Spock shivered under the gaze of the Dafar.
"Do not be afraid. You do not know who I am. But I want you to know that I don't intend to harm you," the Dafar said, not unkindly, but in a tone that left no doubt in Spock's mind that he was entirely under the Zarmalian's control.
"I am Gurokh, the Dafar of the Zarmalian people. You may think of me as the supreme ruler of all of Zarmal," he said. "Do you understand?"
Spock nodded, unsure of the best way of communicating with this strange being.
"You do not seem to have manners, boy. You will learn soon enough. But I want to first inform you of your station in my imperial household. Do you know what is a whipping boy?" Gurokh asked conversationally, ignoring the veil of desolation that had descended into the young of the young Vulcan.
"I do not understand Sir. But I will endeavor to comprehend if you would explain it to me," Spock said, praying that the Dafar would not be offended by his Vulcan tone. Babuk had said he had a smart mouth. He didn't. It was just how he spoke. He desperately wished that this being would understand.
Gurokh laughed; a high, humorless laugh that chilled Spock's bones.
"I wonder what you will sound like, bound to the whipping post," he mused. "Well, young one, you are to be whipped for my son's transgressions. And for him to practice on you. A prince's flesh cannot be marked. A prince must learn to control his compassion. And a prince must be able to cause pain even to innocents when the situation demands it. You will be the subject of his lessons."
Spock did not want to feel fear at the older man's monologue. But he couldn't help but wonder what the next few hours would bring.
"My son will formally begin his training as my successor in two days, when he turns twelve years of age. One of his first lessons will be to become acquainted with you, and then find it in himself to watch you be hurt," Gurokh said nonchalantly. "He is a gentle child. I hate to influence him this way and turn him towards violence, but he is my only son. His gentleness will not allow him to be a successful Dafar."
"Please, I do not want to do this. I wish to return home to my parents. I have not consented to this," Spock pleaded, naively thinking that maybe the Dafar was unaware of how he had been taken against his will.
"I understand your discomfort. It pains me to do this to you," he responded. "But my son's future is more important to me than the grief your parents must be experiencing. Consider this your sacrifice for the good of Zarmal."
An unwilling sob escaped Spock's tightly pressed lips.
He forced his pain and his fear to stay rooted in his own mind, unwilling to let his mother know that there was no hope.
XXXXX
"ETA 3.4 days, Ambassador Sarek," the helmsman of Sarek's personal ship gave his status report.
An inaudible sigh escaped him. Of course, his son had been taken in a much larger and advanced royal vessel. Sarek's personal craft was not meant for such long and arduous journeys. But right now, logic was the last thing on the man's mind. The Zarmalians were a mercenary race, whose reputation for cold cruelty was legendary throughout the galaxy. Sarek refused to think why his son might have been purchased by the Zarmalian royalty.
Amanda was thankfully resting in their quarters. The worrying and the crying had taken a lot out of her. And she knew as well as Sarek that she would need all her strength when they reached Zarmal. As a matter of duty, she had forced herself to go and sleep for a few hours. Which reminded Sarek, that he needed to go and meditate in order to calm his own mind as well.
XXXXX
Spock was kept in a small room for the remainder of the one-day journey. He held his bound hands close to his chest, unable to feel the tips of his fingers, even though liquid agony was still coursing through his wrists and knuckles. He dared not close his fists, because every time he tried, fire shot through his fingers, reminding him of the existence of nerves that were dormant only till they were absolutely still.
As a result of his injury, he was unable to eat the small amount of food that had been pushed into his room later in the day.
He was hungry and thirsty, but his desire to avoid hurting his digits, took precedence over his desire for sustenance.
The gentle hum of the ship's engines lulled him into a troubled sleep. For once he did not dream of anything. And that was a relief. Because his dreams would have only been unkind and falsely hopeful.
XXXXX
The loud creak of a door opening, woke Spock from his sleep. Even though he had slept for close to fourteen hours, he did not feel adequately rested.
A Zarmalian guard came to escort him out of the ship. This guard looked similar to Gurokh, but he was shorter and his clothes were of a plain yellow material, unlike the Dafar's richly embroidered robe.
Spock got to his feet with a little difficulty. But he managed to stand without assistance.
The guard looked at him sympathetically, before motioning him to follow.
Spock obeyed without question, having given up hope. It wasn't that he was a coward. As a child with no practical knowledge of the galaxy, his bravery would lie in enduring his fate with dignity. Kaiidth. What is, is. He would endure like a true Vulcan.
XXXXX
The young prince looked like the very image of his father, albeit younger. The only marked difference was in his eyes. They seemed to radiate warmth. Spock thought that in a strange way, Gurokh was committing a grave injustice upon his son, by forcing him to turn into an unfeeling being simply for a political purpose.
"Welcome to Zarmal, Vulcan," the prince said. "My name is Ishok. What are you called?"
Spock did not let his anger control him, and he made a valiant effort to show respect to the prince. It wasn't the boy's fault that his father wanted him to be someone he was not. But then another thought crossed his mind.
Hadn't Gurokh said that his son would form a friendship with Spock and then see him whipped. Supposedly, it would harden his heart to something akin to that of a future Dafar's.
Spock knew by this time that his suffering was guaranteed. But that did not mean the young prince had to suffer too. He would not let the older boy form an attachment with himself.
"I am Spock, of Vulcan. And you cannot welcome me to a planet where I have been brought against my wishes," Spock said, removing all traces of emotion from his speech.
The boy's eyes instantly widened.
"Don't you want to be my friend?" The prince asked earnestly. "My father said you were an orphan and you needed a family. He said you'd love to be my friend."
Spock wasn't sure what to make of this. His hands were still bound and the prince had not thought anything of it, before assuming that Spock had been brought in to be the prince's companion.
"Maybe they force slave children to provide companionship to free children," Spock thought.
"I have no desire to be your friend, young prince. Please do not force me to make your acquaintance when I do not wish to," he said.
A few minutes later, a servant dressed in a plain white garb came in and unbound Spock's hands.
"Gurokh requires the prince and his new companion to come and take meals with the royal family," he said, bowing to them.
The prince looked at Spock with pity in his eyes.
"It is okay if you do not want to be my friend. At least come and eat. You must be hungry, Spock," the prince said to Spock.
At that moment, Spock's stomach grumbled audibly. Ishok's lips turned up in a smile, as if saying "I knew it".
Spock agreed reluctantly.
"Very well. Please lead the way," he said and followed the prince into the palace.
XXXXX
Spock was made to sit next to Ishok in the dining hall. The Dafar sat at the head of the table. The Dafaya, his wife, sat on a chair beside him.
The table was covered in a vast array of splendid dishes, most of whose origin was unknown to Spock.
He tried to discern the ones that looked plant based. After a few moments, he glanced at two bowls that clearly contained a fruit salad, and some kind of a porridge.
He tried to put food on his plate, but his broken fingers made the task excruciatingly painful. Ishok noticed his awkwardness.
"Let me do that, Spock," he said and ladled portions of both dishes onto the Vulcan's plate.
Spock saw from the corner of his eye that the king was following Ishok's interactions with him very minutely.
"Son, how do you like Spock as a friend?" he asked the prince.
Ishok hesitated for a moment, perhaps wondering if he should enlighten his father of Spock's refusal to be his friend. However, Gurokh smiled at his son encouragingly, and all traces of hesitation vanished from the boy's face.
"We are not friends yet Father. Spock is new here and I believe he needs some time before he can call me a friend, isn't that right Spock?" Ishok asked, uncertainty in his eyes.
"Negative, Prince of Zarmal, I do not wish to be your friend as I have already informed you," Spock said, feeling the Dafar's scorching glare on himself.
Gurokh's demeanor underwent an instant change.
"Finish your meals quickly. This matter needs urgent attention," he said.
Awkwardly, Spock ate some of the fruit and the porridge, unable to maneuver cutlery with his swollen fingers.
Ishok looked like he wanted to help, but under his father's icy gaze, he did not say anything.
A few minutes later, Gurokh stood up and motioned to his guards to bind Spock.
Ishok gasped. "What are you doing father...where are you taking Spock?"
"You are coming along as well," he replied. "Consider this your first lesson in your future Dafari duties."