Thread: ____Pandora's Prize_____(OctopusPrince x Xinavee)

The treasure that awaited Arwen was a sizable fortune, after all, for all of his stoicism, he had fought valiantly and earned each prize packed together to present to him. Among them was an unusually large trunk, made with leather that was stretched with pristine and golden clasps holding it tightly shut. The designs on it were blatantly Persian, and what was kept within it was also Persian. A man had been shackled, drugged and placed within the beautiful box, specifically a eunuch, a Persian concubine that had been taken captive during the wars that went on incessantly between Rome and Persia. The last thing Samir had anticipated upon his capture and the brutal murder of his master had been to be stuffed into a trunk, to be left for what felt like days in a drugged haze with his muscles cramping from the enclosed space. He had been asleep, but the ruckus of the Colosseum had drove him from sleep, at least, as much as he could be pushed from it when what ran through his veins encouraged him to utmost docility. He could hear nothing, now-- he could only tell that he had been set upon something that was still, finally, and with that his nausea for being in complete darkness while in turbulent motion had begun to ebb. The Romans were barbaric-- it would be more appropriate to kill him, to enslave him to a new household than this, to place him in a trunk and take him who knew where. He had no idea when the thing would be opened, when whoever had received it would be revealed to him. Perhaps he would die in the box-- starved and dehydrated and drugged. Perhaps that was the intention, to have him suffer for being the bed slave to a heathen Arab of the east. He had served with much honor, and he would never let the Romans take that from him- to be in the harem of a kind, pious master was truly a blessing when there were many who abused their bed slaves in all sorts of ways. He would not have ventured to say he had been loved, but he had been cherished-- far too cherished to be caged in a dark, tight place and shipped off. That's how he knew that his master must have perished. He hadn't seen it himself, even though he had seen plenty of blood shed when the Romans took the palace. They cut down the guards, the wives, the children-- his master's bloodline had been flickered out by the sword of Rome in a night, and then there was this, his treasures, both living and monetary, had been stolen away. Samir must have been deemed among those treasures, and that was not surprising to say the least. He was a beautiful creature, plucked early from a lesser family to be sold to his masters as a gift. He had been clipped, and grown with all of the delicate features that were desired in eunuchs in a harem. He had skin that had only been kissed by the sun in its tan shade, soft, pale grey eyes framed by eyelashes long enough to rival a horse's, and a well kept length of black hair that thankfully, upon capture, had not been sheered from his head to shame him. He hadn't been changed- there was still blood on his hands and the silk of his clothes... that night had been a banquet for his master so he'd been dressed in his best. He had been meant to dance, to sing his master's favorite songs that night, before all of the brutality. He blinked his eyes dizzily, and listened to the shuffle of feet, along with some sort of announcement... a gladiator-- he knew enough Latin to put together what was being said, that he was among spoils for one of the barbaric entertainers of the Roman commonwealth. So the box would open, and he would find a new master-- a beast of the Colosseum sand. There was no honor in that. If he had the mind to, he would feel the utmost shame, but instead, he felt nothing but exhaustion and thirst, waiting for light to finally pour into his senses after so long in the pitch.