There is something I need to address briefly before you continue reading.
A Guest left a review May 14th expressing their feelings about this "Yaoi Rape Fantasy". I understand that this is not necessarily a plot device that all people appreciate, and you are entirely entitled to your feelings on the subject. I am not trying to call you out or belittle you; I am not even trying to defend myself, but rather clarify the purpose of this work.
This story is the first in a collection of works exploring how characters react to various situations they are put into. The collection is split into (1) stories where the protagonist got themselves into the mess and the situation revolves around them, (2) stories where the situation doesn't have anything to do with the protagonist, but they get dragged into it anyway, and (3) stories where the protagonist is forced into a situation that they cannot escape from.
I have not explained any of this as none of the other works are available yet. They are all in the works, but I refuse to post them until they are completed.
This work will not go into graphic detail of any sexual relations unless it is absolutely necessary in order to the character's emotional state afterward. Rape is an awful thing. I am not romanticizing it, nor am I trying to justify it. Please do not misunderstand my intentions here.
That being said, please enjoy Chapter 8 of Going on Living.
Going on Living Part 1
Ch.8
I padded along behind the elaborately (and scantily) dressed women of the harem. I knew I looked out of place: a plain cream tunic, brown trousers, and no shoes trailing after these… goddesses.
They didn't want me here any more than I wanted to be here. I made them look bad, embarrassed them, or so they told me almost every day: often with the threat of physical harm attached if I didn't leave. If only I could leave. I'd have tried to escape so many times before now if I had the chance.
I spared a glance over my shoulder at the guard who couldn't seem to stop breathing down my neck. I knew from watching this procession in the past that having a guard was new. I guessed he was probably there for me: to make sure I didn't pick the worst possible time for my first escape attempt.
Then again, that's the reason why none of the castle slaves are allowed to wear shoes: it makes escaping quite difficult. Though the marble of this section of the castle did feel rather nice on my toes.
And that is a rather lovely tapestry hanging on the wall. It is ideally placed opposite the magnificent portraits. And the lighting choices made in this hallway really highlight the masterful works without overpowering their beauty.
Great, and now I'm using any little thing I can to distract myself from what's about to happen. Not that the pieces aren't beautiful, they are, but staring at them is not going to stop the inevitable. I need to mentally prepare myself for this.
I take in the sight of fourteen perfect women in front of me. While their personalities certainly were not made to match, they are all more attractive than any other woman I'd encountered. I wonder how they felt being presented to the king for the first time. Were they as scared as I am now? I thought to myself.
I would doubtless never learn the answer, but the thought comforted me for a moment. That is, until we arrived at our destination.
Usually the King sends a servant down to the harem and asks for a specific woman by name, but every now and again, he likes to see them all together: set out before him like a buffet. He has the right to choose any woman he wants out of his harem, even more than one at a time if he so wishes.
However, since they are here by their own free will, the women were granted the power to refuse the King's offer for the evening. They rarely ever do, but knowing they hold that trump card forces the King to treat them with respect and lavish them with gifts.
Somehow I don't think his more sadistic side takes too kindly to that.
Unfortunately for me, I do not hold such power. Both Xigbar (head of castle slaves) and Lulu (head attendant) explained that were I to refuse the King, the act would be considered treason and I would likely hang.
Much as I wanted to escape this fate, I refused to do so through death. I had to live on and become the man my mother wanted me to be. I only hoped I wouldn't disappoint her.
I stifled the scream that began building in my throat when I saw the doors to the King's throne room. This room already held traumatic memories for me. My mother's death flashed before my eyes.
I didn't realize I had stopped moving until the guard prodded me from behind, urging me to join the gaggle gathered at the doors.
While I'd never been present for this part, I'd heard enough rumors to have a basic idea of what was to happen. The herald would announce each woman by name, they would get a chance to proceed in looking all sexy and whatnot, then would stand side by side to allow the King to compare them.
I clutched at the drawstring of my trousers: untying and retying the knot in an effort to work off my nerves. I could not say I was looking forward to this. Not at all. I gulped in a breath of air as the doors opened, and the procession began.
…
Rikku joined King Amarant's harem when she was 17 years old. She didn't necessarily join because she wanted to, but rather because it was the least terrible choice she was presented with. Her older sister Yuna was more "wife" material, and so was married off to the most eligible bachelor her parents could find.
Given, Yuna's husband Tidus was quite the looker, but Rikku wasn't one for all the responsibility that came with being the Lady of a house. Actually, the more Rikku thought about it, the more she realized she didn't like responsibility of any kind, or work for that matter.
No, she would much rather laze about all day than be expected to be in charge of a household. How is someone supposed to enjoy life like that anyway?
That attitude really left Rikku with only three options: become a nun (ew, gross, no), live in her sister's estate (kinda weird), or secure her family closer ties to the throne by joining the King's harem.
Unappealing as all the options sounded, at least by joining the King's harem she wouldn't be expected to take a vow of chastity. After all, Rikku didn't want to die a virgin.
Speaking of virgins though…
Rikku snuck a glance back at the scared little mouse at the end of their line. Poor thing hugged himself around the middle as if he might fall apart otherwise. He also looked to be shaking. Rikku almost felt bad for the poor boy. Man, she corrected herself mentally.
Now, Rikku didn't resent his existence the way some of the other girls did. They hated him, and the decisions that brought him into their ranks. But since no one dared lash out at the King for the choices he makes, they all took it out on the boy instead: saddling him with far too much work, tripping him, all sorts of petty jabs they could think of.
She had to give him credit though, never once did he complain about anything the scary little bitches and their cronies put him through. Yun Fang and her right-hand woman Lulu were the worst. Fang thought of herself as "the top dog": probably because the King sent for her most often. She liked knowing she was the King's favorite, and wanted to keep it that way.
For her part, Rikku just liked to watch all the drama unfold. And oh, what juicy drama they were about to get.
In accordance with the formalities of the processional (given that they were still women of noble birth), they lined up in descending age order, and would be given a full minute to enter the throne room in whatever grand, austere, or theatrical manner they desired. Many of the other fine ladies were decked out in all sorts of finery: jangling and glittering like ostentatious birthday presents.
Perhaps to distract from the less than beautiful personalities underneath, Rikku thought to herself. Not that she cared how the others chose to primp and preen, strutting about like peacocks in search of a mate. If anything, their wanton antics always made for a great show.
Rikku decided upon a series of back handsprings as her entrance into the throne room, as it sounded like great fun, before sneaking a glance at the poor shivering mouse three places behind her.
For once, Rikku was glad to no longer bring up the end of the line. At 21, she felt a bit young to be the twelfth in line rather than the fifteenth, but this meant she would have the best possible view of the true entertainment for the evening.
It briefly crossed her mind to say something to the boy: perhaps ask his name after all these years. But what advice could she possibly offer to ease his anxious soul? She knew what would likely happen to him tonight. Honestly, she didn't see any reason for the King to even hold this processional.
They all knew the poor mouse was about to enter manhood in the most traumatizing way possible.
…
I hate waiting.
Part of me wants to just hurry up and get through the night so I can be done with all of this already. I mean, there's no way it can actually be worse than what I've imagined for the last seven years of my life.
I'd spent my entire adolescence dreading this moment, but knowing I could do nothing to stop the inevitable. Though somehow, knowing it would happen did not fully prepare me for the reality I faced. I was far more afraid than I expected: more afraid than I was willing to admit.
I irrationally longed for my mother to appear and rescue me: to carry me away from here to someplace where we could have a proper birthday celebration. Perhaps even my father could be there. And mother could bake me one of the small cakes she used to for each one of my birthdays. Hardly enough for three bites, but still the most delicious thing in my life.
A sharp whistle broke me free of my musings. One of the noble ladies of the harem was beckoning to me. Calling me like a dog, more like, I thought. I harried a glance at the guard, wary of any sudden responses, before stepping to meet the one who called.
Though she seemed to be a bit older than I, we stood about the same height. I remembered seeing her around the primary harem lounge, but she had never really interacted with me. At least I couldn't recall a time she'd bullied me like the others had. I was a bit ashamed, though, that I did not seem to know her name.
"You look frightened," she observed. I did not feel the need to answer as she stated what I knew was obvious to everyone. "You should be." Oh, thank you. How reassuring.
She bent a bit now, placing her forehead upon mine. Not since the death of my mother, and my removal from Cabin 22 had a woman been this close to me. It was simultaneously comforting and frightening.
"But listen to me. Don't you ever let him see you cry. He will never win: never take away your fire unless you let him. Don't let him. You're stronger than that. I know you are." She turned away and trotted into the throne room before I even knew what was happening.
I still didn't know her name or why she cared about me, but her words seemed to strengthen a resolve I was sure I'd lost. She was right, though. I mean, didn't I promise my dear mother in Heaven every day that I would not let this place break me? And what have I been doing? Letting it terrify me and wear me down.
She was right. I am stronger than that. I'm a man now. No matter what happens, I will not let him win.
…
From her place among the gaggle of sneering bitches, Rikku knew she had made the right choice from the very moment the boy entered the throne room. The scared little mouse was left at the door; here in front of her stood a man.
He strode to the feet of the King with a confidence and determination she was sure would serve him well in his future. Fang muttered all manner of insults under her breath as the young man knelt before the King. It was humorous to Rikku that they were jealous of this boy, but the rekindled fire in his soul brought out a spark in his eyes that Rikku could not deny was attractive.
This boy could probably give her a run for her money.
The King's face altered the instant the boy emerged. The apathetic, unamused demeanor he traditionally sported was replaced with a vicious, almost sadistic leer that sent shivers up Rikku's spine. She most certainly did not envy this child.
Folded in front of the throne, the boy could not see how the King and his bride sized him up: they reminded Rikku of hyenas circling a kill in search of the most opportune spot to take their first bites.
King Amarant rose from his throne in a delicate display of his power. Queen Larxene handed him something that flashed under the last vestiges of sunlight still spilling across the stark marble and crimson rugs. No one dared move, nor utter a sound.
When a sharp click followed by a curt cry of pain echoed through the hall, Rikku briefly pondered how prepared the King had been for this very event. The boy, who only moments ago had shown deference to the King by kneeling before him, now found himself handcuffed to a chain the King commanded and splayed on the floor beneath the King's very own boot.
Though there was nothing she could do (and she kept reminding herself that she did not care), as she was ushered out, Rikku could not help but pray the young man would survive the evening. For it was sure to be harrowing. She hoped beyond hope that he would not lose his fire.
...
I know, I know. I suck. I didn't update when I said I would. Quite honestly, I got busy and forgot. I'm working in the costuming department at Disney World, and cleaning Cinderella's dress and helping Mickey pick out a bowtie everyday takes a lot of work.
Also, I'm not super happy with this chapter. I've edited it a few times, but there's something about it that bothers me that I wasn't able to fix. I finally had to decide it didn't matter; I needed to upload it anyway. I hope you all like it better than I do.
As an apology for forgetting to update, you will get another chapter this week (either Friday or Saturday) to get my updating schedule slightly back on track.
As Always,
Ali
