Defying the Laws

The newly christened Ice King was still in the striped shirt and pants which designated him fresh meat at PEN 0300. He'd finally been on good enough behavior to be allowed into the library. He thought nothing of the absence of Warden C.B. or his fellow courtiers on his way back to his cell after a workout in the yard. He was given his leave and he took advantage immediately, for fear the Wardens who did not care for him would soon take the privilege away.
He quickly found the grimoire he had come for: a tome filled with aged sheet music and tea-stained guitar tabs. The Wardens didn't let him wander around with his acoustic, Little Marceline, so he braided the left side of his elbow-length hair in six strands to practice and hopefully memorize a tune or two. He was flipping through the various bands to pick from when he came across Queen. Queen, he mused to himself, I've always thought I'd have better luck with a queen than I've had with princesses. He began sight-reading the music, humming along to a language he couldn't remember learning. His head bobbed in time, one hundred eighty beats per minute. It wasn't the tempo listed on the page, but it was his go-to, the rhythm inside him. The first time one of the brutes called out to him, he didn't hear. He was in his own little world. He smiled the first innocent smile he could remember ever having. He felt alive.
An ogre's open palm slammed into the desk where the Ice King sat, the force scattering the loose pages and knocking the large music book onto the floor. Golden tattoos snaked up the strange man's bulky arms, his skin silken smooth excepting the hardened veins coursing across his formidable muscles. "I said to stand up, meat!" He was flanked by four fellows, Autumn's love for their frightful demeanors inked deeply on their miens.
In a flash the Ice King stood erect, his foot quietly pushing his chair in.
"What's under the bandages, meat?"
The Ice King winced as a darkling grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the bookshelf behind him. He tried to pass through it, to enter the realm of spirits and escape them, but the darkling's grip held. The child of night whispered "Defying the laws of gravity? Spellbound Autumn, meat. We ALL have it!"
The Ice King's eyes widened. Things were out of control. The bandages covering his fresh mantle tattoos were ripped from him. Those deeper in Winter's grasp had hidden markings, but he had just sworn the oath a week prior. The Silent Arrow and Onyx Crown were obvious.
"I KNEW you weren't Autumn, meat! Which means you're trespassing on Ashen turf! Library's ours, playa, and we make examples out of anyone who forgets!" The fire elemental in the group grabbed the Ice King by his shirt, invoking Contracts as he threw the weaker man across the room. The Ice King was burning through the sky before the ogre caught him, like a baseball in a glove. The orge lifted the Winter Courtier above his head before sending him on a collision course with the ground. The Ice King, with the ogre's foot pressing into his back, tried to form an arm of frost to protect himself, but the fairest of the flock caught him, bending his arm backwards until it broke. "Don't try stopping us now, 'Snowball'. We're just getting started." Tears of pain formed on Ice King's face.
"Okay boys, I think it's time to have a little fun. Something to make this whole thing memorable for our friend here."
"Whaddya mean, boss?"
The Ice King, face pushed into the vintage carpeting, heard pants unzip, followed by snickering and mimicry. He tried to scream, but was silenced by the wizened among them, who followed up his Contract with a swift hook to the back of Ice King's head. "You're going to be our little bitch, 'Frosty'. Tonight, I'm going to have myself a real good time, and so are my friends. As much as we'd love to hear you scream, I'm having a ball keeping you here, so no alerting the guards!"
The men circled him, dropping their uniforms as they went. As the disciple of Winter's secondhand prison garb was slowly pulled away by the darkling, the ogre shifted his hold on their communal bedfellow. The fairest was first, a flowering who eased the way for the others with the sweet morning dew of his mien. As the Ice King's world was turning inside out, the wizened's work-worn fingers carressed the younger man's arch before clutching what he would soon claim. The elemental floated around in ecstasy for his turn as the icy rogue bore his fingers into the threads of carpet, trying to pull towards freedom, but there was no stopping them. The ball of fire let words slip from his tongue into the frozen submissive's ear: if you want to have a good time, just give me a call. The group had already taken several turns before the ogre exclaimed he was ready to "reload" and go another round. His words came out more loudly than he had expected. The group stopped cold and waited, hoping the guards wouldn't come to inspect the noise. They didn't, but another did. The men thought they could use the Winter Courtier a few more times before they'd have to be back in their cells, so they started again, not hearing the sound of their fellow courtier entering the room until her boney claws began to tear apart the library shelves as she bore witness to their acts. The ogre turned pale as he saw Bone Merrow the Manslayer standing at his left, ready to pounce.
"Oh shit! She's out of her cell! Run!"
The men tried to scatter but Bone Merrow was all too used to fleeing prey, and she blocked the library's exit. Two of them got away without facial scarring, the others not so lucky. The Ice King never learned why the Manslayer spared him, whether it was pity, empathy, or some alien emotion. He did not care. He spent the night crying into his pillow, the hellbeasts in his cell quieted by his growing mantle. 
Category:Fiction