One's options in this world are as vast as the horizon, which is technically a circle and thus infinitely broad. Yet we must choose each step we take with utmost caution, for the footprints we leave behind are as important as the path we will follow. They're part of the same journey — our story.
― Lori R. Lopez, Dance Of The Chupacabras
-l-
Richard grew up in a brothel called 'A Vision of Love.' His grandmother was the proprietress, having been chosen to inherit after the previous Madam retired. He had lots of aunts who weren't really his mother's sisters, and lots of cousins who weren't really related to him at all. But that was fine, because they were family anyway.
The children all knew from a young age that their mothers were whores. They didn't all understand exactly what that meant, except that they were to stay out of the way of the men that came into the house, and leave their mothers and aunts alone when they took a man (or sometimes a woman) into one of the upstairs rooms. The children never saw the upstairs rooms. They all slept in one big room on the ground floor that shared a wall with the kitchen, which was nice in winter, because the kitchen stove was against that wall, but was swelteringly hot in summer.
The oldest children looked after the younger ones, and the whores breezed in and out of the big room, sometimes to dole out chores, sometimes to impart lessons, and sometimes just to visit. Richard's mother always came and told him goodnight, and kissed his forehead. And she told him bedtime stories, stories about how he was secretly the son of a king, and he had a brother who was a powerful wizard, and a sister who looked like his grandmother and was the Seeker of Truth. One day, the stories went, his brother and sister were going to come back for him and take him away from all this, and Richard would live in a castle and learn to ride a horse like a knight and always have shoes that fit.
They were just stories, but they were fun, and Richard loved them.
When Richard was eleven, his Aunt Nicci came and told him to serve drinks in the main room. She seemed nervous, which was odd. Aunt Nicci wasn't afraid of anyone or anything. Richard had even seen her break a chair over a man's head once, when the man got too rough with one of the other women.
"Aunt Nicci?" Richard asked, his voice cracking. It had just started to change. Grandmother said he was an early bloomer.
"It'll be alright, lad," Nicci told him. "It's just there's an important guest here tonight, and Merissa has taken ill. You're the only older one who doesn't already have a job. Just promise me one thing."
"What is it, Aunt Nicci?"
"There's a woman out there in a pink dress. Her name is Annalina Aldurren, and she's a slave trader. She specializes in training pretty young boys to be whatever their masters want, understand? Boys like you. So you keep out of her way."
Richard promised, and went to get a serving tray.
But of course, he didn't keep out of Annalina's way. Instead, when one of the other children tripped and almost dropped the platter of meat she was holding, Richard dashed in to help her, keeping a hank of roast lamb from splattering all over Annalina's silk clad lap.
"Quite spry, aren't you boy?" she said to him, tilting his chin up with one finger and making him open his mouth so she could inspect his teeth.
She offered to buy him, and when Grandmother said no, sent a man to kidnap him from his bed. Richard woke up in a covered wagon, his ankles chained to the wooden sides.
-l-
Richard told himself the story of his wizard brother and princess sister a lot in those early days. They would come for him, and he would live in a castle, and he wouldn't have to learn all the ways to please people in bed unless he wanted to, and no one would make him dye his hair.
Richard's teacher was a man named Egremont. He was old and grey now, but once he had been a beautiful man, and the Queen of D'Hara's favorite concubine. But the queen died during childbirth, and Panis Rahl didn't have any more use for the men he had kept around for his queen's pleasure.
"He had us spelled so we couldn't get her with child," Egremont explained. "He preferred men himself, and didn't want to be bothered with her when they weren't trying to beget an heir. So he let her have us, and after she was gone, well… There were six of us. The three youngest were given to the Mord'Sith, he kept Thaddicus for himself, and Demmin and I were sold to people like Madam Annalina, to train other slaves."
Egremont was patient and kind and almost like having a father. And that made everything worse somehow, because Richard wanted to hate Egremont.
But Egremont just held him during his rages, soothed him when he cried, and when Richard demanded to know why he had to learn these things, Egremont explained, "Be the best at what you do, my boy. Skilled slaves are valuable, and valuable things are cared for. You make your master love you, and you'll have a good life. You make your master love you, and maybe one day they'll set you free."
So Richard used foul smelling dyes to keep his hair the color of spun gold and laid in the sun until he was a delicious warm brown. He did the exercises Egremont showed him and ran around the training compound every day, until his body was sculpted of corded muscle. He kept his hands soft with lotion, and dabbed scent onto his neck. He learned the arts of massage and pleasure, and Egremont taught him to play the lute, and to sing, and how to speak with the crisp elocution and accent of a high born noble.
Madam Annalina was pleased with his progress, and she started sending him out with older pleasure slaves – "My boys are not whores," she always said. "They're concubines and pleasure slaves. Whores are untrained." – to gain experience. Richard made an empress beg and a king weep out his name. His fame grew with his list of conquests, and soon they were calling him 'Mikros Xanatos,' which in High D'Haran meant 'just a little death.'
He didn't mind the work. He knew now that this was what his mother and grandmother had done to earn a living, and if he wouldn't be ashamed of them then he couldn't be ashamed of himself, no matter how some people harped on about virtue.
He still thought about escaping. He didn't mind giving people pleasure to earn his keep, but he didn't like the decisions of 'who' and 'when' being made for him. But Madam Annalina made all of her more valuable slaves wear heavy silver collars that were spelled to track their movements (If only he'd known then that his wouldn't work!), and the price of disobedience was a day on the whipping post. Richard didn't want to risk it.
If he scarred, it would make him less likely to find a good master.
-l-
When Richard had seen seventeen summers, he was purchased by the Margrave of Rothenberg as a companion for his son.
Margrave Malray was an easygoing man with a ready laugh and a taste for extravagance. He wore rich fabrics, drank richer wines, and indulged himself in women to his heart's content. He insisted on inspecting Richard himself, and Richard was called into the well-appointed room where Madam Annalina conducted business and told to disrobe.
He obeyed, and the Margrave stalked around him in a circle, prodding at Richard's buttocks and abdominals, asking him to flex. "Well, he's pretty enough, if you like this sort of thing," the Margrave said. "And he's the one they call Mikros Xanatos?"
"Oh yes. Richard was trained by my very best, and it shows. That is why I'm asking such a high price for him."
The Margrave stroked his chin, and then he slapped Richard on the thigh, like rider would to a horse they were fond of. "I'll take him. I'm starting to despair of Walter. He flees the room every time a princess so much as speaks a couplet to him. Maybe the problem is I've been pushing the wrong gender at him. We'll see how he takes to the boy."
Richard was allowed to say goodbye to Egremont, and then he was outfitted with a thin golden collar that was made to look like scrolling vines, and dressed in tight white leather breeches, matching fur-lined boots, and nothing else. The Margrave's liveried servants bundled Richard into a coach, and they set off for Rothenberg.
"We'll arrive just in time for my son's birthday," the Margrave told Richard, sitting across from him as the coach rattled and rolled. "You're going to be one of his gifts. He's a bit timid, so you should be gentle with him."
-l-
When they reached the Margrave's kingdom, Richard was given a hot meal, a hotter bath, and more white breeches and boots. The skin of his chest was dusted with gold powder and he was told to go wait in the ballroom. There he found a groomsman with a beautiful white horse, just old enough to ride, standing next to a pile of gifts. Richard approached, and the groomsman snapped identical leads to the horse's halter and a ring on the back of Richard's collar.
They were to be given to the prince as a matched set.
-l-
Prince Walter was a bashful sort, just as his father had said. For the first two weeks, he couldn't look at Richard without blushing. He never gave Richard orders, never even spoke to him, and certainly never utilized Richard's bedroom skills.
No, instead he took Richard riding and to the library, and sent Richard to escort the Princess Mika, Walter's step-sister, to balls and garden parties whenever possible, so that Walter himself wouldn't have to attend.
But Richard lived in a castle and he was learning to ride a horse and he always had shoes that fit, so he didn't mind. He even forgot about the story of his wizard brother and princess sister. He had his own prince and princess to contend with.
Since Walter didn't want sex, Richard made himself invaluable in other ways. He fetched and carried books, laid out Walter's clothes, saddled his horse, and drew his baths. Walter spooked the first time Richard washed his hair for him, but relaxed when Richard massaged his scalp, and began occasionally asking for a repeat performance if he had a headache.
One afternoon, after Richard had spent a few hours quietly helping Princess Mika with her rhyming tetrameter, Walter looked up from his desk and said, "You're good at that."
It was the first time Walter had directly addressed Richard to do anything other than ask him to perform a task. Cautiously, Richard replied, "It was part of my training, your highness."
"I find it most confusing," Walter huffed with an air of long held grievance. "Even if I am not the one that has to speak it. When I am Margrave, I shall forbid everyone from speaking it to me if they want a sensible answer."
Richard took a few steps across the room, his boots echoing on the stone of the palace floor. They were in the sitting room that Walter and Mika shared, and like everything else in Rothenberg, it was a study in opulence. Walter's desk was carved from a single piece of heavy oak, the chaise lounge was upholstered in the finest fabric and so soft that it felt like lazing on a cloud, and the windows were filled with expensive scenes of stained glass.
Prince Walter watched Richard move, his cheeks reddening, and Richard put an extra sway into his step, studying his master.
Walter was a handsome man with an untidy mop of silvery pale hair that fell to his shoulders and a decent physique that was emphasized by white lawn shirts, crisp yellow silk waistcoats, and snug trousers of white linen. As easygoing as his father, if not as brazen, he was always smiling. From what Richard had seen, he was a good man, a good master, and would be a good king.
His eyes were the color of the sky. The color of freedom.
"Would you like to see what other things I learned in my training?" Richard asked, only a little suggestively. It was novel for him, to have to seduce someone. It was even more novel to want to, not because it was expected, but because he… liked Walter.
Walter jerked in his chair, making a squeaking noise. Then he cleared his throat. "Richard I… I don't expect. That is, I know why my father bought you, he's been very clear on that, but I – Oh my, you are very close, aren't you?"
Richard stood right by Walter now, so close that he could feel Walter's panted breaths on the bare skin of his stomach. He flexed his abdominals. "You could have me now, if you wanted," Richard said in a low, husky voice. "You could have any princess who graces these halls, and yet you don't. Why not?"
Walter blinked, and licked his lips, his pupils dilated with lust. "I… what? I'm sorry, Richard, would you mind putting on a shirt? Your chest is very… distracting."
Richard chuckled. "I don't have any shirts, your highness."
Walter gaped, his eyes snapping to Richard's face. "What? Why? I mean, if you don't want to wear them, I certainly won't make you, I don't like slavery and I'm going to try to abolish it as soon as I can and that's part of why I won't…"
He trailed off, his speech derailed by the way Richard was stroking his hair. A quick glance down at the prince's crotch confirmed that Richard's suspicions were correct – Walter definitely found him attractive, he just didn't want to bed someone who had no choice.
That consideration only made Richard want him more. Richard did have a choice, and he chose Walter.
"If I weren't a slave," Richard bent to whisper into Walter's ear, letting the tip of his tongue graze the delicate shell of it. "If I were a prince from a different kingdom, would you have me?"
"I…" Walter swallowed. "I've always thought to be happy with just one love. If they were the right person."
Richard kissed Walter, a slow sensuous slide of lips and tongue that was designed to steal the breath away. Walter moaned, his hips jerking, and Richard smiled against the prince's mouth, insinuating his thigh between Walter's legs.
"Am I the right person?" Richard asked.
"Oh yes," was Walter's fervent answer. "If you want to be."
Richard did.
-l-
When Richard first saw his other self, the man was dressed in black leather from head to toe, with a crossbow strapped to his back and two wickedly long knives hanging from his belt. His hair was close cropped, gold at the ends, growing progressively darker the closer it got to his skull. He wore kohl around his eyes, and a thin smile that brought out the family resemblance to Darken Rahl.
Richard felt a sinking sensation in his gut.
"Sister!" The other Richard called, picking Jennsen up and twirling her in a circle. "Brother," he greeted Darken, clapping the wizard on the shoulder. A raw look of pain flared in his eyes when he took in Darken's face, but Richard might have imagined it, for he blinked and it was gone.
"And Lady Cara," Richard's double finished, bowing to Cara and kissing her hand with a playful courtliness. Cara rolled her eyes and swatted at his shoulder, and the other Richard tossed his head back and laughed.
And then his gaze lit on Richard and Mason, and he said, "Huh," his lips parting.
"Can't be an illusion," he muttered to himself. "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to see it." He gave them each a careful up and down, and then turned to Jennsen. "Explain."
-l-
Darken insisted that everyone go inside the inn where Richard lived and worked before the story was told, because it was a very long story and Darken hated the dust of travel and he wanted a bath and a decent meal and a goblet of wine and they were all ruffians with no appreciation for the finer things in life. Darken despaired of them, he really did.
Cara and Other Richard rolled their eyes, Mason's lips twitched, and Jennsen smiled fondly at her brother's antics.
Richard followed behind, openly staring at the man who was supposed to be him, if his life had gone differently.
They sat at a large table in the back, and a tavern wench brought them mugs of beer and a platter of vegetables and baked ham. Thus provisioned, Mason told Other Richard of everything that had happened in short, succinct terms, in the way a soldier would report to a superior.
"Sometimes I hate magic," Other Richard said when Mason was done. He spoke with a cultured D'Haran accent even more prominent than Darken's, which had presumably softened after years spent in Westland.
"But you're pristinely ungifted," Richard blurted.
Other Richard raised an eyebrow. "All the more reason."
"You can't both be called 'Richard,'" Cara complained. "It's already giving me a headache."
"Easy enough. You three and Walter are the only ones that call me that anyway. To everyone else, I'm Xanatos," Other Richard… Xanatos said.
"Death?" Richard translated the High D'Haran, furrowing his brow.
Xanatos looked at him for a long time, an assessing gaze that was made all the more nerve wracking because it came from Richard's identical twin.
"I know your story," Xanatos said eventually. "I suppose it's fair you know mine."
"I know about the training and the uh, slavery. And how you were sold to the Prince of Rothenberg," Richard said.
Xanatos fixed Darken with a look that he… quailed under wasn't quite the right phrase, but the wizard was definitely uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of whatever that look meant. "Do you, now?" Xanatos asked, tone chilling. There was something frightening about it, something so essentially Rahl that it made the blood curdle.
"Richard," Jennsen said in warning.
Xanatos blinked and the dangerous atmosphere evaporated. He smiled. "I thought we agreed that the new lad is Richard."
"We may call you Xanatos, but you are not Death." Jennsen's blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the inn, her chin set in a stubborn line. "You're not."
Xanatos let out a cackling laugh that made the hair on the back of Richard's neck stand up. It was like the howl of a calthrop. "If you say so, sister."
"Please don't despair," Darken leaned forward, laying his hand over his brother's. "Walter could still be alive."
"You don't know that!" Xanatos exclaimed, pulling away so fast that he sent a mug of beer clattering to the floor. The inn went silent, all eyes turned in their direction.
Xanatos took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat until the crowd lost interest and the ambient sound of chatter rose up around them. "Please don't talk about him," he asked Darken. "Not you. Spirits know, it's hard enough just looking at your face."
"Walter?" Richard asked warily. "The prince?" He didn't want to set Xanatos off again, but he wanted to understand. Needed to understand how someone who was supposed to be him had become… this.
A stream of air hissed between Xanatos' teeth, his jaw clenching. He fixed his gaze on a point over Richard's shoulder. "Yes. Walter was my prince. We had four years together. Four years filled with more love than most people ever get… I learned to fight and started acting as Walter's bodyguard, because it meant that no one would object to me being always by his side. He bought my old teacher, Egremont, and set him free, as a gift to me. He would have freed me too, but if he'd done that, we would have lost each other. Taking a pleasure slave as a lover is one thing, but a free man of low class is something else altogether."
Xanatos raised a hand to his throat, and Richard saw a ring of precious metal there that he hadn't noticed before. The collar was cast in the shape of vines, with semiprecious stones scattered amongst the leaves. Xanatos stroked the jeweled yoke, giving another of those bitter laughs. "I didn't find out that I was a prince more than worthy of Walter's partnership until after I'd already lost him."
"Kahlan isn't a fool," Cara said, harsh and matter of fact where the Rahl siblings had been hopeful and understanding. "Walter is more valuable alive than dead. If she ever catches you again, she'll have a bargaining chip. And with the Margrave's only heir, Zorander can force Rothenberg into an alliance."
Kahlan? Again?
Richard bit his tongue on those questions, keeping them firmly behind his lips.
But Mason didn't.
"Someone explain. I can't assess threats to Lord Rahl with accuracy without knowing all that there is to know about the state of the war."
Xanatos leered at Mason. "Practical. How very Cara of you."
Richard shifted in his seat, not liking the light he was beginning to see himself in.
"You know who Kahlan is, I assume?" Xanatos was saying. "Well, Zorander sent her after me right around the time Jennsen was really stirring up the rebels, getting them to organize. He had this idea that he could use my blood to bring down the Boundary."