Chapter Text
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Theodore Decker – the young messenger of the Royal family – traveled to different villages, some nearby, others far away, always proclaimed in the voice of his King – Lorin – carrying notices and declarations to various places.
Theo had heard many insults as if they were speaking to the author of the letters himself, as if the messenger were to blame, but he certainly couldn't do anything about it except remain silent with a request for permission to leave, even if he was sometimes threatened with death.
One day, King Lorin ordered Theodore to declare war on his behalf against a kingdom he had never been to. Lorin said that when he went to that distant kingdom, he felt nothing but chills from the dense fog and the pulsating, icy snow, and that the ruler of that frigid land was a heartless and merciless man, without remorse for violence or hostility, always ready to punish anyone who disobeyed him or broke any rule; perhaps that was why his people were so rigid and persuasive as well.
Decker could no longer see the ocean view during the voyage, for the ship he was sailing on was shrouded in darkness, in the middle of a deep and consuming fog, like a vacuum. And nothing of that distant Kingdom appeared.
"What do you expect from this King?" a voice questioned Theo, who had stopped staring at the completely gray sky. "Too scared to go talk to him?"
"I don't know," he said, taking his hand off the edge of the boat. "If I didn't meet him, I can't have an opinion."
He smiled slightly, adjusting his round-framed glasses; his shipmate smiled back, heading towards the helm. After long, endless minutes, something appeared in the fog: a mountain, then another smaller one, and soon after, a sharp point scratching the sky, revealing a dark and extremely tall tower, showing a robust castle, green from nature's erosion.
Theo's pal lowered the telescope from his eyes.
"King Lorin wasn't wrong when he said it was cold here... Could it be that King Boris is as cold as the weather?"
He looked at the messenger, who picked up his things and gazed at the approaching Kingdom.
"I think I'm about to find out..."
The ship stopped, people from all over the Kingdom stopped to watch the boat's ramp drop to make way for the passenger from another place; the stares were intimidating and pierced Theodore's confidence. The sounds of ravens echoed in the sky, whispers rang out, and the sound of a light breeze drifted past the newcomer's ears.
Soon a man in dark clothing appeared, but he did not possess the features that King Boris was depicted as having; he was a large man with little hair.
"You're from the Kingdom of Towers, right?"
"Yes, Sir. I am..."
"Come with me."
He did as he was asked, nodding to the friend who had brought him there, seeing him nod back. The agreement was for Theodore to spend a week in that Kingdom, to study and analyze the situation there, so that his own Kingdom could prepare for a possible future war; this would depend on King Pavilkovsky's reaction.
The people there didn't seem to be starving or suffering hardship, at least most of them didn't, but the condition of the houses was deplorable; there were no welcoming faces in that valley, only wary stares, which Theo tried to ignore completely.
That castle was immense, but it seemed to have two owners, Boris and Mother Nature, for she spread her art across the stone walls in the form of moss and vines. The castle where he worked was rich and sophisticated, inside and out; the one he saw now also seemed to be, but in a different way, a more somber and tomb-like sophistication, as if there were no sun there. That explained the pale skin of most of the people he saw.
Inside the Palace, it was even colder than outside, as the windows blocked out bright light, making the air completely frigid, sending shivers down Theodore's spine and causing his mouth to tremble discreetly until he adjusted to the temperature.
Upon reaching the throne room, he was left alone inside. His shock intensified when he saw the doors close behind him, with no one keeping him company. He swallowed hard, staring at the long corridor filled with cracked windows.
"Come closer."
A hoarse voice called to him in a short tone, and it was then that Decker looked at the figure on the only throne at the end of the wine-colored carpet: a man with his head bowed, staring at his own shoes. The only clear view of him was his long nose, visible beneath black, almost curly hair, with a crown that seemed heavy atop his head, reflecting some points of the silver object. As he approached, he could also see the King's attire better: a dark cloak, as dark as his hair, trailing on the floor, and hidden pieces of clothing beneath the cloak.
"Good evening, Your Majesty, I come in the name of King Lorin of the Kingdom of Towers."
He bowed before Pavilkovsky, who raised his head, revealing his freckled face and piercing eyes, his reddish lips twisting against his pale, almost white skin.
"Proceed." he tapped his nails on the arm of the throne, waiting for him to say it soon.
Theo opened the scroll without delay, clearing his throat before declaring his feelings.
"For a long time I have harbored revulsion for your attitude towards me and your Kingdom, the way you mistreated me in front of all the leaders, the way you threatened me, it all runs through my veins, my honor was wounded by your vanity, and... "
He stopped, reading the message for the first time. He knew it was a declaration of war, but he didn't know the details, showing that the man in front of him was worse than he seemed. In a quick glance, Theo saw Boris with his fingertips to his mouth, silent and staring at him as if he were the culprit, and for the first time, Theodore truly took it personally.
“ ...due to the threat I heard from you, I, King Lorin, declare a dispute between your Kingdoms, so I can show you that you were mistaken about my stature, that you are not capable of...eliminating all my people... ” his voice faltered, wavered “ I will not wait for any more answers until the thirtieth moon. ”
Decker took a deep breath, rolling the parchment in his hands, waiting for the King to say something, but all he did was stare at him, like a child seeing a treat in front of him, powerless to do anything, a gaze so fixed that it made Theodore look at the ground, without lowering his head. After a few seconds, hearing only the creaking of wood, he looked back at the man, genuinely unsure if he would get an answer, but absolutely nothing came out of his mouth except for the curse in his unblinking eyes. It no longer seemed like a look of hatred, but it certainly wasn't good either; Theo didn't know what word to use to describe those strong eyes.
"Anything to say, Your Majesty?"
"The way you say it erases all the tension in this letter," he said, tapping his fingers again on his throne, smiling slightly "Your gentle voice doesn't make me think of it as a great threat."
Despite his cynical smile, Boris's voice was deep enough to send shivers down the messenger's spine, making him feel intimidated.
"Is this your message? I will return to the Kingdom of Towers and relay your reply."
Boris subtly raised his eyebrows, adjusting his posture on the throne and leaning discreetly, but contrary to what Theodore thought, he said nothing, once again.
"Tell me your name."
"Theodore Decker, Your Majesty."
He leaned in again, trying to maintain eye contact as much as possible, a task that was almost impossible.
"Why don't you stay longer, Theodore? I like having new guests."
He crossed his legs, leaning his back against the upholstered furniture and relaxing his body.
"Forgive me, but I cannot accept," he replied, watching the King's face gradually darken during the pause. "I need to go back."
"Oh, don't be shy, Theodore"—that tone of voice was anything but friendly; it had a threatening air about it "Stay."
"I have to go."
He took a step back, ready to leave, because the way Boris had been intrusive without moving an inch sent shivers down his spine.
Locked.
The door swayed as much as it wanted, but it wouldn't open; Theo was locked inside, and he looked back, seeing Pavilkovsky now standing tall.
"Stay, that's what I said," he hissed, tilting his head to the side. "I order you to remain here until I tell you that you may leave."
Decker felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. So this was the haughty King they talked about? They'd told him Boris was temperamental, but he realized they were wrong, for he was ten times worse.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, getting straight to the point, hiding his fear behind a closed expression.
Boris stood up, an action that made Theo take steps back, shrugging his shoulders as the slow, heavy footsteps thumped on the floor with the sounds of chains clanging. Because the dark-haired man had been sitting until then, Theo was startled to realize how tall he was, his stomach almost touching his head. Boris lowered his head to see the messenger, head held high and defenseless, letting out a nasal laugh before bending his knees in an almost imperceptible act.
"Just your company."
"I can't stay, King Lorin will rip my head off if I don't return by sunset..."
He made up a story about needing to return that very night so he could leave the castle. Theodore had an excellent, high-pitched voice, always able to proclaim things, but now he whispered, afraid of Boris's heavy breathing in his face.
"If you leave my Palace without my permission, I will do it myself."
The sensation was suffocating, as if Boris were possessing him, entering his body like an animal. It was making Theodore nauseous, causing him to pull away once more and lose his automatic breathing reflex in the presence of the somber King.
Boris also moved away, raising a bell he took from some pocket and ringing it subtly. In a few seconds, another man appeared through the back door to the right of the throne and immediately bowed.
"Prepare dinner, I want lamb and brioche," he listed his desires, "for two people tonight."
His servant yielded, leaving silently with his head bowed. Decker couldn't comprehend the bipolarity, or perhaps the psychopathy.
"Why are you doing this?" It was too late; now he was completely vulnerable to Boris. "I-I'm not to blame for King Lorin's decisions. I'm meant to pass on his messages; you can't take it out on me!"
Boris paced back and forth silently, tucking his bell back into his clothes as he walked to the window, seemingly ignoring him, who continued to speak.
"I am not your guest, much less your servant; you cannot force me to stay!"
One moment Boris was at the window, the next he was grabbing Theo's arm after a wild lunge, slamming the smaller boy's body against the main door of the hall. Theodore choked on his own words, gripped tightly by the other's large, slender hands; his face was so close to the King's that he almost felt the tip of his nose touch his, and now Boris's breathing was erratic, which was frightening.
"As long as you're on my lands, you'll obey only me, no one else..." he whispered breathlessly and brutally. "Then...you'll come to the dining room with me...you'll eat with me...then we'll see what I do with you."
The rough hand released him gently, and Theodore watched Boris walk backward, his steps shackled. His brain couldn't distinguish whether it was a friendly invitation or a threat; Boris confused his mind, for then no tears were shed, only incredulous eyes.
Minutes later, in the dining room, the boy stared at the table set by candlelight in bronze candlesticks, giving a warm aspect to the food scattered across the table, like an unlimited menu. He could hardly believe he could choose anything, however, his appetite refused to make itself present, at least not next to Pavilkovsky beside him in the main chair, chewing on almost raw meat dripping blood onto his fork.
"Help yourself, Theodore."
He said it as a command, not as a proposal. Decker didn't adjust his posture in the chair far enough from the King, but close enough as well.
"I'm not hungry..."
Boris took another bite of the red meat, glancing at Theodore in the process, seeing that he didn't get a look from Theo back.
"Do you want something else that isn't on this table?" he asked, glancing at the row of options. "What do you want, Theo?"
He was losing his mind over Boris's generosity; it was shattering his thoughts like a jigsaw puzzle. He no longer knew the difference between kindness and command, regardless of Pavilkovsky's tone.
Furious and without answers, Boris slammed his fist on the table, rattling the cutlery and glasses, startling Theo. Once again, he pulled the bell from his dark cloak, summoning a different servant once more.
"Prepare his plate."
"With what, Your Majesty?"
"Anything," he replied, looking intently at his nearly empty plate. "Just make sure it's still hot."
Because Theo remained motionless in his chair for so long, some things began to get cold, but as requested, they handed Theo a steaming plate with an enchanting aroma. The messenger wondered if he could resist the temptation, but his stomach churned more and more as he inhaled the smell of roasting food.
At a glance, he saw Boris throw his head back to drink his glass of wine with his eyes closed. He gained only a few seconds to analyze him without Boris looking back. His hair fell to his shoulders, reaching his wings when he threw his head back; his thick eyebrows arched upwards, joining together with the movement, forming lines on his forehead; with his eyes closed, the dark-haired man's long eyelashes were noticeable; and his throat heaved with each sip, making it possible to see each drop entering his system.
As soon as he drank the last drop of wine from the gleaming glass, Theo discreetly looked back at the table, so as not to look at the dish that had been offered. Soon he heard Boris's hands come together at the end of the table, the sound of their rings touching.
"It's a shame you didn't want to eat, dinnertime's over."
"Done, you've had my company as you requested..." he no longer cared if he seemed too defenseless "May I leave, Your Majesty? Please."
All he heard was the creaking of the chair legs, deciding to watch Boris slowly throw his body back until his back was resting against the wall with his hands crossed.
"You're leaving so soon? I'd you to stay longer."
"I'm begging you!" Theo raised his voice. "I want to get out of here!"
"Oh, there's no need to get so worked up, Theodore," he denied as he stood up. "This isn't a prison, think of it as...a Royal night."
"I don't have to obey you."
"Oh, you must..." he lowered his voice and moved closer to Theo's ear, placing his hands on his chosen shoulders. "You don't want to know what might happen to you if you dare to defy me..."
"I wouldn't have the courage..." he clenched his teeth, holding his red face in his hands.
"I have more than you're getting right now, speaking to me like that..."
Whenever Boris moved away, Theo felt a much colder air than usual, a certain relief, but a bad relief that pierced his skin.
He watched Pavilkovsky walk around the table until he was facing him on the other side, still standing.
"Why don't you stay here tonight?" he smiled slightly. "Your company is pleasant."
Theo swallowed hard, unable to hold back a tear, letting it escape accidentally in front of the King who still smiled malevolently and discreetly – the King's enemy for whom he works, or perhaps, used to work. He no longer knew if he would remain alive.
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