Chapter Text
Kurt trudged up the steps, carefully balancing the tray that held Lord Sebastian’s breakfast. Four one-minute eggs, two fresh croissants, an apple cored and peeled, and a concoction meant to soothe what was sure to be a sore head after a night of cavorting at the ball Lady Susan hosted the night previous. He reached the top of the stairs and walked down the hall, his mouth twisting in distaste at the prospect of dealing with his master, who would be undoubtedly grumpy but no less arrogant than usual.
The door to Sebastian’s chambers flew open, and before Kurt could react, a tall blond man ran into him, splattering the breakfast all over his servant’s uniform. It took Kurt a second to realize, but the blond man was naked, clutching some clothing in front of his body to try to preserve his modesty.
“Flynt?!” Kurt said incredulously, recognizing the stable boy who took care Sebastian’s younger sister Elizabeth’s horse.
“S-sorry,” Flynt muttered, stumbling away and blushing.
Kurt gaped at his retreating form and then rolled his eyes. Of course. Sebastian hadn’t had enough fun at the ball, drinking and likely sneaking off to some shadowy corner to harass some poor servant; he had come home and tempted Flynt into his bed, only to kick him out of it as soon as he woke.
Kurt was about to turn back around and go prepare Sebastian’s meal once more, when Sebastian’s voice reached his ears.
“Kurt? Is that you out there? Come here.”
He sighed and walked into the room, setting the tray on the edge of Sebastian’s bed.
“Where’s my breakfast?” Sebastian drawled, lazing against the pillows, naked, the sheets just covering his more private areas.
“Your bedfellow upset it out in the hall in his haste to leave, Sir,” Kurt answered, struggling to keep the contempt out of his voice.
“I’m sure the sight of your face was enough to have him running for the hills,” Sebastian replied idly, inspecting his nails, “Go make it again and don’t take too long. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. You know,” he added, “sometimes I forget why I’m bothering to bring you along, but then I remember that you’re the only servant I know who is unattractive enough that I won’t be tempted to bed you along the way. And it certainly wouldn’t make a good impression if I arrived at my fiance’s door with a well-fucked servant.”
“Am I to gather that your dalliances will cease once you are married, then, my Lord?”
Sebastian laughed. “Certainly not. Lord Edward of Westerton may be reputed to be very handsome and charming and an attentive lover, but I fear my appetite cannot be satiated by one man alone. Now go and make my breakfast. And you shan’t have any for yourself this morning, for asking such an impertinent question.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kurt bit out, turning on his heel and leaving the room.
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Kurt squinted in the dim light, trying to make out the words of his book, a tale of Arthur and Guinevere. He was sitting on the floor of the carriage, Sebastian having taken up the whole of the cushioned bench so he could stretch out and sleep. The carriage rumbled along, and Kurt tried not to pay attention to every jolt and bump on the path. Sebastian snorted and turned over, a little smirk playing on his lips as he dreamed, no doubt about bedding some servant or other or listing everything that made Kurt repulsive and unappealing.
Suddenly, an agonized scream tore through the air and something thunked against the side of the carriage. Even as Kurt went completely still, Sebastian jolted awake.
“Huh whazzit?”
Kurt didn’t bother replying as Sebastian looked around blearily. The carriage picked up speed, but soon there were two more yells of pain, and then the carriage quickly drew to a halt.
“I say, what is the delay?” Sebastian demanded angrily, reaching for the curtain at the window.
“Don’t!” Kurt whispered as Sebastian drew the fabric back.
He dropped it into place with a jump mere seconds later as an arrow hit the frame of the window.
“Good Lord!” Sebastian exclaimed, sitting up straight.
“Shhh,” Kurt tried to quiet him, his heart thumping erratically.
Sebastian glared at him but did not make a sound. They both listened with bated breath. The sound of conversation and laughter drew closer, accompanied by the fall of heavy footsteps.
Kurt motioned for Sebastian to move back, and he did, surprisingly.
Kurt shuffled forward, holding his breath and cocking his fist. When the carriage door swung open, he swung, his knuckles connecting with the face of the man standing there and sending a jolt of pain up his arm. He quickly kicked his foot out against the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. There was a shout of alarm, and then someone reached into the carriage and grabbed him by the hair, holding a wicked-looking knife to his throat.
“Well, boys, looks like we got ourselves a feisty little treat!” The ruffian, big and beefy and filling Kurt’s nostrils with an odious scent, called to his fellows as he pulled Kurt out of the carriage and tossed him to the ground. The man he had punched and kicked stumbled to his feet and aimed a kick to Kurt’s ribs. Kurt let out a groan of pain and curled in on himself. He could hear Sebastian's panicked protesting behind him.
“Get your filthy hands off me! I am Lord Sebastian of Everly! Do you know who I am? I’m worth your lives ten times over in ransom, but you’ll not get a pittance if any harm comes to me.”
Kurt looked up from his position on the ground. Sebastian was flanked by two of the outlaws, who held his arms, and his eyes were wide and alarmed.
“Then who is that?” The big one – perhaps the leader – asked, pointing down at Kurt.
“That is my servant. If you desire something to beat or to bed, feel free. He’s practically worthless to me. Do with him what you will.”
“What?! No!” Kurt rasped, even as several pairs of hands descended upon him, groping at his buttocks and squeezing his hips as the men around him jeered and whistled.
“Not now, you horny bunch of animals!” The leader shouted, leering at Kurt. “We’ll back to camp first, dine, and then make use of the servant. And no one is to touch him before I have my pleasure of him!”
“No, wait-“ Kurt’s alarmed protests were cut off when one of the ruffians hauled him up by his hair and smacked him across the face.
“Shut up!”
Kurt began to struggle, but soon three men were holding him down and binding his wrists behind his back. They dragged him over to a horse and tied a rope to his hands and attached it to the reigns. He dimly registered that Sebastian was being placed, hands tied, in the back of a wagon. When the horse started to move, Kurt was jerked to his feet. He had to strain against the pull of the rope to keep walking straight forward. He stumbled along behind the horse, trying to ignore the catcalls and whistling directed at him.
He wondered how long he’d have to walk until the reality of his circumstances truly sank in.
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They arrived at the outlaws’ camp as the sun was setting. The ruffians poured ale and roasted meat over a fire. One of them, smiling at Kurt suggestively, tied him to a tree. He leaned back against the trunk, exhausted, thirsty, hungry, sore. His back ached and his feet felt like they might fall off. His cheekbone was still aching from where the man had hit him earlier in the day. He watched the men cavorting merrily, drunk off ale and feasting on smoked deer meat and bread and potatoes. Their voices were too loud, and he cringed every time one of them looked his way, his stomach queasy with dread and fear when it wasn’t growling for food.
Kurt gazed over at Sebastian, who had been given a chunk of rabbit and a piece of bread for his dinner. Kurt doubted he would be getting anything, and frankly he had more pressing concerns. Do with him what you will, Sebastian had said, and the men had certainly made their intentions clear. Kurt shuddered at the memory of the big, beefy one’s hand groping his buttocks. It was absolutely clear what they intended to do to him. He tried to crane his neck over his shoulder to see where his wrists were bound and tied to the tree, but it was no use. He twisted his arms, wincing as the rough material chafed at his wrists, trying to get loose.
Sensing a presence, he looked up. One of the outlaws was coming towards him, a dirty knife in hand. Kurt sucked in a breath and pressed up against the tree. The man laughed cruelly.
“Don’t worry prettyface; I’m just here to cut you from the tree. It’s the others you should be scared of,” the man grinned, showing crooked, blackened teeth as he jerked his head over to the group of rowdy drunks by the fire.
“You don’t need to do this,” Kurt attempted to appeal to the man’s conscience; “you could just…let me go. Say I overpowered you and got away.”
The man snorted. “Right, like anyone’d believe a little nancy like you could beat me, especially with your hands tied.” He hauled Kurt up by his collar and gripped him roughly by the arm, dragging him over to the fire and tossing him to the dirt when the group of men parted to leave space.
Kurt fell to his knees, and then, his hands still bound behind his back, fell forward, his face scrunching up in pain as he hit the ground.
“He’s all yours boys!” The man crowed, “Remember to share!”
The men laughed and jeered drunkenly. One tucked his boot under Kurt’s side and kicked him over. Kurt groaned in pain and gritted his teeth at the taste of dirt in his mouth.
The big, beefy one grabbed a handful of Kurt’s hair and yanked him to his feet. Kurt cried out as the men continued to laugh at him.
The man yanked his head back and shuffled him close to the fire. “Such a pretty face, and that high lady voice” he leered, “you sure you ain’t a girl?”
“Only one way to find out!” Another man shouted, and he was greeted with cheers.
“I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be,” Kurt spat with a lot more conviction that he was currently feeling inside, and he glared at the man, who chuckled even as his friends teased him, and then drew back his arm and backhanded Kurt across the face, tossing him to the ground once more. The man’s ring scratched open a long cut across Kurt’s cheek. Tears pooled in his eyes. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but the fight had gone out of him. They streamed down his cheeks as he thought of what was to come. Someone grabbed him by the leg and dragged him across the ground, and he glanced up to see Sebastian sitting off to the side, bound to a tree, looking mildly interested in the proceedings.
Hands scrabbled at his chest, and he closed his eyes at the sound of his shirt being torn from his body, the buttons flying out into the night. The remaining scraps dangled down by his tied hands.
“So! Not a girl after all!” Someone yelled, as hands groped at his bare chest. Kurt instinctively struggled against the touches, which earned him a solid fist to the stomach. He doubled over in pain.
“See? He’s presenting himself to us already,” someone chortled, gripping Kurt’s hips and grinding against his buttocks.
“Please,” Kurt managed to gasp, hating himself for begging, “d-don’t do this to me.”
“Shut up,” a cruel voice sneered, shoving him so that his face met dirt once more. A set of hands yanked on his hips so that he was on his knees with his bottom in the air, his face still pressed into the dirt, and nudged his legs apart, tugging on his tight breeches as he tried to wriggle away.
Suddenly, a strangled cry of pain pierced the air, and it wasn’t coming from Kurt. More quickly followed, and Kurt could hear arrows whizzing through the air, the sounds of battle cries not far away. The man between his legs quickly got up and abandoned him. Men were running every which way; some trampled over him, leaving him crying out in pain as their heavy boots trod across his back, kicked the side of his face, and jostled him about.
The smell of death soon filled the air, and the screams died out. Kurt groaned, trying to flip himself over, but not really wanting to. He was too afraid of what would be waiting for him once he turned over and opened his eyes.
“I say!” He heard Sebastian yelp indignantly, “Do you know who I am? I am Lord Sebastian of Everly. If you want your ransom, you’d better not leave one bruise on me! I’ll tell you what I told them: if you want someone to beat or to fuck, my servant over there is yours to do with what you will.”
Kurt felt panic rise anew in his throat as several voices muttered and he could hear several pairs of feet heading towards him. He grunted in pain and was just starting to roll over when a pair of hands grabbed his arms and pulled him up to standing. He stumbled a little but the hands held him up. He kept his head lowered, but hesitantly looked up to see a new group of outlaws surrounding him. He shivered against the cold of the night, tasting blood and dirt in his mouth and blinking furiously against more tears welling in his eyes.