A/N: First I want to thank all of you reading this. And special thanks to all my reviewers, Ameraka, StardustOwl, Lillianna Elaina, Alice L. Kirkland. Super special shout out to IWannaLightsaber, you gave me motivation to seriously move forward with this. I hope all of you continue to enjoy this. Just a warning though for the squemish it does get worse before better. But yay! Long chapter!

Warnings: Major angst, demeaning of a human, a bit of language

Hans lay on his stomach on the cold stone floor. His head felt heavy as it rested on his arm. Maybe it was just the lack of nourishment that was causing him to be so lethargic. He could barely think to change his position even though his arm had been aching in protest at being over extended for so long. His thoughts had slowed to a sluggish pace.

It had been three...no maybe four days? He couldn't spare the effort to recall when he had last seen Declyn. Hans knew only that three or four days ago his brother had cleared the closet and dragged him across the floor into the empty alcove. That was after a particularly severe beating, although couldn't remember how he had offended his brother this time. By the time Hans had come out of the haze of pain and blood he found himself alone in the darkness, chained by his wrists to a stake near the back of the closet.

At first the situation hadn't seemed too worrisome. The darkness in that closet wasn't total. During the day the many windows in Declyn's chamber filtered a thin strip of light into the murk and at night when Declyn was still awake the candles would come through the crack in the doors in dim spots.

The first day of this captivity Hans shouted anything and everything he could think of, calling Declyn a bastard and proclaiming his apathy for his crimes. Barely two hours of shouting passed before Declyn had come in, throwing open the doors of the closet so violently that they thundered against their hinges. He didn't say a word as he tied a black gag securely in Hans' mouth.

After that Hans resorted to banging on the floor with his fists. That show of dissention only lasted a short while before the chains had cut open his sensitive wrists again. He vaguely noted that Declyn had forgotten to give him any food or water. At the time he thought nothing of it. Not until the second day passed with no nourishment did Hans begin to worry.

As a prince he had never thought much of the rich food and fine wines he was accostumed to. However, now they were all he could think of as his body cried out for food. His stomach roiled angrily, turning against him. By the beginning of the third day he lost all sense of time and thought. He could only lay on his stomach, hoping that the cold stone would distract him from his hunger and delirious thirst.

At some point, he couldn't be sure when because he felt that one moment was an eternity now that his world was slowing down, his stomach had started a rebellion. It heaved until the burning acid burst up his throat. The acid left his throat raw after he was forced to swallow it for the gag that had not been removed. After this failed attempt to vomit, some clairty returned to Hans. Enough for him to make small whimpers of complaint. He could only hope Declyn would hear him. Pride fades quickly when faced with death. Hans believed that he was going to die when no one answered his feeble, imploring noises.

He resigned himself to his fate. Hans laid quietly in the closet. His mind had shut down. He had no use for it anymore. He only needed to focus on the black abyss that yawned open before him.

~~~Scene~~~

The corridors in the residential wing of the palace were lit with gentle braziers in the evening. Shadows upon the granite floor grew and wavered with the breeze of someone's passing. The rooms were all silent as it was much too early for any of the princes of the Southern Isles to be in bed. Most would be dining or gallavanting about with women, a favorite passtime of entitled young men.

However, the corridor was not deserted. Queen Delana swept through the halls, never faltering a step. Having excused herself from supper on the account of a weak stomach, she came to the chambers of the second prince, Declyn.

Although she had allowed her husband to satisfy her the night before, her concern was still present. Something, perhaps a woman's intuition, told her that all was not as well as Asher would like to believe. He was a good king, but still could be blind to smaller issues.

In any event, Delana told herself that she would only go to Declyn and demand to see Hans. If all was well, she would apologise and say it was a woman's passing fancy, but if all was not as it should be... She would think of what should be done then, if it came to that.

At last, Delana came to Declyn's chambers. She rolled back her shoulders, if she should find herself alone with Hans then she would deal with him as harshly and fairly as she had witnessed her husband do. Reaching out, she found the door was locked.

A frown formed on her small lips as she gripped the handle with both her hands, trying again to open the door. Still the heavy door would not budge. Delana heard a scraping from inside the room. She stepped back as the door was opened, expecting to see an annoyed and fettered Hans.

Declyn stood in the doorway, staring down on her. Even lacking his armour and fine clothes, he was a formiddible man. He took a moment, as if processing that she was there, before inclining his head. "My lady. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Delana's skin crawled at the sound of his voice. His words were polite and measured, but there was something about him that was not right. She carefully steeled herself. She would not allow herself to be cowed. "I want to see Hans."

There was a brief flash of something malignant in his eyes, but the facade was restored a moment later. Declyn smiled, stepping back from the door with a sweeping gesture inviting her in. "As you can see, he's not here."

A quick survey of the wide room confirmed what he said. Delana spun around on him, meeting his light eyes without hesitation. "Where is he then?"

"The stables," Declyn replied without missing a beat. "I sent him to clean my horses. He should be back in an hour or so, if you would like to come back."

Delana frowned. Still she felt that something was not quite right. Her dark eyes glanced around the room. Everything seemed to be in order, a neatly made bed, a tidy desk, and a cleaned rack of weapons. One thing drew her attention. A pile of clothes and leathers were laying in a pile outside the closet. It was a mess that didn't suit the militaristically clean nature of the rest of the room.

"What are those?" she inquired, raising a genteel eyebrow.

Declyn followed her gaze. "Ah those," he faltered for a moment, his facing turning red as though he were embarassed. "Hans was supposed to clean that closet yesterday, but as you can see, he is still rather incompetent at his new... uh... situation."

Situation as a slave, Delana grumbled inwardly. There was nothing more she could do without word of this unorthodox incident getting back to her husband. She was even less satisfied than she had been before. She pressed her lips together thinly, staring at Declyn with a barely veiled challenge. "I should still like to see him. Not tonight, after all it is late, but you will bring him to me soon."

Declyn smiled easily, as he smoothly led her to the door. "Of course, my lady."

His voice was a little too smug for Delana's liking as he agreed, but she could say nothing more about it for as soon as he had finished she found herself shut out in the hallway. She stared back at the heavy wooden door. There was no more noise from within. She drew a breath and shook herself. Worry would do nothing for her now. She would see Hans soon enough. Declyn would not disregard a request of the queen.

However, weeks passed and Hans was never brought to the queen.

~~~Scene~~~

Declyn rested his hand on the door, waiting, listening for the receding footsteps. Once he was certain the queen had gone, he paced back to his desk. He began reading his reports again. The borders were secure, and all of his recent plans for the regeneration of the military had gone well. There were no hitches and nothing to worry about. He glanced at the closet. Almost nothing to worry about.

He leaned back in his chair, pulling at the ends of his beard thoughtfully. How many day had it been? He counted backward. Five days, it had been five days. Supposedly, an entire week was the longest time that anyone could survive without water, but Hans was weaker than soldiers who survived that long. If he were to let his little brother die of starvation under his watch, there would be no way to talk his way out of the reprecussions.

Reluctantly, Declyn strode over to the closet. He thrust the doors open, bathing the small space with light. There was no response from the body in the closet. A few days in the dark had done Hans good, at least he was silent now. Hans' tall form was cramped, with his knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his head. As Hans was lacking a shirt Declyn could see how his stomach had caved in on itself. His eyes were a bit sunken now, and his lips were pale and cracked.

Looking down on this unconscious husk of a man, Declyn felt nothing but disgust. He knelt and with a rough touch, he released the chains from around Hans' ankle. There was no response. Even as Declyn lifted his brother and tossed him on the bed, Hans didn't stir.

Declyn briefly worried that he may have miscalculated, but the moment of doubt disapated quickly. He went to his pile of a closet and found a water skin he had filled earlier that day for this purpose. Returning to sit beside Hans, he tilts the water over Hans' face, drenching him.

Hans spluttered weakly, licking his lips with a tongue like sandpaper, seeking any semblance of moisture. His eyes opened only to slits and they were unfocussed spinning around the room, but uncomprehending of anything. Declyn frowned, grabbing his face and forcing his brother to look at him. Hans flinched back from his brother, but was much too weak to put up any sort of fight.

Declyn forced his mouth open, pouring water into his mouth. Hans drank it up, desperately. He whined when it was empty, but quickly silenced himself at a harsh look from his brother.

"I suppose I should feed you as well," Declyn growled at the inconvenience, but he had expected as much. He left Hans on the bed, retrieving a small bag of gristle and crusts that he had taken from what was going to be thrown away after his dinner.

He returned, pressing a crust into Hans' hands. He almost dropped it, but after a moment of effort he managed to grip it with trembling fingers. Hans took a bite as Declyn looked on with a smirk. Hans choked and whined as he realized that he had been given slop.

Declyn grinned, a malignant smile splitting his face. "Shut up and eat it, bitch. You should be grateful for what you're given. I'm being generous even giving you this. I could always put you back in the closet." He raised an eyebrow as if seriously considering the thought.

Hans lowered his eyes, holding the crust close to his chest, like a dog with his bone. He was shaking his head frantically as if already seeing himself back in the dark.

Declyn laughed, laying a hand on his brother's face causing him to flinch violently and pull away from him. He held Hans tightly though and eventually he gave up trying to fight. Declyn leaned closer to his face and whispered into his ear. "Who would've guessed it would be this easy to break you?"