CW: Explicit language, mentions of slavery, mentions of sexual assault/r*pe, violence, gore.
By the time Rin returns to the marquee, the frenzy has settled into a dizzy lull, with more Roses than guests remaining behind and enjoying the milder mood of the night. Drowsy lovers scatter the dance floor. The host is intimately intertwined with Kahin, their elegant forms swaying in time to the slow, romantic melodies of the sinfonietta.
In the thinning crowd, Rin can see the bull dancing with his lady, resting his head upon her shoulder with a blissful expression. Bucky sits upon the lap of a refined, fair haired woman, while caressing the Western noble’s thigh as he sits beside. The familiar features in the woman and the noble tell Rin that the two are related. Perhaps even siblings.
But the Rat’s impatient gaze simply sweeps over them, lips twisting to the side when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He stumbles back outside, scanning the guests milling near the entrance to the docks.
Not a sign of the little lord anywhere. If he were real, he had attended the party for a very short time. A bitter taste coats his tongue. He wants to see Jun again. Not for any reason other than to ask him, why? Why doesn’t he get mad? Why doesn’t he turn him in? Call him a thief and a dirty, good for nothing Slummer?
Why did he say the things he said? And look at him in the way he did?
Cacophonous thoughts churn sluggishly in his mind. He stumbles to a quiet area, feeling as though he’s about to lose his breath or his mind. With a light gasp, he steadies himself against a Sun Sculpture, one depicting the lulua whale jumping majestically from a bed of crashing waves. Nausea sours his guts. A few deep breaths keeps the vomit at bay, but only just.
Panting lightly, he wraps his arms around the sculpture, leaning his clammy brow upon the cool surface. The golden glow seeps through his lashes, restless and fractal. Following a neglected urge that he’s barely aware of, he presses his burning body against the pellucid stone. Lips follow suit, planting a gentle kiss upon the lulua whale. When he draws back, his smile is unsteady, and he idly pets the creature’s head.
A bony hand snatches his wrist, clamping it in an iron grip. A cry flees from his mouth when his arm is wrenched back, body jerked and twisted to meet the thin form of a seething Northerner. The raven stares wide eyed at the man, startled fear glistening on the surface, before rapidly descending into defensive rage.
His delicate face wrinkles into a heavy scowl and he grabs the Notherner’s constricting hand, trying with all his might to free himself. “Lemme go, you fucking asshole! I’m not for sale!”
That bony hand tightens, bruising that tender flesh. He towers over Rin in a sinister loom and brings his sallow face close, his breath laced with the bitter stench of tobacco. “You have something of mine,” he says, voice pitchy and jarring. “I will need you to return it to me promptly.”
“What, your virginity?” Rin taunts through a vicious grin. “Sorry, but I’m not the man who--”
The man’s free hand snatches Rin’s throat before shoving him against the whale. The latter’s back explodes with pain, his wound exacerbated by the sudden impact. Staggered breaths creak as claw-like fingers squeeze with merciless force. His vision blurs with burning tears. Blood rushes thunderously through his ears. Both hands scrabble at the Notherner’s, but the man doesn’t give an inch. He’s drinking in the raven’s suffering with a sadistic edge, pitiless eyes glinting with perverse glee.
“I am a man of little patience, Rose,” sallow face says. He releases the boy’s wrist to run his hand over the latter’s body, bony fingers lingering over that pumping chest and creeping past the clenching belly. “You see, I am a man who loathes parting with his things. And when my things are taken from me, I lose control. And when I lose control…ah.” The Northerner pulls a silver medal from the left pocket, coin gleaming as he clips it back onto his lapel.
The boy’s face has been strangled blue. Darkness eats his vision. He’s on the verge of oblivion when suddenly he’s freed, and he drops to his knees, coughing and straining for air. He leans on his forearms, eyes squeezed shut, strings of saliva dripping from his gasping mouth. Tears drench his flushed cheeks. Anger snuffs the fear and surges like a toxic wave and he slams his fists furiously into the wooden plank.
“Get up,” sallow face snaps, hauling Rin to his feet by the scruff. “I’m not done with you.”
The collar of his robes dig into his swollen throat and pain bursts through the abused flesh. That clawed hand grips his nape, holding him upright and forcing his eyes up to the militant’s loathsome face. Bloodshot vantablacks meet twin flints.
“Fuck. You.” He pushes out two syllables in a pained rasp.
“I have cut out the tongues of those who have spoken to me with more decorum,” the man says, dryly, his eyes narrowed in disdain. “You will give me recompense for your transgression. If you fail to do so, I will hand you over to the Silverswords and you will hang come morn.”
Rin snickers, trying to ignore the throbs of pain attacking his vocal cords. His voice is a near whisper, but the militant can hear every word as clear as day, “Says the man who almost killed me.” The raven’s eyes grow hooded, cold rage piercing his flesh like a thousand blades. “If they hang me for stealing that shitty participation badge, what do you think they’d do to attempted murderers?”
The man laughs loudly, jeeringly, his face spectacularly loathsome and ugly. “You think your life has worth, Rose? Do you know what we do with scum like you in the North?” He bares his teeth, depravity touching his features under the glow of the lulua’s light. “We use your meat to feed our dogs and replace our necrotic organs. You are our cock sleeves and playthings, cheap trinkets to enjoy once and then discard. Scum like you are the beasts we hunt for sport. Human shaped latrines to catch our shit and piss. You are a mere tool, mindless lurching flesh, the putrid arid land from which we harvest. You. Are. Nothing.”
Blood consumes hellebores until they burn red. Flesh blanch white. Sable hair drips like ink down his hollow face. White noise fills his head, quashes all that’s him. There is only a fury so profound that his mind entirely disintegrates. He’s without depth, a floating corpse, an apathetic spectre.
With slow and unsteady movements, he rings his arms around the man’s neck and pulls him close. He embraces him tightly, feeling the body stiffen against his own. And then he buries his face in the crook of his neck and rips his throat out with his teeth.
A shocked scream strikes the heavens as foul, hot blood gushes from the open wound, drenching the raven’s face. He’s shoved away with tremendous force and his soft form crumples against the sculpture. The lulua whale is streaked with red, sea frothing pink below.
Scarlet eyes stare blankly at the writhing man, who’s pushing his hands against the gushing wound, screaming in rage and agony. Silverswords rush over with their swords drawn. Onlookers gather shouting and shrieking in shock. The party’s in a frenzy, crowds churning and cacophonous. It’s pure chaos.
All the while, Rin sits quietly with the slightest tug at the corners of his mouth. The scarlet hue of his eyes dim to the depthless well of darkness.
***
Inside the marquee, the dance floor has been cleared and the music has gone silent. The air is thick with tension, centered around the lone, bloodied figure of the Rat, surrounded on all sides by Silverswords.
Along one wall of the tent stands a line of Roses, all in various states of undress and intoxication. Of course, they stand perfectly still with practised ease, their graceful and seductive countenance near inherent to their forms. Years of training under Madame Kahin has ensured their professionalism even when severely inebriated. Bucky stands amongst those in the line, a tense pull at her face.
Lady Nam lounges in her throne, coolly sipping her wine, her Rose standing straight and tall by her side.
There’s no sign of Bellow anywhere.
“Colonel Roche is a powerful man,” Yujin drawls, swirling her wind. She seems rather put out by the situation, torn away from her Rose to deal with this unpleasant matter. Her coal eyes glance at the bloodied boy with hardly a shift in expression, save irritation. “You are lucky he had been taken to the clinic in time. If he had died, you too would have lost your life. Of course, there is no guarantee that you won’t if the Colonel decides to press charges.”
Rin stands silently between his guards, staring blankly at his feet with hooded eyes. Black lashes sticky with blood tremble ever so slightly.
“He is the recipient of the Silver Medal of Valour. The medal that you just so happened to steal. Do you know what this means?”
No response. The lady sighs and takes a sip, tongue flitting out to catch a stray drop. "It means that he is a man greatly valued by the Mother. To attack him, you attack the Empress. To kill him is a direct threat to the throne. And you have made both your Madame and I culpable, purely by association."
Again, no response.
Yujin sighs and drains her glass, patience clearly wearing thin. She gestures to Kahin with a faint smile. “My dear. I will hand this matter over to you. Whatever you decide to do with your Rose, I shall respect. You can entrust the Colonel to me.”
Kahin bows her head at the noble. “Very well, my Lady. I would appreciate it if we kept the Silverswords out of this matter. My reputation…”
“But of course.” Yujin glances at the Silverswords and gives a curt nod. “You may leave. This issue will be dealt with by the House of Nam.”
The Silverswords stiffen in surprise and dismay, but they dare not disobey, simply bowing and marching out of the tent without a single word.
Where there were Silverswords, now there are Roses to guard the Rat. Two sturdy looking youths grab onto both his arms in unyielding grips. Another stands behind, blocking all three points of escape.
The Rat is trapped in a cage of Roses with death gliding towards him, violence in her eyes.
Kahin stands close enough for him to catch the scent of sweet wine and lavender. She grabs his jaw and rips the mask from his face, exposing a pair of hollow black orbs and a blood streaked face. Her expression cracks. Recognition unfurls like a tea bud in hot water. “Tell me, why do you pretend to be one of my Roses?”
A jagged fleer cracks his face. “Why else?” His voice grates painfully in his injured throat. “But to drink, fuck, and make merry?”
“What should I do with you?” The Madame ignores his words. She pinches his chin and tilts his head this way and that, studying his features intently. “You put my Roses in danger. Sullied my reputation. You turned a great military power against me and I do not like being threatened. Especially by a man.” Her wintry ire flares and her words cracks against the air like lashes from a whip.
“Hm. That sounds like a you problem.”
She smiles mirthlessly. “You have the face of a Rose.” Her thumb presses into the light scar on his cheek. “But you treat your body poorly. And your bearing is that of a rabid dog with nothing of value to offer.”
“Look, whatever you wanna do with me, just do it already. I’m coming down off my high and I’m getting really bored of this.”
“Are you sure that is what you want?” Those green eyes hold a wicked glint, a warning of what’s to come.
Hellebores narrow, his fear easily overcome by liquid courage. “Then again, I don’t want anything to do with a whoremonger like you. Do your beloved Roses know how much you’ve been exploiting them?”
The Rose to his left twists his arm in her grip, nails piercing the skin. The one to his right throws the back of his hand across Rin’s cheek, snapping the raven’s head to the side with a resounding smack. He’d stagger, if not for his guards constraining his every movement.
Kahin holds up a hand as she gently admonishes them. “Roses. Do you so easily forget your training?”
Her attention returns to Rin, her displeasure clear but she maintains her temper. For now. “You are a bold child, indeed. Or perhaps you are simply a fool. It will be a pleasure to train such a spirited Rosebud.”
“Fuck you,” the raven seethes. “I’d rather be hanged than be a godsdamned Rose.”
“That too, can be arranged,” Kahin says, calmly, gesturing for the Roses to drag the lad outside.
Barely a step is taken before the Rat retaliates.
His body twists and writhes, spine coiling as he snaps his jaw down on one of the constricting hands. A shriek pierces his skull. Jaw clenches, teeth sink, bones crack and snap. His mouth fills with another’s blood. Another’s flesh. The wounded Rose staggers back, clutching her bloodied hand that’s now missing a finger.
He spits out the digit and swings his freed fist at the guard to his left. Something shatters beneath his knuckles. The Rose drops to the ground, howling in pain. Strong as they are, they are but entertainers, not cut out for violence - at least the kind outside of the bedroom.
The third Rose wraps his burly arms around the smaller boy, limbs snaking around and squeezing like a hungry snake. Ribs crack from the tremendous pressure. The raven lets out a sharp cry of pain. He swings his foot forward to gain momentum, then strikes his heel into the Rose's groin. The latter doubles over, releasing the Rat to grab at himself.
All three guards downed, Rin scrabbles to his feet, panting and trembling in pain. He dashes for the exit -- only to be thwarted by several more Roses, all tense and ready to grapple him should he near. He swerves and makes a beeline for the buffet table, blindly snatching up a sharp knife.
Wild eyes roll this way and that. Enemies surround him like a net closing in. Lady Nam lounges nearby, sipping on her wine. But the one closest to him is the Madame herself, watching him with a curious smile upon her face. Without thinking, he lunges at her, grabbing a handful of her luxurious hair and yanking her head down to his level. Her spine arches as she’s forced back, eyes staring calmly at the chandelier above.
The knife digs into her throat, his arm coiled around her from behind. Blood beads the fine cut as her skin is broken, a drop slithering down the fine lines of her neck. He brings his face to her ear, bloodstained teeth bared in a savage grin. “Call off your dogs. Otherwise you know how this goes.”
Kahin hums, utterly serene. “No. Why don’t you tell me how this goes?”
“Never had a knife to your throat before?” Rin sneers, digging the blade into her flesh. A fresh cut opens, releasing thin rivulets of red to paint the canvas of her flesh. “This is what’s gonna happen. You call off your dogs. Make them tie each other up. Then you and your lady here do the same to each other. And then I take all your coin and get the fuck outta here. Or...I can kill you and anyone else that tries to stand in my way. Your choice, pet.” He licks his lips nervously, wide eyes flitting from person to person, silently daring them to make their move against him.
“And then what’s your plan? After you escape, whether you kill me or not, what will you do? You will not be able to return to your home. You will hunted no matter where you go until you are inevitably caught. In the end, you will hang and be forgotten the very next day. Is this what you want?”
“If that’s how it’s gotta go down, then why not? I'm not afraid to die. Question is, are you?”
“You are a terrible liar,” the Madame says, bringing her gaze to her captor’s face. Cold sweat beads the latter’s brow, exposing his anxiety. “I can smell your fear from here."
Unable to bear her Rose being threatened right under her nose, the lady rises from her throne and glides towards Rin, her countenance utterly glacial. She stops a few feet away when he jerks Kahin back, blade flashing in warning.
“You listen to me, boy. Very closely. Very carefully.” Her voice is soft, clear, and fast. Something about her tone draws his attention, as if to not hear her words would prove a detriment to himself. “You are a poor negotiator, so I will do so on your behalf. You have no chance of ever living past this night. Not if you run without settling your debt. The only outcome for you is death, whether after a year or by the morn. This is a guarantee, an event that is set in stone. You cannot escape it. Unless I do something about it.”
Rin wavers. The knife eases off Kahin’s throat, giving her room to breathe. But his hesitation is short and suspicion flares. He tightens his grip on the Madame, eyes narrowing to wary slits. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Because your hostage is someone very precious to me and she will not receive another scratch. Not from you. Not from anyone.”
Kahin glances at the lady, expression unreadable. Yujin gives her a gentle smile and continues speaking, eyes hardening when they return to the raven. “I am a considerable force in the Mother’s court. If there is anyone who can persuade the Colonel to give you your freedom, it is I. If there is anyone who can keep you alive, that is something I can do as easily as breathing. But in return, you must release the Madame and join her palace. Consider it an alternative punishment to death. That is your only chance of freedom. Your only chance at life.”
“I don’t want to be a fucking Rose. If you’re so godsdamned powerful, then you can find me a better solution.” Rin smirks, tapping the flat of the blade against Kahin’s cheek. “Remember, I got your precious someone at the end of my knife.”
“The Colonel will not be satisfied with words alone. I have offered you the only out I can give,” Nam says, coolly. “It is up to you whether you take it or not.”
The raven lowers the knife back to the Madame’s throat, lips twisting in anger. “Like I said, I’d rather die than be a Rose.”
The lady sighs and shakes her head. “Very well. If that is your choice, then you have also forced my hand.” She tosses her wine into the boy’s face, momentarily blinding him. Reeling, he quickly wipes his eyes with his free hand. And he inevitably loosens his grasp on Kahin.
The Madame twists and slithers free. A needle jabs into his knife wielding hand, sending a numb shock through the veins. The knife clatters to the ground.
Vitriolic Roses, beaten and bloodied, wrench him from their Madame. His knees hit the floor, his head follows suit, and no amount of struggling eases their crushing hold. His body feels strange, heavy and numb. The painful prickling in his needled hand spreads through him like a minute shards of glass, mercilessly seizing every nerve ending.
Ragged pants pump his chest as he jerks his head to the side, glaring at Kahin with a wild eye. “What...did you do to me…?” His words come slurred. He sags to the ground. His lashes quiver as he struggles to maintain awareness.
The Madame smooths her hands down her robes, stranding with her spine straight. Her lashes fall low as she glares down her nose at the beaten boy. “I’m impressed,” she says, and oddly, she seems rather sincere. “I enjoy the way you fight. Your body is overflowing with an energy unlike anything I've seen for many years.” A blood-curdling smile creeps across her face. “It will be difficult to train you, but I do relish a good challenge.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Yujin approaches the Madame from behind, eyes glittering. “My,” she breathes, sliding a hand around her Rose’s waist, “what a brazen mouth it has.”
“It does indeed,” Kahin sighs, turning to face her client. She rings her arms around the lady’s neck and gives her a deep, sensuous kiss. When they part, she licks her lips and smiles sweetly at Yujin. “I thank you for your assistance, my Lady.”
“Of course,” Yujin murmurs, glancing down at her Rose with tender eyes. “Deal with the boy. I will go and speak with the Colonel now.” She presses a tender kiss on the corner of Kahin’s mouth. “Come to me when you are finished. I shall keep the bed warm for you.”
The Rat gags loudly behind the women and spits out a mouthful of bile.
Just a quick disclaimer: In no way does anything in this story represent the realities of sex work and brothels. This is a fantasy novel set in a fantasy world with fictional characters. I take many creative liberties while writing this so please take everything here with a grain of salt.
Also, yes. Bellow fucked off with his noblelady to have some fun~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥
