A/N: Ok here's the next chapter. I'm trying to keep updates relatively regular. I apologize in advance for those who don't like that Hans is hurting. He gets a very brief reprieve, but not much. I promise, salvation is coming. Ok, well enjoy the whump!

Warnings: Emotional trauma, physical abuse, blood

Rating: T+

Hans didn't understand what was happening. He couldn't recall when he had finally passed out, but upon waking he found himself naked and being cleaned with a rough sponge by his brother. The sponge tore at his sensitive skin. He did his best to stay completely still. Whenever he didn't understand something, he found it best to do nothing at all.

Declyn noticed he was awake by how his whole body had stiffened with anxiety. He glanced at his brother's face with cold dark eyes. "So you're up," he grunted.

Hans didn't respond. He just stared back at his brother for a moment before quickly lowering his eyes respectfully.

Declyn ran the sponge nonchalantly up his thighs, making Hans shrink away. If the elder noticed his actions, he mentioned nothing of it. Instead of mocking him or berating him, Declyn began to speak to him calmly. It was unnerving, after all Declyn had done, for Hans to hear his brother speaking to him as if they were simply sharing a meal together as they had a children.

"Queen Delana has requested your presence. You need to be clean," Declyn explained briefly. "It seems that she's worried about your treatment."

Hans raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought anyone would care what happened to him. He certainly would have expected everyone to abandon him. Suddenly, Declyn drew the coarse sponge harshly against the soft flesh of Hans' inner thigh causing him to yelp.

Declyn's expression was thunderous. "If you tell her any of what we've been doing here, I will make your life so miserable you will wish you had never been born. And the bitch will be found with your sword in her breast. Do you think Asher will allow you your freedom ever again after that?"

Hans paled and swallowed despite the dryness creeping into his throat. Declyn glowered at him. "So are you going to be good?" It was a patronizing question, but Hans responded quickly with a frantic nod. Declyn frowned, pursing his lips. "You'll have to learn to speak when someone asks you something. Delana won't be expecting a mute."

Hans hurried to appease his brother. "Yes," he managed to rasp.

Declyn smiled wolfishly, reaching up to ruffle Hans' auburn hair in a parody of brotherly affection. "That's better." Hans shrunk from the touch.

Declyn drew back, throwing the sponge back into the bucket of filthy water. They had a long way to go before Hans would be able to pass as sane again. He didn't have to be perfect, just enough to fool the naive eye of the queen.

~~~Scene~~~

Hans fiddled with the ivory buttons on his black jacket. It had been so long since he had been able to wear his own clothes, or any decent clothing at all. Declyn had allowed him to choose something from his own closet back in his own room for the audience with the Queen. All of Declyn's clothes had made Hans look like a sunken skeleton. At least in his own clothes he looked less pitiful.

"Stop that," Declyn snapped, glaring at Hans' shaking fingers playing with his buttons. "Honesty! One would think you've never had a jacket before."

Hans dropped his hands quickly, glancing back at the large oaken door before them leading to the Queen's private chambers. Declyn had sent a serving girl to announce their presence to the queen, leaving them to stand uncomfortably in the corridor.

At last, the serving girl returned. Her dark eyes flicked over to Hans uncertainly, even as she adressed Declyn. "The Queen says she will see you now. Please follow me."

Declyn grabbed Hans' arm as the serving girl turned to lead them into the chambers. "Remember our agreement," Declyn hissed malignantly.

Hans couldn't bring himself to look up at his brother, only nodding in a subdued fashion. He had no wish to be punished more than he was already was, not to mention he did not want the Queen to die for his mistakes.

Smiling, Declyn released Hans and followed the serving girl. Hans trailed behind, trying to remember every so often to raise his eyes from the floor. Declyn said too much humility would give them away. But wasn't that what they wanted with this punishment; for him to learn humility?

Queen Delana sat peacefully at a table by a large picture window. She was the very image of royal grace, dressed in deep blue satin that complemented her pale skin. She saw the two brothers and greeted them with a tight lipped smile. "Prince Declyn, Prince Hans, won't you have a seat?" She gestured to the empty chairs on the other side of the table.

Declyn and Hans both bowed respectfully, but it was Declyn who did the speaking. "We would be honored. Isn't that right, Hans?"

Hans glanced at his brother's sickly sweet expression and felt a shock of panic fly up his spine. He was expected to speak. What was he supposed to say? He forced himself to breathe. Declyn had practiced this with him. Just respond to whatever had been said to him.

Hans swallowed but managed to say, "Yes." He glanced up at Queen Delana, but couldn't hold her searching gaze.

The two princes took their seats across from the Queen. No conversation was uttered. Unseen to Hans, whose eyes were searching the room rather than the people, was a silent battle in the eyes of the Queen and his brother.

At length, Queen Delana removed herself from unbecoming silence. "Balye," she called the serving girl. "Bring my guests some tea then leave us."

Balye bowed, "Yes, my lady."

The opressive silence fell once again over the room as the girl worked. She set gold stencilled china before each of the men and filled their cups with a sweet smelling tea. Having completed her duties, she disappeared from the sitting room to another part of the Queen's chambers.

Once the serving girl had gone, the Queen's attention turned to Hans. "How are you?"

Hans' head snapped upward. He had been regarding the tea hesitantly. It smelled sweeter than anything he had had in a very long time. Although the cup was in front of him, he wasn't sure if he was permitted to drink it. At the Queen's question he glanced at his brother, who was ignoring him in favor of scowling deeply at the Queen.

"I- I'm fine." He covered his stutter under the pretense of clearing his throat. "I apologize, your majesty. I've been quite sick for the past week." That was what Declyn had told him to say. It would explain some of his nervous ticks as well as why very few people had seen him recently.

The Queen smiled amiably. "No need to stand on formality here. Delana will suit me just as well as a grand title."

Hans nodded mutely, before remembering his oral manners. "Thank you." He inclined his head politely.

Declyn rolled his eyes, snorting at the delicate show being put on before him. Delana turned a narrow gaze upon him. "And how are you, Prince Declyn?" she said coldly, still adressing him by his title.

The dark man grinned with a toothy smile. He thrust himself up from the table. "Very well, my lady. My legs though itch for the saddle." He circled around her. "I despise inactivity."

Queen Delana for her part was unconcerned by the man to her back. Whether that was because she knew he would not hurt her here or because of the dagger strapped to the underside of the table was uncertain. "Indeed. I have very seldom seen you inactive."

She turned her attention back to Hans. "How has your... sentence been thus far?"she leaned forward on steepled fingers. Her eyes shone with genuine concern.

Hans stiffened despite the Queen's inviting tone. Behind her, Declyn held such a murderous expression he knew that all the threats he had uttered were not just empty words. He would do all he had promised, and do it joyfully. Hans' hands began to shake, but he carefully hid them under the table.

"My brother had been kind, although we all know he has a firm hand," he replied casually.

"I see." Delana pursed her lips. There was no doubt that she was having trouble believing him. However, there was nothing she could do with no proof or complaints, Queen or not.

Hans glanced up at his brother to see if he had said the right thing. Declyn's smile was sickly sweet, in a word: wrong. He looked so proud of Hans, in the way one would be proud of a mongrel who had learned to roll over. Hans couldn't control the shrinking feeling in his chest.

"Do you not like your tea?" Delana inquired, gazing warmly at Hans as if this were really just afternoon tea not something so much more sinister.

He forced his eyes away from Declyn and back to the Queen. "No-I mean... I haven't tried any yet. I was... enjoying the company." It was surprising how quickly the ability to lie could return to a person.

Hans took the tea cup, politely sipping. It would not do for the only one who actually thought of him anymore to think of him as rude.

Declyn chuckled, leaning against the wall beside the large window. "I'm afraid he has lost some of his manners in my service. I should really reteach him.."

Hans stared up at his brother. Delana was saying something about Declyn's rude remarks, but it faded to a humble buzz in the background. Declyn was glaring right at him with those deep black eyes. This was going to be his life, Hans realized. Declyn would control his every move, and when he got out of line he would be "retaught".

Hans was so transfixed by his brother's gaze, he didn't realize how badly his hands were shaking. His hands suddenly felt numb along with the rest of his body. The tea cup fell and shattered, spilling its contents all over the ornate rug on the floor.

Hans jumped. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't-" His chest began to constrict painfully. He could hardly pull in breath.

"It's alright," the Queen said with her winning smile.

Hans looked to Declyn. It was not alright. He had failed to keep all scrutiny away from himself and Declyn. Maybe he could beg for the Queen's life if she didn't come snooping. Hans was practically vibrating.

Declyn quickly moved to salvage the situation. He grasped Hans' arm in a painfully tight grip, but the younger brother didn't cry out, only squeezing his eyes shut as Declyn turned them toward the door. "If you'll excuse us, my lady. Hans really shouldn't be out of bed. He is rather ill. That is why I didn't want to bring him to you."

Declyn's nails stabbed through Hans' jacket. He understood his brother's meaning and let out a weak cough. No more words were exchanged as Declyn ushered them quickly out of the Queen's chambers. Once they were in the corridor leading back to Declyn's rooms, he leaned over to Hans and hissed, "You will pay for that sabotage."

Hans trembled, but nodded. What else could he do?

~~~Scene~~~

Hans screamed. Or rather he tried to. He hadn't been able to scream for more than an hour. He had screamed himself hoarse, then screamed himself bloody. No one could hear him. Declyn had ordered all the servants away from his chambers for the night. Now, when Hans tried to scream only a wet breathing followed by coughing came out. Flecks of blood covered his pale lips.

Declyn stood above him. He had gotten a new whip, a whip with five tails and twisted metal barbs at the end of each tail. With every blow flesh was torn away from his body, if there was any flesh left. Hans was almost certain what was left of his back was laying, scattered, over the floor.

The whip came down on his back. He jerked weakly, not moving anywhere, and tried to scream again, to no avail. "You worthless piece of shit!" Declyn had been screaming and yelling at him the whole time. Sometimes he couldn't make out the words. When he could make out the words it was worse.

"You pathetic excuse for a prince!" Each word was punctuated with a blow. "Mother should've stopped whoring after Lance. Twelve was more than enough! And for something as worthless as you to be a part of our family is a disgrace!"

Hans sobbed noiselessly. He could only nod. He was only vaguely aware of what he was agreeing to. His subconscious soaked in every word, and weak as he was, accepted it as truth. Tears ran down his face steadily. Salt mixed with the metallic scent of blood.

Hans was so wrapped in his private world of misery, he didn't notice Declyn had stopped whipping him minutes ago. Declyn settled himself on the floor next to his brother, careful not to stain his pants with blood.

He gripped Hans' hair and dragged him up to face him. "Don't worry. I'll teach you not to be so useless, but it will hurt. You don't want to be useless, do you?"

Hans shook his head, sniffling. No! No never again. He didn't want to be forgotten anymore.

"And you don't mind a little pain not to be useless, right?"

Hans shook his head again. Anything. He would do anything. His chest jumped arhythmically, as his breath hitched with another sob.

Declyn dropped him. Hans couldn't catch himself, face smacking against the floor. "Good. You can start by cleaning this up."

Hans nodded. He didn't know how he was going to clean up all this blood. He was barely conscious after all. But he didn't want to be pathetic anymore, so he would try.

Hans struggled to his hands and knees, shaking as though his body intended to give out on him. He dully looked around the chamber for something with which to clean the blood.

"Your shirt," Declyn offered, advising amiably.

Hans glanced up at him. His lips quivered. His shirt was already torn, but it was from his own closet. It was something from his old life. He didn't want to lose it. He mutely gripped his shirt and shook his head.

"Now!" Declyn snapped. He leaned down to tear the shirt from Hans' back and throw it back in his face.

Hans scrambled to catch the shirt. He put his head down and began to scrub. His hands trembled as he attempted to soak up all the blood into the tattered fabric. Eventually, the shirt was saturated. It couldn't accept anymore blood. All he was doing now was pushing the blood around on the stone floor. He began to cry again. His brother would be so angry. He couldn't even manage to clean a floor correctly. Pathetic.