vanillasoftserve (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vanillasoftserve) wrote2017-03-22 10:54 pm
vanillasoftserve) wrote2017-03-22 10:54 pm
Abolition AU #1
Mikleo’s handler doesn't seem to catch on to the fact this whole thing is a farce to undermine prince Sorey of Rolance. The party from Ladylake proceeds under the assumption they're to show the naive prince the height of Ladylake’s hospitality, in hopes to convince him that slavery could be fun if Rolance would just do it their way. Mikleo would scoff at that notion, but he had to play coy for the audience.
Because Ladylake had rules and layers of ceremony to get through, he was lined up in a private viewing room along with four others almost as exquisitely beautiful as himself (almost), and instructed to kneel. Sorey would come in and take his pick, the others would move on to the next viewing for the next noble. His gold collar and cuffs were purely decorative, and were the only things he wore beside a white robe, thin as a veil.
It was protocol to protocol to bow his head and avert his eyes, but he wanted to see what this prince who was causing so much uproar looked like. He lifted his head slightly and scanned the room, locking eyes with the prince for less than a second, then turning them down to the floor again.
He was handsome at least, he thought. But whether he was kind or had any power of his own remained to be seen. Still, Mikleo decided to bet on him, and turned on his charms. He postured himself in as coy and vulnerable pose as he could muster in a kneel, and let the gown slip down to reveal his neck.
Because Ladylake had rules and layers of ceremony to get through, he was lined up in a private viewing room along with four others almost as exquisitely beautiful as himself (almost), and instructed to kneel. Sorey would come in and take his pick, the others would move on to the next viewing for the next noble. His gold collar and cuffs were purely decorative, and were the only things he wore beside a white robe, thin as a veil.
It was protocol to protocol to bow his head and avert his eyes, but he wanted to see what this prince who was causing so much uproar looked like. He lifted his head slightly and scanned the room, locking eyes with the prince for less than a second, then turning them down to the floor again.
He was handsome at least, he thought. But whether he was kind or had any power of his own remained to be seen. Still, Mikleo decided to bet on him, and turned on his charms. He postured himself in as coy and vulnerable pose as he could muster in a kneel, and let the gown slip down to reveal his neck.
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Even if it was to decide to have his "own" - how can anyone ever own anybody else? That was absolutely proposterous - slave. Sorey already knew the stance he would have when he "chose" his slave. He would try anything in his utmost power to grant the slave as much freedom as he could. He would never ask them to bend as much as a finger for him, and would provide them with the necessities they need to live comfortably, and hopefully with as much freewill he could possibly give them without breaking any rules or coming off as disrespectful towards his offerings.
Sorey sighed to himself as he was escorted to the viewing room, wishing desperately that this farce would just be over with. The slaves presented to him were embellished with the purest golds and his eyes couldn't help but wander to the small strip of cloth covering the slave's intimate parts, he couldn't help but wonder how uncomfortable and cold the slaves must have felt. Moments later, he realized that his staring must have been taken in less than pure ways, and he felt the heat rising up his neck and to the tips of his ears. His eyes quickly darted to the far left, and his emerald eyes met violet.
As soon as Sorey's eyes met his, his gaze darted downwards to drink in the sights of the slave presented to him. White, milky skin that was fairer than the snows of the north, long slender legs -How would it feel to have his own legs tangled with them? Sorey's mind supplemented, but as quickly as the thought came to his conscious, he tried to beat it down as his cheeks betrayed him-, and aquamarine hair that glowed softly in the soft ambiance of the candlelight. The slave was definitely beautiful, and Sorey couldn't help but wonder how this beautiful man ended up in his palace, presenting himself to him so coyly. Sorey's hand reached up to his collar, pulling it downwards to relieve himself of some of the heat he was starting to feel. The slave knelt down before him, and Sorey's eyes widened in surprise.
"You- No, you don't have to do that! Please!" he said as he reached his hand out to take the slave's hand to pull him up.
His advisor, Lailah, giggled as she witnessed the sight in front of her.
"Sorey-san, you've never really encountered dealings with slaves, but I can assure you, you're definitely going about it.. differently!"
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Sorey gave him an order that would have confused the other slaves there, whose wills for the most part had been trained out of them. He had told him not to kneel, but hadn't exactly told him to stand, either.
Mikleo stood and kept his eyes turned down, his head tilted just enough to make himself appear demure, and also to keep playing up his neck. He'd heard that men in Rolance found the bare neck particularly attractive, and it seemed to be true. Prince Sorey had barely examined the others.
He didn't reject Sorey's hand, but it wasn't his place to squeeze back at it. He let Sorey hold him with their hands joined in mid-air.
The handler chuckled. "My prince has a good eye," he said. "This one is named Mikleo. In Ladylake, his unique coloring would fetch a king's ransom. He's also quite intelligent, if your highness prefers a bit of conversation in bed."
Mikleo wished he'd kept that last bit to himself. His tactics mostly depended on others assuming that he was dumb and pliable. But it was his own fault, asking too many questions and revealing his nature far too often during training. For him, the real training had been adjusting to the role he was meant to play without losing himself in it.
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The keeper wasn't wrong about one thing, though. The slave, Mikleo, he had learned, was someone with such rare and exquisite features. He has never seen anybody with such deep, intellegent amethyst eyes, or with hair as fair as his. He read that Elysians in particular, held a seraph-like otherworldliness of beauty to them. He could swear that Mikleo had an ethereal aura to him, and that Sorey's mere mortal self didn't even deserve to feast his eyes upon someone so beautiful.
He couldn't fathom how Mikleo had gotten in this position.
However, he knew one thing. He wanted to help him get back to his family, and to the people he loved. He didn't deserve to be possibly thrown into such a dark and twisted fate. Sorey knew the nightmares of slavery, and he prayed by Maotelus that Mikleo wasn't one of them.
Sorey tilted his head a little bit and smiled lightly at Mikleo, noticing that he was still kneeling in submission to him. His darker, calloused hand was lightly encapsulated with Mikleo's smaller, lithe fingers. With a twist of the wrist, Sorey's hand tightened against Mikleo's and he pulled up lightly, bringing him to stand in front of him. He noted Mikleo was a few inches shorter than he was, and his frame with lithe and supple in comparison to his more masculine, broad build.
"Don't do that, okay?" Sorey chirped, squeezing Mikleo's hand lightly.
"I'm Sorey, but.. I'm sure you know that already."
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Sorey's smile was genuine, or at least enough so to make even Mikleo believe it was. Maybe there was some hope of his leadership capabilities in there after all. He could see Sorey swaying people to his side.
The way he blushed as the handler said "in bed" was as endearing as it was frustrating. Didn't this prince know what they were here for?
"Your highness," Mikleo said. He pretended to be hiding a little smile, like saying the words alone made him happy and eager. In reality, he was annoyed that Sorey expected him to call him by name. That sort of disrespect could get him punished.
He stole another glance and then batted his eyes, looking back down at the floor. He knew that the unique color of his eyes drew attention. Turning them away from his intended master was protocol of course, but it forced Sorey to come to him, to become invested in searching for his eyes, before he'd even looked at the others.
He touched a finger to his lips as if this was requiring a lot of thought. "Forgive me my prince, I won't kneel again if it displeases you."
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Sorey let go of Mikleo's hand.
"If you want to kneel, that's okay. Don't feel like you have to, you're your own person. My title shouldn't mean a thing," Sorey lamented. "But," he added, clearing his throat and directing his attention to the keeper. "I shall humbly accept this gift from Hyland."
Hopefully he would able to free Mikleo from the chains he was bound to, and hopefully, one day, the others as well.
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But, Mikleo could work with this. He just had to appeal to Sorey's naive hero complex, and become the poor slave who wanted to be freed by him.
"I-I'm not sure what to do without any command," he said, holding his arms around himself, pouting his lips a little, trying to look sad. "What I want is only to please you, of course."
Seeing as how Sorey had made his choice, the handler presented Sorey with a gold key that would fit the ornamental shackles and collar Mikleo wore. It was only symbolic of ownership since Mikleo was not chained to anything, and would obey Sorey willingly from here. "A fine choice," the handler said. "We will prepare him and deliver him to your bed."
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Sorey sighed to himself, running his gloved hand through his chocolately locks. He turned about face, not paying any heed to the keeper's words about Mikleo's preparation. The sound of his heeled boots clacked against the tiled floor as he left for the dining hall.
Sorey had no idea what he was getting himself into.