They had fun with each other, I did not doubt it … It was clear …And further more… It was somehow felt from the inside … They were great … And I envied at them … I thought whether they themselves appreciated these feelings, or were already so used to them that they did not feel this happiness … Happiness to be truly united with someone …
And they were like a loadstone, as I also wanted to sit there!
My dream has come true…
I'm with them … But am I really happy?
They never accepted me into their circle … And was it?
There was no friendship and unity, kinship of souls and other things, all this is nonsense! My naive inventions!
My shattered illusions …
Chapter one
The Castle
“Give it to me!” Arel approached his master, Niktostepped back a few steps. “Give!”
“No!”
Arel howled, it was a mix of rage and despair. Again, with a jerk rushed to him so that Nikto had no time to step aside. Nikto hit him, lightly, not hard, more likely just for the sake of diversity, than pursuing any goal.
Arel stopped, freezed for a second, as if he did not immediately realize what had just happened to him. Then he collapsed on his knees and, bent over, crouching at Nikto's feet, knocked his forehead on the floor several times, well, that it was covered with carpets. Nikto tried to push him away from him, but Arel already grabbed him with an iron grip. Lame Nikto barely kept his feet. He hit Arel several times with his cane, already harder than before. Arelunhooked, remained lying on the floor.
“Give it to me,” he whined.
“Look at yourself! Where is your will?”
Arel raised his face to his tormentor, licked his dry lips:
“I am no longer a prince. I'm a slave! I have no will!”
Nikto with contempt and in some desperation shoved him with a boot in the face. Arel overturned backwards, but immediately sat down, again turning his gaze to such an unjustifiably cruel master.
“You're so pathetic”, said Nikto.
Arel was silent. In silence he demolished his derogatory look, the way Nikto looked at him coldly.And Nikto was looking at Arel's messy, tangled hair, at his dye-covered face, the skin on which again began to peel off. Arel was so thin that it was generally strange how he was able to raise his sword.
“Is my appearance depressing you?” Arel asked without reverting the eyes from those attentive, but such cold, bright eyes. “Well”, he shrugged resignedly. “After all, you did this to me, disfigured both my body and soul. I was free, and now I am not. You look at your work, and to see me like this – your payment for owning me!”