Slay The Prince 2

The Elven Prince had far more wives than Najmay had realised. Enough that counting them all would take more effort than the curiosity about the specific number warranted… a few dozen at least? With a range of ages, for Elves were nearly ageless and human lives were brief next to them. The Prince himself was over two hundred, from what she’d heard.

A servant had led her about the women’s wing of the palace, firmly separated from the more administrative sections. She found she had a small room to herself. It was pleasant. The furnishings were quite fine, with art imported from far reaches of the Elven Empire, or perhaps even beyond it. Yet, all the same, the room was not as large as her one back home had been. That surprised her. She supposed there may be an expectation she would spend much more of her time in the common areas. Assorted lounges and garden courtyards dotted the wing. There were baths as well. Many luxuries.

But they meant spending so much time with strange women she did not know. Najmay could not yet feel comfortable with that idea. She had been shy enough around her own family.

She found herself staring out her window, seeing the rest of the palace through a wooden screen. The screen itself was clearly of excellent craftsmanship, with organic patterning carved into it. Yet it was, in effect, ornate bars. She had seen enough of the wing, and talked enough to the servants, to know that she could not leave this section of the palace of her own accord. The Prince could take her out to show off, but she was otherwise to be kept locked away.

Still staring, she watched as guards patrolled the gardens beyond. They, likely, could not see her through the small holes of the screen, but she could see them quite well. Both were women, looking dashing in their uniforms. One was a bit older and rather plain looking. The other, though, was fairly young, and, in Najmay’s eyes, exceedingly beautiful. At least as well as could be told from a dozen or so paces away. She clearly had sharp eyes, and the sort of deep brown skin that had always entranced Najmay about the working class girls back home.

“There are far worse things,” a woman’s voice said from behind her, causing Najmay to spin about in surprise. The woman who had spoken was older than her, with greying hair and a few lines on her face. She was fairly pale, likely from one of the northern portions of the Empire. “I know it’s probably not what you hoped, but it’s not as bad as it first seems. Just think of time with his grace as working hours.”

The woman offered a soft smile as she finished.

“It felt as if he thought he owned me, though…” Najmay said in barely more than a whisper.

“That is how Elves see the entire empire. They live so much longer than us… it’s no surprise they see us as below them,” the woman replied. “We might see more of that than most while we’re here, but we also get pampered. So it balances out.”

Najmay nodded. What else could she really do? There was nothing for it but to get used to her new life.

“I’m Syr by the way, and you?” the woman asked.

“Najmay. Najmay Shuj,” she replied.

“If that’s your family name, then, well, it isn’t anymore. You’re part of the royal family by marriage, remember that,” Syr said, her tone still soft.

“Ah. I suppose that is true,” Najmay mumbled.

“You probably also won’t get much attention for the first few moons anyhow,” the woman said. “The physician will want to know your cycles, so that the Prince is only with you on your best nights.”

“Th—Pardon?”

Raised eyebrows were the woman’s initial response. “You didn’t know, then? Half the reason Elves have so many wives is that it’s rare for them to have children. Even rarer for those children to be Elven boys. They rotate around, sticking to the best night for each wife. They’re always desperate for heirs.”

Shivering a little, Najmay nodded again. She was glad for the knowledge she’d have a while in peace ahead of her, at least.

-

The pile of laundry was shoved into her arms just as Huli had entered the barracks. The reek of sweat and mud on them was mildly overwhelming. She looked down at the sudden load, before returning her gaze to the other woman, the head of their barracks’ section.

“Your extra duty, sewer rat,” the older guard said, the woman wearing an obnoxious smirk.

“To whom do I deliver them?” Huli asked.

“The wash basin over there,” the guard said.

“You’ll be doing the washing,” another woman added, leaning into the doorway.

Huli looked down at the large pile, which seemed too much to have come from a single day. Unless other sections of the barracks had added to the pile.

“But there are washer women?” Huli asked.

“For the nobility and the elves. We guards have to handle our own washing. And, as a sewer rat, you can probably do a better job than the rest of us. You know filth as well as any washer woman, don’t you?” the section head said. “Quicker you finish, the quicker the more sleep you get tonight.”

Huli’s mouth twitched slightly. She had a blade on her still, from her patrols. She could end this smug imperial. Wipe the obnoxious grin of her face. She could probably take a few others down too. And they deserved it…

But that would interfere with her greater quest. There were more important targets than these petty bullies. So she gritted her teeth and headed off to the washbasin. Her hands hurt from the hot water and soaps by the end, but the worst of it was how long it took. Hours of scrubbing left her exhausted when she finally dragged herself into bed.

Only to be dragged out again after at best four hours of sleep.

The next night, however, there was less laundry. It seemed her theory that they’d saved up was right. Though it still left her less than six hours of sleep. Which proved the pattern for the next few nights, leaving her with little free time to attempt to explore the palace.

-

The other wives of the Prince had proven as beautiful as one would have expected. Which left poor Najmay a mess. Especially when she saw the state of undress many of the women embraced, casually pointing out there were no men here. While she counted her own interest in other women rather less… unequal than that men held, it was still enough to leave her cheeks hot.

While some of the women were kind like Syr, happy to talk to her, that was mostly the older ones. Some of whom were much too old to have any chance of providing the Elven Prince children. They were kept on as tutors for the younger wives. Or due to their own artistic talents that the Prince still enjoyed.

Another thing Najmay learned from them was that none of them knew the Prince’s name. An older woman explained to her that Elven was quite impossible for human tongues to master, and that the Prince refused compromise. So they stuck to his title and other fitting titles and appellations. Another way to hammer home his superiority.

It left Najmay feeling as if, while Elves could pass for the most beautiful of women in body, in spirit they were instead akin to the very worst men. She quietly hoped she’d never give the Prince an Elven son.

In the end she found herself drifting to the library more and more. The bulk of the other young wives were cold to her, and she had little interest in spending time around those who showed no interest in her. The older women, while kinder, still had matters to attend to. They had to earn their keep in ways other than the potential to offer an heir to the Prince. If they lost his favour, they would apparently be sent off to religious housing. Somewhere they’d likely receive far fewer creature comforts than here.

If it weren’t for the library, Najmay likely would have been quite happy to try to find a way to be sent to one of those herself, though. Priestess could travel, for one. They didn’t have to report their bleeding so meticulously either. She found the Elven physician a bit too interested in her reports at points…

So she passed her days, no real friends but the books. Well, the books and a few servant girls who would bring food to her. She wondered at times about trying to talk to the guards who patrolled, but, well, such handsome women had always intimidated her. And my were those women handsome.

-

The guards had been called out. The Prince was returning. Gathering her armour and polishing it as best she could, Huli wondered if this would be her chance. She suspected not, however. She was tired. Too many weeks of too little sleep had left her faculties dulled. Even with the element of surprise, she’d be unlikely to slay an Elf like this.

So she lined up with the other guards along the long entrance path into the palace. A frivolous display of wealth, all this empty unused space in the middle of a city. And Huli was stuck near the end of it. She was part of the lowest ranking all female section of the guard (there were human men on the palace walls who her unit were technically superior to, but they never came down from the walls). That meant she was near the start of the path. Barely inside the walls herself. A sufficiently long pike likely could have let her touch the main gate.

She was thinking about that when the gate opened. A number of Elven soldiers led the way, their armour lavishly ornate as they carried grand two handed swords over their shoulders. The human palace guards straightened up as they passed, trying to match the posture of the Elves.

Then he entered. The Prince. His long crimson hair flowing behind him, the colour of blood. He was walking alongside a human merchant, and followed by numerous beasts of burden all carrying what Huli suspected was treasure. She hoped the ivory the elephant was carrying at least came from rhinoceri. Otherwise…

She tried to offer a look of compassion to the mighty beings, understanding their intelligence.

“You’re new, aren’t you?”

She froze, her eyes slowly turning to see the Prince was looking her way. He’d stopped, which resulted in a noisy halt from all the animals, proded by their handlers. Huli shivered under his cold gaze, running up and down her body.

“Rather a lovely new thing, too,” the Prince said, making her skin crawl. He then turned to one of the other Elves and said something Huli could likely never pronounce, let alone understand.

The other Elf gave a nod and then stood beside her as the procession began to head off one again. Her heart was almost in her throat as she wondered just what it meant. Had the Prince recognised her? He’d been so far away when she’d seen him from the ledge overlooking her village, though she’d also heard that Elves had better vision than Humans.

Was she going to be dragged into a back alley and quietly executed? An effort to cover up the mistake of her having been let in the guard?

She felt it was unlikely. Neither the Prince nor this other Elf were giving off any impression of anger. There was something else afoot. And, as much as she wanted to deny it, she felt fairly certain she knew what it was.

Back in her village the boys had fought over her when she’d been young. Then, when she’d realised she had no interest in them, they’d fought her. Somehow convinced that victory would prove their manhood and impress her. Despite the fact that her constant victory apparently did nothing to make them consider her ‘manly’ in return and then treat her more like one another. Though she hadn’t complained too much, since it had let her impress the other women in the valley. Something that benefited her significantly. (Also, the men had given up eventually, enough bruises eventually getting through to them.)

Since entering Imperial lands, though, her beauty was causing trouble again. And it seemed set to cause her the greatest trouble yet, if her gut was right.

Once the procession had passed and the guards were set at ease, the Elf led Huli off apart from her former unit. She heard grumblings from them, still calling her a ‘sewer rat’, but she ignored that.

Instead she followed the Elf towards the wing of the palace she’d never entered. The one she’d heard contained the Prince’s wives. Her eyes narrowed as they approached, weighing the pros and cons of this.

Stepping into the building, they were greeted by a pair of human women in armour as fancy as what the Elven guards wore. Unlike the Elves with their long braids, however, these women had sharp and short hairstyles. They were also both stunning, though in a way that Huli had found men rarely appreciated. That surprised her a little.

“I was wondering when she’d be brought over,” the one woman said. She was the older of the two.

“The Prince had to actually be here to see her,” the Elf said, his tone almost approaching something friendly and respectful to the two women. “Hopefully once she’s cleaned up she will be as to his grace’s standards as he hopes.”

“We’re going to have to give her a deep scrub and a haircut, but she should clean up well,” the younger of the women said (though she was also older than Huli).

“What is to happen to me?” she managed to ask.

“You’ll be one of us guards, of course,” the older woman said.

“Otherwise known as one of the Prince’s pools of unofficial wives,” the younger one added. “Us and the servant girls. Though we get treated better.”

Her stomach did a backflip, but Huli kept her resolve. After all, when was a better chance to kill a man than when he had his pants off?

___

Maybe halfway done now? Again, it’s just meant to be a short.