The Diamond Prince - Ch. 09-11

In The Rough - The Chronicles of the Diamond Prince

Chapter 9 -- The Divine Intervention

Content warning: mentions of emotional trauma, mentions of torture, death, mentions of abuse/neglect, blood, graphic medical descriptions

The police and Lady Accarin's team had stormed into the seedy whore house after a too-long wait for a warrant. The patrons and staff alike had scattered, leaving only a few in their custody. Once cleared of threats by the police, Her team began the grueling task of searching the premises for slaves to rescue and re-home. Behind several of the many doors they found putrid and awful conditions.

The guest rooms for entertaining contained evidence of drugs and weapons and torture devices, but the worst was behind the scenes, where the slaves were stored. Rancid and unkept, the cages and tie stations were far beyond what would be considered unsanitary. Food stores were empty, and many of the slaves were malnourished, dehydrated and ill. Many had severe injuries from abuse and neglect, one was even found dead, mangled and beaten, thrown into a corner and forgotten. Her heart broke a little more with every discovery.

One by one they were removed from the building and sent to different rescue sites in the country for treatment and rehabilitation. The place was nearly clear, and she was doing a last round of the basement, when she saw it. Tucked away in a dark corner of what appeared to be some kind of punishment or torture room, a large metal chest - and her stomach dropped. For reasons she couldn't explain, she somehow knew what she would find if she opened it.

She steeled herself, and ever so slowly, undid the latch and lifted the lid. She shone her flashlight in to see an emaciated body curled in on itself defensively, bloodied and infected wounds covering all that she could see; it was impossible to tell its color or features. At first, she was sure this creature had to be dead; she was ready to close the lid again when she heard the very smallest of whimpers.

With a sharp intake of breath, she reached down and tilted his chin gently to look at his face, and bleary but stunning emerald green eyes blinked and tried to focus under her light. Dear sweet gods... Alive... She said to herself, stunned. After a moment she collected her thoughts and gently released his jaw. She called out to her team "ANOTHER ONE! There's another one here!" She turned back to him as she heard her team acknowledge her call. "Shh... it's okay baby, I've got you." She said while soothing a hand through his blood-matted hair.

Phoenix was overseeing the preparation for the arrival of any new intakes after Mistress's raid. She'd been gone for several hours and knew that she would be due home anytime. She often found herself as a foster home after these raids when shelters or government placement facilities could not accommodate.

Jason, a sturdy boy with copper hair was assisting, helping set up guest rooms of different capacities and briefing any new doctors and nurses on how the procedure was usually run. Jason was a member of Danica's diamond elite, a team of slaves she hand picked from her collection to be closest to her, including Phoenix. Jason sported a ruby collar. They expected this one to be particularly gruesome, as the place had a reputation for its seedy and illegal activities. There had been rumors of slave bodies found in the area but as many of them had very out of date registrations, it was impossible to prove their origin or that the Tavern was responsible.

Suddenly there was commotion from outside. The sound of vehicles and voices, flashing lights. Nix rushed to the front door and flung it open to see a flurry of activity racing towards him. Several skinny, weak and clearly beaten bodies were being walked up with the assistance of the team, but what caught is attention was his Mistress, clinging to the side of a gurney being unloaded from a private ambulance. He rushed out to her, leaving the triage site that is the massive front hall in Jason's care.

As he reached her, all she said was "Priority. I don't know if he will make it." Nix's jaw hung slack in shock at the sight before him. This pile of Kaftherian bones was covered in blood, fresh and dry - he could barely tell where one wound ended, and the others began. The waft of dead flesh reached his nose and he had to suppress a gag. The paramedics were shouting to the doctors as they rushed to meet each other.

Nix steeled himself, and dared to reach out and touch the body. As soon as his skin made contact Nix screamed and stumbled to the ground, panting. The rush of pain and fear that coursed through him had scalded his hand, burned through every inch of his body with an intensity he didn't know could exist. Dani helped him up, and asked, "What did you feel?" Phoenix turned to her and with intensity, replied,

"You don't want to know."

They had the works on him already - oxygen, an IV of fluids and antibiotics and painkillers. They rushed him into the medical wing of the manor with Lady Accarin and Phoenix barely a step behind. They halted as he was brought into the surgical bay and the doctors rushed to transfer him to a proper table. With nothing left to do but wait, they left to help with the others.

After a few hours, Nix and Lady Accarin were able to slow down as the number of injured dwindled and were escorted to various areas of the Manor for their accommodations. Some needed to stay under medical supervision for various reasons - dehydration, malnutrition, mild injuries, or drug detox. Others were well enough to be set up in guest rooms or slave quarters. They were all labelled using temporary collars, and tomorrow the assessments would begin for placement and sale.

Lady Accarin collapsed into one of the sofa's in the entryway, content to allow her slaves and staff to finish up the cleanup, the rescue team had largely gone home for the evening. Nix knelt and began helping her get her shoes off. He began rubbing her feet as she sat in silence, head in her hand. "One was dead when we got there." she said suddenly. Nix's shoulders slumped and his hands stilled.

"I'm sorry." he replied quietly, gazing up at her exhausted form. He knew how much it bothered her when she lost any of her rescues. It ate away at her very soul.

"just tossed aside like garbage... his eyes staring at me like... I should have gotten there sooner." She mourned, with hints that she was holding back tears.

Nix crawled up on the couch beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and she immediately buried her face in his shoulder. Sobs wracked her body, and he held her tight for several minutes, willing everything comforting he had into her. She sniffled. "that one... he would have been next." she said woefully. Nix knew which one she meant. He nodded against her hair and rubbed a hand down her back. "I still don't know if he won't be." After a few minutes, one of the doctors cleared his throat to get her attention. Nix startled and moved to kneel, but her hand on his arm halted him, and he tentatively resumed his place holding her.

"The boy isn't looking good. We had to debride several of his wounds that had become dangerously infected. Luckily, the infection doesn't appear to have spread to his blood. He has a fever, and is on a strong regimen of antibiotics, and I'm not too sure we're out of the woods yet. He was likely tortured for days, had been starved and beaten for months at least. I've never seen a slave survive this kind of abuse.

He has several fractured bones at varying stages of healing, most of his fingers were broken quite recently. We've given him several units of blood but he's very weak. Quite frankly I'm amazed he made it this long. He will need to have his wounds cleaned and checked every few hours. Otherwise, all we can do is wait." The doctor dictated morosely. He then led them to the treatment room, and left them.

The sound of beeping equipment and oxygen tanks was deafening in the sterile room. Nothing but equipment and a chair in the corner decorated the room. Lady Accarin moved to the bedside and stared at the pale hollow face below her. Now cleaned of much of the blood and filth, she guessed he had once been very handsome. Nix held her hand as she gazed at his still form. "I wonder if he had a name... anyone who cared about him..." she pondered out loud.

"He does now." Nix said quietly, squeezing her hand gently.

She ran her fingers down his emaciated cheek, and caught what appeared to be a tear rolling down, wiping it away gently.

"don't worry baby, We've got you." She whispered with a shaky breath. She then turned to Phoenix and said quietly, "Can you, please...?" she motioned for Nix to touch the boy. Nix steeled himself, taking a deep breathe. He reached out, his fingers touching a rare patch of skin on the boys arm, But after a moment, stepped back. "He's under too deep. I can't feel him." He said gently. He was relieved to know at least for the moment, the poor kid could have some relief from his suffering.

"I don't ever want him left alone. Just in case he wakes up, or..." Her eyes shimmered with tears.

"It's alright my Lady, he will never be alone. I'll stay with him tonight. You go and get some rest Mistress." She nodded, running her hand gratefully from Nix's cheek and down his arm before departing.

Phoenix pulled the chair up to the bedside and sat, looking over the mass of bandages that had once been a Kaftherian. An owned person, but a person of this planet none the less. He wondered if he would wake up, and if he did, just how much damage had he sustained mentally. He observed what he could, the pale expanse of skin, not unlike his own unremarkable skin, the light brown hair, not unlike his own darker unremarkable hair. This boy came from strong slave lines. Despite the 'unremarkable' nature of his appearance, Nix still somehow found it beautiful.

He considered himself so very lucky to have lived under gentle hands his whole life, to have never experienced the pain and fear that the poor souls he saw come through these doors had suffered. Before coming here, he'd never even considered that some masters could be so cruel, monstrous; that their slaves could mean so very little to them. It gave him a whole new appreciation for life. He appreciated his Mistress all the more, not only for caring for him, but for caring so deeply for each one of the slaves she took in. Her empathy knew no bounds for anyone who needed her. True to his word, Nix stayed there, gazing at the unnamed boy until the sun rose.

Nix was beginning to feel the strain of fatigue when he heard the tell-tale signs of life in the Manor. The boy had remained stable through the night, and his breathing appeared to be less shallow. A nurse came in and Nix helped her change some of the bandages. "He's looking better." she remarked. Nix nodded. After she left, he remained, waiting and watching. After what he assumed was breakfast time, Jason came in, with a foster in tow. All fosters were assigned to an experienced slave to acclimate them to their new roles and the etiquette of the manor.

"Hey Nixxy, how's he doing? Heard this one was really bad." Jason said in his usual casual tone.

"It was a little touch and go there last night, but he doesn't seem to have turned for the worse. I hope this means he's going to make it." Nix said, some relief in his voice.

"Phoenix, this is Maddie. Maddie, Nix." Jason said, gesturing to the shy, green-haired female behind him. She was skinny, as expected, but looked not too worse for wear.

"Hi Maddie." Nix said quietly, and stood, moving towards them. Maddie visibly shrunk, undoubtedly intimidated by the height difference between them. Nix just smiled.

"Hey don't worry girl. Nixxy ain't gunna bite." Jason pulled her forward. She waved sheepishly. "anyway, The Lady says you should go get some breakfast, and take a nap. Maddie and I will take over until she can get away from the assessments."

"Thanks Jay." Nix gave Jason an affectionate pat on the back and let exhaustion finally hit him as he groggily made his way to the kitchen, and eventually, back to his own bed in Mistress's quarters.

The next few weeks flew by, and the boy remained stable. Phoenix checked in frequently to note his progress. They kept him sedated as they performed several more surgeries and treatments, but he was healing. They managed to stop the spread of infection and get all his bones properly set. With the aid of laser grafting, they were able to speed the healing of uninfected wounds significantly. They were able to reverse some of the deeper tissue damage, but the scars would be significant. The boy dug a deep hole in the rescues pocket.

Nix continued to be concerned as to what the boy's mental state would be, and as a precaution, the day before they took him off sedation, begrudgingly chained him to his bed, just in case.

Chapter 10 -- The Sweet Relief

Content warning: Strong language, intense emotional trauma, PTSD/anxiety, graphic medical elements, mentions of neglect/abuse, mentions of sexual content.

His head was swimming, he was disoriented, and felt very drugged. He strained to try and open his eyes, but they refused to work at first. Slowly, they began to obey, and his sight was flooded with light once again. As his eyes began to adjust, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Panic began to set in again as the last events of his memory came back. If they've taken him out of the box, it's likely for the sake of further torment, as he was beyond being useful for client's sexual needs.

He tried to take deep breathes as he realized that he seemed to be alone, wherever he was. He felt around himself, realizing that he was embedded in something soft and warm, and the light was not the harsh flood lights of the basement, but natural sunlight. He turned to look at the window, from this angle, all he could see was blue sky and some tree branches. The room itself was a cool pale blue, with white trim and curtains, and a cool grey tile floor. the bed -- bed? - was plush, soft and clean, white upon white linens and blankets, and if he wasn't mistaken, was heated.

He next noticed himself; he also was clean, with gauze and bandages all over him. His fingers hurt, a few were splinted. He was dressed in light flannel pants, but alarmingly, there was an IV drip sticking out of his arm. He followed the leads up to the attached bags. One was just clear fluid, the other was an opaque bag; he couldn't read it, but he recognized the logo. The lady on Mistress Helen's TV had called it 'Kylaxodone: The pinnacle of pain management.'

After the shock of that discovery faded, the next thing he noticed was a bedside table with a glass of water on it, and his throat suddenly felt drier than it had in ages. With another glance around the room, assured he was alone, he carefully struggled to sit up. He paused when heard the rattle of a chain, and as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, saw the matching cuff on his ankle. His body protested every movement, he felt weak and shaky. 



As he reached for the water, he noticed a small bathroom just a few feet from the bed. Ignoring the protests of his few usable fingers, he downed the glass in seconds, and immediately regretted it. Nausea crept up from his stomach and threatened to boil up out of his mouth, but after a few moments managed to keep it down. The nausea remained, but without the immediate threat of vomit.

He sat thinking, looking, wondering - continually wavering between terror and relief. The situation was so surreal, so strange. It was exactly like it had been before the basement; locked to a bed in pain, yet something about this was different. There was no way he was still in the whore house, there wasn't an inch of that place that could pass a health inspection. This place was calm, soothing, inviting even. What kind of new hell was beyond the door though? This had to be some kind of calm before the storm. Perhaps they'd decided to bring him back to health, just to start all over again. He shuddered at the thought.

He startled suddenly as the door began to open. He scrambled back with a loud clatter of the chain on his ankle against the bed frame and huddled under the blanket as far from the door as he could get. Another wave of headache and nausea hit him, and he struggled to contain it. He peered with wide eyes as the two figures entered the room. One small, older lady with a friendly smile, followed by a tall, lanky figure, not unlike himself, carrying a tray of some sort.

"Welcome, my dear." the woman said warmly. When he didn't respond, she made her way over to the IV bag and checked its contents and flow. "Just some fluids and vitamins my dear, you were in rough shape when She brought you home." She continued to fiddle with equipment and gauges before moving over toward him. He flinched but didn't dare move away from a free woman.

His wide, fear filled eyes followed her every move, and she maintained a professional demeanor, paying it no mind. He stayed perfectly still as she shuffled around him, taking his temperature, checking his eyes, prodding at his dressings. When she was apparently satisfied, she turned to the other man, whom Declan had completely forgotten about. "Alright Phoenix, he's looking better. The infection seems to be subsided, his fever is down, and the pain meds seem to be affecting him correctly. Stay with him and see if you can't get him to eat something, alright sweetheart?" 


"Yes Ma'am." Phoenix said with a small smile. The woman spun on her heel and made her exit.

"Hey kid." Nix said gently as he moved forward and set the tray on the bedside table. He watched as the boy's features tensed, his eyes wild and nostrils flared. "How are you feeling?" Declan took in the man before him. He wore black slacks and an emerald green button up shirt, and most notably, a glittering collar of emerald and onyx stones.

"...wh.. where am I?" Declan asked shakily, though ever so slightly more comfortable alone with another slave. He knew full well this man could still be a right hand with the power to control and hurt him, but he didn't appear to be aggressive or sadistic.

"You, my friend, are at Diamond Manor. My name is Phoenix." Nix said with a proud grin, like it explained everything. After a moment of silence, Nix got the impression that his new guest was not familiar with the situation and continued. "Our Mistress, Danica Accarin has taken you in until you get better. You've been in her care for just over four weeks."

"Four weeks?" Declan parroted, trying to take it in.

"Yes, we were really worried you were going to give up on us, but you didn't." he beamed encouragingly.

"How?" Declan asked, looking around the room again in wonder.

"Well, Mistress prides herself on saving slaves from bad people, so she went looking for bad people as she often does. And boy, did she find them this time. She found them with you and many others, and she brought you home, where you'd be safe." He explained slowly, as if to a child. He knew it was hard for the boy to process after what he'd been through.

Declan had never been so confused. This man seemed so calm, so healthy, so... happy. He seemed proud of his captor, and to belong to her. "What's your name, Bright eyes?" Nix asked with his best charming smile, shifting slightly closer. He was mesmerized, trying not to get lost in those eyes, but tried not to show it; he hadn't expected a boy of such humble looks outwardly to display such bright green brilliance behind those lids.

"Declan." He finally managed after a few moments. Nix's grin never faltered as he reached into the pocket of his slacks and produced a small key.

"You okay to just sit here and chat with me for a while? Maybe eat something, Declan?" he asked brightly, searching Declan's face. The boy eventually nodded. "Fantastic. Atta boy." Nix proclaimed, shuffling forward, indicating to Declan's chained leg.