Etien is a young thief, raised on the streets by his guild, and he’s good, damn good. But given the most challenging assignment of his young career -- stealing an invaluable jewel from the crown prince’s bedroom -- he’s finally caught in the act. It looks like his first major mistake will be his last, as the king will likely have him executed.
And indeed, everything is proceeding in that direction. He ends up in the palace dungeon, beaten by the crown prince himself and awaiting his fate. But the crown prince’s younger brother Zack takes an interest in Etien, and begins visiting him in his cell.
As they talk, they quickly begin falling for each other. Etien suddenly has something to live for, but is it too late for them? Can the younger, more timid prince save him from a terrible fate?
The prince stood still for a moment, gazing at him in the dim light, then held up his hand, palm up, and spoke a word Etien could not hear. A small ball of light appeared, floating in the air above his palm. A magic user! He then spoke another word, and the ball of light went to float off into a corner of the cell.
In the much better light, the prince looked him up and down slowly -- a great deal of Etien’s stomach was bare, both from his shackled position and from the strip of shirt he had torn off the previous night. The prince’s gaze clearly lingered there for a while, before finally moving up and locking eyes with the thief again.
“Why did you do it?” The prince asked finally. His voice was quiet, but almost melodic. Etien instantly found himself wanting to hear it more. “You’ve thrown your life away, for what? A chance at riches? Magic?”
“It’s what I do,” Etien replied simply, in his own low voice. The prince seemed equally mesmerized by him.
“I’m Zack,” The prince introduced himself, with a slight bow. He reached into a pocket of his pajama pants and pulled out a rag, coming closer to Etien as he did so. Reaching up, he put the rag against the side of Etien’s face, and Etien could tell the rag was damp. But more than that, the prince’s fingertips were touching his face as well, and the touch was electric. Etien flinched involuntarily. The prince gave him a small smile, their faces only inches apart now, and soon he was scrubbing Etien’s face gently, getting some of the dried blood off. But after a while, he frowned and went to the door, calling for the guards in a calm voice, clearly so as not to alarm them. When they arrived, he asked them for a bucket of water and a clean rag.
Before long, they returned with the requested items and left when the prince ordered them to. The prince wet the rag thoroughly and went back to his scrubbing. This time the rag was soaked, and water ran down Etien’s face, neck, and into his shirt, running in rivulets down his torso. Etien gave a slight shiver, but the prince ignored it and kept scrubbing.
After a while, he took Etien’s chin in hand and turned his head both ways, inspecting his handiwork. Seemingly satisfied, he tossed the rag, which landed in the bucket with a splash. Turning back to Etien, he stared at him for a few moments, then shook his head. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. At that, he hollered for the guards again, and when they arrived, ordered them to release the prisoner from his shackles. The guard closest to him raised an eyebrow, but complied with the order, and then they left again.
Etien sat down on the stone, leaning back against the wall, and rubbing at his wrists. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes briefly.
“Thank you. That was ... more uncomfortable than I thought it would be. I was losing feeling in my arms.”
The prince simply smiled in return and sat down on the stone floor a few feet away, crossing his legs.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Etien, Highness.”
The prince repeated his name, slowly, as if savoring it. “Tell me about yourself, Etien.”
Etien thought for a moment, then began telling his story; slowly at first, then building up speed. There was not much to tell. He could talk about -- no, brag about, really -- his thieving exploits, as the others would in the common room of the thieves’ guild. But that was not his style and seemed especially inappropriate under the circumstances. And other than that, there was little of interest about his life. Thieving was what he did. When he was in the guild headquarters, he spent most of his time avoiding the bosses and their harassment, their beatings, avoiding some of the other thieves for the same reason, and masturbating. Lots and lots of it. Whenever he could find a quiet, dark corner away from the others. He did not want to tell the prince any of that, though. It is a simple, rather pathetic life, Etien thought.
“What about you, Highness? Tell me about yourself, if I’m not being too forward.”
“Please, call me Zack,” the prince corrected, with a warm smile.
