Chapter Text
Keith could, if he thought back hard enough, remember a time before the Arena. He didn’t consider it worth the effort to try anymore. Whatever family, whatever life he had before now, was long out of his reach.
Nonetheless, he considered himself lucky. Fighting in the arena may have been something only slaves did but at least it was the highest honour among those involuntarily indebted, and he’d much rather spend every day spilling prisoner blood on the sand than be the one cleaning it off the weapons.
Not that that meant he was so content with his lot he’d never tried to escape before, but so far all he’d found was ways that DIDN’T work and the next time he was caught he’d lose a limb for his efforts. He’d just bide his time; it’s not like he had any other choices.
When he was told he’d be putting on a show for the visiting prince, Keith’s only concern was whether or not it meant he’d be rewarded with a skin of wine with his dinner if he performed well on such a special occasion. What he certainly had not considered was that the prince would watch him fighting, turn to Keith’s Master the coliseum owner, and declare he would be purchasing Keith… for his harem .
To be perfectly honest at first Keith was simply too stunned to remember to use the opportunity as an escape attempt, not until he was already being escorted by two armed guards to the prince’s side. “Well hello my beauty,” the deeply tanned prince greeted with a charming smile. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Lance and starting tonight I’ll be seducing you.”
Which was, Keith thought, rather an odd thing to say to one’s property .
It took nearly a full day to ride back with the prince’s entourage of guards all the way to his palace, a sprawling labyrinth of a white stone building Keith mistook for a small city when he’d seen it at a distance. But it was far too opulent for that, every room built huge and airy to limit the entrance of sand at the same time it let a breeze float through the entire building, burning lanterns and gold trim and sweet-smelling oil seeming to permeate the entire property like the whole palace was built to glitter.
Even the room they brought Keith to was covered in silks and huge open windows, big enough for him to jump through easily… if he wasn’t on the third floor. He probably would have just torn the curtains up to shimmy down anyway, except that the prince followed him into said opulent chambers and then opened a curtain to reveal a luxurious looking bed of cushions and Keith realized what exactly this new master of his intended from him for tonight.
He watched warily as the prince disrobed, taking off the bands and rings of gold jewelry and the navy silk jacket to hang them all in neat order. And then he proceeded to not take off his pants, instead lying directly down into the cushions with a sigh of, “Man, I’m beat!” And barely muttered to Keith like he’d just remembered him: “We’ll talk in the morning, I’m exhausted from that long horse ride. You’re probably no better from all that fighting, so for now you should just crash, too.”
Keith had no idea what to think. Was this… some kind of a test or trap? What would happen if he killed the prince in his sleep, would there be an army of personal guards at his throat in an instant? Keith didn’t like this. He didn’t trust this room and he didn’t trust this prince, not even willing to seat himself in the nest of pillows to rest in case the prince woke up and decided he now had enough energy to try and claim what was his.
He didn’t know enough about the surrounding area to try for a escape yet, knowing from experience that such an attempt would be foolhardy without knowing which direction he even needed to go to get out. And so, for that first night, Keith stayed in that room with his new master and paced the floors until his feet ached, waiting for something to happen that actually made sense.
He stayed awake all the way through dawn, all the way until the prince finally stirred from his peaceful slumber. And then he said he was going to the baths, and Keith was welcome to join him and perhaps wash the blood out of his hair if he wished, and… left Keith alone in the room.
There was, Keith checked to discover, a lone (but very large) guard stationed outside his door, but apparently no other direction or expectations were currently needed of Keith. Not sure what else to do, he sat down in hopes of easing the exhaustion headache he’d given himself from lack of rest after the arena fight and hours of riding.
He was dead asleep before his eyes even closed.
—
When Keith woke up, he was bathed, bandaged of all injuries and wearing new clothes. Not being the first time this had happened to him after passing out, he was nary concerned.
If anything was surprising, it was the fact that he was lain in the prince’s comfortable bed of pillows, the smell of something fresh and edible wafting to him just strong enough to break through the oils and incense of the palace, stirring a growling in his stomach drawing him from the most comfortable sleep he might have ever experienced in his life.
He saw the guard before he saw the source of the smell, instantly halting him where he was sitting up and stopping Keith from ravaging the room for food. The big guy had even darker skin than the prince did, and Keith realized only now that the arena’s underground prisons had kept everyone he knew out of the sunlight and therefore pale as clean steel. Did this mean he’d look like that, too, if he stayed out here above ground?
The guard looked over at him and smiled, wide and friendly and disarming. “Oho, you’re up! Lance wanted to invite you down to breakfast with him but it’s way too late for that now, so he sent some snacks up for you to go ahead and have while he’s busy working.” He gestured a thumb to the low table near the window Keith had been considering diving out of last night, open enough to the sky for Keith to see the sun was already well into it’s afternoon arc. Just how long HAD he been asleep?
And then he saw the plate of fruits and cheeses, and made no effort not to seem like he was attacking it, practically tripping over cushions to dig his grubby little hands into the meal. The fruits were ripe and juicy and the cheese was soft and moldless, the most delicious things he had ever put in is fucking mouth. He uh… probably moaned a little.
He heard the guard chuckling at him a few feet away, and Keith swiveled his eyes over to see him watching Keith with an amused smile. “Sorry, I’m not making fun of you. We get a few newcomers who came from really bad backgrounds, so it’s only funny because all of us do the exact same thing.”
Keith paused, a chunk of bread falling out of the corner of his mouth. “‘Us?’” He wondered out loud, not so much about the guard’s specific origins as much what he was supposed to expect of a place that offered its slaves and staff food like this .
“I’m Hunk, by the way,” the guard offered as Keith resumed eating at a more reasonable pace. “May I ask?”
Figuring the unasked question was for his name, Keith swallowed his food with a mouthful of clear water and answered the only way he knew how. “Keith of the Galran Arena.”
Hunk whistled, looking impressed. “Figures that’s where Lance picked you up,” he murmured to himself with a smile.
Keith decided he was probably better off not knowing what that meant.
Not comfortable with attempting anything stupid with someone he probably couldn’t take out unarmed in the room, Keith spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the window.
He could see a large amount of the palace grounds from here, and it was a perfect time to survey them for weaknesses. The place looked completely useless for sneaking around, all the walls either full of windows or made of a crosshatch pattern that filled it with checkerboard holes, leaving no places to hide and no visible paths out of the huge property. Not to mention it was completely full of people, guards and servants and scholars and Keith didn’t even know what else, making any attempts to wander through unnoticed virtually impossible.
At least for now. Night brought many advantages, and waiting to gather information brought even more. He’d figure this fancy prison out and be on his way to freedom before the next new moon.
The prince was back by sunset, the guard Hunk leaving the room at his return to give them privacy.
“Hello, my lovely~” He greeted when he swaggered inside. “Did you have a relaxing day? I wanted to come up here and bother you the whole time but it seemed more important you get the rest.”
Rest up so Keith could better please his lord, he guessed. Fortunately this idiot had sent the guard out of the room, and better yet Keith could hear his heavy footsteps leading down the hall and away from the doorway…
“I know, I know, just because I had to pay money to a guy to meet you doesn’t excuse letting like two whole days pass before we could finally talk. But to be fair, you seemed really confused and disoriented after that huge guy hit you in the back of the head! Like you didn’t even remember the conversation we had before you got in the ring, which - okay makes sense that was only for like two seconds, haha…”
Keith was hardly paying attention to the rambling prince’s words, concentrated instead on the jeweled blue handle of the knife hanging on his belt. The prince would approach him soon, and Keith would wait til the second he got close enough, get his hands on that blade and make him regret ever trying to touch Keith.
“...So when I said last night the word ‘harem’ to your boss at the fight club I don’t think I ever took you aside to explain what I really meant, because I actually want you to be my, um. Royal Consort?”
What was the difference between a consort and a concubine? Was there one? Maybe it was like, a matter of how private this was, and a consort wasn’t a bedmate to keep hidden from other’s eyes like a normal harem but instead a decoration hanging off his arm. Disgusting.
Keith had risen to his feet to greet the prince when he came in, leaving his body language open to approach. The fool finally got near enough to convincingly slip past his guard, and in moments Keith had the blade hilt in his hand and sliding out of its sheath.
The mistake he made was pulling back to spin a dropkick to his stomach, like Keith would have done in the ring. If he had just stabbed him in the stomach instead the prince wouldn’t have had warning for his attack, wouldn’t have caught his foot and wouldn't have been able to use that foot to flip Keith onto his back.
It was his own fault, Usually Keith was the one taking advantage of being underestimated, and he wasn’t expecting this unguarded royal brat to be able to defend against his professional-level attacks. But instead here he was being pinned in one move and disarmed just as easily, the prince looking slightly ruffled but not in the least bit surprised by Keith’s assault.
“All right, all right,” he sighed, sheathing the knife again but not getting off of Keith yet. “I probably should have expected that. After spending your life as an arena slave, you’re more interested in escaping than you are in becoming mine, that makes sense.”
Keith succeeded in kicking him off, his captor prince yelping and rolling away as a battle-trained leg swung towards his head for a second attack. He just help up his hands defensively though, not calling the guards or pulling out his knife to defend himself like he was actually taking Keith’s threat to his life seriously. “And, look, I totally understand that! Now Keith - can I call you by name? You don’t really have a title yet so I guess I’ll have to.”
What the ever screaming Allah FUCK was this guy on about? Annoyed, confused, and with no other ideas on what to do, Keith growled and leapt in for another attack that went clumsily, but successfully, avoided.
“And ANYWAY, the point is, I’m saying that for right now staying here is a way better option for you than escaping! You don’t have to be afraid of any honeymoon expectations because I get that it’s totally uncool to put the moves on you this soon, so we can just uh… hang out until you get used to the idea of being with me, or whatever.”
It was that that finally made Keith pause. Not the brief thought that Keith indeed didn’t know what to do or where to go once he got out of the palace, as that was less worrying than it should have been. No what stopped Keith from attacking was the very strange statement he’d just been offered, wherein his lecherous new master had just declared no intentions of forcing himself on Keith until… until what?
Keith didn’t know, but he knew as someone who had been a slave for as many years as he had that this was a generous opportunity. The food here was worth sticking around for alone, and he could play along with shitty servant work or whatever he’d be doing in the meantime when this meant he was sure to get a break from fighting long enough to truly heal from his injuries for once and finally be at the peak of his strength… And once again, even if it was back to killing people at least it was better here with the sun and the clean water and the FOOD.
No. That was the talk of someone spoiled and lazy. One night, he promised himself. Anything beyond that was just going to make him indulgent, and he refused to be one of those happy houseslaves content with their lot in life. Keith was born for freedom, gods be damned, and he was going to find it.
“And what?” Keith asked, not ready to drop his guard in front of his bizarre company. “You want me to stay the night with you here, then? What’s to stop me from leaving the minute you fall asleep?”
The prince looked mildly panicked at the suggestion. “N-no, you can’t leave, ‘cause uh… ‘Cause if you do who will teach you to read!”
Keith paused. Blinked. Now THAT was a truly stunning offer to make a slave of any kind. Knowledge was power, after all. “I already know most of my letters,” Keith returned, almost as a test to see what his new master would do with it.
“Oh good!” His prince said cheerfully back. “That’ll save a lot of time, to be honest I wouldn’t have really known where to start anyway,” he laughed. “Actually you’d be better off with Coran teaching you than me, that’s like his real actual job, my job is just to be a professional douchebag. I don’t even think I have any books in my room.”
As soon as he said it his face lit up with in idea, gasping a little “Oh!” And Keith watched as the prince flitted around the large room for a moment. “Oh, I have an ida, there’s one book I always have, it’s freakin’ perfect!”
He triumphantly pulled a thick tome out of a chest in the corner, wandering over to part the curtains in front of his bed of sleeping pillows and plopped down in a cross-legged sit. He waved a hand to beckon Keith over, excitedly opening the book and flipping through pages while he waited for Keith to decide to venture over.
Slightly hesitant but still too generally baffled to argue yet, Keith picked out a cushion far enough away from the prince to avoid accidental contact. He was paid little mind, the prince still smiling fondly at his giant book with a sigh of, “Oh man it’s been years, I still remember every one of these stories! Mom used to read them to us at night.”
He flipped through the pages for a moment, mumbling about ‘exactly the right story’ before grinning out “Aha!” and settling down with the book in his lap.
“Once upon a time,” the prince began reading, his voice light and easy to follow, drawing Keith in to listen. “There was a little village in a far away kingdom called Crown Town. It was a beautiful and quaint little city, with tall walls around it and happy people within. There was a small lake just outside of the town, one where the fog rolled off of ever morning…” he cut himself off. “MAN this is boring, do all these stories start so slow? I bet I could do better myself!”
Keith raised an eyebrow, annoyed at the fast interruption when he’d found himself enjoying the prince's voice. “Well fine, then you do it! Just tell me the damned story.”
Lance sneered at him a little, closing the book with a smack. “Well maybe I will, GOD!”
“Fine, then do it!”
“I am doing it, just shut up and listen already!”
“I can’t listen if you don’t have shit to say.”
The prince scoffed loudly and dramatically, practically tossing his book out of the way. “Okay,” he started firmly, before pausing to look like he was wondering if this had been a bad idea. “Okay, okay I totally got this. SO.”
“Once upon a time,” he started again, “there was a man who died. The man’s work was the writing and telling of stories, but he could not defy death. The last story he was working on was about a brave and handsome prince who vanquishes a crafty raven. But now it seems their battle will go on for eternity. ‘I’m sick and tired of this!’ cried the raven. ‘I’m sick and tired of this!’ cried the prince as well. The raven escaped from the pages of the story and the prince pursued the foul creature. In the end, the prince took out his own heart and sealed the raven away by using a forbidden power. Just then, a murmur came from somewhere. ‘This is great!’ said the old man who was supposed to have died…”
Keith was enraptured in the new story instantly. That was a much more interesting hook, and he let himself get comfortable in the luxurious bedding while he listened to see where this odd tale was going, the prince’s voice somehow calming even for all it’s enthusiasm in telling his tale. Keith wanted to hang on every word, wanted to hear how the story turned out and if the fairytale prince ever got his heart back but…
He fell asleep well before hearing the ending.
—
Keith was well used to waking up before the sun rose, morning training for the gladiators beginning with the dawn they could barely see through the grates of their basement dungeon. That may have sounded like a torture tactic but it had actually been a kindness; staying underground and out of the sun had kept them cool and saved many from what would have been inevitable dehydration.
His life had been such a reliable routine in this regard, in fact, that when he woke up the next morning to an empty bed and the sun high in the sky his first instinct was to assume he was still dreaming. Nothing in real life could possibly be as soft as these pillows were, right? It was like he was lying down in a giant cloud…
Also, wasn’t he still a slave? Why on Earth would he be allowed to sleep so late, someone should have come to violently drag him out of the prince’s bed and put him to work. Except Keith was slowly returning to consciousness, and when he dragged himself out of his nest and swept the curtains to the rest of the room out of the way, he could see for certain how high the sun had really risen. Good god, was the life of a concubine really this indolent?
Then again, he had probably been a pretty hefty investment considering how good a competitor he’d been for the arena. And Keith had pulled his knife on his new master on the first night, the prince was probably biding his time and letting Keith get lazy so he could take what he’d paid for without a fight. It was disgusting, but at least if gave Keith time and opportunity.
“Ah, there you are, awake at last!” A strange man with a large curling moustache declared when Keith crept out, having been sitting at the low table near the window long enough for the nearby incense stick to have burned halfway down. “I am the Royal Historical Scholar, Coran. You must be the Sultan’s new inamorato, it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance!”
Wait, the Sultan? This guy Lance wasn’t just a prince, he was the actual freaking Sultan ? Oh, Keith was so going to get beheaded. He had to get the hell out of here.
Coran was looking at him expectantly, pulling a series of papers out and spreading them over the table. “Wash your face, get a bit of breakfast in you, and we’ll be ready to see where to start our reading lessons!”
Barely awake and completely at a loss for how to get out of this weird palace, Keith just sort of let habit take over and did as he was told. On the plus side, Coran was highly impressed by how much of the alphabet Keith remembered, so at least he was ahead on that end.
The lessons only lasted a couple short hours, after which Keith found himself with an open opportunity to slip unnoticed into the hallways to sneak around and get the lay of the land.
What he found in his wanderings were people. Crowds of people everywhere, all of whom seemed to have someplace to go and something to do. Hundreds of people living and working in this huge white and gold labyrinth of luxury, all with their own duties and own loved ones and own goals… Even the servants looked clear-headed and hard working, the light of life still shining in their eyes untainted by the grueling day to day grind of working in an uncaring world. Just what was this place? Was this even the same kingdom Keith had lived in his whole life? Or was this small sphere of royal living just that far removed from the rest of the world?
He stepped into another wide and heavily curtained chamber, which he recognized after a moment must be someone's personal bedroom from the array of pillows and furniture. A voice was speaking inside, and Keith ducked behind a pillar and out of sight until he could slip back to the doorway.
“So, princess, have you met him yet?” A feminine voice was asking. “This warrior bride your dear - I mean, his highness the sultan brought home yesterday?”
He peeked around the column to catch a glimpse of the two women, and even his disinclination towards the fairer sex wasn’t enough to stop his jaw from dropping at the princess’s beauty. Dark skin, flowing silver hair, finely chiseled features and the most striking blue eyes Keith had seen since… Well, since the sultan, quite generally. She was certainly adorned like royalty, gold bands and chains and jewels everywhere with silk flowing off her perfect body like the garments were made of water floating around her.
Her voice was deeper than her companions, and more serious besides. “I have not, no,” she said without looking at her blonde companion. “I see no point in indulging in this game. You know how Lance gets when he finds someone pretty, I’m not going to invest myself in another situation that’s only going to end in tears.”
The other girl made a tisking noise in the back of her throat, following after the princess as she floated through the giant doorway. “That’s a little mean, Lady Allura!”
“It isn’t if I’ve already seen it happen before,” was the cold response as they left Keith alone in his hiding place. “Don’t worry, Romelle, I can play nice for the inevitably short time I need to.”
Allah above, that could only have been the sultana. Keith had just laid eyes on his master the sultan’s actual wife, and she had dismissed him as being about as important to her marriage as what to eat for dinner. When Keith was abandoned, would he be killed as well? What the fuck had he gotten himself into?
Noticing the sun was getting low, Keith found his way back to the prince’s... freaking Sultan’s bedchamber for dinner. Hunk was once again missing from the room as Keith arrived, the king beaming at Keith when he stepped inside with apparently no mind to the fact that he’d been wandering about unsupervised for hours on end.
“Hey Keith, did you find your way around all right?” he asked, cheerfully patting the cushion beside himself to beckon Keith to it. “I wanted to let you get used to the place for a few days, but since you’re already feeling up to it I’ll have someone show you around tomorrow and we can uh, start introducing you to the royal court and settling into life here.”
The idea was generous enough, but once again Keith just had the feeling that he was being trained into something and he didn’t like it. On the other hand, he still didn’t know the safest way to escape the palace unseen and the mysteriously altruistic reading lessons were too valuable to let slip that easily from his grasp. Whatever this guy’s game was, Keith was stuck playing along for now.
He sat down to join the king for dinner, which turned out to be the most amazingly rich soup Keith had ever felt on his lips. On second thought, maybe whatever game the sultan wanted to play would be worth it just for the food.
And the bed, Keith considered a half hour later after the king had asked him about his day while he snuffed out the first lanterns at the end of the meal. He had only meant to sit down on the bed but once again practically sunk straight into it instead, ignoring the king’s teasing grin as he joined him in the fluffy nest, drawing the curtain behind him.
“Alright, now where was I?” his highness started, slipping off his rings and putting them away fo the night. “So, the knight is learning that he has the power to influence the events of the town by taking up the role as Storyteller and writing about his friends. You remember this, or were you asleep?”
Keith thought about it, pretending not to sound too interested as he ventured, “This sounds right?”
Lance nodded, and settled into the bed. “Alright, so at this same time the little Duck had finally found the last shards of the prince’s shattered heart, sealed into each of the five gates of the town’s giant walls.” Keith tried not to notice how close they were sitting, tried to fall back into the story instead of concentrating on the proximity of a man he could not yet judge or trust… “But there was a catch to that. Those last five shards weren’t just keeping the town sealed closed and the Prince’s heart incomplete, they were also the last power holding back the Raven.”
Lance moved, sitting up on one hand supporting his weight on the bed while the other…
The other touched Keith. It went right to the small of his back, sending cold shivers of anxiety down his spine because there we go, this was it. The story telling had just been a distraction to get Keith off guard and in his bed, and as he felt those fingers slide ever so slowly down to his lower back Keith swung a leg around to pin his knee against the sultan’s neck, reaching down to the abandoned sash on the floor to snatch up the gilded dagger.
He had moved just enough weight off of the king’s neck to be countered, two hands scrambling to lift Keith’s calf as Lance yelped, “Sorry, my bad, my bad! Personal space, you totally don’t need to murder me I can respect your space!”
Keith hesitated, letting himself be shoved gently off to land on his butt on the bed. The king scooted quickly away with his hands up defensively, probably because Keith was still holding the knife. “If I start telling the story are you gonna attack me again?
Keith shook his head, but didn’t but didn’t drop his claim on the sheathed knife just yet. The bed was huge however, and the king found plenty of space to settle down far away from Keith and the weapon he should probably be beheaded for even holding.
“Okay,” the sultan started again. “Heart shards, heart shards… No, the five in the door weren’t the very last ones. There was one more, one last heart shard that needed to be found and returned so that when the Raven revived the Price would be whole again to face him. And Duck, poor brave little Duck who had worked and danced and loved so hard for the Prince, discovered it was the very pendant that gave her human form where the last piece of her prince’s heart hid…”
Keith was wrapped up in the story in just a few sentences, relaxing enough to at least set the knife down beside him instead of keeping it clutched in his hands. Guys in the pit had swapped all kinds of stories all the time but none of them had been like this, never these long complicated tales of heartbreak and horror and magic. A welcome change to the bawdy retellings of battles fought and women conquered he was so used to. Meant for children or not, these fairy tales were far more compelling to Keith’s interest.
It didn’t hurt that the sultan, Lance, was an excellent storyteller himself. He used different voices for each of the character’s different dialogue, all while keeping his tone light and easy to follow. He was so enthusiastic he made hand gestures along with everything he said, practically puppeteering the entire story with a show while he wove his tale into the deepening night. If Keith tried not to watch and turned towards the wall, then instead the single remaining lamp would cast light on the king to turn his display into shadow theatre instead, just as entrancing to watch with the hypnotic thrill of his words.
This time, Keith didn’t fall asleep before the end. But his king was so worn out he was yawning into every word, and Keith decided his excuse for stopping him and telling him to lay down and sleep was just because the pauses were ruining the drama.
His excuse for laying down as well was just because he was too comfortable to bother leaving to find a place to fall asleep by himself. He was already in a perfectly good bed, after all.