Paris was still stewing the next morning. He always was more than a little on the spoiled side and the mere fact that he was busy cleaning the dining room that morning did nothing to stop him from being as moody as he normally would have been. This did not bode well for the former prince. Rude slaves are not often welcomed. In that morning alone, Paris had garnered yet another four whippings. Ayrnessa looked on with mild amusement and finally spoke to him after the fourth whipping.
"These people can have access to many other slaves, Paris. Throwing a temper tantrum will simply cause them to dispose of you and move on. Your life is meaningless to them." She told him. He gave her a disgruntled look. "Oh, stop behaving like an insolent little child and cooperate!"
"They won't dispose of me however badly I behave," Paris spat out vehemently. "They will take great pleasure in torturing me, stripping me of what dignity I have left, but they would never kill me. Much as I would want it. No, they know death is the escape I have been praying for. Death would be merciful. These people are cruel. They will force me to live through this pathetic existence for as long as they can. It is amusing for them to see my suffering."
"How arrogant you are," Ayrnessa answered severely, "Though I know not of your former status, they have multitudes of formerly royal slaves. They can replace you, be you a king or not."
"Arrogance? You do not understand." Paris glared shortly. "I am irreplaceable. There is none other on this earth like me."
"Arrogance is too weak a word to describe you," the girl snorted. "Well, then, if you are so confident that you will live, I'm sure those whippings are not exactly soothing. Even if they don't kill you they can still make your life miserable if you give them an excuse to. They have ways of inflicting pain worse than death itself. It is best to just do what you are told, do not make trouble and perhaps they will forget about you for a time. You are safest when they are not aware of your existence."
"I am not arrogant!" Paris hissed. "And how little dignity must you have, girl? You are saying to just be quiet and be good, what sort of life is that? To go down without fighting? To give up and surrender to these beasts? My life is already miserable! I wish for death each day. I will not do their bidding willingly."
"You have a strong spirit." Ayrnessa observed. It was not said to be a compliment. She looked grave as she spoke. "That is unfortunate for you." Her voice softened as she continued, "They love strong spirits. Spirits can be broken. They adore in the breaking, they adore in the slow removal of spark and fight. They adore to see the spirit lost. I pity those who come with strong spirits."
"You are weak. You settle into this horrible life without complaint, without struggle. Do you have no self-respect, girl?" Paris shook his head.
"Do not call me 'girl' like the holders of the whips do. I have a name. Use it. I am not beneath you so kindly desist in looking at me as if I am some sort of vermin. And, dear boy, I settle into this life without struggle because I have seen what happens to those who do not! Do not stand there and mock me, do not stand there and criticize me as if I am some infant. I choose life. I choose to have as little suffering as is possible. I use my head, Paris. If you perceive this as weakness than so be it. I'll be weak as you get whipped. Yes, you must be so strong, so dignified, to throw yourself and beg for whippings. I was trying to help you. I did not want to see another one suffer so. But clearly my help is not wanted. Clearly you do not wish to live in as much peace as can be garnered. I have been a slave my entire life. And I know that I will live much longer than any of you fools who cling to your former glory. I have more dignity than you will ever have." Ayrnessa responded coldly. Paris's eyes blazed and upon hearing those words he struck out at the girl, slapping her across the cheek with enough force to propel her backwards and to the floor. She stifled a gasp of pain but her eyes hardened. Her cheek bright red, she could feel that he had ripped through skin and a thin layer of blood now coated her face.
One of the nearby royals strolling past the dining room paused and saw the occurrence. In the next moment, Paris was kneeling on the floor, getting a fifth whipping across the back.
"Fights between slaves are troublesome. Do play nicely and do not start trouble!" the woman of royal lineage reprimanded. She turned to Ayrnessa. "Child, are you well?" Ayrnessa nodded. The woman inspected her cheek and gave a curt nod and said, "Ayrnessa, you are a valued slave. Do not attempt to befriend such difficult vermin. If he gives you trouble once more, find me and I'll be sure to teach him the error of his ways." She smiled tightly at Ayrnessa, gave Paris another look of disgust, and continued on her way.
"Ah, Paris. Perhaps I did not mention this. In my twelve years of serving this particular palace, my cooperativeness and silent obedience has lead me to be somewhat of a pet in the eyes of a few of the royals. I do hope you will be able to dress those fresh wounds yourself." Ayrnessa spoke before turning her back on him and taking in a few dishes to the kitchen.
Paris winced from his position on the ground and managed to give another dirty look at Ayrnessa. Five whippings in one morning was not pleasant and with his only acquaintance upset with him, his wounds would not be cleaned. He had not meant to lose his temper but the girl had a way of provoking him. Stupid girl.