Prisoner

by parrotstud

Diego, one of the greatest warriors of the mesopotamian region, lost the war to Alexander and his army. Now, Diego must cope with his status of slave to Alexander as well as his own painful past. Therefore, prisoner. You know, the title. He's a prisoner.

PRISONER

This was not the type of position that Diego dreamed of being in. Not in good dreams, anyway. Both arms tied behind his back, secured tightly together and bond the bedpost of a Greek conqueror. Unable to defend himself or move his hands, totally exposed to anyone who walked into the room. He was bloodstained and dirty from the war, the war he had lost. Diego still couldn't believe it. His army had never been defeated, ever. And now, now he was a bed slave to a spoiled conqueror with ulterior motives, it would seem. No one had come right out and told him he was a bed slave. But he was clearly a slave, and chained to a bed. Logic always prevailed in Diego's mind.

He should have died in the war, he should have died with relative honor. The majority of his life had been dedicated to being a warrior. A good one at that. Potential, perfection, prisoner. Now he was a prisoner. The word rang through his mind, banging into the room. No, not the word. Two guards had burst into the room. They shot looks at each other, theirs' full of amusement and relative glee, his wary and embarrassed. As the guards neared him, Diego felt unease and fear send shivers up his spine. One of the guards reached out and stroked his hand down Diego's chest, revealed through the tear down the middle of his thin tattered white shirt. The Hispanic mocha colored skin prickled with goosebumps, and Diego stumbled backwards unconciously, father towards the bed. Farther towards the last place he wanted to be.