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"This is absurd!" Shaw exclaimed, his face turning red with anger.
Erik didn't have the same reaction, he didn't feel like he could be angry just yet like Sebastian was, too dazed by the news that the kingsman brought with him, written in the scroll of paper he held, said in the most dull voice Erik had ever heard, as if that scroll didn't hold the words that would change Erik's life.
"There must be a mistake," he heard his mother say by his side, her voice trembling. A cold feeling washed over Erik as he realized his parents were there, as well as his little sister, to receive the news.
"There's no mistake, ma'am," the kingsman said, gruff voice barely caring about the shocked faces of the family in front of him, or Sebastian's piercing glares. "And, about it being absurd or not, you could try talking with the king, although it is ill-advised, m'lord."
"Who does he think he is to just take Erik?" Sebastian growled, fist punching the wall with enough strength to make it crack.
Erik was the one to answer, in a voice he barely recognized as his own as it left his lips, his eyes still staring at the scroll when he muttered, "He's the king."
"I'd recommend you say your goodbyes," the kingsman said then, eyes on Erik. He seemed a little more gentle now as he spoke, as if noticing Erik's state of mind. "You can take a few belongings, but nothing much. Clothes and anything else will be provided by the king once you're part of his court."
His court, Erik thought with a scowl, almost wanting to laugh. How kind of the kingsman to soften Erik's role, to simply say Erik would be part of the court like he'd have a say on anything, like his relationship with the king would be easy as just being in his court.
The thought that all he'd be from now on would be a whore to the king made his throat close, body tensing up as the daze finally went away to give place to sheer panic and anger.
"I suppose there's no bargaining with his majesty?" Erik asked, allowing a glimmer of hope that maybe he could get himself out of this remain.
When the kingsman's eyes showed only what looked like pity — and Erik did not want that man's pity — he already knew the answer, all hopes of maintaining his life gone in the blink of an eye.
"No, there isn't," the man said. Erik just nodded, barely resigned. "I'll give you time to say goodbye and get ready to leave. The carriage is outside waiting for you."
"And if I don't go?"
The kingsman sighed. "Then you'll be taken, and I'd rather not do things the hard way, bub."
"Fuck what you'd rather," Erik rasped out, the metal around the room starting to rattle as Erik's powers went loose. Curiously, Erik realized the man's bones were covered in metal as he reached out.
"I'll leave you be for now," the man growled back, eyes narrowed. "I'll be back to escort you to the carriage."
As the man left, the rattling stopped, Erik's fists unclenching as he fell to his knees with his eyes closed. It all felt like a bad dream. Just the day before Erik had been in a happy place, lying in bed with a smile at the thought of the future, of marrying Sebastian and bringing his family's name somewhere by marrying the Lord — but, most importantly, marrying the man he loved; building a life with him.
Now, knelt on the ground while Sebastian cursed at the king like a madman and his family stayed in silence, Erik couldn't help but think it all had been stripped away, and that future that seemed just within his grasp was a world away from him. He'd bring nothing to his family's name, because he knew he'd have no name to bear other than Erik, because he'd be nothing more than a pampered whore in the middle of many others in the king's harem.
For a moment, he remembered the king, the man's face appearing behind his eyelids, burned into his mind from the one time he had met his majesty. He had smiled kindly at Erik, shook his hand after having a talk with Jakob, and Erik had enjoyed his presence. He remembered thinking with something warm in his chest that, had the king been a common man, Erik would've loved being around him, maybe even being his friend.
He remembered thinking the king was a good man, thoughtful of his people — he felt the opinion shift for a moment, wondering if that man had already in his mind the idea to take Erik away from his life from the moment their eyes met.
"I'll find a way to change this," Sebastian said then, pulling Erik to stand on his feet. Sebastian's hands on his face felt good, but Erik knew now he wouldn't feel their touch anymore. "You're mine."
Erik only watched Sebastian leave with heavy steps, slamming the door on his way out. The house suddenly felt morbidly silent.
"I'm going to put aside your best clothes, brother," Ruth said quietly, her voice somber. "So you can get dressed to meet with the king."
"Maybe I should show up with no cloth over my body. I don't believe I'll need them when I get there."
Erik had his back to Ruth as he spoke his bitter words, but he knew she was pursing her lips at him. There was a painful feeling in his chest at the thought he would not see it again, the small quirks his sister had — it hurt more to know she would know where he was and what he was doing, shame washing over him at the thought of Ruth looking down on him, even knowing she wouldn't.
"Don't be an idiot, Magnus." Her voice was small, quiet, saddened. "I'm sure his majesty will be kind…"
Erik didn't answer, silence falling over the house again, until he heard the sounds of steps walking away. Ruth retreating to Erik's room, most likely, to find him his best clothes. His eyes closed once more when he realized the best clothes he owned were the ones his mother and Ruth had made for his wedding.
"This is not what I expected him to do..."
Erik's eyes snapped open then, hearing the quiet but guilty words that left his mother's lips, turning around to look at the woman. She had a hand over her mouth, dark eyes widened over Erik. By her side, Jakob sighed, as if he was realizing something.
"What do you mean, Mama?"
Edie didn't answer for a moment, Erik's body shaking as nervousness raked over him. He feared the answer more than anything.
"Please," he said again, his voice louder, begging. "What do you mean?"
"You have to understand, Schatz," her voice wavered for a moment. "I didn't know this is what would happen-"
"Edie, what did you do?" Jakob asked now, his voice tired.
Edie's eyes closed for a second, before they opened again. She seemed regretful.
"Sebastian was no good for you." She sounded determined to let the words out, a cold weight settling at the bottom of Erik's stomach at them. "He wanted something, my son, he didn't love you-"
"What did you do?" Erik's question was a whisper, his mother's words hurting.
"I knew you wouldn't listen to me," she shook her head. "You were too in love to listen, but I couldn't let you marry that man, so I- I sent the king a letter, asking him to intervene… I didn't know, Erik… I didn't know."
The metal around the room rattled again, until it stopped, until everything was dead silent. It felt like no one was breathing, the whole house holding its breath, tension up in the air as Erik finally understood his mother's words. He had been angry and in disbelief before, not understanding his luck — or the lack of it — but everything shifted into sadness and hurt to know his own mother had been a culprit in Erik's losses.
Now, not even her would see him again. She had stopped losing her son to one man by giving him to another, even if she hadn't realized that.
If it wasn't the look of regret and sadness in her eyes, Erik thought he wouldn't be able to ever forgive her — alas, it was his mother, and resenting her wouldn't change his fate.
"I'll be with Ruth," he spoke in a quiet voice, defeated and tired. The house seemed to breathe again, but the air was stale, hurting their lungs. "I believe this is goodbye."
Neither Edie nor Jakob tried to stop him as he walked towards his room, hearing a quiet sob from his mother. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the part that would love her no matter what, the part of his soul who was still that little boy who looked up to his Mama; part of him felt the sick satisfaction of letting her hurt, knowing that her decisions had caught up to her.
In his room, as he stood by the door, he watched Ruth rummaging through his clothes, some already laid over his bed — the ones that should've been worn during his wedding, as Erik had predicted. He didn't say a word, just watched his younger sister there, moving around with that grace that Erik didn't have. Some part of his mind was thankful that, at the very least, it wasn't Ruth being taken to service the king. That he didn't think he'd be able to handle.
When she turned around and their eyes met, Erik saw they were red with crying, hands clutching tightly one of Erik's tunics like it kept her upright.
"You be careful, you hear me?" She whispered, her voice harsh but trembling either way. "Take care of yourself, or I'll go to the castle myself to do so."
Erik stared at her for a moment before nodding. He wished he could give her a smile.
"The same goes to you."
She threw the tunic to the ground, walking forward until her body collided with his, both of them wrapping their arms around each other. Erik's chin rested on top of her head, pressing a kiss to the dark curls of her hair like he had been doing ever since they were children and needed to comfort her.
He kept the hug for as long as he could, letting her warmth calm him enough to be able to make the trip to the castle.
There was a somber thought in the back of his mind that that was the last hug he'd ever get from now on.
Being on his own during the trip to the castle was maybe the worst part, because it allowed him to think about past and future alike — of what he had lost and what his life would be now.
He thought about the farm and the house he grew up in, thought about his name carved into one of the trees in the woods nearby, right next to Ruth's. He thought about the early mornings when he'd go out with his father to tend to the crops, how Ruth would follow them as a child and try to help, how she'd arrive with a jug of cold water for them when she grew up and had time between her chores. He thought about the trips to the market with them once they had enough to sell, and how he had met Sebastian there.
He thought about the clothes he was wearing, meant to be worn during his wedding, and how wrong it felt to wear them to meet the man who'd use Erik's body to his own pleasure.
It was a position some desired, to be in the king's harem — or the king's court, as the kingsman who Erik now knew was named Logan had called it — after all, it was a life of luxury at the castle at the expense of sex. Maybe, if Erik's life didn't seem so perfect before, it would've been something to be thankful for. Unfortunately, all Erik could do was resent the position.
So he thought about the life he would have, about being in Krakoa's castle and being always aware that, if it was the king's desire, he'd have to be ready to please him in any way his majesty wanted.
At the very least, he's a good looking man, Erik thought bitterly to himself. It was almost sad to realize how he was grasping at anything to make it less awful than it felt.
"The king's a kind man," Logan said out of nowhere, Erik's eyes focusing on him after staring at nowhere in particular for what felt like hours. He raised his eyebrows at the man's words, trying to understand where they had come from. "He will treat you well."
"I'd rather not have to be treated by the king in any way," Erik rasped out, fixing his posture where he sat as he felt his bum hurt from sitting down for so long. "I'd rather if this kind man hadn't taken me away from my life."
Logan sighed, his face partially hidden by the poor lighting of dusk that entered through the carriage's windows.
"Better get used to it quickly, bub," he hummed, Erik scoffing as his eyes went to the world outside. "And if your other option was Lord Sebastian Shaw, it's almost a mercy that-"
"Do not talk ill of him," Erik growled. "You know nothing of him."
"And you do?"
"He's the man I was supposed to marry- The man I loved."
There was silence for a moment, and Erik watched as Logan's eyes studied him, a frown on his face.
"How old are you?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
Erik hesitated, staring at the other man as Logan just stared back. In the end, he conceded, muttering a quiet, "I am twenty one."
"Not so young to be that foolish," was Logan's reply, his words sounding like it was a thought said out loud. Erik's eyes narrowed. "If you were to marry Shaw, it shows you don't know the man, or else you wouldn't."
"I will ask you to shut your mouth," Erik said in a low voice, eyes hard over the other man as he felt once again the metal in the man's bones. "Or I'll do it for you."
Despite the threat, Logan only chuckled, not phased by Erik's words. That was more upsetting than anything the man could say.
"Charles might regret his choice soon if you keep that sharp tongue."
Those words made a quiet fear settle in Erik's mind, wondering what would be his fate if the king regretted his decision in taking Erik in.
He couldn't be sure if he felt worse or relieved when the servants at the castle undressed him of his clothes, taking away his mother and sister's work away from his view as they rushed him to wash and get himself clean. He half expected — and hoped — he'd be given those clothes back, a small piece of home to have together with the small trinkets he had brought with himself (a small duckling made of metal he had gifted Ruth when they were kids, which she insisted on giving him before he left; a small doll made of cloths his mother had sewed him when he was a babe; his father's ring, safely hidden within the doll so he wouldn't lose it).
Of course, Erik didn't get the clothes back, staring at a thin robe as he stood naked in the bath chambers, still wet and with his skin prickling from being scrubbed clean. He put the robe on carefully, the silky feeling against his skin incredibly pleasant, tying the robe to hide his body for as long as he could. He tried not to panic at the thought that it would be the only piece of clothing he'd be given there.
Once covered by the flimsy thing, he stepped out of the bath chambers as instructed, the servants guiding him somewhere as he felt the stone floor of the hallways cold under his bare feet, his legs stopping any and all movement when he saw where he had been guided to. The giant bed in the middle of the luxurious room, almost as big as Erik's whole house, made it clear enough it was the king's quarters.
"Just wait there until his majesty arrives," one of the servants said, closing the door behind them as soon as Erik opened his mouth to ask how long it would take.
He just stared at the dark wood, reality finally setting in: he was inside the king's quarters, with nothing but a robe, his skin smelling of roses and lavender from the things the servants had thrown in the water.
All because of a letter and a bad decision.
Erik looked around himself for a moment, deciding that panicking now wouldn't do him any good, and taking hesitant steps to explore the room.
It was… nice. Too big, too many things he knew were probably never used, but Erik watched curiously the bookshelves against one of the walls, seeing the books looking old and used once he approached them. Right, the king was a lover of arts and literature — or so the people said he was — it made sense to have these books there, a few paintings hanging on the walls. He guessed the room had a hint of personality, if nothing else.
He avoided looking at the four poster bed and what he could only guess were silk sheets, walking around and taking a look at everything but the bed. His eyes were drawn after a while to the chess set placed next to one of the windows, seeing the pieces placed on an unfinished game. He used to play with his father when there were storms and they were locked inside, so he knew enough to know the white was winning at the moment. He looked at the black pieces, trying to plan the next move in the game and smiling a bit to himself as he moved one of the pieces — checkmate in three moves.
When there was nothing else to explore, Erik finally allowed himself to look at the bed, his eyes giving it a hurtful look, as if it was to blame for his situation.
Late night or not, Erik had no desire to lay there.
His thoughts were interrupted once he heard the sound of a door opening, eyes going there to see the king entering the room with a tired sigh, leaning his weight with every step on the cane he used. He seemed almost in pain as he walked, and that had maybe been why it took him so long to finally notice Erik's presence there.
The king's eyes widened immediately, apparently surprised at Erik's presence, until Erik felt the ghost of something brushing against his mind. Right, Erik remembered himself, the king was a telepath.
"Oh, heavens," the king mumbled, grimacing a little as he tried to fix his posture. His weight was still completely on his left leg, Erik noticed. "I'm sorry, I thought I told the servants not to bring you to me immediately."
Erik blinked a few times, confused with the king's words, muttering a quiet, "What?"
"I remember your mother's letter, and I know you loved another man before I brought you here," the king shrugged, walking towards the bed and sitting with his back towards Erik as he started to undress, uncaring about Erik's presence. "I'm sure you won't want to lie with anyone until you have time to forget Lord Shaw."
Erik let out a shuddering breath, anger rising up again to fill him. The king seemed to catch that, face turning so his eyes were on Erik.
"If you know I loved him," Erik started through gritted teeth, "why take me, when I will never want you?"
The king seemed calm, shoulders shrugging as he got up again, naked, going for his sleeping clothes next to his bed.
"It was the only way to stop the marriage, like your mother wanted, other than killing Shaw," he explained as if it justified everything. "And knowing who Shaw is, it was better, because unfortunately my council says I need him alive although I can't stand that man. Too powerful to let go like that."
"Oh, so it was to save me from Shaw, who I wanted to build a life with?"
"Yes," the king replied simply, turning around once completely dressed and looking at Erik with raised eyebrows. "He wanted something from you, Erik."
"He wanted me-"
"Maybe," the king sighed, sitting on the bed again with a grunt, back to the headboard, and touching his sore leg as he closed his eyes. "But I doubt it, if I'm honest."
"I never asked for your honesty."
The king's lips pressed together into a tight line, eyes still closed for a moment before he looked at Erik with a tired but harsh glance, making Erik close his mouth. It was still the king he was talking to, he had to remember that.
"I'm far too tired from the day to call for someone to show you your quarters," he said, his voice calm but demanding attention. "So make yourself comfortable in my bed, there's more than enough space. And, please, blow off the lights while you're still standing up."
Erik stared as the king moved under the covers, getting himself ready to sleep, feeling like he'd rather jump out the window to escape that place. If the king caught those thoughts, he didn't show.
In the end, Erik moved around the room, blowing off the candles and lanterns until the room was dark enough to be hard to see, the king now just a dark shape under the bed sheets. He stood there, watching the giant bed with wary eyes, before deciding it was getting cold with only the robe around his skin.
Laying on the king's bed seemed like the hardest thing he had ever done.
He stared at the ceiling, feeling the soft mattress and pillow under his body, the sheets warm and comfortable, and nothing like his bed at home. The thought that the king was lying right by his side, just a few inches apart, didn't make it any better.
"And you don't-" Erik tried, speaking in the dark room, not even sure if the king was still awake. "You don't want to-"
"Oh, I do," the king answered in a slurred voice, Erik's body tensing up. "You're rather lovely, and I'd love to touch you and watch you writhing on my cock, but that would only make you hate me more and that's not what I want."
"You could just take me. I'm yours now, isn't that right?"
In the darkness, there was a quiet chuckle that left the king's mouth, apparently amused.
"In theory, you are. But I can see body and mind, and your mind doesn't attract me right now like your body does."
"Should I be offended by that?"
"Maybe," the king hummed. Erik turned his head to him, watching him shrugging, back still turned to Erik. "You're questioning my decision a lot, even if it aligns with your wants."
"I just want to understand."
In the dark room, with the quiet way Erik said it, it felt like a confession. The king finally stirred from where he had been laying, turning towards Erik and moving on the mattress before his face was hovering just a few inches from Erik's. His breathing was warm, and he smelled of smoke and ale, blue eyes shining with the moonlight down at Erik.
"I want you madly," the king said, a quiet confession of his, making Erik shudder for a moment. His words sounded true, his wanting clear in his eyes. "As I said, you're rather lovely, but you're only here because I'm doing your mother's wishes."
"Why would a farmer's wife's wishes matter to you?"
"Because I owed her a favor."
Erik's brow furrowed at the words, watching the king smile at his confusion. The king's hand touched his cheek lightly, just a brush of his fingertips against Erik's skin, and he surprised himself by liking the touch.
"Because I know the kind of man Sebastian Shaw is, and I knew he didn't deserve to have something as lovely as you," the king kept going, face lowering for a moment as their noses brushed. The air between them was static, and Erik felt his breathing hitch — he felt unsure now if he wanted the king to move away or closer, those eyes hypnotic over him. "And, as a confession to you, because I wanted you."
Erik gulped, feeling the king's hand now holding his cheek, their faces so close it would only take a movement from any of them for their lips to meet. He thought about Sebastian for a second, the way he used to kiss Erik, and felt awful for wanting the king's kiss.
There was a smile on the king's lips then, but it wasn't happy or humoured, it looked bitter.
"But you want him," the king said, their noses brushing together again. "And I have no desire to make you hate me, but I can't promise I'll be patient forever."
"Then kiss me now," Erik muttered, seeing the king's eyes narrow. "You'll take me anyway. Have this and end my waiting. I can't stand to wait for the inevitable, and I don't want any false hopes that I'll be anything other than someone to please you."
"Say it again, and I will."
Erik stared up, hand moving to lay hesitantly over the king's hand over his cheek, squeezing the king's fingers as he gathered his courage to speak again.
"Kiss me," he whispered into the night. The king let out a shuddering breath at the simple words.
"Yes," was all he said, before his lips gently met Erik's.
It was a surprise to him to feel the way his body reacted, blood pumping faster through his veins with just that touch of lips. There was sadness to kiss another man, but there was desire as well, feeling the king's soft lips — it was resignation, it was the acceptance that it would happen either way and that was what his life was now, and he might as well enjoy whatever he could.
The king sighed in pleasure as his tongue met Erik's, the kiss deepening, and Erik whined into the king's mouth. When they parted the kiss, Erik could see just enough of the king's eyes to see the fire in them — lust.
"Lovely," he said in a low voice, hand moving from Erik's cheek to the patch of skin of his chest that had been uncovered by the robe as he moved. Erik had the realization then that there was nothing between him and the king's touch but the flimsy robe and the bedsheets. "The things that go through my mind while I look at you like this… You are the most beautiful thing, aren't you?"
Erik didn't answer, his breath catching as he waited, wondering if the king had changed his mind. The kiss was good, Erik wouldn't be able to deny that, but part of him dreaded something more, soul still longing for the love he was forced to leave behind.
To his relief, the king only placed another kiss to the corner of Erik's lips, full of promises as he pulled back and moved away to his spot on the bed.
"Sleep now," he commanded, Erik's breathing coming out shaky. "I'll wake you early, I'm afraid."
"I'm used to it, sire," Erik managed to say, but the king wasn't looking at him. "I worked in the fields."
"Of course," the king muttered. "Then sleep well. You'll meet the others tomorrow. I'm sure they'll will explain well what your life will be like here, ease some of your doubts and fears."
"Does that mean I won't have to live waiting for you to drag me somewhere to fuck me?"
The king chuckled, shoulders moving a little with it as Erik watched him.
"My gods- I do have my needs, but I'm not an animal," he uttered. "And you won't stop existing once you're not in my presence- No, you'll have things to do. You live in the castle now. To a certain extent, this is all yours to use."
"How kind," Erik said, thinking about that. The king didn't seem to want to respond to that.
"Goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight, my king."
Erik didn't sleep at first, still waiting for the moment the king would reveal it was all a trick, that he'd take him then and there, but it didn't seem to happen. He watched the swift movement of the king's shoulders as he breathed in his sleep, until his eyes felt tired, heavy. When he slept, he dreamt with the fields at home, the sun warm against his skin as he walked amongst the wheat towards Sebastian's open arms.