsible for the district this palace is in. You see, here there is a rule, a law, that no person will ever be treated as less than human, and no one will ever have to serve another without salary or consent. You probably know you have been brought here as a slave. I will not treat you as such. My king may think this is a respectable practice, but I don't. Do you understand?"

This time he nodded his head a little more confidently. Viktor could even see he was shooting quick glances upwards, probably trying to see his face and judge his expression. Good. There was hope after all.

"Hum... I am going to ask something of you, and know that you can refuse if you don't want to." The figure tensed up. Oh no. "Please don't be worried, I simply don't want you to feel so... restrained." Viktor just couldn't stand how the man's clothes were so demeaning. He was half dressed and yet a veil covered his features, as if who he was wasn't important, as long as his body could do the job.

"Could I... see your face?" he asked in a soft voice. The captive waited a beat, and acquiesced by raising his head. Viktor could make out rounded cheeks and big eyes. He seemed a bit younger than him. Since the boy didn't move further, he raised a hand to remove the fabric but the other flinched immediately. Viktor stopped. Concern spread over the prince's features. Had he been abused? Most likely. By his previous masters, or by Yakov's men? The mere idea made the man's jaw clench stiffly. He kept his hand in midair and waited for the other to relax, and shift back into his initial position. Then, he reached out and delicately lifted the veil, folding it back on the top of his head. Viktor's breath suddenly caught in his throat. He was stunning. The man in front of him was the embodiment of beauty. His silky black hair was slicked back, showing off a stunning face structure, as well as wide, tantalizing deep brown eyes, filled with so many emotions that the prince felt he could drown in them. He didn't know anymore if it was awe or grief that dominated his heart. A soft, pink blush tainted his cheeks, the same color as his plump lips. Viktor gently brushed the back of his hand on the porcelain skin. It was just as soft as he had imagined. Suddenly, something wet fell on his fingers, and he realized tears were rolling down the boy's face, taking some golden powder, makeup, and pride with them. He quickly wiped them with his thumb, despair showing in his voice: "No, no, please don't cry... I promise you'll be okay, you are safe with me, I will not hurt you. Please... I swear. I won't hurt you..." Viktor's own eyes were humid again as he felt the other's suffering hit him like a tidal wave. The dark-haired man breathed shakily, trying to get the sobs to disappear. However, a light danced in his eyes behind the water, shining as if it could say how strong the boy could be, how still willing to fight he was. The power of his spirit surprised Viktor immensely. He seemed destroyed, both physically and mentally, and yet he was still standing there with some energy to save his life. Admiration overcame the prince.

"Please... Could you tell me your name?"

The boy's brows shot up in surprise. Names weren't usually important when you were a slave. Nevertheless, he opened his mouth and parted his lips on a whisper so low Viktor didn't hear any of it. He leaned in a bit, and listened closely.

"Yu... Yuuri..." the man said in a dry, barely noticeable voice. He must have been dehydrated and very weak. The prince smiled a bit. He repeated the precious syllables, careful to get the pronunciation right.

"Yu-uri, Yuuri, is that it?" The boy nodded. Viktor smiled even more. "I like your name. It's delicate, and pretty. Mine is Viktor."

"V...Vik...tor-u..." Yuuri repeated in his hoarse voice, messing up the pronunciation and adding vowels here and there, but Viktor still liked it. "Yes, that's right. Viktoru." He was happy at the idea that this way of saying his name would be something Yuuri and he could share, and them only. He didn't quite understand why he fel like this, but joy still warmed him inside. He was also glad the man trusted him enough to give him his name, and try learning his own. He didn't notice he was beaming until he saw a very, very small, barely-there smile on Yuuri's lips as well. Viktor's grin grew even larger, making his mouth look like a heart.

"Can I hold you?" Yuuri seemed confused for a moment and sharply leaned back, smile completely gone, the fighting energy filling his eyes again.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just want to hug you, I didn't mean anything else." Viktor rambled while shaking his head, fearing that his translation mistake had brought them back to square one. He felt so stupid sometimes. He forgot that in common language, holding someone could also mean having sex. He certainly didn't want Yuuri to think he was simply being nice to him so he could sleep with him. Viktor bit his lip but still opened his arms, and waited anxiously. Fortunately, Yuuri seemed to relax when he saw he wasn't moving, and was patiently waiting for him. His beautiful face was scrunched up in concentration, while he weighed whether the prince would be true to his word or not. He must have decided that yes because he just slightly moved forward and closed his eyes, indicating his approval. Viktor gently pulled him close, wrapped his arms protectively around the smaller figure, and slowly leaned Yuuri's head on his chest. He waited a few seconds for rejection, but none came. He started caressing his hair.

"There you go. It's okay now, you're safe. I promise. No one is going to touch you here, not as long as I'm there... I promise..."

Yuuri gradually relaxed in his arms and leaned in closer. He finally let out of the long, heavy breath he had been holding for the past hours. It did seem like he was safe in these arms, at least for now.