Content warning
mention of rape
Recently, Nelson felt a surge of anger whenever he saw his Captain of the Royal Guard, Griffin.
This was probably because of that minor confrontation.
At seventeen, Nelson was one of Hersey’s youngest kings. He was the type of king that had a gloomy disposition, mediocre swordsmanship, and was not particularly attractive to women. Of course, this was his own impression, though his few bed partners—both men and women—claimed he was quite attractive.
That year’s summer, it was Nelson’s birthday, so he held a jousting tournament to boost public morale. Since he was such a young king, the event turned rather a bit bloody.
Halfway through the preliminary rounds, Griffin won one of the matches. He won very easily, killing people was as effortlessly as he would dress or eat.
When Nelson watched from the stands as Griffin’s sword pierced his opponent’s throat and then withdrew, dark red blood flowed out like water, and the opponent made horrifying gurgling sounds. Men around cheered loudly, while women turned their heads away, but their cheeks flushed. Such slaughter would make them aroused. —anyway that was what Nelson thought.
Griffin, expressionless, threw his sword to an attendant, who wiped the blood off. His golden hair shone in the sunlight, handsome like a holy statue, as if everything was taken for granted—whether it was the always attentive attendant, women’s screams, men’s admiration, his unmatched beauty, and the enemy’s blood.
Nelson felt something tighten inside his heart, a mix of sour bitterness and anger.
After the event, at the evening banquet, Nelson encountered Griffin. Out of his armor, Griffin wore a formal dress suit, embroidered with his family crest, looking almost gentle and elegant.
Nelson approached to congratulate him. He thought Griffin was excessively handsome and shouldn’t always carry a sword and act so coldly. This type of beauty would be more delightful in bed.
He leaned in to whisper in his ear, his hand touching Griffin’s elbow. Just like what he always had done, once he made a hint, he could get anyone he wanted. People were always very compliant.
A potted court bamboo half-obscured them. Nelson played with Griffin’s cufflinks with his fingertips, a suggestive action, which was absolutely a very inappropriate behavior towards another man.
Griffin didn’t move away. He stared at Nelson, not at all engaged in this farce. His gaze was cold and hard, just like his father’s, and never had room for compromise.
Nelson met his gaze for a moment before looking away. He retreated. He couldn’t face those icy eyes.
He thought, the anger began at that moment.
He imagined one day pinning him down—on the ground, against a wall, in the woods, in a prison cell—usually not on a bed—and raping him, watching his face filled with terror.
Ironically, Nelson could get most people in the kingdom, but just this one, he could not.
His Captain of the Royal Guard, Griffin, was nineteen years old and the eldest son of the Iberia family, the wealthiest family in the kingdom, which also commanded significant military forces. Old Iberia did not have his precious son until he was forty-five and cherished him beyond measure.
If Nelson dared to do anything to him, his father would undoubtedly raise a rebellion. Nelson often fantasized about such scenarios, but each time, it ended with the king’s defeat and Nelson’s head hanging and rotting away on the city walls, because he truly couldn’t imagine a way to win.
Griffin was here merely to complete the gilding process of a young noble. Becoming the Captain of the Royal Guard would make this gilded shell even more dazzling and brilliant.
He was not yet fifteen when he first came to the capital. At that time, Nelson didn’t have many thoughts about him. Eh, it might be inaccurate to say that. He was then young, handsome, high-spirited, and had won twenty matches against much bigger opponents in the jousting tournament, with his golden hair gleaming brightly in the sunlight.
Nelson watched him sullenly from the throne. According to his younger sister, his eyes were filled with jealousy and resentment, almost overflowing. It was a wonder that Griffin’s family could still smile brightly under such a gaze.
“I am not jealous of him,” Nelson said.
“You are jealous,” his sister replied. “You should look at yourself in the mirror to see how you looked at him.”
But she slipped away before his fury erupted. She always knew when was a good time to slip away. If everyone had such keen perception, it would be great. Griffin did not. He flaunted his carefree golden hair before him every day, talking with people about how many more matches he had won, how many more people he had killed, how many more love letters he had received from women, and how great his old man was.
Of course, personally speaking, Griffin’s private life was far from chaotic. Among noble youths, he was practically considered chaste.
His interests seemed to lie in types of things like fighting, martial tournaments, and killing; he didn’t like to talk about love and romance. Perhaps when someone disregarded matters of the heart, they became a person who was difficult to hurt.
He was too fearless, so Nelson always imagined one day locking him up, dirtying that golden hair, making him pale and desperate, with eyes full of fear.
But he had never seen him fear. The one who feared was himself.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He remembered when he was five or six years old, during an autumn fox hunt, he saw Marquis Iberia talking to his father.
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Nelson couldn’t say why he slowed down, maybe because he could sense fear from a young age. He heard the man say to his father, “You will, of course, marry Elma to me. Tomorrow is a good time to announce it.”
Elma was Nelson’s aunt, actually not much older than him. She was always like a little girl, running around barefoot. One could always hear her laughter wherever she went, along with the etiquette tutor’s resigned voice to remind her to pay attention to her image.
She was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. Her pictures circulated among the common people, and every year, knights died in duels for her.
Nelson felt a surge of terror, freezing on his horse like his father. He knew that man, knew his fear, and knew what he looked like when he yielded.
He felt extremely helpless, a fear that stemmed from the sudden realization of the world’s darkness and cruelty. Before this, he was the prince, the heir to the throne, but at that moment, he was a powerless little boy, who was unable to protect his family and knew of the world’s cruelty at an early age.
The next day, his father agreed to the marriage. They couldn’t protect Elma. She was a princess, yet they had to send her off like goods to a barbaric servant.
Old Iberia had been married—although his wife had died, some said he had beaten her to death, but if one looked into it a bit more, they’d find she died of tuberculosis. But Nelson preferred the folk version. —and also had two children. Elma deserved better.
She deserved someone gentle and handsome, who would sing under her window and love her wholeheartedly.
As Nelson was recalling these painful memories, a servant announced his mother’s visit.
He quickly stood up from his desk to greet his mother and felt his mood got even worse.
Nelson’s mother, Deidre Sodder, was a naturally melancholic woman. After his father died, while most people would wear dark mourning clothes for a year or two, she had persisted on not taking them off even until now.
Sometimes, Nelson felt she believed black clothes suited her, so she could constantly display a sorrowful expression and claim she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Since her husband’s death, she would say that living in the world was torture and if it weren’t for her worrying about her fragile son, she would have followed the old king long ago. When she spoke about how certain people had wronged her, this image made her more convincing.
She walked over, looking melancholic, and upon seeing her son, gave a sad smile.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “My dear child, seeing you is one of the few joys in my life. Why cruelly deprive me of my few pleasures? You haven’t visited me in a long time… Of course, you’re young, always preoccupied with young people’s matters, unwilling to spend time with someone like me, who is past her prime and lives in sorrow…”
Nelson quickly said he wouldn’t, explaining that he had been busy with state affairs but thought of her every day.
Indeed, he hadn’t visited her much recently because… yes, the atmosphere around her was too oppressive. She would always recount everyone’s sins before him and never participated in social activities. She only liked to talk about how everyone had wronged her. For those unaware, they would have thought that even the sweepers in the palace were bullying her.
Nelson wasn’t a naturally jovial person, but he’d rather spar with the guards or visit the pleasure district.
“But being born into the royal family, you can’t always do what you want,” his mother continued. “People always say life in the royal family is good, but we live like puppets, wearing silk and satin, yet every day we look at the sky, living in sighs and tears.”
Nelson personally thought his life was much better than that of ordinary people; in some poor regions, people still couldn’t get enough to eat. But he could only nod silently, gently comforting her, saying things like, “I know you’re unhappy, but your unhappiness has saved so many people.”
This was the experience accumulated over the years of talking to her. If he didn’t say this, she would try to convince him until he said it.
His mother continued, “Nelson, my poor child, I saw Marquis Iberia yesterday. He made some suggestions to me, and since they come from someone like the Marquis, they’re far more than just suggestions for you and me.”
Nelson became alert and asked, “What suggestions?”
“He wants you to marry his daughter, Sera,” she said. “I’ve seen her twice. She’s mediocre-looking, the child of his low-born, coarse-featured first wife. She’s nowhere near as cute as Elma’s child, but to him, she’s at least a chess piece that can be used for marriage.”
Nelson froze.
He knew Sera. She was the Marquis’s eldest daughter, a year younger than Griffin, born to his first wife. The latter was the third daughter of the Lovens family. She was a strong-willed woman capable of leading troops into battle. When he married her, he was still a young knight with no prospects, but after his elder brother died, he inherited the richest territory in Hersey. Unfortunately, she contracted tuberculosis and died soon after, unable to enjoy this fortune.
As for Miss Sera, Nelson had seen her a few times. She danced beautifully, and like her brother, was a brilliant and dazzling beauty.
But Nelson couldn’t care less about that now. He only felt deeply insulted.
His mother continued, “I told the Marquis you’re still young, but he’s very earnest in pushing for this marriage. He said once you get to know her, you’ll definitely like her. Well, I suppose since he said you will ‘like’ her, then you don’t have much choice but to like her.”
Nelson stared at her, but she continued to prattle on. “Anyway, I think you should carefully consider it,” she said. “This marriage would give the Marquis more power, but you know the state of the treasury. He has the capital to make demands. My poor Majesty, if you marry Sera, she’ll bring a considerable dowry. The Marquis even promised to waive some of the debts. We have to make a living, too.”
Then she started talking nonstop about the benefits of marrying that young lady and moved on to how Gunter Iberia had forcibly married Elma and now dared to coerce the king into marrying his unruly daughter!
Nelson listened silently, feeling deeply humiliated. Marquis Iberia treated the royal family as if they were just breeding stock!
He also felt intense anger, because he felt something that he had felt long ago in that forest, that feeling of fear where he could only bow and endure humiliation.
He told his mother curtly that he would consider it and then rather rudely sent her off. She left with a displeased look, leaving behind a trace of her “Sorrowful Sky” perfume, as if she still had a bellyful of words unsaid. But she always had a bellyful of words unsaid.
He paced around the room, thinking he must refuse this marriage, but felt it might even lead to bigger troubles.
Miss Sera was very beautiful, and the Marquis doted on her. If she were someone else’s daughter, he would think it a good marriage. But she was the Marquis’s daughter, so he only wanted to escape. It had become merely a political act, devoid of love.
If he married her, she would glare at him like a constant reminder of failure. He would treat her poorly and not even want to see her.
He would live in misery his entire life. He would be like his mother, constantly complaining to others about his grievances. And her father would come to the capital every year during the new year, living it up, and would openly scold him for being a playboy and not caring enough for his daughter.
He shuddered, growing more terrified the more he thought about it, so he dressed up and went out for some fun.
He went to a tavern in the west of the city, where they were celebrating the king’s birthday. There were parties everywhere. He mingled in and got so drunk that a few royal guards had to carry him to the carriage.
He curled up in the spacious carriage, chatting with the two on-duty guards about the latest gossip in the capital: who had married whom, who was indulging in debauchery every day. These topics were light and stress-free.
The royal guards were all sons of nobles, adept at revelry and gossip. They were more like playmates than guards.
The origin of the Royal Guard system dated back to his great-great-great-grandfather, who believed it would help the king build good relationships with future lords. However, when it came to him, watching Griffin all day had only stirred deadly desires. To exaggerate, these desires could very well lead to the downfall of the kingdom.
Thinking of Griffin, Nelson suddenly spoke up, “Have you ever had that kind of feeling? Like… you really want to have sex with someone, and the thoughts in your mind are very violent, like you’re bewitched, thinking about it all the time and going crazy! What do you think it means?”
One guard laughed and said, “I don’t know, maybe because you see her, uh, or him, as a plaything, with no respect for her, just thinking she should be played with?”
“I think it’s because of hatred,” another guard said. “You want to hurt and humiliate that person because of hatred and anger.”
Although Nelson was still drunk, he suddenly felt enlightened. Yes, because of hatred, he wanted to humiliate him, to find control over him.
Now he was a guard, but undoubtedly, in ten years, he would be like his father.
Regarding the marriage proposal, the Marquis didn’t bring it up again, although his mother had come to pester him twice more. Although the Marquis hadn’t approached her, it didn’t stop her from harassing Nelson.
Overall, the Marquis probably just wanted to express his intention first. Marriage was a long process, and as nobles, they had to act gracefully and reservedly, without appearing too eager.
But he knew this matter would eventually come down on him again.
Suddenly, he thought if he could fuck Griffin, then the Marquis would certainly no longer want someone like him to marry his daughter.
The only side effect was the Marquis might want to kill him. Griffin probably might kill him outright.
He thought he should throw this idea away. Theoretically, wouldn’t time make a person calmer? Perhaps he would forget about it after a while.
But he didn’t.
Maybe because Griffin was always lingering around, his fantasies became more detailed and more provocative.
He started frequently seeking people for pleasure when Griffin was on duty, often making an exaggerated scene. He knew Griffin could hear the sounds. He did it so he could hear them. The thought of Griffin standing straight outside and on duty for the entire day while he was doing those things made him aroused.
Eventually, he could only get aroused when he thought of Griffin.
This desire became increasingly irrational, almost obsessive, to the point where he couldn’t control his actions at all and tried again.
It was a gathering after an autumn hunt. Killing things always made people’s emotions overly indulgent, so afterward, they held an outdoor party. Of course, the atmosphere of the party didn’t diminish just because it was outdoors.
Most of the attendees were young nobles, and the atmosphere was quite open. He saw many passionate pairs, and by tomorrow morning, many might lose their virginity. There might be grievances, duels, and illegitimate children.
Griffin was the guard on duty at that time. He followed Nelson without any intention of joining the revelry.
Griffin was used to such carousal—not to say that he liked them, but these things had been as common as pebbles to him since childhood, so he found nothing special about them. Among all Nelson’s guards, he seemed the most abstinent and arrogant—at least Nelson thought so.
Nelson was a bit drunk, pretending to also have a disdain for such games, while trying hard not to look back at Griffin.
Griffin walked behind him, back straight, his golden hair appearing softer in the night, not as dazzling and dangerous as during the day, and seemed a little erotic.
The night also softened his features, although the infuriating part of his temperament didn’t change at all. He looked indifferent to everything, making people want to hurt him even more.
Nelson entered a large tent, and his guard stopped outside to keep watch.
Nelson paused. The tent was carpeted with soft rugs that sank underfoot, dimly lit, with the incense carrying a subtle, erotic scent. He felt the atmosphere here was perfect, and he began to be unable to control his thoughts and actions.
He said, “Come in, Griffin.”
Griffin gave him a questioning look before walking in.
“Your Majesty?” he asked.
Nelson stood close to him. He felt he was getting more drunk. When he was outside, he was just a little tipsy, but now he was unable to control his actions.
He reached out to touch Griffin’s hair. It felt warm and soft. He had been thinking about his hair all day, wanting to grab it hard, making him frown and show pain.
But he was gentle at that moment. He said, “I want you to stay tonight, Griffin.”
Griffin still looked at him doubtfully. Nelson’s hand moved down; Griffin wore chainmail underneath. Although it was light, it was still cold to the touch. His fingers sensually brushed his arm. Without the steel there, it felt soft and warm. He imagined his whole body feeling this way. He wanted to strip away the cold, hard metal, disregard his pleas, then tear him apart and make him scream.
He felt the taut lines of the knight’s body, full of explosive power, but his hand was not on his sword, which made him sigh in relief. Then he noticed how beautiful his hands were. He was tall and his limbs were long. He moved with such grace that it was a pleasure just to watch him.
He was irritatingly good-looking. Why did Old Iberia have such a son? Why did he get everything in the world?
Nelson said, “You are my guard, Griffin. It is your duty to do whatever I tell you to do. You swore an oath. Now, I want you to stay here with me tonight.”
Griffin looked at him for a moment and then suddenly burst into laughter.
It wasn’t really a mocking laugh but a genuinely happy one, as if he had just heard a particularly funny joke. It was a bright, almost innocent smile. He patted Nelson on the shoulder hard, like he was his little brother. He really had absolutely no manners. — But, of course, considering the balance of power, maybe it was indeed like that.
Griffin’s laugh swept away the tension that had been building up. He said, “Alright, alright, I’ll go find you a woman, Your Majesty. You’ve worked hard to keep your eyes straight all the way. Everyone has seen it. But it’s understandable that you’d want to have some fun occasionally. I’ll keep watch outside, so you can enjoy yourself.”
Then he turned and left.
Nelson stared at the tent flap, unsure of what had just happened.
After a while, he finally realized. He had threatened Griffin to stay the night, and Griffin had left without looking back…
But, of course, Griffin soon returned, and he really had brought someone.
He brought one of Nelson’s former lovers. Clearly, Griffin knew about these things. These noble youths who serve as guards knew everything.
Griffin had a good eye for women; she was attractive, but she looked overly eager as she entered the tent, making Nelson feel like he had gone from being the one taking advantage to being taken advantage of.
Griffin then left with a barely concealed smile to stand guard, saying he would “watch the door for His Majesty,” leaving Nelson alone with the passionate woman.
Nelson glared angrily at the door and ignored the woman Griffin had brought. She started off enthusiastic but soon became a little afraid. After standing there for a short while, Nelson sent her away and, through gritted teeth, apologized, saying it wasn’t her fault. She left looking completely bewildered.
Griffin was still standing at the entrance. Seeing Nelson’s expression, he earnestly asked, “Do you want me to find another one?”
Nelson angrily refused.
Jousting… with a sword? Interesting start tho