Page 30 of Dead Crown
Tivar was bigger, and Edur never stood a chance. Mother didn’t hear his screams, and she didn’t come to save him. Nobody did.
The skylight slowly brightened overhead with the new day.
He wanted Mother or someone, anyone, to make it stop. He stared at the winter sky through the glass when the pain grew to be too much, and he tried to be elsewhere. Anywhere but there.
The blood on the bed afterward was real, and he thought he’d surely die when he lay paralyzed by the pain. He wasn't able to fight when the lirek collar and shackle came. Tivar used his healing magic to fix everything once Edur had been secured, and the torment started again hours later while the light watched from above.
Tivar told him the next morning that it would be a lot easier if he used his heat. It would make him nice and slick back there because the purpose of an abundant male’s heat was to increase the chances of a baby. Instead of being torn and bloodied, which Tivar had to heal, the muscles would relax, and Edur would be desperate for sex.
“It’ll feel good while I breed you.” Tivar pressed his cheek against Edur’s and locked eyes with him in the looking glass at the vanity. “I want you to feel good, but you fought me both times so what was I supposed to do? I need the baby. Just use your heat.”
Edur barely even recognized himself in the looking glass. He almost wondered if he’d somehow dreamed everything, but the shackle around his wrist was solid. The other end was secured to the leg of the vanity, and it wouldn’t let him go more than two feet away. It was heavy, and the cuff had irritated his wrist all day when he’d been shackled to the headboard.
The pain when his brother had pinned him a second time had been the realest of all. Edur had been too frightened to use his fire magic and attack the first time. Now, he couldn’t thanks to the lirek collar locked around his neck.
“Well?” asked Tivar. “The fact that you fight me shows you have no trust or love, and you’re a traitor to me. You only wanted the Crown.”
“I want Mother,” Edur dared to whisper. She’d save him and fix everything.
“Mother’s not here,” said Tivar. “Even though you don’t love me, I’ll take care of you, little brother.”
December, 1646
When Edur was bad, he was whipped and locked in the closet with his wrists chained together. It didn’t matter how much he fought because Tivar was bigger and stronger, and if his little brother struggled, he made sure it hurt worse. He always healed Edur later, but to avoid as much pain as possible, he learned to use his heat, lay there, and take it so he could stay out of the closet.
One wrist was always cuffed to the headboard with enough slack to use the chamberpot by the bed. If he was good enough, he was allowed books. Tivar cleaned the room and allowed no servants in for any reason at all.
For food, he usually kept things like bread, oats, and dried fruit in a locked box in the closet room since it would seem odd if Tivar ate two meals at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The servants couldn’t suspect anything.
Edur’s meals were bland, but the food kept him alive. He had water and knew better than to complain. Somehow, he had to survive. If he held out and was good, someone would soon come and save him from Tivar.
It wouldn’t be Mother. Tivar said her horse had thrown her the day they parted after it had been spooked. What a terrible accident. She’d broken her neck and had been dead before they arrived at Lilling. Everyone thought Edur was dead after the house they’d hidden in was found half-burned and a scorched body that fit the Prince’s description had been discovered inside. Edur knew it was the body of the boy Tivar had mentioned.Mother and Father were dead, and everyone thought Edur was dead too.
It took a while before he truly realized no one was coming to save him.
Iceland had lost, and East Forest had retreated since their own rulers were dead, and they’d had enough of pillaging and looting. East Forest was safe since Iceland was in no shape to continue the war. Crown Prince Kalen's oldest Uncle had pulled back and seemed content to allow Iceland to deal with the aftermath and manage their own shit.
It wasn’t being managed. Iceland split with Elswere taking one portion. It had caused a tiny civil war before both sides quickly retreated. The morale of those on both sides was in the pits with the war and so much of the Royal Family dead. For now, things were at a standstill according to Tivar. Elswere had the border on the east side guarded the best he could, and Tivar was doing the same. Both sides didn’t have much for numbers, and in the meantime, Tivar would hold while he focused on getting a baby.
Edur didn’t care what the country did. Surviving each day with as little suffering as possible was his only goal. When Tivar forced a tiny dot of truth resin into his mouth one night, hoping he’d spill secret plots and whispers that had taken place behind Tivar’s back, it didn’t work. The resin made Edur light, the room faded, and he remembered nothing until the next morning. Tivar didn’t try it again since resin did nothing except knock his mind for a loop.
The whippings didn’t stop. The heat made them bearable. In fact, the pain was almost arousing now.
December, 1647
“Cheer up,” said Tivar. “The Winter Solstice is almost here. Maybe you’ll finally have a present for me.”
Edur put on a smile even though he didn’t care about the Winter Solstice. “I hope so.”
After pretending and letting the heat make things easier for so long, pain made him aroused. Even the feel of Tivar’s body against his made him hard. His body wanted it, so he pretended he did too, and being eager and obedient made his fake brother happy. Pain and sex were his life now, and if Tivar was happy, he usually wasn’t too mean.
Edur could survive.
The pattern of the sky through the glass skylight never changed. With every day and season that passed, Edur knew what to expect even when Tivar’s moods were volatile. Sometimes, he was happy, and other times, he was angry because Edur still hadn’t conceived yet. The cane was used to correct him or because Tivar felt like it. Sometimes the belt or the whip was used. Tivar always healed him, and occasionally, he apologized for his anger.
Other times, he said it was all Edur’s fault, and if he conceived, Tivar wouldn't get carried away with his anger.
December, 1648
