Chapter Twenty-Five

"If you say a word out of turn, you'll regret it," said Kurtis.

Sébastien's wrists weren't shackled when he was brought upstairs by five men, including the new Commander of the men, Kurtis. Their hands on him were disgusting, and he tried to focus on whatever was coming. The monotony of his cell would be better.

In the entrance hall, he heard the voices before he saw inside the Judgment Hall. Courtiers lined the sides as usual except several of the women wore cloaks like they were about to leave.

Servants were carrying out trunks and bags. Sébastien caught a glimpse of carriages in the yard, and a horse whinnied from where he couldn't see. Slaves were being led outside too. Noel came downstairs with the lead of one, and when he spotted the Prince, his eyes grew wide. He quickly looked away as if the sight of the traitor meant nothing. It wasn't like Sébastien had expected help from him anyway. What was a lone man going to do?"

It seemed that the majority of the court was preparing to depart and take their slaves away. If the Regent was getting ready for war, courtiers willing to fight would stay. The rest would go, and with the slaves gone, they could focus on defense or retreating as needed.

Sébastien was brought into the Judgment Hall. He didn't bother to look at the faces of the courtiers since none would help him. He caught the Knights and lackeys Corentin had hired to one side. Uncle sat on the throne at the head with the lynx above him on the tapestry. There were fewer people than normal, and he imagined some had already left for home. The rest wanted to see the Prince humiliated.

They grew quieter at the sight of the Prince in his wrinkled clothes and matted hair, stiff with salt. They'd never seen him without perfectly neat clothes and hair, and a couple of ladies gasped.

"My dear nephew," the Regent said with a tired sigh from the throne once the guards stopped him ten feet away and released his arms. Corentin raised an eyebrow slightly as Sébastien simply stood there.

"You won't give me basic courtesy?"

Sébastien stared back with a stony expression. Fuck, no he wasn't giving Uncle a basic courtesy. They could make him kneel, but he wouldn't do it on his own. He was done playing Uncle's games.

Corentin let a couple of seconds pass as murmurs rose in the room. Kurtis finally gripped Sébastien's shoulder painfully tight and shoved him down to his knees.

"Kneel before the Regent and stay there."

Corentin tapped his fingers on the armrest of the throne as he shook his head. "Everyone here knows the gist of what you've done. It grieved me to list your crimes and admit that my last remaining family member has been plotting my death and all for a crown that you would have received in a little over two years anyway. Where's the nephew I used to know? The one who loved his family and Kingdom?"

"You killed him a long time ago." Sébastien caught the hint of anger in Corentin's eyes as several spoke in low voices.

"You didn't spend that long with your slave. It's a pity that your first taste of cock has led you to this. Do you truly still believe Remus would have aided you in taking Soleil without a knife in the back afterward? After what his family did to ours? The treason was bad enough. I cringe to think of Soleil later under the rule of a savage."

"Unfortunately, he wasn't my first taste of cock."

The anger returned, not that Corentin thought his crushed nephew would dare to truly admit anything. His statements were just words and further evidence of his snotty attitude.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" demanded Uncle.

Sébastien shrugged. "Nah. Do you? Not that I'd forgive you."

If looks could kill.

"What's that going to do?" asked Sébastien. "You've already told everyone what I've supposedly done, and you've been working people to your point of view for years. I'm lazy, angry, and a monster who gives coins to homeless women with babies and little girls in ragged dresses. Nothing I say is going to matter to you because you already made your decision about me years ago."

"I've forgiven you over and over again, and given you chance after chance. It's only now you've forced my hand. Every time I forgave you, I told myself that would be the time you finally changed. Every day I searched for a glimmer of the boy your parents raised and the men your brothers grew into."

"My apologies for being too old," Sébastien said blandly.

"It's almost a blessing that your parents are dead only so they don't have to see their son as a traitor to the nation. They also don't have to see your attitude or hear your ridiculous comments. Then again, if they'd lived, perhaps you wouldn't have turned into this greedy, selfish creature."

"You're partially right. I'd be a different man if Mother was here."

"We'll have the trial in two days." Corentin rested an elbow on the armrest and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I never thought I'd have to go this far. I tried to finish raising you into a man your Father would be proud of. Every night, I've tried to think of where I went wrong and what I should have done differently. I thought that as I grew older, I would at least have you, and perhaps you'd have children."

Sébastien almost wanted to laugh. Like he'd ever have children while a monster lurked in the home. If he did, he'd never be able to leave their side for so much as a second.

"I'd reach old age and spend my days with at least a few family members. That's all I wanted."

What an act. Sébastien didn't bother to look at those on the sides or listen to the occasional whisper or mutter. They didn't sound pleased, not that he cared anymore. Uncle stood from the throne and slowly approached Sébastien who spoke.

"Why don't you list my crimes out loud? Everything. Make sure the people understand exactly what I've done."

"We'll do that at the trial."

So he could go over everything and ensure the accusations were watertight. He'd have an explanation for everything and how it was Sébastien's fault. With part of the court gone and the remainder concerned with approaching matters, there would be fewer people to wonder or question if anything didn't seem quite right.

"I need time-" started Corentin.

"I'm sure." Sébastien didn't bother to ask permission before standing.

"-to brace myself for this. If you were in my position, you'd do the same. I want to show you mercy, but it's difficult after what you've done, and you still stand before me with that insolent look on your face."

Sébastien nearly laughed as Uncle spread his arms.

"Can you show, even for a moment, a glimpse of the boy I used to know?"

"Am I supposed to hug you?"

"I think that's obvious. You used to hug me once."

"Yes, when I was younger and didn't understand how you lusted after me, or why you kept putting your hand on my ass even though I was twelve with as much as shape as a board. Once I grew too old for you to rape, the hugs all stopped. Am I supposed to believe you'll have mercy on me now?"

The room went dead silent, and disbelief flickered in Corentin's eyes.

"Why don't we list the crimes you've committed against me? What else have you done? Have there been other young boys that you liked tying down? Did you leave them with bruised ribs and destroy their gag reflex? Did you beat them for almost throwing up your cum afterward?"

The shock on Corentin's face was the realest emotion Sébastien had seen so far, and glee sparked in his gut since he'd gotten in a good strike. Whispers, and murmurs rippled through the room.

"Get him out of here!" Corentin roared as he came to his senses, and the guards snapped out of their shocked silence. "I will not stand here and listen to last-minute lies thrown in my face. How dare you make up such a foul-"

Sébastien laughed as the men grabbed his arms to yank him backward. "Tell the court how you came into my room the night we heard the news in Arquous and how much wine you forced into-"

A fist flew into his face hard enough to snap his head back and split his lip.

"Ask Maxime why he thinks I changed so much even before Father died! Remus will tell everyone what a piece of fucking shit-"

A second punch to the gut cut off his air and words. He would have dropped to his knees if the guards hadn't been manhandling him along the carpet runner. The room exploded in talk, and he caught Corentin's words.

"With execution coming, I didn't think he'd make up the worst possible lies. Again and again, he shocks me with how far he's willing to stoop."

No, he didn't think his nephew would finally grow brave enough to say the truth. He thought Sébastien would keep it all inside like he'd done for years.

He regained the ability to breathe before he was shoved into his cell. He thought the men would come inside and set to beating the shit out of him.

Instead, Kurtis closed the cell door and locked it. "For a frigid Ice Prince, you've got a nasty mind." He gripped the bars and leered at Sébastien. "Or are you so pent up, you secretly lust after even your Uncle? Huh? Maybe you need a man to work it out of you?"

With that, he turned and left. One of the guards sat at the table by the door to watch him with a slight smirk.

No matter what Sébastien had said or done earlier, he knew the Regent's plan: hand him over for a last bit of punishment. If he blabbed the truth that he'd been gang raped in his cell beforehand, Corentin would frame him as lying and attempting to deflect by spitting out ridiculous accusations.

"Look at how he continues to stoop to horrid lies."

Sébastien could hear it already, and his mind raced for a way out. If he was going to die, maybe there was a way to do it on his terms. He'd wondered why Satan did nothing before.

They'd been on a large island. Rowland and South Sea were connected. To get to Midland or the mainland, whether it was Soleil or another Kingdom, one needed a boat. Perhaps Satan had been all right on one before while traveling since he'd gotten to South Sea.

If he'd destroyed the ship, killing Corentin and everyone else aboard, Sébastien would have drowned in the salt water, and being submerged in it might prevent Satan from being able to return home.

Whatever the reason, perhaps he could come now and keep his promise. Satan could kill him afterward. It would be over, and Sébastien wouldn't be trapped in a cell with men coming in a steady stream to use him.

He needed to get rid of the salt stuck to his hair and body.

***

It wasn't long before Kurtis and his pals returned. Kurtis leaned against the cell door, palmed his crotch, and smiled like Sébastien should be thrilled about the pathetic bulge.

"We'll make you a deal, not that you've got a lot of choice. If you're a good boy and let us have fun with you, we'll show you that you don't need your Uncle. Your last days won't be so boring, and maybe we'll give you an extra blanket or a little more food."

Sébastien, on the edge of his bed, told himself not to panic. This wasn't a time to freeze. He'd spent years pretending, and he could do it a little longer. "I'm not interested in my Uncle. I just hate him and figured I'd see if I can tarnish him a little."

One of the men curled his lip. "It takes a pretty sick mind to accuse someone of that. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm facing execution. What would you do?"

Kurtis adjusted himself. "I'd behave in your position because we can make the rest of your life miserable. Are you going to behave?"

"For extra food and a blanket?"

"That's more than you deserve, and you're not the one in charge of anything now. You also won't go to your grave a frigid virgin." Kurtis smirked.

"Did my Uncle give you permission?"

"We're being nice. It wouldn't be right for a man to go to his grave without having his cherry popped."

Kurtis wasn't going to admit it. Sébastien tilted his head. "I don't need the extra food or blanket."

"Fine. Have it your way. That doesn't mean we don't have needs." Kurtis reached for the keys at his belt as the other five drew in a little closer. Their eyes roved over Sébastien's body in a way that made his skin crawl.

"You could have just asked. Have you looked at yourself lately?"

Kurtis paused and furrowed his brows like he'd been insulted. "Huh?"

"I wish you would have asked a long time ago. I would have approached you, but Father warned his sons against asking the guards to bed. An employer asking his employees to fuck isn't quite right. They might feel obligated to the one who pays their wages, and it can make things awkward. The employee might fear that he'll lose his job." Sébastien sighed. "I didn't say anything, but I think it's clear I prefer your sort."

Kurtis blinked at him, and Sébastien could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

"I like big men. I'm sure you either saw Remus or heard how big he is. Big men usually have big cocks which I like even better. I'm no virgin, so if your fantasy is innocent Princes, sorry to disappoint you."

The men stared at him, and a smile grew on Kurtis's face. "If you've only had one man, you're not very experienced."

"Did you think that just because the guards weren't getting up my ass that I took no one to my bed?" Sébastien forced out a small laugh. "That's ridiculous. I saw no need to brag about who I've been with. Since we're here, and I'm clearly not in control of your job or anything, we might as well have fun."

"So you're already a little slut?"

"A man like you could still teach me a couple of things."

Kurtis hurried to remove the keyring from his belt, thinking the Prince was going to happily spread his legs and allow six men to take turns with his holes. What a sick bastard. He'd always been full of himself in the few times Sébastien had seen him around when he'd been a common Palace guard. The key slid into the lock as Sébastien's heart sped up. The next two minutes might work or horribly fail.

"You're not serious are you?"

Kurtis paused with the key still rammed into the lock. "I think it's clear I'm dead serious. You're not going to play coy and pretend you want it only to back out.

Sébastien drew his feet up on the bed to cross his legs and lean an elbow on his knee. "Have you looked at me lately?"

"Shut up and take off your clothes." The door swung open.

"I haven't been permitted to wash in days ."

That made Kurtis pause.

By a miracle, he managed to keep his voice from shaking. A few strides, and Kurtis could be on him. "I wouldn't stick my cock into an ass that hasn't seen soap or even a wet cloth for days." He took a piece of his tangled hair, put it to his nose, and made a slight face. "I've never gone so long without washing my hair either. You wouldn't think the smell would be so bad considering I've mostly been sitting around. I'm sure the two loads Remus dumped in me the night before I was caught isn't helping. Since I'd like you to come back tomorrow too, more cum in my ass isn't going to make it any better."

"Fine. I'll get you a wet cloth."

"I want buckets of proper water and soap to clean myself with. What do you think a wet cloth is going to do? Is that how you wash yourself every day?"

Kurtis frowned. "This isn't an inn."

"It's also not a whorehouse, but let's not pretend you won't be back tomorrow for a piece of this. I also had the runs on the ship, and what do you think it's going to smell like in here after the first two or three finish in me? You might as well go find a street whore unless you like sticking your cock into filthy asses with yesterday's cum."

One mumbled to Kurtis and shook his head. Sébastien caught the words "nasty" and "that's how disease starts." Another muttered that he'd prefer his cock to still be in good shape a year from then.

"Fine," snapped Kurtis. "After you wash up, I expect you to lay on your cot and do what you're told. We'll let you bathe afterward too as long as you behave and don't make a fuss. I don't want to hear any last-minute bullshit to get out of it."

Sébastien made himself chuckle and tried to not look stiff as he stretched. "You'll find I'm quite obliging in bed with real men."

It took an effort to keep his body relaxed as Kurtis locked the cell door again. Two stayed to watch while Kurtis and three others left to fetch water.

"Get me at least four," Sébastien called. "Don't forget soap." The door slammed as he looked at the other two who appeared annoyed about waiting. "Patience. You'll enjoy it a lot better once I don't smell like a cum midden." He started combing his fingers through his hair as though to loosen the knots while his mind raced. It also served to hide his shaking hands. He'd gotten that far. Just a little longer provided his plan worked.

"I thought you were frigid," rumbled one.

Sébastien graced him with a bored glance. "And who said that? Someone who wanted this and didn't get it?"

The guard paused. "A lot said you were frigid. You always acted like you had a pillar of ice shoved up your rear."

"Or did someone I didn't care to have in my bed start that rumor, and others spread it around because they had nothing better to do? If I acted stiff, it's rather expected of a Prince to act a certain way."

The guard didn't look too convinced, and the other scratched his head.

"Who cares anyway?" asked Sébastien. "You'll see there's no ice up my arse."

He was pretty sure both were going over the past years and whatever they'd heard. Sébastien focused on pretending to fix his hair the best he could while his stomach ached from nerves and not only from the punch he'd taken earlier. The cut on his lip stung, not that the men would care if one wanted to jam himself into the Prince's mouth.

The others finally returned with buckets of soapy water, unlocked the door, and set them down in the corner where a grate in the floor would take care of the runoff.

"You've got ten minutes." They backed up to stand near the open door.

Sébastien flapped a hand. "You can wait outside."

"We're good." Kurtis folded his arms.

Sébastien's stomach flipped as he tilted his head. "Watching a man wash his ass isn't my idea of foreplay."

"You've got ten minutes."

He wasn't budging. He had to suspect Sébastien would keep trying to delay things. They were willing to let him get cleaned up so he didn't smell worse than a dirty beggar, and that was it. Despite trying to keep himself steady, his legs trembled as he slipped off the cot and went to the corner. He could feel every eye on him as he took off his shirt.

One made an appreciative noise and mumbled about his tattooed back. Sébastien tried to not hear them as he removed his trousers. It took every ounce of control not to lean over and puke. If this didn't work, he had no other plan to get out of the situation. They'd force him onto the cot and do whatever they wanted.

Worse, they'd be back to have their fill of the "eager" Prince. Others might be invited.

All he could hope for was that they were fast and that he could somehow try to block it out as much as possible because nobody was going to save him if his idea failed.

The six gazes scorched his skin as he dunked his hair in one bucket to loosen the salt as much as possible. The strands were dry between his fingers that shook. Every movement was a struggle even when he took the bucket and upended it over himself.

Hopefully, it would be over soon. Maybe Uncle would skip the trial. Maybe ships would be seen on the horizon, and the Regent, knowing Remus was coming, would send someone down to cut his throat so his blood could drain down like the water on the floor.

If Remus overran the city, Sébastien's body might be left for him to find.

Or this would work, and it'd be over on his terms in a way. Remus would still find his corpse.

He'd find another to love someday. It didn't have to be over for him.

The cloth wiped away the filth so more could be added later. Soapy water splashed on the floor and trickled down the grating. His panic threatened to break as he poured the last rinse bucket over himself and begged Satan to come. Freezing panic washed over him as his precious few seconds trickled down the grate. It wasn't going to work.

The bucket clunked on the floor.

People who make you angry need to suffer. Don't they? Patience does have its use after all, but I'm tired of waiting.

The light was so bright, it should have hurt his eyes or blinded him. All he felt was anger. Why should he be created and forced to serve? Why did the one before him look down on him for seeking to pick a different way? If temptation was planted in the garden, then He knew the two humans wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time, and he wasn't spending his time aiding those foolish creatures. The first woman had already rebelled and been cast away by the first mortal male.

The first rejection. Lucifer came next, a falling star of unimaginable brightness. The favorite and now rejected.

A hideous red creature with a face from a nightmare held the quivering human against him. Sébastien was too big. Too tall. His voice was all wrong. The ground was sand, but he couldn't feel the grains beneath him. He felt the neck of the man in his grip, and bone grated as the head lolled. His fist dropped the body, and he watched it fall while his anger burned like the sun above.

"Waiting makes the end so much better," purred the creature. Brother. "You always rage and act first. I've been toying with this one for weeks. It's funny he's not so eager now that he knows what I really look like."

New images flew at him and merged into each other, barely allowing him to catch glimpses. The red-faced beast licked up the golden cock of the greediest. A man with white hair that took on a red hue from the fire behind him smiled as held out an item.

"Eat, and stay away from what's of the Earth."

The man appeared not much older than Sébastien. His face was one of innocence and beauty marked with terror as he looked up, and his white wings sagged. Other indistinguishable beings lurked on the edge as they surrounded him. Familiar voices taunted the angel.

"You disappoint us, Azazel. Where is your sword? Don't tell us you came here to help the Goddess."

The fairies, those pathetic creatures who cowered under their Goddess, turned as soon as they decided they didn't want him anymore. Those who had been rejected by their people rejected him in turn. Why wait? It was pleasing to see them gutting each other. The rage boiled and was happy to see a son stab his Father. A child's brains were dashed against the ground. An old woman twisted in the fire.

Rage seeks violence to burn. They were no better than humans, and he knew each of his remaining brothers were doing the same: using them as the toys they were meant to be. Fairies carried the same traits as humans: Greed, envy, lust, wrath, sloth, gluttony, and pride.

The one with white hair and four golden wings shrugged as his beautiful face broke into a smile. "Pride got the better of me."

Prince Angelo, a fairy but almost as beautiful as an angel, stood in a robe tied at the shoulders with his wings spread. The sword in his hands didn't belong to him, and now that the owner was dealt with, he'd take it, smash the gift God had given to him, and destroy everything, including the wolf who growled from behind the fairy.

Angelo lifted the sword, and the gold cuffs gleamed in the light of the moon that had turned blood red. The blatant, defiant action only made his rage worse. The fool thought he could wield the sword of an angel. The Prince looked angelic, but he had no right to touch the sword with its wing guard.

The salt on the wound burned like fire.

I'm not going anywhere, fairy. I said you're mine.

The drab corner of the cell bled back into his vision. The buckets were on the floor. Sébastien's breathing was too loud. Too rough. The floor was wet under his bare feet. The spot above his heart pricked with pain that vanished like everything else. His lip didn't hurt, and his gut no longer ached. Fury grew like a weight in his mind, and as the pressure increased, he was sure if he didn't give it or him an outlet, he'd fly to pieces.

The men behind him had to burn.