The great hall's heavy silence shattered as the doors groaned open, and Tharen was dragged in by armored guards, his once-defiant body now a shell of shame. Blood crusted one brow.
His shoulders hung low, muscles trembling from the fight he'd lost and the punishment yet to come.
King Aldric sat tall on the obsidian throne, eyes sharp and cold as steel.
"You stood before this court," the King declared, his voice echoing like thunder, and demanded what is forbidden by our laws the right to violate a prince's body as if he were a mere possession.
Whispers flickered through the hall. Prince Kaelith stood still at his father's right, his expression unreadable. But when Tharen raised his head, he didn't look at the King. He looked at Kaelith.
King Aldric rose to his feet. His voice deepened, heavy with finality.
"Zarethrone's ancient laws are absolute. No man, no matter how powerful, may lay claim to what is protected by sacred decree. You insulted the crown, the bloodline, and our entire court."
He extended one hand toward the guards.
"Strip him."
In one swift motion, Tharen was pulled upright and his garments torn from his bruised body. The court stared nobles, advisors, and even the servants high on the marble balconies above. The ritual was ancient. The shame is eternal.
The Judge's Bed was rolled into the hall a darkened platform draped in crimson. The nobles leaned forward, expecting the call of Lysaro, the usual enforcer of carnal law.
But King Aldric's lips curled into something darker.
"Bring forth Hale," the King commanded.
A silence fell so heavy it nearly crushed the air. Then the servant stepped forward tall, lean, and wicked-eyed. Prince Kaelith's servant.
Prince Kaelith's throat bobbed. His brows pulled tight, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
He didn't speak. He couldn't.
Hale said nothing as he approached the bed. He climbed onto it with fluid grace and looked down at Tharen like a wolf sizing up wounded prey.
King Aldric's voice rang out, cold and cruel.
I want to hear his cries. Let desire be his punishment.
Guards shoved Tharen onto the bed, face down, trembling as Hale crawled over him, gripping his wrists, dragging him back. There was no hiding. No veil between them and the court.
Clothes hit the stone floor in rapid succession. Flesh met flesh bare skin against bare skin. The air changed, thick with tension, with breathless anticipation.
A slow, cruel thrust broke the silence. Tharen arched up with a strangled gasp, his moan echoing through the domed ceiling.
The court didn't move.
Another thrust. Harder. The bed creaked beneath them.
Tharen whimpered not from pain alone, but from humiliation, from being taken by a man who relished every thrust.
Hale's voice was low in his ear.
You wanted a prince, he growled, slamming into him again. "You get me."
He took him relentlessly, punishing, unmerciful. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, Tharen's moans, and the creaking bed were all recorded, and immortalized in the court's archives.
Prince Kaelith watched, face pale, fists clenched. The muscles in his throat worked as if he were struggling to breathe. Without a word, he turned and left the hall his cape fluttering like a storm behind him.
Hale saw him go.
Tharen sobbed as Hale dug deeper, moving like fire through a dry forest. His moans weren't of pleasure. They were of defeat. Shame. Regret.
The King watched with satisfaction, unmoved.
When it ended, Hale stood slowly, his chest heaving. Tharen lay trembling on the stained silk, legs too weak to hold him. His body bore the proof of his punishment raw, red, and conquered.
King Aldric's voice broke the silence once more.
"Let this judgment be remembered."
The crowd stood. One by one, they filed out shaken, aroused, silenced.
Prince Kaelith's POV
He stormed out of the great hall, his breath sharp, his heart louder than the roar of the crowd that still echoed behind him. The moment the King had called Hale to punish Tharen, something inside him snapped.
His footsteps were heavy as he entered his private chamber and slammed the door shut.
Why did his father choose Hale?
Not Lysaro. Not any soldier.
Kaelith leaned against the wall, his fingers curling into fists. He could still hear the raw moans, the sound of skin on skin, the bed creaking with every brutal thrust. He had watched Hale enter Tharen, punishing him mercilessly. It wasn't just judgment. It was desire.
And Kaelith felt it all.
The shame of being watched.
And the worst part was how much his body responded to it.
Hale's POV
He stood near the throne, bare-chested and breathless, as the hall emptied.
The Judge's Bed was gone. The whispers of the crowd had faded. But he remained.
Sweat clung to his skin. His hands were marked with Tharen's desperate scratches. His lips curved slightly shameless.
He had done what the King commanded. He had punished the Tharen. But he'd done more than that.
He'd made a statement.
To the court.
To the kingdom.
And to Prince Kaelith.
He'd seen it in Kaelith's eyes, filled with something between longing. Hale had pounded every cry out of Tharen's mouth, knowing the prince was watching, unable to speak, unable to leave without exposing his weakness.
Tharen's POV
He lay in the infirmary, naked under a thin sheet, shaking from exhaustion.
His legs wouldn't move. His body throbbed bruised, used, and raw. The guards had dragged him here after the punishment. No one spoke to him. No one dared.
His breaths came shallow.
He could still feel Hale inside him.
Not just the thrusts. The power. The humiliation. The way Hale had looked at him like he was nothing but a body to be used. A lesson to be taught.
And worst of all… the way his own body had betrayed him. He'd moaned. He'd arched. He'd begged.
And the entire court had watched.
Every noble. Every council member. Every servant.
Tharen shut his eyes.
He had asked to touch the prince.
And now he understood.
The prince wasn't to be touched.
He was to be feared.
And Hale had made sure Tharen would never forget it.
Kaelith's and Hale's
The torches outside Kaelith's chamber burned low, casting flickers of orange across the marble floor. Hale stood before the prince's door, Hesitant for the first time since he started working for the Prince.
He had been here countless nights. He had teased Kaelith through silk curtains, smirked through whispered commands, stolen glances, and stolen touches. He had always known how to make the prince's lips twitch with annoyance or amusement.
But tonight?
Tonight was different.
He knocked gently, then entered when the silence stretched too long.
Kaelith was at the window, his back turned, robe loose around his shoulders. The moonlight curved along his bare neck.
"You didn't call," Hale said softly, forcing a smirk. I thought maybe you were finally done with me.
The prince didn't turn.
"I didn't need anything," Kaelith replied, his voice calm in a way that didn't match the fire in his eyes.
Hale stepped in further, closing the door behind him. Still. I'm yours until sunrise. What do you need?
The silence returned, thicker now.
Hale walked to the table, slowly setting down the evening tray he'd brought. Wine. Sweet figs. Soft towels.
The water's hot. I can draw your bath if you want, he offered.
Still no eye contact.
So Hale tried again, light, casual, playful.
Unless you'd rather I lie beside you and pretend I didn't fuck a man into the judge's bed three hours ago.
Kaelith turned. Slowly.
His eyes met Hale's cold, unreadable.
"I said I don't need anything."
The words landed like a blade, soft but sharp. Not cruel. But distant.
Hale exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He tried a smile, but it faltered halfway.
"You're angry," he said.
Kaelith looked away. "I'm not."
"Then what are you?"
The prince didn't answer.
The silence between them grew louder than words.
Hale took a step forward, his voice softer now. "You watched me. Everyone did.
Kaelith's voice came after a long pause, quieter than before. So.
Another pause.
"You liked it?" Kaelith asked suddenly low, quick, almost like he regretted it the moment it left his mouth.
Hale's throat tensed.
I didn't think about it, he said. I thought about punishing him.
"And now?"
Now he didn't know how to feel.
He had done what the King commanded. But something in Kaelith's face now made him wish he hadn't enjoyed it as much as he did.
That he hadn't thrust so deep. That his prince hadn't been watching.
"I can leave," Hale whispered. If that's what you want.
Kaelith nodded, slow and quiet.
"Yes. Go for now."
Hale lingered a moment. He almost said something else. Almost touched him. But the look on Kaelith's face made it clear the walls were up.
So he left.
And behind the closed door, both men felt something break. Not loudly. Just enough to hurt.