Princes of Corsica

In 2152, the war between Emperor Hector III of Corsica and part of his nobility takes an ugly turn when Prince Victor, the emperor's younger brother, is taken prisoner by rebel General Hadrien Ciabrini

Chapitre 1. Heraklion


On the 26th of October 2152, around 2 in the morning, a loud explosion was heard throughout the harbour of Heraklion, on the island of Crete. 

17 years old Prince Victor, brother to Emperor Hector III of Corsica, suddenly woke up confused and worried. The young prince looked around him while panting, he slowly remembered that he was in Heraklion’s Fortress, where his brother sent him a few weeks prior, for his safety. 

Prince Victor straightened up in his bed and thought he simply had a bad dream when his heart skipped a beat. 

Gunshots, inside of the fortress. 

Victor wasn’t imagining it, something was seriously wrong. His bedroom door was slammed open and a few guards stormed inside with dazed expressions and wide eyes. 

“Your Imperial Highness, we need to evacuate immediately!” A guard announced with a loud shaky voice. Victor anxiously jumped out of bed and hurriedly ran to his wardrobe to get dressed. The guard roughly grabbed the teenage prince’s forearm and pulled Victor with him. “We have no time for that, Your Highness!” The guard said before rushing the prince outside of his bedroom. 

The panicked prince followed the guards escorting him into the stairs. Gunshots indicated that a fight was still going on within the fortress, even though the prince had no idea what was actually going on. 

“Quick, follow me!” The guard leading the way exclaimed as he heard footsteps getting closer. The prince and the other guards followed him inside of a large kitchen. As they entered the room, they heard the footsteps accelerating and hurriedly hid behind the large wooden island. 

A guard looked at Victor with fear in his eyes and gestured at the young prince to stay silent. The prince jumped with surprise when he heard the kitchen door being slammed open. 

Victor was trying to control his breathing and be as silent as humanely possible as he heard the boots of whoever just entered the kitchen right on the other side of the wooden island. The young prince’s heartbeat was so fast he was worried the intruder could hear it. 

Victor looked at the guards sitting on each of his side and saw that they too were frightened. They were older than him, of course, but were still quite young, and Victor tried to picture what was going on inside of their head. 

Suddenly, another intruder walked into the kitchen and the Prince’s hand tightened into a ball with adrenaline.

“All clear. Let’s keep going.” One of the intruders exclaimed, panting. “Rebels!” The young prince thought with a disgusted pout after recognizing their Corsican accents. 

“We need to move!” A guard declared after the rebel’s footsteps vanished. The prince nodded and silently stood up before tiptoeing out of the kitchen. 

The prince apprehensively followed the guards towards the exit, making a silent prayer to get out of the fort without being caught. Once more, Victor and his escort narrowly avoided rebel soldiers by hiding behind a wall and praying for their negligence. 

The gunshots had stopped, which the prince hoped didn’t mean that the rebels secured full control of the fort, in which case they would soon run out of luck with all these rebels focused solely on finding the young prince. 

“This way!” A guard exclaimed with a spark of hope on his handsome young face. Victor felt a droplet of sweat running along the line of his blond curly hair and nodded energetically. The group sneaked through the unguarded wooden door and finally arrived on the long pier that connected the old venetian fortress to the city of Heraklion. 

They had nowhere to hide now, as the pier was naked of anything that would cover them. 

“Run!” A guard shouted, pointing at something above them. The prince quickly turned his head and the blood drained from his face as three rebel soldiers were looking right at them. 

After a moment of hesitation from both sides, the young prince darted forward and started running for his life. One of the rebels grabbed his gun and pointed it at the group but his officer roughly snatched it from his hands. 

“Hold your fire, you bloody idiot!” The rebel officer shouted at his subordinate. “He is here, the prince is here, on the pier!” The officer then screamed on top of his lungs. 

As Victor ran away from the fort, convinced that he was going to make it. Suddenly, a group of rebel soldiers ambushed by the other end of the pier jumped on  the princes’ way, mere meters ahead of him. 

The out of breath prince froze, his eyes wide and his head spinning, and shot a quick glance behind of him.

They was cornered.

It was over. 



If you had been in Porto-Vecchio, in Corsica, before the great collapse of the 21st century, you would have seen a small touristic coastal town that used to be a modest fishing village. Dwarfed by both Ajaccio and Bastia in Corsica, it would have sounded ridiculous to predict that Porto-Vecchio was destined to becoming the centre of the island, nevertheless the world. 

Yet, at the end of the 1st Corsican civil war, in 2085, the empress chose the rubbles of this small Corsican town to establish her Imperial Capital. 

Now, in the year 2152, Porto-Vecchio had become the epicentre of the most powerful nation in the world, and the Italian architect Benito Mazzini commissioned by the empress made sure that it showed. 

On top of the hill where once stood the citadel and historic town-centre, the Imperial Palace now towered the rest of the city, crushing its inhabitants under the demonstration of opulence and absolute power of the Imperial crown. 

It was around 6 in the morning and Prince Alexandre had been partying all night long. 

The 32-years-old man was currently trying to avoid spilling his Prosecco cup while sniffing a cocaine line. Very experienced in this domain, the prince managed to spill only a small amount of his cup and laughed at his friend like an idiot before tongue kissing her and heading back to the improvised dancefloor. 

Prince Alexandre’s shirt was open, exposing his naked torso drenched with sweat, and he was wearing sparkling golden makeup around his beautiful green eyes. His ginger curly hair was a bit messy and sporadically ornamented with white pearls and gold bay leaves. 

The music was loud, almost deafening, as the musicians had been instructed to play dynamically and energetically. Alexandre felt the cocaine kicking up again and a surge of energy boosted him to shout and laugh as he danced like a maniac. He saw a cute young couple dancing in front of him and bit his lips deviously. 

The prince approached them and started dancing between the boy and the girl. The MDMA Alexandre took about an hour ago still maintained him in a high euphoric mode and he felt playful and flirty.  

Alexandre felt so good in his body, he felt the carnal and animalistic desire to touch and being touched. 

He first grabbed the boy’s nape and brought their lips together, which triggered a surprised reaction from his ephemeral partner, but a broad smirk from his girlfriend. When Alexandre broke up the kiss, the boy looked back at him with confusion and the prince giggled before wrapping his arm around the girl’s back and pulling her for a kiss, which she enthusiastically accepted. 

The boy seemed startled and offended, but his girlfriend grabbed his arm and pulled him closer before Alexandre and the girl started alternating between kissing each other’s necks and lips and doing the same thing to the baffled boy. 

Alexandre then got an MDMA crystal out of his pocket and placed it on his tongue before playfully opening his mouth and placing his hand behind the boy’s head. The boy understood the invitation and tentatively approached the prince’s face before sticking his tongue out and rolling it around the prince’s. 

Alexandre beamed as the boy warmed up to him, while his girlfriend browsed her inquisitive hand along the handsome prince’s torso. With a sly smirk, Alexandre snatched a cup of Prosecco from a waiter’s tray, spilling a good portion of it on his own torso by accident, which triggered a frantic giggle from him. 

“Oops!” The handsome prince laughed as the girl looked at his Prosecco drenched torso with hunger. She suddenly squatted and looked at her boyfriend seductively before starting licking the prince’s lower stomach lustfully. Alexandre widely grinned and grabbed the flabbergasted boy by the neck before languidly kissing him. 

Suddenly, the gilded door opened and everybody gasped as the musician stopped playing. 

The prince broke the kiss and was about to loudly complain when his heart skipped a beat. 

Standing by the door, Alexandre’s nephew looked at him with contempt and disgust. Despite everyone’s state of drunkenness and intoxication, the attendees quickly and in unison bowed to the emperor Hector III of Corsica. 

The young sovereign snapped his fingers and nonchalantly waved his hand at the party guests to dismiss them. 

“Everyone out now!” The imperial guards then energetically instructed, rushing people outside of the luxurious ball-room. “Now!” They repeated as the attendees hurriedly left, ashamed and confused. 

Alexandre kept staring back at his 19 years old nephew with guilt before gulping and clumsily buttoning his Prosecco and sweat soaked shirt. 

“My apologies for disturbing your… gathering, uncle.” The emperor spat out with poorly dissimulated contempt. 

“I’m sorry Hector, I…” Alexandre started. 

“I have just been informed by our General Staff that Heraklion’s fortress had been stormed by the rebels a few hours ago.” Hector stated matter-of-factly. “Victor has been abducted, and is now in the rebellion’s hands.” 

Alexandre’s mouth was now slowly agape with consternation, he was very fond of his young nephew Victor, he couldn’t believe the rebels would do such a thing. All the drug induced euphoria the prince had felt vanished and was replaced by an overwhelming and crushing feeling of guilt and despair. 

“Is he alright?” Alexandre eventually asked after a long pause. Hector raised his eyebrows and nervously chuckled before shaking his head in disdain. 

“Guards, escort my uncle to his apartments and make sure he doesn’t leave them.” The young sovereign commanded with a stern tone. “I am expecting you at the War Cabinet at 9, hopefully in a better state.” Hector added before glancing at his uncle up and down condescendingly. 

Alexandre looked back at his nephew pleadingly. He wanted to apologise, to comfort Hector, to offer guidance and advices, but he was just a fucking drunkard, a drug addict, a dishevelled looking, Prosecco smelling and useless uncle, he thought, and he just constantly made things worse for Hector. 

Hector shot one last judgmental glance at his uncle and turned around before walking away. 



“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Admiral El Adjaoui exclaimed as Hector III entered the Council Room. All the officers and councillors gathered around the massive granite table bowed their head and the young sovereign took place at the end of the table before dismissively inviting his councillors to seat. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Prince Alexandre rushed inside, evidently having done his maximum not to be late to the meeting. 

“Your Majesty.” Alexandre greeted as he bowed. Hector sighed and seemed displeased as his uncle hurriedly took a seat. 

“Let’s start.” The young emperor then said with a serious tone. “Lord Tafani.” He then added, giving floor to the middle aged bald man sitting on his right. 

Lord Tafani nervously grabbed his notes and stood up before walking to a large board on which a mediterranean map was displayed. Prince Alexandre turned around to be able to see Lord Tafani’s presentation. 

On the map, the Corsican Empire had been given a red colour to identify the territories controlled by the empire. 

Both Corsica and Sardegna, of course, but also Gibraltar and its region, the Baleares islands, most of northern Italy, Malta, Sicily, a chunk of the French Rivera as well as a large part of Languedoc, all of former Tunisia and the eastern half of the Algerian coastline, Greece, including the island of Crete and Cyprus, Jordan and the Suez Canal. 

Territories controlled by the rebels were indicated with black diagonal strips and it included half of northern Italy and all of Jordan. 

“The rebels stormed the fortress of Heraklion in a surprise attack last night around 2 am.” Lord Tafani started while pointing at the island of Crete on the map. They had a commando plant a bomb by the outer fortress wall and blew it open. Using the element of surprise to quickly take over the garrison stationed.” He explained. “It seems that they had extensive knowledge of the garrisons’ positions as well as the fortress plans, which seems to indicate that they have been efficiently collecting intelligence for a little while.” 

“Wasn’t there at least one ship stationed in Heraklion’s harbour?” A councillor interjected with a confused expression. 

“Usually there are five, yes. They were manoeuvring in the Aegean sea for a 48 hour mission.” Lord Tafani answered embarrassingly. The councillor shook his head with a baffled expression, seemingly realising the full extent of the rebel’s spy net efficiency. 

“Go on.” The young sovereign commanded calmly. Lord Tafani nervously looked at the emperor and energetically nodded before turning back to the map. 

“Well, the operation seemingly only had one purpose, which was the abduction of His Imperial Highness Prince Victor.” Lord Tafani continued. “Given Heraklion’s proximity to Jordan’s headquarters of rebel General Ciabrini, we believe they are taking His Imperial Highness to their headquarters in  Jerash.” Lord Tafani concluded. 

“Isn’t there anything we can do to stop them?” Prince Alexandre asked with a pleading soft voice. 

“No, Your Highness.” General Castelli answered with a sinister tone. Alexandre gulped and looked at his young nephew. Hector displayed a serious expression, and despite his natural elegance and charisma, Alexandre knew that the emperor was tired and concerned. 

“What are our options, General?” The young emperor inquired as he turned to his chief military advisor. 

“If I may speak frankly, Your Majesty, I would say our military options are not looking great.” General Castelli replied fatefully. “Rebel General Ciabrini secured total control over Jordan and is now able to prevent us from using the Suez Canal. His recent victories in the near east not only block our supply lines but also pose a real threat to our ally Tyre, which would end up having a dramatic impact on our trade capacities.” 

“The rebels don’t stand a chance against our fleet.” Admiral El Adjaoui interjected defiantly. 

“Which is great, and means we are safe from any attempt of a rebel army landing in Corsica.” General Castelli responded. “But with all due respect, the imperial fleet simply won’t save us from defeat if the rebels prevent oil from reaching your ships’ tanks!” He added energetically. “Your Majesty, His Imperial Highness’ abduction exposes our weaknesses and will no doubt trigger more defection in the army! It might even turn the senate against the crown. You know my loyalty to you is total, but I simply don’t think this is a fight we can win!” General Castelli concluded. 

Around the table, the reactions to General Castelli’s speech were mitigated. While most councillors seemed defeated and resigned, such as Prince Alexandre, others were outraged and made no mystery of how wrong they thought the general was. 

“Thank you for your candour, General. I am not questioning your loyalty.” The young emperor eventually answered after a long silence. “What do you suggest we do then?” 

“Your Majesty, I think it is time for us to accept the rebel’s demands.” General Castelli suggested hesitantly. “With all due respect, Your Highness.” The general added to Alexandre’s attention. “Our people associate this war with Prince Alexandre’s regency, and there is still a way for Your Majesty to dissociate from this.” He said while Hector raised his eyebrows and Alexandre looked down in shame. “I think we should abandon the nobility’s reform Prince Alexandre implemented with Consul Fresnes and dismiss the Consul, reestablish aristocracy’s privileges and grant them criminal immunity for rebelling against the crown.” 

Admiral El Adjaoui loudly scoffed and shook her head in pure incredulity as the whole room fell totally silent waiting for Hector’s reaction. The emperor pensively looked by the window for several long seconds and sighed. 

“General, my uncle might have been misguided during his regency.” Hector began saying, triggering Alexandre’s face to flush in absolute shame and humiliation. “But he represented imperial authority, and the rebels should have respected that authority.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty, but we must be….” General Castelli started.

“I am 19 years old, and I might reign for the next half century if such wishes God.” Hector interrupted. “You say I cannot afford to keep this war going, and I share your concerns, but the truth is that I cannot afford not winning it.” The sovereign said with a serious dark tone. “The crown cannot survive giving in to blackmail, treachery, defiance and rebellion. You know our nation’s history, General, you know how deep the hatred between the crown and the nobles is rooted.” Hector pointed out as the General attentively listened. “When my father died, they felt an opportunity, and they seized it. If I give in now, I might as well abdicate, and I won’t.” The sovereign concluded. 

“Your Majesty, I was certainly not suggesting that…” General Castelli immediately responded nervously. 

“However, you are right, General.” Hector cut off. “We cannot afford more defections, we must take a new approach to prevent it.” He suggested. “


“Your Highness.” A rebel soldier called Victor in the early evening as he was awakened from his nap. The prince straightened up, memories of the last night abduction still vividly present in his mind. He moodily looked back at his two captors and shot the one that woke him up a death stare. “We have docked in Jaffa.” 

The young prince was escorted outside of the rebel warship he had been evacuated from Heraklion in, and sat into a rebel military car. 

Victor looked around him and caught glimpses of the busy port of Jaffa. Although he tried to hide it, the young prince was frightened and wondered what his future held for him and what the rebels planned to do with him. 

A prince doesn’t put on a show, doesn’t make a spectacle of himself, his father often told Victor, and so the prince was cautious to look calm and detached whenever his captors looked back to check on him. The prince’s hands were damp with nervousness however, and his stomach was painfully knotted. 

As the military car drove off, Victor’s eyes wandered outside of the window and absorbed the Mediterranean landscape, not so different from the one in Corsica or Crete. Rapidly, it turned into a more arid and desolated land, and although the prince was fascinated by these unknown and exotic smells and colours, he knew that he was getting close to his destination. 

Jerash was a Jordanian town built thousands of years ago and home to impressive ancient Roman ruins. This little town was also strategically located and had been chosen by the Corsican empire to be the regional capital. 

Now that the rebels fully controlled the region, they established their Far East headquarter in the former’s governor’s palace, in front of which Prince Victor’s car had just stopped. 

The anxious and confused young prince was led inside of the headquarters and taken to a room where rebel officers were currently gathered standing around a wide oval table, in the heat of what seemed like a serious strategic meeting.

“It looks like our guest of honour has arrived.” The highest ranked officer in the room sneered with a smirk. From his uniform, Victor immediately noticed that he was a general. The general was a young man, in his late twenties, and displayed a cocky insufferable smile. He dismissed his officers with a hand gesture and the prince was soon left alone with him. “Do you know who I am?” The general asked Victor while walking closer to him calmly.

“Should I?” The prince dismissively lied. Of course he knew who General Hadrien Ciabrini was, you would have to be living under a rock not to have heard about the rebellion young genius. Despite his young age, the general already had an impressive military record and was successful in delivering several humiliating camouflets to the imperial troops. The general chuckled and looked back at the prince with contempt.

“Such an arrogant little boy.” The general replied. “No wonder your wimp of a brother ended up causing this war. I can tell you two are of the same breed.” He added with disgust. The prince shook his head in disbelief, never someone dared to speak to him like that in his short life.

“At least I’m not the breed of a traitor to Corsica!” Victor spat out with anger.

“Corsica?” The general replied with wide eyes. “Corsica existed before your miserable family reigned, and will exist long after, I’ll see to that.” He concluded. “Guards!” He then called before the door opened and soldiers walked in. “Take His Imperial Highness to his quarters.” He commanded before dismissing them.

Victor was escorted through long corridors where he passed by a few soldiers that shot him a very surprised glance, visibly unaware that the prince had been taken prisoner by the rebellion. Eventually, Victor reached what seemed to be his apartments’ door and was taken inside. 

At least, the prince thought, he would be comfortable. The prince’s suite was composed of a very large and lavishly decorated bedroom, a bathroom and a private lounge-study. The whole place had been furnished and decorated in an Arabo-oriental style and his bedroom and lounge were filled with exotic plants as the floors were covered with brightly coloured Persian rugs.

“Your Imperial Highness.” A soldier greeted  Victor inside of the lounge. “I am Lieutenant Tomasi, I shall be responsible for your security here.” 

“Of my captivity, you mean.” The prince shot back, staring at the officer in the eye. The lieutenant looked back at the prince but didn’t answer his provocation. He turned to two young men, probably around the same age as Victor himself, and introduced them as the prince’s servant. 

“Would you like to have dinner served here, Your Highness?” Lieutenant Tomasi suggested. The prince was disgruntled, but he was really hungry too, it was late in the evening and his last meal was aboard the destroyer that led him to Jaffa. Victor nodded at the lieutenant and the soldier walked out of the suite. 

“Is there anything I can do for His Highness before taking my leave?” The remaining servant deferentially asked about an hour later, as the prince was finishing his dinner in his lounge. 

“Could you prepare a hot bath for me before leaving please?” The prince asked with a kind tone, far from the one he had used with the rebel soldiers. He thought that there was no point being rude with a servant that had nothing to do in his predicament after all. 

“Your bath is ready, Your Highness. I have placed clean clothes on the pedestal table, by the washbasin.” The servant boy announced after the prince was done with dinner.

“What is your name?” 

“Farid, Your Highness.” He answered, a bit nervously. 

“Well, thank you Farid, have a good night.” The prince dismissed the boy with a smile. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Farid said before walking out of the suite. 

The prince sighed and looked around him, he wondered how much time he would be spending in this gilded cage. Surely this would only be temporary, Victor doubted his beloved brother would let him rot in a Middle-eastern rebel headquarters with a bunch of bullies like Hadrien Ciabrini. 

Victor stood up and walked to his bathroom. He sat on the edge of the large granite bath and dipped his hand in the water, it was warm. The prince then stood up and clumsily took off his boots, he undid the top button of his shirt when, suddenly. 

“I hope you like your new home, Your Highness.” A voice said behind him. The prince was startled and jumped with surprise, turning to face the person that disturbed this private moment.

“General.” Victor exclaimed with a mix of defiance and dread. The general was looking back at him with amusement, leaning on the bathroom door frame, his arms crossed in front of his muscled torso. 

He then walked to the prince and Victor glanced at him with surprise and confusion. The general placed his hand on the prince’s shirt and slowly started unbuttoning it. 

“What are you doing?” Victor protested with a high pitched tone while placing his hands on the general’s to stop him.

Victor tried to push the general away, but the tall strong young man wouldn’t budge. He looked back at the prince’s helplessness with obvious satisfaction, but also with something else, something way more animalistic and dangerous.

“You’re not going to take a bath fully clothed, now are you?” The general provocatively asked with a grin. Victor gulped and sensed his heartbeat accelerating, his hands were damp with sweat and he had a lump in his throat. 

“Please…” Victor muttered with watery eyes. 

“What are you making such a fuss about?” The general asked with a hint of irritation. “Aren’t you princes used to having people help you dress, undress, spoon-feed you and wipe your ass?” He sneered with a mocking tone. 

Victor knew there was no point in resisting, this brute would take whatever he wanted, and Victor couldn’t do anything about it.

When he was done unbuttoning his shirt, the general peeled it from the prince’s back and let it fall on the tiled floor. His fingers brushed the teenager’s skin and the general now looked at Victor with unquenched lust. The prince looked back at the young general pleadingly, but he simply chuckled. The teenager was shaking with fear and on the verge of crying. 

“Where has your arrogance gone, Your Highness?” The general teased with a mean smile. “It must be so frustrating for someone who’s been told all his life that the world revolved around him to suddenly be confronted with harsh reality. You’re not the centre of the world here, I am.”

Victor gulped and understood exactly what the general meant, even though the prince never believed that the world revolved around him, he certainly felt the full extent of his powerlessness there and then. 

The general then grabbed the teenager’s trousers’ button and roughly opened it, letting the trousers fall on the prince’s hips. The general then took a step back and nodded at the prince, encouraging him to get further undressed. Victor knew there were only two options here; refuse to cooperate and infuriate the general, or comply and hope that it would be enough to soften this brute. 

The truth was that Victor was paralysed with fear, and the only thing his brain allowed him to do was to comply. 

There was no escape from this situation. 

Slowly, the prince got rid of his trousers and neglectingly tossed them aside before doing the same thing with his sock. Now only wearing his underwear, he shot the general a last pleading glance, but he just looked back at him with a grin that didn’t leave any room for interpretation. Reluctantly, the prince hooked his brief’s waistband and lowered them too before stepping out of them. 

Victor was fully naked in front of the general that lustily gauged him, as if he were a mere piece of meat that he considered buying at the market. It was humiliating, with a man so much his senior and obviously only filled with contempt and a burning desire to make him feel lower than earth. 

The general walked closer to the prince and grinned at him. He hooked the teenager’s chin and forced him to look back at him, even though the prince wanted nothing but to look down in shame. With his other hand, the general grabbed a handful of the boy’s butt cheek and sighed. 

“It must be terribly debasing for you, is it not, Your Highness?” The general inquired. “Standing in front of me, a vulgar soldier, when you, practically a demi-god, are naked and vulnerable.”

“Please…” Victor whispered with a soft tone as a tear ran down his flushed cheek. 

Hadrien grabbed the prince by the shoulder and roughly turned him around before pinning him against the tiled wall. He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers to his knees, vulgarly spat on his rock hard penis and pressed the tip against Victor’s virgin butt. 

When he felt his rapist penetrating him, the teenager screamed in pain and despair, shaking frantically and feeling like throwing up from anxiety and disgust. 

Hadrien kept relentlessly assaulting the young boy as the bathroom was filled with his grunts and his victim’s pained and muffled complaints. 

The panting general placed his chin on top of the handsome prince’s shoulder and while his right hand firmly gripped his hip, his left hand browsed the teenager’s smooth chest, relishing on the softness of his skin. 

Anything Victor was able to feel was pain. The general’s firm grip on his hip was incommoding him, his military uniform pressing against Victor’s naked skin and scratching him, and the burning pain inside of him. 

In one final thrust, Hadrien groaned and completed his defilement of his new young captive. 

The general stayed still for a few seconds, catching up on his breath, before pulling out and nonchalantly using a towel to clean up. 

Hadrien then tossed the towel on the floor and pulled up his pants before walking out of the bathroom without a word. 

Victor, who had stayed still until then, collapsed on the cold hard tiled floor and started sobbing profusely, curling up in a foetal position. 

The bathroom door opened a few minutes later and the prince’s young servant entered with a stunned and panicked expression before rushing to Victor. 

“No, no, please get out!” Victor ashamedly pleaded between sobs, feeling his humiliation deepening to be witnessed in such a state. 

“Your Highness…” Farid exclaimed softly while quickly kneeling next to the prince. “I’m so sorry Your Highness!” He said with a distraught tone. “Please let me help you.” 

“Farid, no, please.” Victor sobbed as the servant worriedly evaluated the damages to the prince’s body. 

“Let me at least help you get cleaned up. Please, Your Highness.” Farid pleaded with a concerned expression. 

Victor eventually nodded and seemed to calm down a little as his servant helped him stand up. 

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