[ there are hearts that sink into the ground, so heavy in the weight they hold of concern and worry that the noise they make is loud and clear in the prince's ears. they fall for him, for his safety, out of love and admiration for the one who so often was revered as the light of lokapala. he is the morning sun and the rising star, and yet he bleeds — not for himself, but for his people. he bleeds in waves that could very well challenge the waterfalls of ali qapu, so unending in their fall that kaveh's heart could stain those waters red.
he bleeds for the lokapalans that are taken from right behind him, their chains rattling against the floor, their yelps of despair a haunting sound. he sees fit to bleed for avidya as well, once under lokapala's care. they had then said, we will extend you our utmost protection, and failed to do so. he bleeds for the faces of people he has never met, but people he had once considered his cousins. he bleeds from the red of his eyes, picturesque tears of blood unseen from the eyes of those who do not share his pain.
one moment they stare daggers into the turquoise of prince alhaitham of vissudha, and the next, nothingness.
they are smart to blindfold him. kaveh is a genius first, royal second. from his fingertips he creates alcoves, pedestals, sacellums. he thinks for a moment that this, too, speaks mountains of their own security. if they see fit to prevent a master architect from memorizing every arch, every turn, every pillar that composes their palace, it means there would then have a chance for him to be free from their grasp and escape.
kaveh is taken away by different pairs of hands, hardly as calloused as the eremites' who had brought him here. the blood of his eyes may fail to memorize a path to freedom, but his mind has not been blinded. he can tell many a thing: how many turns they make, the length of their hallways, how many staircases they go through and whether they are spiral or winder. he maps it out with terrifying clarity, and the engines of his mind plan accordingly.
he is brought, then, to a stop. the blindfolded is not yet removed, but he is spoken to. you will from hereafter serve prince alhaitham as his bed slave, they begin, a voice almost saccharine, as though there is anything romantic in the idea, you are stripped of your name, status, and history. you are who your highness wishes for you to be, and you are to dedicate your life into abiding to his each and every will. do you understand?
lokapala does not hold slaves. people are equal under the sun's reign, and they do not see fit to be stripped out of the person the sun has made them in order to serve another. this is a reminder of their ideals, and kaveh scoffs. that earns him a grip at his jaw that is bound to leave marks, and the voice repeats, do you understand?
he does not, again, reply. they cannot harm or kill him here, he knows. now under their prince's possession, it is not within their will to do with kaveh as they wish, and he makes use of it. the loud and heavy noise that follows signalizes that this is a room with doors twice his size, fit for a noble. inside, they prepare him like a statue, atop soft cushions he judges a mattress. kaveh is placed on his knees, arms behind his back, and the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles are then connected by a chain twelve links long. escape, at this moment, is out of the question.
his eyes do not agree with the light as the blindfold is removed, and in the short time it takes him to adapt, he is left alone in the room, as a present to be unwrapped, a package to be opened, dressed in fine silk and adorned with delicate jewelry as they strip him of everything else. he is forced to wait, unattended and untouched, as though naught but a simply decoration in a room of obnoxious value. ]
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he bleeds for the lokapalans that are taken from right behind him, their chains rattling against the floor, their yelps of despair a haunting sound. he sees fit to bleed for avidya as well, once under lokapala's care. they had then said, we will extend you our utmost protection, and failed to do so. he bleeds for the faces of people he has never met, but people he had once considered his cousins. he bleeds from the red of his eyes, picturesque tears of blood unseen from the eyes of those who do not share his pain.
one moment they stare daggers into the turquoise of prince alhaitham of vissudha, and the next, nothingness.
they are smart to blindfold him. kaveh is a genius first, royal second. from his fingertips he creates alcoves, pedestals, sacellums. he thinks for a moment that this, too, speaks mountains of their own security. if they see fit to prevent a master architect from memorizing every arch, every turn, every pillar that composes their palace, it means there would then have a chance for him to be free from their grasp and escape.
kaveh is taken away by different pairs of hands, hardly as calloused as the eremites' who had brought him here. the blood of his eyes may fail to memorize a path to freedom, but his mind has not been blinded. he can tell many a thing: how many turns they make, the length of their hallways, how many staircases they go through and whether they are spiral or winder. he maps it out with terrifying clarity, and the engines of his mind plan accordingly.
he is brought, then, to a stop. the blindfolded is not yet removed, but he is spoken to. you will from hereafter serve prince alhaitham as his bed slave, they begin, a voice almost saccharine, as though there is anything romantic in the idea, you are stripped of your name, status, and history. you are who your highness wishes for you to be, and you are to dedicate your life into abiding to his each and every will. do you understand?
lokapala does not hold slaves. people are equal under the sun's reign, and they do not see fit to be stripped out of the person the sun has made them in order to serve another. this is a reminder of their ideals, and kaveh scoffs. that earns him a grip at his jaw that is bound to leave marks, and the voice repeats, do you understand?
he does not, again, reply. they cannot harm or kill him here, he knows. now under their prince's possession, it is not within their will to do with kaveh as they wish, and he makes use of it. the loud and heavy noise that follows signalizes that this is a room with doors twice his size, fit for a noble. inside, they prepare him like a statue, atop soft cushions he judges a mattress. kaveh is placed on his knees, arms behind his back, and the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles are then connected by a chain twelve links long. escape, at this moment, is out of the question.
his eyes do not agree with the light as the blindfold is removed, and in the short time it takes him to adapt, he is left alone in the room, as a present to be unwrapped, a package to be opened, dressed in fine silk and adorned with delicate jewelry as they strip him of everything else. he is forced to wait, unattended and untouched, as though naught but a simply decoration in a room of obnoxious value. ]