ROLEPLAY HQ - royalty-enslaved

TW: adult topics that may or may not be limited to violence, "slavery", blood, gore, death, etc. Read carefully

The room was quiet, it had been one of those days where there was much less to do and the Prince was finding himself pacing back and forth in his own chambers pondering what his next plans would be. There was always a battle at hand, another rivaling country or group of people that had to be stopped... but everything seemed quiet. The last battle they had conquered was with their neighbors to the west, a very large kingdom made up of very skillful warriors. He would give them that much, they made a fairly good contribution to their army and it had been hard to defeat them. But now, the prince found himself wondering what he would do with himself out of the thralls of war. Ever since he was a boy he had been fighting for the power of his throne, and now his father was beating down his neck for him to find a wife, to unite two kingdoms and dominate an enemy fleet in that way rather than a show of power. He laughed in his face, he was already so powerful on his own, why would he need a bride? He regret that when his father died. The last he had said was, "do not die alone, like I did, my son." Now, Samir found himself lurking in the shadows of his own room, where the darkest parts of his soul found the most comfort even as he stared out of the window which faced the sea. The dark, crashing waves pounded against the side of the vast cliff below and reminded him of the lonely, desolate expanse of the waves he had journeyed over for so long. He knew little about his own country, and perhaps a deep part of him longed for a partner to show him everything he had missed. Perhaps he did not wish to be alone, but he did not allow himself to pursue the dreams of love. The wind whipped through the windows, sending the curtains into a flurry towards the inners of the room, hiding his figure amongst the fabrics and the shadows. If anyone were to enter now, he could simply become a shadow and admire them from merely feet away and they would never know. After all, he was the (edited)

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descendant of a demon, the embodiment of darkness. The prince of sorrow. @Ruvik the Unchained Predator (edited)

Mahtab Zaman, a thirty year old slave, who had been a slave since she had ten, woke up to taskmaster Rika screaming at the top of her lungs, which was a typical way to start the day. Usually, she would wake up by herself, though yesterday had been a hard day outside. She had been milking over fifty large Bandar Goats, who all look like wooly cows. Then she had to make sure they were properly fed some grain, butter and sugar cubes. Seeing she was doing most of this work by herself, it was more than a handful. Her maiden companion, the twenty year old Katniss, had been off, pursuing a stablehand to go off hunting squirrels and game with her. Mahtab knew Katniss was better at hunting than rearing cattle. Though her closeness to a young boy of half demon origins, who was the stable hand, made Rika adverse for her to go out. Younger women, mostly women, but also the men, strapping lads (bucks as a slang), were always monitored on sexual conduct. Romance was limitedly allowed but sex with someone outside a set 'check-list' was never really permitted. Among the slaves, the rules were simple and drilled into them from infancy. Humans were meant to be slave of higher class beings such as deities and demons. Hence, a human is an inferior mating tool for such a noble kind. They could be chosen to be breeding kin but only if they were chosen by a selective house. Though it was an honour and that meant one should not think themselves in any way bettered. They were still not eligible to be wife or husband. Only Highborn humans could be and they had become a minority is Esmye. Most humans could only aspire for concubinage. Well, the stranglers were usually also caned by Madam Rika. Madam Rika run the Twilight dormitories, which housed mostly young adult girls to woman in her their early 50s. There were other slave dormitories with the same amount of age rage or higher. Most woman after their 50s were either given new stations unless they were strong enough to work. Slaves

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did get marry and have families and then they could leave the dormitories. Only special slaves lived in private dormitories and they usually supported and served the nobles and royalties directly. As Mahtab stretched she saw that she had ripped her underwear sash. That was okay, this one was well used beyond its prime. She had other rags to wear as loincloth. She got up and her nude breasts were exposed. They were bouncy and luscious, they were heavy E cups. The slaves who worked in the fields were not starved. The demonic rulers did not think starvation yield much produce hence they all were fed even in excess if needed. It had been a hot night. A window had been somewhat unoiled and so the opening mechanism was not working properly. She shared her room with three other girls and only Katniss remained. Then she woke up and stated running as she did not wish to miss breakfast. Sure, you were given food but if you miss proper meal times, the portions would be low. Today was honeyed oats and buttered bread with raisins and fruit. A hearty breakfast for the work day. Mahtab felt her body hurting and did not know what she could do about. She would have to go to the apothecary later. She needed to get the salve and ointment that makes muscle tensions heal. "You are not up early today?" The voice of Madam Rika makes Mahtab turn around immediately, "Well, you should keep on getting ready. Though there are bruises on your thigh and back. Purple and pink, goes with your blue and green clothes." Well, they were like billowy sashes rather than proper clothes. Though Mahtab wondered why Rika was here, "You have done nothing wrong." That was good to know, "Though," So, there was a 'but', "What I am telling you now is of utmost secrecy. Canary is dead." Mahtab screamed: "WHAT?!" And, the eye of Rika made her keep her voice. Some tears fell down, "I...I did not know her that well. Though, she was not so haughty. Even if she lived in the private chambers."

"Yes, Canary was supposed to be married. Her pear was poisoned." Rika looked outside the window, tried to open it and realised the problem of the mechanism, "However, it could also be a political issue. That is why. You will keep your mouth shut. Let me finish, I know your question." She raised a hand to not make Mahtab talk, "You see, they have quarantined people in the private blossom dormitory. They are not going to let people in and out. They will be most probably arrested, detained or replaced." Mahtab swallowed hard. Those of the fates of slaves many feared and may did face. Though, such things were still hard to hear. "Canary was..." Rika continued, "Supposed to clean The Prince, Our Ruler's, Verandah and some of his inner chambers today. You will do it Mahtab. Katniss may be younger but she hardly follows instructions. And, that's why all those Bandar goats gave you bruises." Rika went away, "Shower and put some flower scent. Move in and out. Be quick." Mahtab had never worked in the palace before. Not to mention, now The Prince's room? Their Newly Appointed King? Well, she would have to do a good job. Fuck, today I have so many bruises. Well, she then decided to wear her sashes and get to work. There was no way she could complain and protest. Oh no, she could complain but a slave protesting was like a duck staying in the barrel and letting the hunter shoot their head off. So, she walked in from the servants' quarters and moved in. Inside the room, it was still light dawn. She figured The Prince was sleeping, so she prepared to cut some of his fruit out for his breakfast. She worked with nimble and swift fingers and then she assorted the fruit in a shape of the Peacock. Which reminded her Bhromon, her Peacock spotted Chocobo. It was rare for a slave to own anything but she had nursed to him to health when he was just a chick. Some people had attempted to steal him but he was always too fast and crafty to catch. Most people were just satisfied when he

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bred with the females and gave them similar spotted children. After she had done that, she decided to see if the candles were in good condition, though many in the study needed changing. Seeing the chart, she changed the candles inc olour assortments of black, blue, red and white. She tried to make them sync up, she had done this work in a noble's house before so she attempted to replicate it. Then she went and started sweeping the long verandah, which could be someone's apartment. Outside, the birds were waking up. Mahtab was feeling the pain in her legs and back. She started singing to mitigate it. To not let it stray her from her task. Soon,. she would need to wash up, and according to schedule, put The Prince's proper breakfast in his small dining space in his room, which had partitions. Or, if the sun was out, out here in the verandah. He would measure some fresh cut face soap for his morning wash and make sure all his soap and shampoo was adequately filled. So, she sang as she swept: "Your touch, your song, breaking out like the waves Crescendo like the chorals, underneath the bay I find you, out there, with the whales, with the shells, Like a plucked sea-pomegranate, you are cast out in like pebble And foam. I am aching for you, I am breathing for you. I am aching for you, I am breathing for you, I am needing to Know you. The salt of my tears, in my hair, salt like sea in the sands, these waters that knew you, once, Like a message in a bottle. Where did the words go? Are you washed away? Come, wash ashore, on me. Come, wash ashore, on me. They say stop, don't put your sail out, be a snail landlocked from water. They say stop, you'll do better, never be an adventurer. The waves are routine. They crash on the bedrock They do, for over a million years, even with stars out there. And, I, smile eternally. Thinking they all forget, how islands Were born. Islands said, water change, water grow apart, Seek the shelter of the ordinary,

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Seek beyond what they taught you, and with these, words from foam, came apart, a winged quill on water The ecstasy of wanting to know the difference between earth and sand, thunder and tide, created continents, Created force. I want more. I know you want more. I am aching for you, I am breathing for you, I am needing to Know you. The salt of my tears, in my hair, salt like sea in the sands, these waters that knew you, once, Like a message in a bottle. Where did the words go? Are you washed away? Come, wash ashore, on me. Come, wash ashore, on me. Kiss me now, adventure opens, like your open arms, I been tailing, telling you soft tales, kiss me awake kiss me ashore, let us move like water., Let us move like water, let us move like water, Come, wash ashore, on me. Come, wash ashore, on me." * That song that she had written by herself, always made Mahtab feel energised to work., She felt very happy. @xBadrukax

Certainly, Samir had enjoyed being alone for the time being. The sound of the waves crashing with the winds which swept so effortlessly through the windows with a coo of a beautiful melody, created a calming symphony that could fight any ire in the darkest of souls. Many would accept that Samir, prince of darkness, eater of souls, was a man without empathy. A man without emotions or love, but deep down his heart ached with loss. His father had been the only thing left for him, his mother having died a long time ago from a plague that dug it’s claws into the very heart of his country’s population. Following her death was the promise of wickedness which spread faster than a wildfire. Those who did not contribute directly to the throne were forgotten, their riches depleted and their hands taxed for the benefit of the crown and it’s army. Slaves from Anhoria, a fallen country to the west, had been forced into exile by the king himself who offered them little shelter, food and water, so that they would become a factory of hands to forge an entire army’s worth of armor. Famine spread over the cities that were further away from the capital than the eye could spread, and if it weren’t for the hidden mercy of the prince their population would have fallen rapidly. No one knew his sacrifices, where he had sent carts of resourced to his people that were starving, and dying, in order to sustain the power of his people. Even as his father lay dying on his bed, Samir held hope that his devilish soul could repent, and he would be welcomed by the loving hands of Achlys herself. For a brief moment, as tears welled in his eyes and he took his son’s hand, begging him to “be better”, and he saw that his father that he had loved was still there. Buried. Lost. So the prince vowed to hold onto the parts of him that were not overcome by devilry. He vowed that he would continue appreciating the beauty of life, however short it may be, even as he fought to become the most powerful leader o

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n the continent. He vowed to love, to prosper, to even conquer in vitality. He couldn’t bring himself to let his mother’s memory die away into oblivion, and even now as he watched the black waves roll towards him, he saw the beauty in the foam that sulked lazily amongst the rocks. No matter how hard the sea tried to murder it, the foam prospered, and Samir admired the inanimate object for that purpose alone. Thoughts, like a train derailing after a long night’s journey, scattered away as the door to his chambers opened, and a figure of ultimate beauty appeared before him. For once, Samir was glad to be shielded by the shadows and becoming completely invisible. Unbeknownst to her, he watched cautiously as her form floated around the room with a sort of gracefulness that he had only witnessed one other time by a princess of the southern isles, she who had died a few days after they had been betrothed. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that she had been reborn into the body of this slave, but quickly brushed away the idea when he marveled at the womanly figure of his guest. She was too old, and the princess had died merely 14 years ago. Though, a part of him liked the thought of this woman being royalty in a past life, despite her ragged clothing she rivaled the beauty of the setting sun. It was unbecoming of a prince to gawk at the slave as such, but he was only a man. As if she could not become any more beauteous, her lips parted and she began to sing. He had never heard these words strung together to this harmony, music was a rather scarce thing in his country, but when there was it seemed to fill his soul with whispers of eternal happiness. Her voice ignited those whispers almost immediately, and his muscles seemed to immediately relax under his clothing. Once her song came to a close, and he was sure that an Angel had come to him in a vision to ask him to repent for his sins, Samir decided that he would take only one step….

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~out of the shadows and into the light. The rays of the sun gleamed gloriously through the window and illuminated his pure, ivory skin like the midnight moon. He looked over the girl with a hardened face, as if trying to peer right into her soul and retrieve every memory that she had to offer. He, of course, was not successful. “You have a lovely voice,” was all he could bring himself to say, his words booming almost threateningly over the furniture of his chambers and practically shaking the castle with the bass of his vocals. “I’ve not heard this song before,” he added, placing a large hand on the ledge of the window and grounding himself by the feeling of the textured stone. @Ruvik the Unchained Predator