Hey guys! Usagi323 and I are returning with our 4th and current running RP. It's sort of a medieval!AU. What started out as a plot bunny I had one night while trying to sleep turned into a full fledged story. We hope you guys like this one as much as our previous RPs.
Warnings: This story will contain mature themes such as mentions of prostitution, light to heavy sexual content, violence, possibly some minor gore, dubcon, and mentions of noncon. You have been warned.
The Kingdom of Rus was mostly known for its large size and powerful military, not to mention its wealth and resources. Merchants and traders from all around sought out the kingdom to try and advertise their business in a more beneficial location. People flocked from all around in search of jobs there. Many rich and fancy nobles were known to originate from there. Above all, the kingdom was well known because of its late leader: Lord Winter.
Lord Winter was not a "gentle" man, so to say. His laws were harsh on his citizens and his style of ruling was brutal to say the least. However, it was this very style of ruling and his strict laws that managed to make his kingdom so powerful. The people were too scared to act out, and thus crimes were less common and the strength of his military and his actions made invasion from surrounding kingdoms unlikely. However, that didn't mean that someone didn't have to guts to try it.
It was one morning whenever a servant-lady had come to deliver breakfast to Lord Winter that she found him dead in his chambers, a bottle of vodka over-turned and obviously dead from some sort of poisoning. Obviously dead, but without trace of who did it. There was no evidence to go by. But one thing was certain: someone was trying to send the Kingdom of Rus a strong message.
A couple days later, a large funeral was held in honor of Lord Winter. The whole kingdom attended and mourned his death. But the mourning was just an act; many people were glad to see him dead and lifeless, sitting in his snow white casket with angrecs, asphodels, and thistles surrounding him. They were all flowers to represent his being: angrec for royalty, asphodels for regrets and sorrow of his people, and thistles for his nobility. However, most people agreed that no amount of flowers could ever make Lord Winter look nice or inviting.
A few more days after that, Ivan Braginsky, Lord Winter's son and the heir to the Kingdom, took his throne as the new Lord of the Kingdom of Rus. Ivan was…better than Lord Winter whenever it came to treatment of others and harsh laws. Better, but not by much. He was still a cold ruler with unsettling, yet beautiful eyes and hair that shared the same color as the snow. He attracted many suitors and, unsurprisingly, whores whenever he roamed through his kingdom or the surrounding areas. But as far as Ivan was concerned, he was not the settling down type, nor did he consider romantic or political relationships appealing in any way. If there was a political problem, he'd settle it by using either fear to his advantage or his silver tongue to woo the other Lords and nobles. If his sexual appetite was getting the best of him, he had his group of handpicked slaves he could call to him at any time.
Most political bouts were settled within the Council of Lords: a group of lords from all the surrounding kingdoms. They convened every once in a while, voting on which action they should take on certain issues, with the majority of votes being the route they took. It was an easy way to settle disputes between other kingdoms without having to resort to violence or war. It saved a lot of lives and was generally much simpler than going through the trouble of treaties and appeasement and the like.
Time passed, and Ivan has now been in power for a couple months. Though Lord Winter was dead and forgotten among most of the people in the Kingdom of Rus, Ivan had been searching high and low for evidence of who could have killed his father. Ivan didn't like Lord Winter, like being used in the lightest form, but he did care about the fact that a member of his family had been murdered. So far, there was no evidence that could point to one of the surrounding kingdoms being a culprit. Ivan was beginning to become frustrated, wondering how someone could have pulled such a stealthy and slick move. That was, until evidence came in the most unlikely forms: a series of "bandit" attacks on his kingdom's countryside. From what they could find, these attacks were linked back to the Kingdom of Avarice: a very fitting name for a kingdom that was known for its jealousy and need to expand. Apparently, their people thought that since Lord Winter was dead that they could just waltz in and start stealing from and killing Ivan's people. Ivan had sent a letter to Avarice's Lord, asking him to stop the bandit attacks. To Ivan's shock, the Lord of Avarice sent a letter back saying that maybe Ivan's kingdom deserved all the misfortunes plaguing its borders. It was then that Ivan suspected that Avarice was the one behind Lord Winter's death. There was no solid evidence of it at the moment, but that didn't stop Ivan from retaliating against the other. Ivan sent out a group of soldiers to defend the border against the raids. Unsurprisingly, he was met with Avarice troops there. The meeting was not a friendly one and as soon as Ivan found out that the Avarice troops had attacked his own troops, he didn't hesitate to send out a declaration of war against the other.
Unbeknownst to the issues of the political world was a small farm in the middle of some rolling plains. It was here that a tragedy would befall a young man, innocent and undeserving of the horrible act he was about to witness.
It had been like any other early spring day for the past seventeen years for Alfred F. Jones. He woke up at sunrise and was greeted with the cool and crisp air of the early morning, hints of winter's chill still in the air. He went downstairs where his Ma, Abigail Jones, would be getting breakfast started- just some fried eggs and bread with jam, and even that was considered lavish eating for their small farm. He'd kiss her on the cheek before heading down to the nearby creek to take a cold bath in the still icy waters. They only had enough money to install running water to some sinks in their kitchen. After a quick and bone chilling bath, Alfred would dry himself off with a stiff and rough towel before changing into a light and baggy long sleeved, white tunic with old and grass stained brown pants before heading back to their small two bedroom house with a kitchen, dining room and a small closet-like room which had a basin for them relieve themselves in at night so they didn't have to head outside to the latrine in the dark. By the time he made it back to the house, breakfast would be ready and his Pa, Jonathan Jones, would go over the things that needed to be done that day over breakfast. By the time breakfast was done, the sun would already be lighting the sky in early morning, the day already starting to warm up a bit, but still a bit nippy. They split up to do their part around the farm; Ma would clean the house and collect eggs from their little chicken coop. Alfred would tend to the one dairy cow they had and feed the handful of pigs they had. Pa would head to town in his horse drawn wagon to sell some milk and eggs and possibly gather some information about the recent bandit attacks, only to find out they were getting farther and farther across the border. Their farm was a few miles from town and relativity close to the border of Avarice, but not dangerously so. Pa would make it back home by maybe early afternoon, and eat a lunch that would have been made for him while discussing the grim news that the border attacks appeared to be getting closer to them. By then, Alfred would have eaten a light lunch and began working on planting new crops that they'd sell this summer. It was over all a very normal day in their very humble and peaceful lives. That was until they came. While Pa and Ma were discussing what they were going to do about the bandit attacks that were steadily drawing closer to their home and Alfred was working the fields, they failed to perceive the group of large, brawny, and weapon clad threat approaching their small farm.
"P-Please, leave us alone! T-Take what you want, but leave us be!" Abigail sobbed through tears pouring from her sky blue eyes, choking slightly on her words at the hand around her throat. A large, burly man with long dark and coarse hair and wicked brown eyes was currently holding Abigail up against a wall in the dining room by her throat. Barking out a vicious laugh the man spoke callously, squeezing her delicate neck slightly tighter, causing her eyes to bulge and make more choked gasps for breath.
"I don't think so ma'am. Slaughtering you and your husband is half the fun! Besides, as much as it pains me to kill such a pretty little thing such as yourself, you did give me quite a mean bump on the head with a frying pan after I slit your husband's throat." He motioned with his right hand to the prone and lifeless form of her husband, his own blood pooling around his throat and dying his sunshine colored hair red. One of the handful of bandits searching the small home for money or anything of value, food and supplies as well, was currently patting down the deceased man's sides and pockets, looking for any loose change that was probably there. Another handful of men were outside, slaughtering the animals and tying them up to bring with them for food when they moved on. Abigail let out another choked sob at the mention of Jonathan's death, but closed her eyes in a numb acceptance of her fate. At least they hadn't gotten Alfred. He should be safe in the fields for it seemed they weren't going to waste time going into the fields to gather what little growing crops they had. It was then that she felt a sharp and agonizing pain pierce her straight through her stomach, letting out another choked cough as blood welled up in her throat to drip down her chin. Her blue eyes dulled and her head flopped forward like a stuffed rag doll, whole body becoming limp.
The bandit pulled out his blood stained dagger, the sanguine liquid dripping onto the shabby, wooden floors. The presumed leader of the group of bandits leaned close to the dead woman's ear, whispering with a smug smirk. "Pleasure doing business with you, ma'am." Before drawing back and letting her throat go, Abigail's body colliding with the floor with a dull thump. Stepping away from the scene of the woman's crumpled form on the ground, he turned to face one of his men, who relayed their search results. "Sir, we were able to find some spare cash, not much though. They had somewhat valuable necklaces and jewelry from the wife, again not much. And were able to slaughter and procure eight chickens, one cow, one horse, and five decently sized pigs. They also had some bread, milk, some vary old and almost gone whiskey, cheese, and a few vegetables. We also saw there was another inhabitant in the house. Should be go after them?" The dark haired man thought about his options. The soldiers patrolling the borders were close on their heels and they already got everything they came for and needed. After a thoughtful moment passed, the man just shook his head. "No, we will not pursue whoever lives here as well. We had better get going. Besides, won't this be a fun little surprise for whomever lives here as well?" Finishing his sentence with a dark and malicious smile, he ordered his men to get everything prepared for travel and that they would be leaving in an hour.
Alfred watched in horror from inside the safety of the growing plants in their field, unable to move as they slaughtered his family's precious farm animals, stuffing their bags and wagon with what little money and possessions they had. They gutted and sliced up their animals, salting them then throwing them into bags and into the wagon as well. Alfred watched with wide terror stricken blue eyes like his mother's as they stole from them, only to leave an hour later, merry with their new catch. Alfred stumbled to his house once they were out of eyesight in a dazed and shocked state. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew his folks would be dead. There was no way in hell his Pa would just let them loot them. And though kindhearted, his Ma could be fierce when she was provoked. Still though, when he opened the back door to their kitchen and the metallic stench of blood hit his nostrils and the sight of his parents dead and cooling corpses laying crumpled within their own drying blood registered in his mind, Alfred fell to his knees retching up his breakfast and lunch. Hysterical tears ran down his face as finished puking up his food, the smell of vomit combining with the smell of spilled blood. Pure and raw panic coursed through Alfred as adrenaline kicked in. Scrambling out of the house, he ran to the nearest tree around the surrounding forest, clutching at the bark as he fell to his knees, wailing as sobs raked his body. "N-No… Ma...Pa." he choked out as he sobbed under the midday sun. How could this have happened? What was Alfred to do now? These thoughts ran though his distraught mind as he as he tried to grasp his parent's murder and how the bandits left him with virtually nothing. After an hour or so of trying to calm down, Alfred decided he needed to go to town and seek help. Alfred may be a pretty independent person for his age, but something like this was beyond him and in his emotionally compromised state, he couldn't think of what to do other then seek help. So, with heavy footsteps he began his long trek to town, steady tears still streaking down his face.
It was early evening when Alfred finally made it to town on foot. He immediately began asking around for help. He became steadily more desperate and panicky as people either ignored him with ashamed faces or completely snubbed him when he asked them for help. After hours of talking and asking people to do anything to help him, Alfred gave up with grave and disheartened eyes. Trudging to the mouth of an alleyway, Alfred sat down, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his face his arms as he wrapped them around his knees. He shivered slightly in the night, the cool air penetrating his light tunic and pants as his stomach growled in hunger. What was he to do know? He could either go to some sort of orphanage, but the closest one was at least two towns over and conditions there were terrible. Besides, they'd only keep he for a few months until he turned 18 in July. He could try to find work, though he was pretty sure there were no jobs open in this town right now. So caught up in his thoughts, Alfred didn't notice the seedy character approaching him.
A shady looking short man popped into the head of the alley, staring down at the dirty, crying, and seemingly broken blonde sitting there. Voice filling with mock sympathy and worry, he asked in a voice too caring to be real. "Hey there, fellow. Are you okay? What happened? You look a little young to be out this late…"
Alfred, despite only being barely literate, and that's only because his mother insisted he learned to read and write a little when he was younger, was actually a pretty smart kid. He was, however, extremely naïve, having grown up on his family's farm and only having limited experience in the outside world. Because of this, he was unable to pick up the insincere tone in the strange man's voice. Looking up with hesitant eyes, he replied. "M...My parents were just murdered and our farm and looted by bandits. I have nowhere to go. W-What do I do?" Alfred choked up at the end, desperation filling his voice and a cry for help could be seen in his eyes. He was alone, cold, hungry, terrified of his future and present, as well as emotional and grieving for what had happened to his loving parents.
"Oh…what a tragedy…" The man said, faking an expression of shock and horror. He knelt down beside Alfred, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Listen, kid…you look pretty miserable right now. I won't lie. Things are looking pretty grim for you. But you shouldn't be out here in the streets this late at night. Especially in an alley-way. All sorts of horrible people roam around here." The man resisted the urge to smile, the description fitting himself rather nicely or so he thought. "Why don't you come with me and I can set you up with a place to stay for the night. Free food and a warm bed. And then tomorrow, we'll try to find someplace safe for you to go. I'm sure there's someone willing to help you out." At his words, he saw Alfred's dull and red-rimmed eyes brighten a fraction, though they still held deep pools of sorrow in them.
Believing the man had the best of intentions, he felt hope filter through him. If this man was willing to help, even if just temporarily, then surely there would have to be someone else willing to help him get back up on his feet, right? Giving the stranger a weary, but bright smile, he took the man's out stretched hand. "Oh, thank you! I won't forget this! I hope I can repay you for your kindness someday." Alfred said earnestly, wanting the man to know how appreciative he was of this, considering how down trodden and desperate he was moments ago and how bleak life overall seemed at the moment. As he followed behind the man, who Alfred saw only came up to his chest, through the alleyway, he didn't see the darkening smile creeping up the man's face at Alfred's words.
"My home isn't too far from here." The short man announced. He led Alfred back to his "home" while the blonde spouted even more thank yous. One thing was for sure: Alfred had quite the mouth on him whenever he was excited. The short man was sure that that mouth could be put to good use elsewhere.
A short while later, they arrived at the looming and slightly ominous house. It was large, with lanterns with dark red tinted glass glowing outside by the doors. There weren't any windows facing the outside street, but the short man knew the reason for that. People didn't need to see what went on inside the building. Going to the door, the short man gave a series of rhythmic knocks – the passcode to get inside the house. A few seconds later, he could hear a series of locks being undone on the other side. The door opened and he was met with the large body guard that resided by it at all times. Ushering Alfred inside, who was starting to look a little confused at the actions and location, the short man looked up to the larger man guarding the door. "Looks like we have some new meat." The door was shut and relocked, gaining Alfred's attention right away. Smirking deviously at the blonde, the shorter man spoke rather smugly. "Hmm…yes…you'll do nicely. Nice, toned legs. Tanned skin. Bright eyes and hair. A little skinny, but whatever. I'm sure whoever will buy you will probably fatten you up a little. Or let you starve, depending on what kind of person they are. Doesn't matter to me. I'm making money off of you, darling." Walking up to Alfred, the short man began running his hands over the blonde's clothed thighs and stomach. He saw Alfred take a retreating step back and smack his hands away, Glaring up at the young blonde, the shorter man growled out. "Listen here, kid…" He took another step towards Alfred, grabbing his tunic and yanking him down to his level. For his short stature, the man had quite a bit of strength in him. "We can do things the hard way or the easy way. The more you fight, the more this entire experience is going to hurt you. I was just trying to get a feel of what you have going on here. But if you keep acting like you're going get raped or something, I won't hesitate to sick some of my men on you. They'll be more than happy to do it, too. Now…how old are you? Are you a virgin? Or are you just another common whore?"
Alfred paled at the man's words, realization about what kind of place this is sinking in like a torn up ship in the ocean. A cold and heavy sense of dread settled in his stomach. As soon as he heard the man growl out his threat and questions, he bristled up like a cat in anger. Blue eyes flashing, he raised his fist to slam into the creeps face when he noticed something from the corner of his eyes. The body guard at the door was shaking his head and smirking, cracking his knuckles as if saying, 'you don't want to do that'. Railing in his indignation and settling for glaring defiantly at the smug and condescending man in front of him, he spat out. "I'm seventeen, going on eighteen in the summer. And yes I'm a virgin...both ways." He hesitated with the last part, cheeks flushing a bit at admitting to his inexperience. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing in this kind of place...
Laughing a little at Alfred's show of defiance and the information of him being completely inexperienced, the man chuckled out darkly. "Ahh, that's good. Some men may like their whores slutty and loose, but nothing beats a pure, tight virgin. You're going to garner a pretty price, my friend." Seeing the look of horror pass through Alfred's eyes again, he continued on with a wicked smirk. "Well, look at it this way. At least you won't get raped while you're here! But I can't promise you that once I sell you to someone. You might end up in some fucked up orgy later on down the road. But don't worry kid. This is a business of pleasure. As much as some people would like to hang on to their dignity, sometimes it's best to just let go and enjoy whatever you can." Giving a small whistle, the short man motioned for the guard to come over. "Take this kid and get him cleaned up and outfitted. He's wearing too many clothes." Turning to Alfred and giving him one more victorious smile, the shorter man waved at him. "Sleep tight kid. And really, sorry about your family!" Walking away, the shorter man let out a bark of laughter. His tone pretty much indicated that he couldn't give two shits about Alfred or his family. Money was the only thing that mattered to him.
After being dragged down a couple hallways, Alfred was shoved into a white, pearly bathroom. It was plain and oddly without a bathtub like Alfred heard some wealthier people are able to afford. Though, it was still pretty amazing by Alfred's standards, considering the closest thing he had to a bathroom at home was that small closet like space with a chamber pot in it and the latrine out the in the back of his house. As he gaped at the somewhat large room, Alfred failed to notice the couple of young girls in the room. A curly blonde looking one coughed into her fist, green eyes tentative and smile somewhat encouraging as she spoke. "Hi, you must be new here. I'm Melody and this is Carmen." Alfred snapped his attention in confusion to the girls, whom were standing next to a water basin with a sponge in both of their hands. The girl named Carmen waved happily as her friend pointed to her. She had straight, short black hair and sparkling brown eyes.
Alfred blinked in confusion. These girls couldn't be more then fifteen years old...and why were they in the bathroom? "Um...Hi. I'm Alfred. What are you doing in here?" Alfred asked warily, not sure of their intentions and not trusting anyone in this place.
Melody immediately quelled his suspicions though. "Oh, we're here to bath the slaves up for auction! They uninstalled the tub five years ago apparently, after some slave attempted to drown their self in it. So now they just do sponge baths here…Carmen and I have been working here two years. Carmen is mute and the master, the short man I assume brought you here, chose me as a favorite to keep. We mainly bath the slaves, but sometimes we're used to...satisfy the guard's…um… 'urges'." Melody explained, eyes looking somber towards the end.
Alfred just gaped in completely shocked revulsion that these young girls were being used in such away. Then his face heated up at what they were supposed to do to him. Alfred coughed awkwardly into his fist, stuttering a bit, "U-Um, you don't need to bath me. I-I can do it myself!" Alfred's face heated up as they giggled like school girls at his reaction, but smiled sympathetically.
Carmen handed Alfred her sponge and while they turned to face the wall so Alfred could bath in peace, Melody giggled back. "It's okay, we understand. Just be done in ten minutes. The guard will back with new clothes by then. They'll also explain how things are run here. And don't feel bad for me Alfred. I'd be more concerned for yourself considering you don't know what kind of person you'll be sold to."
Alfred shivered as he stripped and ringed the sponge over his head, letting the water cascade down his back. The water wasn't chilly like the creek he bathed in at home, but he shivered more at the truth in her words. Alfred wasted no time in bathing, and soon there was another coded knock on the door. The guards handed him a thin light blue tunic that was short sleeved and barely reach mid-thigh. There were no pants or underwear handed to him with the tunic. After Alfred changed and the guards took his other clothes, they led a very exposed feeling Alfred to the 'barracks', explaining that in a week Alfred would be moved to another city with all the other new slaves to be auctioned off. They told him that he'd have two meals a day and all slaves bathed once every other day and that if he behaved in his 'room', then no harm will come to him here. Alfred just nodded numbly at the information, eyes trained on the ground as he was once again shoved into a room. Small cells holding many different people, of varying ages, genders, and ethnicity's filled the room. Alfred was led to an empty ten foot long and ten foot wide cell with a small window high up on the wall. He was pretty sure it was barred from this angle. He was pushed inside and the guard locked the cell, mockingly laughing a good night to all the inhabitants in the room. Curling up against the wall in his cramped cell, Alfred trapped himself in his thoughts. How could he have been such an idiot? Why did he blindly follow that man here? He'd been desperate and in his own naivety and panic over his situation he'd trusted the creepy and short man. Alfred felt helpless and angry tears well up in his eyes over his situation, what had happened to his parents, and his own stupidity. The slight moonlight coming in from his cell's window illuminated the silent flow of tears running down his already tear stained face. He vowed though that he'd be a dead man before he went down with at least some resistance. With this new found conviction, Alfred slowly cried himself to sleep...at least it was warmer in here than outside.