Viktor was lying on his cotton cot, looking up at the dusty wooden ceiling. The room was meager oh and sparsely furnished, containing only the bed he was trying to rest on, and a dresser with pitcher and bowl on it for washing up (although it hadn't held water for quite some time). A flimsy chest was pushed against one wall, intended to contain the possessions of whatever slaves was living in the room. He, however, did not own anything besides the rags that clothed him. The exquisite silk and intricate embroidery was reserved for when he was performing only. He owned nothing of value… 'Well, besides myself,' he thought with a wry smile. Fairy body parts, especially defining ones such as ears and hair and wings, were worth a considerable amount.
Viktor looked up when he heard the door click.
"Oh! Chris," he greeted pleasantly. But his friend was not there to deliver good news, judging from his grim expression. "What is it?" Viktor's voice had turned serious. Chris' brows were furrowed slightly, and his mouth was drawn into a line in concern.
"The master would like to speak to you." The silver-haired fairy blinked.
"Right now?" he questioned. The other fairy dipped his head solemnly as an answer.
Gradually, Viktor stood and folded his wings behind him. He walked over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, noticing that his green-and-gold wings were drooping.
"Hey," he gave a reassuring smile, "I'll be alright."
"I hope so." There was underlying fear in Chris' peridot eyes, and a bitterness in his tone. Viktor pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Don't worry." He hoped that his apprehension wasn't showing. The other man hugged him back fiercely and then they separated.
Viktor didn't know why, but he had the sickening feeling that the would never see each other again.
"Goodbye Christophe." He gave a sad smile and started to move away, waving. "See you soon." Both of them knew that this was a lie.
"Goodbye Vitya." The diminutive form of Viktor's name made their farewell even more difficult. There were tears in two pairs of eyes. He turned and began his journey down the dimly-lit and low-ceilinged hallway, not looking back. He came to the end of the corridor and began ascending the creaky stairs, trying to soothe his nerves. He reminded himself that he had to put on a happy face no matter what.
Emerging from the basement was like stepping into another world. There was high quality navy-blue carpeting under his feet, and lavish paper covered the walls. His master wasn't extremely rich, but he was well off. Apparently, he didn't have enough money to be able to feed his slaves adequately, however, although he was eating such luxuries as stuffed pheasants and chocolate cake every day. Viktor felt disgusting standing in such a lovely environment while he was covered in dirt from the top of his head to the soles of his bare feet. His silver hair was knotted and brushed against his calves, and his wings were weak and cramped from underuse.
Viktor took a right, treading softly. He was on the homestretch to his master's office. Paintings of people long passed watched him condescendingly from either side. His heart began pounding heavily as he rapped on the oakwood door, although he was determined to stay calm and collected.
"Enter," came a gravelly voice. The fairy swallowed delicately and turned the door handle. Inside the room was his master, sitting behind a polished desk with his hands folded on top of it. The sun behind his illuminated his imposing figure.
Viktor heard the door shut behind him, as if his fate had been sealed. The guard who had closed it stopped directly behind him, and goosebumps popped up on his arms.
"Do you know why I've brought you here today?" his master asked, light blue eyes cold and calculating.
"I surely do not," Viktor replied with a false smile. He wasn't permitted to take a seat.
"Madame Ashwood has informed me that your performance at her event was unsatisfactory." Dread clenched in the fairy's stomach. That had been the party that he had seen the handsome man at. He placed a finger on his chin and tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence.
"I do not recall."
Viktor's master smirked, turning his blood to ice.
"Perhaps this will refresh your memory. She told me that she saw you staring lustfully at one of her guests. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, all you slutty fairies are the same." A small gasp escaped Viktor. "Oh! Is it all coming back to you now? How you were so distracted that you made mistakes in your playing?"
"I may remember that," the fairy told him weakly.
"Do you know the punishment for slaves who don't know their place and can't complete some tasks without error?"
"I assure you, it will not happen again," Viktor asserted cheerfully, narrowing his eyes and yet keeping a smile on his face.
"No," his master hissed. "It will not." He gestured to the guard. "Grab him and hold him down." The pleasant facade dropped and the fairy spread his wings, preparing to jump out of the window to escape. He started to sprint, but the brute behind him grabbed one of his wings and it wrenched painfully. Viktor gritted his teeth and grunted in surprise.
"And to think," his master grinned cruelly, "that I was going to have some mercy on you." The henchman held the fairy's fragile body in place with one arm, and with the other pulled out a knife that glittered in the sunlight streaming from the window. The burly man restraining Viktor smelled like tobacco and iron, and he wanted to vomit. The meaty paws were sweaty and burning hot against his skin. "Beg," his master demanded menacingly.
But Viktor Nikiforov refused to beg for anyone.