The prince of Vulcan draped his red cloak around his shoulders. He breathed out into the crisp air of his father's throne room. Light shone through the mosaic tiles on the windows, coloring the furniture. He stood regally in perfect posture, a good amount of distance away from his father and mother's throne. He was thirteen, and it was customary for him to be here.
His future wife was arriving today. It was agreed that she would live with the S'chn T'gai family until she was eighteen, when it would be proper for her and the young prince to marry. The young prince held no qualms or disagreements with this arrangement- why should he? He was young, and half Vulcan. He could not feel love, so why regret an arranged marriage? In addition, he told himself logically, she has no objections. She is full Vulcan.
The time they would be arriving was within five minutes. They would not be late.
And they weren't. At the appointed time, a lavishly dressed and pampered T'Pring entered the throne room. She was welcomed by Spock's father, and Spock, at the proper time, held up a hand and said, "Live long and prosper." He bowed to her, and the tanned Vulcan nodded a head, exchanging her greetings.
Spock thought his choice for a future bride to be quite logical. She was beautiful in a childish way, and he could find no objection to her. He hoped she would be a favorably logical Vulcan, as he would only receive summers apart from her.
Over the years, the two did become close. Spock and T'Pring never felt exceptionally attracted to one another, only seeing each other as close friends. But T'Pring didn't notice this factor, being full Vulcan.
But Spock's half human side screamed his attitude. He wanted T'Pring as a friend, but he was uncertain as to why. Vulcan's didn't feel controversies such as this.
FOUR YEARS LATER.
"Mother, I wish to speak to you." Spock called out to his mother, regally sitting on her gorgeous albeit smaller throne.
She laughed lightly.
"Of course, my son." His father Sarek was not present in the room until this moment. He carried himself in, settling into his chair.
"Prince Spock—" his father began properly.
But he ceased talking as a loud knock on the throne rooms door stalled his talking.
Sarek was not cruel, and chose momentarily to ignore the rudeness of this gesture.
"Proceed to come in." He called to the footmen waiting at the door. They dragged the doors open, revealing an armored soldier and a high- class man, Spock could tell from his apparel. Behind them was a boy that Spock had not yet noticed.
"King Sarek, how delightful to see you." The man called. He removed his hat, revealing his smooth hair.
"Lord Pike." Sarek called, forming his hands in the proper greeting. Pike mimicked the greeting, though he was human.
"To what do we owe this visit?" Amanda, Spock's mother, called out eloquently.
Pike flashed a charming smile.
"My dear Queen, I have a gift for you. This slave boy—" he motioned for the armored soldier to push him forward, which he did, knocking the shackled boy to his knees.
"—is highly trained, with years of experience." Spock tried to remain composed. Highly trained, indeed.
The boy had bruise marks and cuts, slashes and burns all over him. Some marks were permanent, and could not be fixed. Of that Spock was sure. He hadn't seen the boy's face yet, as he stared at the ground. But he felt so sad to see this boy, his noticeable trials.
"I offer him as a truce to you, King and Queen. For the incident I so humbly regret."
Indeed. The incident of the ball, in which Pike had become inebriated and ruined an ice statue of the Queen. She had told everyone it was unnecessary and terribly conceited to have around, but she was angry when he destroyed it.
Amanda was speechless.
"T-take off those shackles now!" She ordered. The soldier looked disagreeable at this, but he complied as she was Queen.
"What have you done to this poor child?" She asked, her voice wrapped in fear and concern.
Pike gasped.
"Your majesty! I have done none of this. The boy has been a slave since he was a child, and I only assumed he could live here much more happily than before. It hasn't hurt anyone to have more slaves, am I correct?" He smiled smugly.
Amanda rose from her throne, gracefully settling onto the floor next to the boy. She tilted his head up, he seemed almost afraid to look up, but when she saw the untamable fire and determination in his eyes, she was nearly shocked.
"My poor boy…" she whispered. She looked angrily up at Lord Pike.
"You! I will take in this boy. He is to be a servant, not a slave. Not a hand will be laid upon him. As for you…" she stood up at Pike.
"You don't deserve my patience. Out!" She shoved him towards the door. He dejectedly scrambled back through the thrones doors, his soldier quickly following him.
Those eyes. Spock thought. He was broken from his thought process by his father's footsteps as he neared Amanda. She was very emotional at this point, tears brimming her eyes. No, we couldn't have an emotionally compromised human running around the castle.
"Spock, Amanda needs some time to calm down. Take this boy to his quarters—"
"He stays in your hallway for now, Spock." She called out from under her husband's protecting arms. "Please." She said gently to her husband.
Spock wondered who had the authority in this relationship sometimes. Sarek gave his consent.
"My son, you are trained in healing abilities. Please use them on this boy until Amanda can bring herself and a nurse to finish the job."
Spock wasn't a fool, he could see his father took pity on the boy as well. Spock agreed and held his hand out to the boy on the floor.
But the boy defiantly stood on his own, although he was strained to do so. Spock was shocked at this, but said nothing. He merely walked toward the exit, motioning for the boy to follow him. Luckily he did.
Walking down the lavish hallways of the palace, Spock knew this silence was improper and uncomfortable.
" I am Prince Spock." He said nobly. "What is your name?" He asked. Spock decided to room the boy in the quarters to the right of his room. He opened the door, still waiting for the boy to answer.
He guided him to the bathroom, seating him on the toilet. The boy's eyes were burning but he said nothing.
"You have learned to hold your tongue, boy. However this will not be necessary in my presence. Please, what is your name?" Spock said, trying not to sound desperate.
The boy turned his head away, looking towards the shower, and revealing a deep cut running down his jaw, almost touching his neck.
Spock took an antidote for cuts and various wounds and walked toward the boy.
"I am…" the boy didn't finish, he only squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth closed as the antidote touched his cut.
"I am sorry, but this is for your health." He removed it moments later, satisfied at the expensive antidotes ability to heal.
"James Tiberius Kirk." The boy gasped. Spock stopped at that.
"What an odd name." Spock said, replacing the previous antidote with burn cream.
"Pardon me," Spock said. "But I request that you take off your shirt." The boy frowned but complied, slowly and painstakingly removing his shirt. Spock's eyes were trained on his muscular yet scarred chest, preparing the cream. That was, until he surveyed the boys back.
This time, Spock couldn't even hold his shock and sickness back.
The boys back was covered in lashes, long scars running down his back. Some were old, raised but closed skin with only an imprint of what had happened. But the newer ones made Spock sick and oh, so angry.
They were open and red, caked blood drying on the boy—James—back. Some blood was noticeably fresh, which made Spock question Lord Pike. But he was more focused on the pus oozing scars, so much so that barely a clean inch of back was visible. The skin was marred and irrevocably tortured. The yellow and sometimes green substances oozing from certain scars made Spock want to vomit.
"Oh, oh…" he whispered.
"Stop… stop it." The boy called out. It was such a controversial voice that came from him. On one hand, he was scared. He didn't adore being looked at like a pity case. It made him sick. On the other, he wanted to be taken care of.
Spock knew how the boy must have felt, and he went to work with his pain inducing ailments. By the time he was done, the scars were noticeably cleaner, with no pus or red lines. They were still fresh and the cleansing process had cause James much pain. The result made Spock almost happy.
It was at that time that Amanda and a nurse had entered. Amanda nearly screamed at the sight of the boys back. The nurse assured her that the wounds seemed thoroughly cleaned, and could undergo healing if watched properly. In his head, Spock vowed to make that happen. They took care of the other wounds, his legs, his feet, his face. Spock tried helping, but found he was only bothering them. He refused to leave, so he sat and watched.
"Spock, ahh… I'm glad you didn't leave yet." His mother called. "There's a scar running up his shorts, and it would be most improper for women to cleanse it." Spock nodded. His mother instructed him to follow through the gouge with an ailment that smelled of burning alcohol and mint, then a cream that felt cool and would help the slight ache afterwards.
The women left the bathroom and ultimately, James new bedroom.
As soon as they were gone, James looked up at Spock defiantly.
"I am not taking off my pants in front of you!" He spat. Spock sighed, knowing he had to follow up on his mother's orders. The boy stood up quickly, wanting to leave the restroom.
Spock quickly grabbed his wrist, not hurting the boy at all.
Grabbing the loops in James cloth shorts, he pulled him close.
"Hey!" James called out, his hips meeting Spock's. His face was burning red, a reaction Spock found odd but… attractive.
"I'm sorry, James." He said in a normal tone, slipping down James' pants. It seemed the boy was blushing everywhere, and being exposed in his white undergarments didn't help matters much.
He was pressed against the door so he couldn't escape, and Spock gently led the almost naked boy to the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him, still blushing and crossing his arms over his bare chest.
Spock guided the alcohol throughout the gash, causing the boy to arch his back in pain, but again he did not cry out. He merely closed his eyes and shut his mouth fiercely. Spock ran the alcohol through the burn as many times as Amanda instructed, then finished it off with the cream.
Spock didn't understand why this was happening, but every time he touched the boy his senses reacted. He knew that Vulcans had peculiar sensitivity to touch, but it shouldn't be THIS awful and hard to bear. He finally shuddered when he streamed the cool cream through the gash. This entire time he had handled the circumstance well, but he finally caved in and shivered.
"Are you sick? Don't throw up on me." James called, viewing the Vulcan's slightly green face.
He didn't know that Vulcan blood was green, and that just as James was blushing, the green blood rushing to Spock's face colored him as well. But Spock didn't want to admit to blushing.
"I-I do feel quite odd." Spock said, turning away. His blush burned.
"I'll get my mother, so please put on your shorts now…" He waited patiently not looking as the boy pulled his shorts into place.
"Mother," Spock said, bounding into James new quarters.
Later, Spock's mother spoke to him.
"Spock, please try and make that boy comfortable. Be nice. I am not sure… what he's been through. So please, it would ease my conscience if he had a friend to depend on." Spock stared emotionlessly at his mother.
"Yes, if it pleases you, I will accompany James." Amanda blinked.
"James? He told you his name? We couldn't get a word out of him!" Spock recalled the other thing James had said, but did not wish to repeat them.
"James Tiberius Kirk, that is his name." He said lightly.
"What an interesting name." Amanda said excitedly. "I'm so happy he talked to you, oh, Sarek!" The woman floated happily to find her husband. Spock nearly sighed at his excitable mother.
With a knock, Spock entered James' new quarters. He found the boy staring through a window into the clear, starry night. He hadn't heard Spock enter, and continued star gazing.
Spock cleared his throat. "James?" At this the boy finally turned his head, but said nothing.
" My mother has asked me to make you feel comfortable." Spock sat across from James in the window canopy seat.
"I am, however, not entirely sure how to go about this." Spock said uncomfortably.
The boy was still looking at Spock until he looked down into his propped up knees.
"Why." The boy asked loudly. He wasn't shy.
"Be specific, boy." Spock said curiously.
"Why are you all… caring about me? It's stupid, I don't deserve it. I don't like it." He shook his head, dumbfounded. Spock was lost for words.
"You do deserve it, James. All the pain and slavery you went through, you deserve to be healed and cared for. My mother has an endless stream of sympathy for you and your situation." Kirk looked out the window again.
"She's not Vulcan." He stated plainly.
"No, she most certainly is not." Spock agreed.
"But you are?" he trailed off. He seemed to be wondering of this possibility. Spock shook his head.
"I am half- Vulcan. My father is a full Vulcan, my mother is a full human. Therefore, I have both traits. I try my hardest to remain completely Vulcan."
"Why? That's stupid. Be you." The boy said plainly. He still showed apprehension at his alleged owner, but he wanted to say his opinion.
"I find humans most illogical. Vulcan society is highly advanced and sophisticated, but humans are too often emotionally compromised for me to see a point in being human." James shook his head.
"That's… illogical." Spock was almost offended.
"You seem to be at a lack of knowledge for Vulcans and our culture."
"I know a lot about Vulcan's, green blood." Spock felt dizzy. Green blood? So he knew about the blush?
"Didn't think I knew about that did you, you lying cheat." James smiled into this, smugly looking at Spock.
"Still sick?" he asked casually, the smirk on his face never faltering.
"I—" Spock began. "Save it." Kirk said.
"Boy, I was only stating—" Once again James interrupted.
"I am not a boy! I'm probably your age."
"I am seventeen years old." Spock stated.
"… Sixteen…" James sighed.
"Fine then, James—"
"Spock?" He interrupted once again. It was annoying Spock.
"If you don't care, I hate the name James. Call me Jim." He was looking down as though he might blush again, but he only looked embarrassed. His blonde hair was natural, and the moonlight bathed him. He looked utterly adorable. And delectable. Spock's face turned the slightest of greens looking at this boy.
His eyes flashed to the clock, and he saw how late it was.
"It is time for you to sleep, Jim." Spock said. Kirk stood and walked to the bed. He noticed Spock hadn't even stood yet.
"You gonna tuck me in?" He asked, smiling.
Spock stammered and stood up, pacing towards the door.
"Goodnite, Jim." Spock said, retreating from the room quickly.
He fell back into the bed, surprised at its plush pillows and comforting blankets. He slipped into a shallow sleep as always. He feared deep sleep, that was when his nightmares occurred.
The next morning he was awoken by a maid, delivering breakfast, with Spock trailing behind her.
"Good morning!" The human maid called cheerily. She took his silver tray from the cart.
"Maid, I will prepare that when he's ready to eat. First I must take care of some of his wounds."
"Are you certain, Prince Spock?" the Maid answered. In truth it was a relief, but she had to ask anyways.
"Yes, please leave." She complied after a bow, and a wink at the sleepy Kirk. She made sure Spock didn't notice it. After a few awkward moments Jim sighed.
"Jim, you're going to have to get undressed again." Spock said quietly.
"No!" He cried embarrassedly. "Save me the humiliation, please." Spock considered it.
"You have medical knowledge and experience?" He asked. Again Jim sighed and shook his head.
"Then please don't make me undress you again…" Jim dejectedly stood up and removed his shirt. In all honesty, he didn't mind people seeing his body. They could stare at him and his scars all they wanted. But something about this Vulcan… he found him attractive. He didn't want to see that pity that flashed in peoples eyes.
But when he removed his shirt, the Vulcan didn't even blink. He neared Jim and his heart started racing. The antidote he applied to his back still heart, and he cringed back into Spock. He stayed leaning into Spock's arms until he spoke, and Kirk realized how close his mouth was to his ear.
He practically flung himself away from the Vulcan. He didn't realize how much he was enjoying the feeling of the Prince's fingers. The blush on his face was too much to bear, he was overly embarrassed and humiliated.
"Your pants, now." Spock said, pretending not to notice his overly obvious blush.
"Ppplleaaassee no!" Jim cried. He felt himself getting very slightly hard at Spock's hands brushing over his body, and he didn't know if he could bear him seeing that.
"I'll follow your exact instructions, just please don't!" He said desperately. Spock could understand this would mortify the boy, so he nodded and gave him instruction.
"Then you can eat, take a shower, and… I'll see what I can do."
Kirk nodded thankfully.
TO BE CONTINUED, LOVELIES. REVIEWS VEERRRYYY MUCH APPREECIIATTEDD. AND SUGGESTIONS AND CRITICISM ARE WELCOME. IF YOU HATE SLASH, WHY DID YOU READ THIS FAR?