Chapter 22 - Punishment

The moment he had activated the torc, Aven Kheistan lost all sensation. Lost all sensation, save for flashes in the dark. Memory of a darker realm lying in wait after the last breath is drawn. Grey rock stretching on for miles. Creatures reaching out in the dark, conniving and malicious.

All at once - the realm of grey tumbled away into darkness, and in darkness he lay. It took him a long while to wake, as though being slowly roused from a deep, deep sleep. After an eternity of bottomless cold, his first sensation… was warmth.

Not the stifling hot brand of warmth, such as when he was forced to wait out his days in a cage with little protection from the burning sun. It was a soothing kind of warm, as though he were lying on a beach with a cool breeze and the sun hanging over him.

Aven’s fingers twitched and he drew a long, steady breath. His eyes peeled open. For a moment, the world swam. Blotches of black clouded his vision and, slowly, he blinked them away.

Surely he must be in an afterlife… for what he saw couldn’t possibly be real.

He lay on a bed with white, silken sheets in a room adorned in jewels and gold. A platter lay beside him, bearing exquisite fruits and spiced meats, with a goblet of water waiting beside him. A cool breeze blew in through an open balcony and beyond - Aven could see a city. Teal water stretched out over the horizon in one direction and endless sands in the other. Golden spires twisted upwards into the sky attached to strange palaces and palm trees swayed in the wind. Aven could hear the roar of chatter resonating from a distant market.

He’d been utterly stripped of his armor, instead he wore night clothes of the finest quality…. and he was alone.

Aven could muster no strength. He simply drew back to stare up at the ceiling, his fingers twitching numbly at his side. Not real. This can’t be real.

He didn’t respond to the sound of approaching steps until the door was pushed open and he could see the gleam of blonde hair. He sat up - too quickly. His chest ached and his body flared up in pain. Then the figure pushed entirely into the room, and the burst of excitement fizzled out.

“Aven!” Camlen gasped, staggering forward to go on his knees beside Aven’s bed. The dirt and grime had been washed from his features, leaving him nearly unrecognizable as he wore expensive robes. His eyes were lit with uncertainty and he reached out, warm hands clasping Aven’s. “You’re okay. Are you okay? You look okay. I mean, you were dead only a short while ago, which I’m sure is quite disorienting, but-” Camlen stopped himself and sucked in a breath. “Are you all right?”

“Not real…” Aven’s voice was dry, and his throat burned over the words.

Camlen’s eyes softened. “Here… maybe… this will help."

Camlen backed up towards the door, opened it up - and almost instantly, a large, shaggy figure bounded into the room, a great maned head pushing against Aven’s fingers. Kion. Aven’s breath tore from his lungs as he pulled his face close to Kion’s mane, fingers twisting into shaggy red hair. "I can’t be here,” he whispered. Camlen extended a goblet of water. “Do you remember anything, Aven?"

Aven’s features soured. He ignored the goblet. "I can’t be alive. I remember that."

"Don’t sound so disappointed. Lucian went through a lot of trouble."

Lucian. It hit him all at once. Aven shot up from bed in an instant, nearly collapsing on the spot. "Lucian.” Aven’s fingers coiled around Camlen’s shoulder. “Is…. is he alive?”

“Careful… not so fast. He’s alive, don’t worry."

"Camlen. Where is he? I have to see him."

Camlen’s face turned a certain shade of white. He hesitated and chewed on the edge of his lip. "You might not want to see him right now."

"What the fuck happened. Don’t lie."

"I’m not lying!” Camlen huffed. “After you died…. he had us sail to the nearest port. We had to escape Amn and the Cowled Mages, so Morra brought us down south to Calimport. The Mindulgulph dropped us off here, and we used the money taken from the tower to rent an estate where we’ve been tending to the mages. Lucian sold some things… a ring, his weapon… he took you to a mage and suddenly… you were alive. Then he purchased a ship."

"Where is he?” Aven repeated. His hand didn’t fall from Camlen’s shoulder, and was joined by the other. They trembled. “Please take me to him."

"Aven. I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea."

"I don’t care. Kion, other side, boy.” Kion leapt off the bed, coming to Aven’s other side. One hand twisted into his fur while the other roped itself around Camlen’s neck.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” Camlen murmured, but relented. He swung an arm around Aven’s waist, lifted him up and with Kion pressed at his other side, made their way down the hall.

As Aven stumbled out into the hall - mages and Mindulgulph alike stopped what they were doing immediately and lifted their hands up in a salute. Saluting… him? Aven hadn’t the faintest idea how to respond. He averted his gaze and simply focused on putting one foot before the other. The halls were adorned in fineries and several local attendants mulled about.

As they came to a door, Camlen looked to Aven warily. “Last chance,” he said under his breath.

“Open it.” Aven’s face had paled during the walk.

“It’s your funeral.” He pushed open the window.

The room gave way to a massive balcony that offered the most resplendent view of Calimport’s noble district. Trees rose up from the ground below so close that one could simply jump onto them from the balcony. A great table was lain out in the middle of the room, covered in maps and troop placements. It was abandoned, save for Lucian who sat with a scroll in front of his nose and the two mindulgulph who flanked him, guarding him. Relief flooded their eyes as their gazes met Aven’s, but they stayed quiet.

“Can I be given a moment?” Aven asked.

The Mindulgulph wordlessly stepped around him and Camlen offered Aven one more fleeting look of pity before he closed the door. Aven was left alone with Lucian and Kion.

Silence swallowed the room. Lucian didn’t lift his gaze as he continued to read - but the tenseness that had erected his spine gave away his attentiveness. Aven’s boots drew him forward. “I assume you hate me right now,” he murmured. He reached out, touched Lucian’s shoulder.

“Get your hands off me.” Lucian’s words were ice. He slowly spun one of the map’s figures idly.

“I’m sorry."

The figurine clattered. "Sorry.” The word tore from Lucian’s throat. Suddenly he was standing and whirling on Aven, eyes blazing and voice coiled in cold fury. “Don’t you dare come to me and tell me you’re sorry.” He was barely an inch away. Aven could see the marks of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the gauntness of his once lively features. “You promised."

Kion tucked his tail and moved across the room. Aven’s eyes slid closed and he exhaled. "I did,” he said. “I lied to your face when you trusted me the most. I chose my love for you over myself, and the feelings you may have for me."

"And what of what I wanted?” Lucian’s gaze searched him. There was little emotion, save for the subdued wrath that contorted his eyes into sheets of ice. “Or is that inconsequential.”

“You would really value my life over yours? I’ve been a slave my whole life… the hole I leave in this world is hardly noticeable. But you? You’re… you’re something to this world. What you want isn’t incon…in…” Aven stumbled over the word a moment and skipped over it entirely. “Your wants still matter. They always will. But I couldn’t let your great life be lost over my meager one."

"There could have been another way.” Lucian’s laughter was humorless. He turned his back on Aven, palms pressing into the table. His entire body was stiff. “But I’m not surprised. You’re a simple man. You act without thinking.”

Aven’s throat tightened. “I did think!” He rasped. He staggered forward to take Lucian’s hand, before thinking better of it. “I didn’t let myself die on a whim. In that moment, I thought over every option, every scenario. I held you dead in my arms, and calculated every loss and gain for what I was about to do.” He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. “You can hate me if that’s what you really want, but know I sat there wailing to the heavens with you in my lap for what seemed like hours trying to tell myself I’d be okay with you hating me if it meant you being alive.”

Lucian was quiet. His shoulders heaved. Aven could practically hear the thoughts being turned over in his head as he considered. “I don’t hate you.” His words were slow. Decisive. “But you will be hating me soon enough."

"What are you talking about?”

Something flickered in Lucian’s eyes, until he snapped his fingers, and they went cold. “Seize him."

The doors burst open. It was not the Mindulgulph who entered - but Calishite mercenaries. Strong hands grabbed Aven’s arms and wrenched them behind his back. The floor spun with de ja vu. "No,” Aven snarled. His chest seized. “Don’t fucking touch me. You don’t get to bring me back from the dead and throw me away because you’re pissed!"

"Don’t worry.” Lucian ignored Aven. He spoke to the mercenaries. “He’ll be too exhausted to fight back."

"I may be weak,” Aven bit out. “But my lion is not." Kion was snarling horribly at the Calishites and yet when faced with Lucian, hesitated.

As Lucian moved to sweep past Aven, their eyes locked. "I’ve always wanted a throw rug,” he said simply. They were close. The last time they were this close, Aven had held him lifeless in his arms. Now, Lucian gazed at him as though he were an enemy. “Will you make this difficult or easy, Aven. It will end the same regardless."

Some foreign emotion flickered in Aven’s eyes. Not anger. Not sadness. "Don’t you dare pull that,” he hissed. “Don’t whine and throw your tantrums and kick me about like nothing after giving everything to get me here. At this point, you should have left me dead. I will not be forced away!"

"You don’t get a choice, I’m afraid. This is my will."

Aven’s entire body flared with pain as his arms were twisted further behind his back. He thrashed, he twisted, his muscles strained to shake his oppressors - but Lucian was right. After weeks of his muscles unused, he was exhausted. He couldn’t fight.

His strength failed him and his legs crumbled beneath him, knees touching the ground. ”Tell me why!“ Aven snarled. "Tell me why you even fucking bothered!"

Lucian watched it all with cold neutrality. Cold iron clamped behind his back across his wrists. "Because I never should have to begin with. Take him into the courtyard - onto the post.”

Kion was kept at bay with pointed spears. The creature roared and strained to get to his master, claws clashing with the spears. Aven’s entire world spun. He was forced to his feet, shoved forward and laughter rumbled in his chest. "I still love you, Lucian,” he whispered. “You know that?” His attention flickered to Kion. “Kion! Stand down. Leave my lion be."

"I don’t intend to kill Kion.” Lucian walked in front of Aven and his escorts, hands locked firm behind his back. “As long as you come quietly, nothing will become of him."

"Jorak died beside you.” Aven’s voice was breathless, no fight left in his bones as he followed. “He’s the one who gave me the courage to pursue you. He told me you were worth anything I could be hit with, and he was right."

"And look where his wise advice has led you. His death, and you left with nothing."

In the halls, all conversation died as Aven was dragged through the complex. Mages and Mindulgulph alike stared in shock, in horror. "Aven!” Roxsha tried to surge forward towards her friend, only to be held back by two Calishites. “You bloody, blonde prick! What do you think you’re doing?!” Lucian ignored her. He swept past and Aven could hear the struggle as she thrashed about trying to reach Aven, who had all but resigned to his fate and forced the Calishites to practically drag him.

Numb, Aven’s eyes finally lifted as he was pushed outside, the hot sun bearing down on them. The courtyard was out of the public eye, behind the complex’s guest rooms. The stand ahead was stained a dark red - and in the midst of the courtyard, a cross like post stuck up from the sand, shackles attached. Aven was shoved to the post. “Strip the silks,” Lucian commanded.

Hands tore down the lovely crimson clothes Aven had been wearing. They were shredded down his back, again and again until he was left in nothing but silken rags. His wrists were bound to the post, locked into place. Aven could see movement out of the corner of his eye.

Lucian moved around the post until he was directly in front of Aven, able to look him in the eye. His gaze searched him. “Back at home,” he said, voice controlled. “I could have chosen any punishment I desired in regards to your disobedience."

"Still could,” Aven remarked. “Just don’t forget what you’ve learned in the process. People like us don’t take kindly to tyrants who rule out of fear."

"Good.” Lucian waved his hand and Aven felt his heart drop into his stomach. A man approached from the slave stockades - whip in hand. “Today, we both will have learned lessons we will never forget."

White hot fear surged through Aven’s veins. Memories of lashes on skin, nights where the only sounds were that of his weeping, his screams, blood dripping down his back. Aven instinctively jerked against the shackles and desperately he turned to Lucian, searching him for any jest, any sign of a joke, a bluff….

When the first whip came down on his back.

It tore through his skin like a blade, striking all the way down his spine and Aven lurched forward in a gasp, eyes wide.

Aven flinched as the second came striking down his side and his heart leapt into his chest. "Do it yourself,” he grit out.

“I don’t think so. I’m satisfied with my view from here.” His gaze slid over. “I didn’t tell you to stop."

The whip came down a third time. A fourth. Every lash was sure to strike at new skin, cutting across his already scarred flesh.

Involuntary tears burned in Aven’s eyes. His teeth ground together and his back scorched from the split skin. At some point, he slipped, his bound wrists the only thing that held him aloft as foamed saliva spat from his mouth. “I know what you’re doing.” The words took everything he had. “I can’t hate you…I’ll forgive you.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t."

Another lash. Another. Another. Tears burned. His muscles gave out. Aven could only hang as again and again the skin was ripped from his body by barbed lashes tearing across his back. Through the white hot pain, he could hear a voice.

“Lucian! Lucian, stop!”

Aven’s gaze lifted. Through the spots in his vision, he could see a girl charging out onto the courtyard and she grabbed his arm. “Please, stop this!”

“Get off of me.”

“Lucian you’re going to kill him! There’s another way, we can-”

“Keep your mouth shut!” Lucian roared. The girl staggered back in shock.

Three more times the whip fell onto Aven’s back. His limbs were jelly. He was slumped against the post, blood dripping down his back and pooling at his feet. He couldn’t hear Lucian and the girl arguing back and forth. Couldn’t see them. His senses had waned and dimmed as he threatened to fall unconscious.

At last, Lucian snapped his fingers. The bonds around Aven’s wrists opened and he crumbled to his knees, palms pressing into the bloody sand. "I purchased a ship the other day.” He could hear Lucian’s voice, garbled and disorienting as he spoke with a Mindulgulph. “I want him and his pet boarded and set to sail for Aeliorn by the time the sun sets."

Aeliorn. Words escaped Aven. His arms struggled to keep himself out, and snapped beneath him like twigs. "N-no,” his face sank into a puddle of his own blood. Arms wrenched him upwards. “N-not… not…” Not there. Anywhere but there.

He could hear the sound of clinking gold. A great sack was passed to one of the Mindulgulph. “Give this to him when you arrive. It should be enough to provide him with a life of luxury if he wishes it… it’s the gold spent to purchase him."

Aven could feel nothing but the agonizing burn on his back. Two hands grabbed his arms - furrier, far more gentle and Aven was lifted to his feet. Roxsha’s voice was in his ear. "Don’t worry, mate,” she whispered. “We’ve got you."

Camlen was on his other side. "Try and keep still- Aven!"

Aven had wrenched out of their grasp, falling to his hands and knees on the ground. Blood and foaming saliva dripped from his mouth. His vision blurred.

"Take him to his room.” Lucian’s voice. “I want the door locked and guarded at all times. Have a healer see to his wounds."

Hot tears ripped down Aven’s face. Hands tried to grab at him and he jerked his arm backwards. "Please.” His voice shattered against the rawness in his throat. “Leave me."

He looked up. Lucian regarded him for but a moment - before he turned, back to the man.

"I already have."

Lucian swept inside.

Aven’s heart broke apart in his chest. For a third time, Camlen and Roxsha reached to help him but this time, he made no fight. His head hung as they helped him to his feet and through the palace rooms. Mindulgulph and mages alike stopped what they were doing, whispering harshly of the cruel Prince.

The watchful eyes breathed a semblance of strength back into his broken body.

"Please,” Aven murmured. “Let me walk. Or crawl. I don’t care. Just don’t touch me."

"Idiot,” Roxsha grunted, one of his arms around her neck. “You’ll bleed out, you know that?” “I don’t care."

Roxsha grit her teeth. "Stubborn oaf,” she murmured. “You and Jorak both.” She let go.

The moment he was released, Aven crumbled to the ground yet made no sound. He sat on his knees, shoulders trembling. “Wave the doctor off. I won’t see anyone."

"Are you bloody shittin’ me?” Roxsha snapped. “You’ll get infected!"

"I don’t care."

Aven crawled. On his hands and knees, he dragged himself across the marble tiles all the way to his room. He simply fell onto the floor and Roxsha sighed, striding into place Lucian’s bag of gold onto the table before leaving him alone.

——————————————-

As soon as he was back in his room - Lucian immediately made for the drinks. The only sound to be heard was the sloshing of wine into his cup, his heart like a stone in his chest and he tipped the drink down his throat. He could scarcely feel the burning heat of the wine before he was already pouring himself another.

“What the hell was that?”

Kendyll stood in the doorway. Anger was hot as steam across her cheeks. Lucian didn’t look up. He merely sank down into a chair and sipped on his wine. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Whipping Aven?! Like he’s just…just some slave?!”

“He is a slave.”

The glass in his grasp shuddered as she slammed the door. “Don’t give me that shit,” she hissed, marching forward. “You freed him. He’s been your companion, your… your lover.”

“I wouldn’t dare bed with him.”

“But you want to.”

Tenseness claimed Lucian’s jaw. “Careful.”

“No. Lucian, you love him. How could you betray him?!”

His fingers tightened around the glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I would suggest you tread light-”

Smash. The glass clattered from his fingers as she smacked it from his hand and shattered across the floor. He stared at it lamentably. “Now, that’s just a tragedy.”

“The real tragedy,” Kendyll hissed. “Is that Aven loves you so desperately and you flayed the fucking skin from his back. How could you be so cold and heartless?!”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t betrayed him. I’ve saved him.”

“I fail to see how.”

Lucian pushed up from his seat and moved towards the balcony. He leaned forward, his fingers white around the railing as he gazed out over his view of the port. Below, he could see the ship Aven was meant to sail on. To go home…

To leave him.

“I do love him,” he whispered. “But he will never stop sacrificing everything he is and everything he has for me. I think he would be content living the rest of his life in my servitude. But he deserves so much more. He…. genuinely believed that the world was better off without him. He tried to play a fucking hero because he believed himself to be less significant than I. But that couldn’t be further than the truth.” He glanced over. “I flayed the skin from his back because if he did not hate me, he would risk himself again and again until there was nothing left of him. And I refuse to be the catalyst for his death. He will live for himself. Even if I have to make him.”

Kendyll stared at him. Her fingers were balled at her sides. Suddenly she was sailing forward across the room - and her hand cracked against Lucian’s cheek. He didn’t move. He didn’t stagger. He didn’t flinch. His cheek burned from the impact of her hand, and hot, angry tears burned in her eyes.

“Your father would be disgusted,” she whispered. “You’re just a coward….and you don’t deserve him.”

Without another word, she swept out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Lucian sank into his seat, and drank the rest of his wine.

—————————————

Aven lay on the ground for hours. He made no move to crawl onto the bed. Not even to wash the blood from his back. He lay on the ground, shuddering and trembling - until he could feel the coolness of the sun starting to set.

I want him and his pet boarded and set to sail for Aeliorn by the time the sun sets.

Aven grit his teeth. On the floor, his fingers coiled into fists. With what little strength remained, he pushed himself up and staggered towards his bed. The room was filled with the sound of shredding fabric as he ripped them into long strips and fastened them together before tying them around one of the posts.

No. He would not be sent back to Aeliorn tonight.

He grabbed the bag of gold and looked about. His axes were nowhere in sight. Typical that Lucian would deprive him of them. He fingered the gold necklace around his throat - Lucian’s beloved gift he’d so generously allowed him to wear while he had the skin flayed from his back - and drew it off. "You’ll have to give it back later,” he murmured, laying it on the bed.

He pulled on a new tunic, swung his legs over the bannister - and began to descend.

Everything ached. Everything burned. The slightest flex of the muscles across his back sent such pain shooting down his spine he nearly slipped from the wall right then and there. Below, he could see several guards moving about, their voices echoing across the estate’s grounds. When they’d moved on - he slowly descended down into the gardens.

At last, Aven’s boots touched down onto the grass. He could hear the slow sloshing of waves near the docks, and the chatter of taverns and the market coming to a close beyond the estate’s limestone walls as night began to fall.

Aven’s face was white with effort. He sat back in some shrubbery, eyes sliding closed in exhaustion. His first instinct was to find Kion… but he doubted the lion would be anywhere in his current reach.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?! Run away? No. Go see Lucian? Bad idea. He was utterly at a loss.

That was when he heard the sound of familiar muttering. Aven flattened himself against the bushes and watched as a silver haired mage came around the corner, scrolls in hand and whispering to himself as his quill flew over the parchment.

Camlen.

Aven’s teeth ground on the inside of his lip. He reached down, plucked a stone from the ground and tossed it at Camlen’s feet. They bounced off the mage’s shoe and Camlen squeaked, lurching back and scrambled for his things as he looked about wildly - before his eyes found Aven. They widened. “Aven?!” He whispered.

Aven swayed. “I don’t know what to do,” he breathed out pathetically. “Please… don’t call for anyone.” “How did you get down from…” Camlen looked, his gaze catching on the line of blankets fastened together. His face went white. “You’re escaping?"

"I can’t go back.” Aven was delirious. “I can’t…anywhere but there…” Aven suddenly fell forward.

Camlen’s things tumbled to the ground as his arms caught Aven and the little mage grimaced. “…they’ll find your rope,” he said. “We need to get you out.” Aven felt a softness against his back as Camlen drew off his cloak and draped it over his shoulders. “Let’s find some place safer to talk…and let me clean those wounds.”