forum People arent always who they seem (closed)

Started Mar 17 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

Rp with @Davadio

I'll get the prompt posted here soon.

The Callistar family ruled over Venia for centuries. The crown was passed from the male heir to the next. Venia flourished under their rule. Wars were won, trade established, and peace was brought. Magic was accepted and encouraged. The people were happy and content with their rulers. The king was a good king, with fair rulings. He had enough heirs to secure the throne. All was right in the world.
No one expected it coming. An army had risen against them, the second son of a neighboring kingdom wanting to rule for himself. And instead of challenging his brother, he sought a new kingdom. Venia. They came in the night and brought hell down on them. No one had seen them coming. They snuck into the palace and killed the king and his wife first before moving on to the children. One by one, they all went down, or so they thought. The second son declared himself king and struck down all that opposed him. Magic users were abolished and hunted down and burned at the stake. The kingdom spiraled into debt and poverty and misery. But what they didn't know, was that there was a surviving Callistar.
Princess Elia had escaped the palace. A maid had snuck her out of the servant's passage that led into the woods and told her to run. She hadn't thought about who would replace her, didn't want to think about it. So she ran. She ran as far as she could until her little legs gave out on her. She would have died in that forest if she had been found by Madame Rosette. Something she reminded her of every day. She owed a great debt, one, no matter how hard Elia worked, she would never pay off. That's how the brothels work now. The Madame would buy luxury dresses and food and provide lodgings, racking up the numbers until it was impossible for a whore, or anyone, to be able to pay off that debt. Elia believed she would be there until she died or was thrown out onto the streets when her body aged too much. That is, until a certain usuper crowned prince swoops in and provides a miracle. One that will unfortunately take her straight to the palace and into the lions den. Will Elia be able to hide her identity? Her magic she has tried so hard to conceal? Can she stop herself from falling in love with the enemy?

Form:
Name:
Age:
Magic (if any):
Weapons:
Appearance:
Personality:
Other:

There we go. Not much changed. I am tweaking her name a little bit though.

Name: Prince Romulus of House Vespasian. Prefers to go by Rom if given the choice. Known on the battlefield as Caesar.
Age: 25
Magic: Has been gifted with magic resistance, meaning he can't be enchanted or charmed, but that's all.
Weapons: Whatever he can get his hands on. He usually carries a set of daggers, each about a foot long, but he's big enough to not really need them often.
Appearance: Rom is 6'6"/2m tall and weighs roughly 300lbs/136kg, making him pretty muscular and imposing. He keeps his platinum blonde hair cut short around the sides and back, but roughly 6" long on top, usually rocking a fauxhawk. His eyes are an icy blue, and his left one has a large scar running diagonally across it down to his cheek, limiting his vision in that eye. He has a square jaw and a Roman nose, and was considered handsome at one point, before multiple breaks to his facial bones messed him up. Usually he can be found wearing his armor under clothes that only mark his royalty through their colors. He tends towards black, grey, and red in his other clothing choices, colors which contrast with his pale complexion. Rom would rather fight or screw than just about anything else. This has left his upper body covered in small scars, which aren't super visible on his pale skin until you're up close. He typically wears trousers of micro-chain mail over his black boots. His helmet is a classic Centurion's helmet, with some modifications. It has no plume; there is an open strip over the top of his head, and his fauxhawk sticks out as the plume. It also has metal strips connecting the two side pieces to cover his face, up to his eyes, which he leaves visible. There is a visor that covers his eyes if he needs it. The entire helmet is black and highly reflective, made of an osmium/titanium alloy. The helmet can be collapsed down to just a collar, with plates covering his face up to the eyes.
Personality: Romulus is a big personality. Loud, obnoxious, and often rude, he is a very typical royal in his tendencies to get into fights and asusme women will just fawn over him. He enjoys the soldiering aspect of leading, but is ill-equipped for the diplomacy or court requirements of a king. He often plays stupid to throw people off, but is an intelligent strategizer and schemer.
Other: His boots are actually greaves that extend up to his knee when in a fight. He also wears gauntlets which come up to his elbows. These are the made of the same black osmium/titanium alloy. They double as armor and weapons, but are tiring to use, which is why Romulus is so strong.
He also really doesn't want the throne, but knows it is expected of him.

Name: Princess Elia Callistar, crown princess, and heir to the Venian throne. Madame Rosette gave her the name Elora.
Age: Twenty-two
Magic (if any): Like her family, she was gifted with powerful elemental magic, fire. Her family all drew magic from the four elements. Her magic had only just begun to show when the coup happened. She had trained herself and learned control in secrete. But she must be careful, because creatures of the dark can smell magic. And with magic as potent as hers, they all come running.
Weapons: Elia has nothing physical. Her body is not strong. She does not know how to wield a weapon. What she does have is her words and a little bit of poison. She wouldn't consider herself an expert, but knowledgeable enough.
Appearance: Elia has chestnuts brown hair that runs down the length of her back in soft waves. The Madame has refused to let ger cut it any shorter than the end of her rib bones. Bones so pernounced due to being starved. Most of their patrons didn't like her extra curves. To make her more apealable, the mistress limited her portions. She has warm, chocolate eyes. They're inviting. So opposite her nature. She has hollow cheeks and plump lips, and all time favorite of patrons. They loved to see her lips wrapped around them. Her olive skin had paled over the years of being trapped in doors. She was rarely allowed out and always with an escort to make sure she didnt run. Her skin was smooth from use of oils and lotions daily on her skin. She stands at about 5'5, average for a woman. Her skin is unmarked. However, she has a star shaped birthmark on her hip. Something that was striked from all records but one, unbeknownst to Elia.
Personality: Elia is strong when it comes to the mind. She can withstand just about anything, has too, with her job. She's strong until it comes to the children in the brothel. She would do just about anything to protect them. But even then, there was only so much she could protect then from. Fighting back only made it worse for them. She hates Vespians with a burning passion. For what they did to her, to her family, her people. Sometimes, when important ones came in, or ones that just treated her children terribly, she would slip something into their drink. It would take a day or two to go into effect. But they would die a painful death. But despite what you may see on her exterior, there is so much more to her than meets the eye.
Other: She had to change her name to Elora to avoid suspicion. A random girl found in the woods with the name Elia, same as the princess which family just got slaughtered, would have been a give away.

Madame Rosette's Emporium was the only respectable brothel in town. Really the only brothel in their small little town. There some prostitutes, of course, that littered the streets. And occasionally a man or woman decided to start up their own little brothel that always got shut down within the first month due to mysterious reasons that definitely could not be led back to Madame Rosette. She had both men and women, girls and boys. Girls were not given out until their first bleeding and the boys until they were thirteen. The children would do chores until they reached such age.
The establishment truly was beautiful. There was a grande entrance with a lavish lobby. Velvet couches, rugs, curtains. A live band would come and play during truly busy nights. There was a kitchen in the back kept out of the eyes of patrons. It was not the nicest of places in the building. Floors two and three were the bedrooms that doubled as the working rooms. Older and favorited got their own rooms while the younger and less favorited shared rooms. And those who went four days without a single patron were kicked out if the establishment. Madame Rosette only had the best girls. And if you weren't the best, you were gone.
Elia, Elora, was lounging on one of the velvet couches. It was one of their slower days and earlier in the day. Most patrons came in late evening, preferring to keep their activities in the dark. There was only one or two regulars in the place, currently with their respective girl or boy. This left the rest of then to catch up on chores an enjoy their free time. Elora had no chores currently, other than looking her best. She was sprawled across the sofa in a gauzy gown and luxurious robe to cover up. There was a book in her hand. She was one of the only ones that could read. Her books were limited to what Madame Rosette deemed appropriate, so it was mostly just romances. But she ate up the stories and dreamed of a better life in a different world.
One of the newer girls ran into the brothel, having recently been to the market on a supply run. Her escort followwd shortly behind her. The enforcers
they were there to keep the patrons and girls in line. There was a bright smile on her face as she hushed with her friends. They all erupted into giggles. Elora peered up from the book she was reading but quickly dismissed it. Likely some drama in town.
"That is enough, girls," Madame Rosette appeared at the staircase. She descended the stairs to them. "Now, what is the meaning of this."
The girl, Mary, stepped forward. "The crown prince is coming to town. He's not but a mile away. Do you think he will stop here? I've always wanted to be with a prince."
Several other girls joined in the chorus, speaking over one another, talking about dressing in their finest clothes and doing their hair, just for a chance to meet a prince.
"Enough!" Madame Rosette said. The brothel came to silence, save for the few noises of pleasures coming from rooms deeper within. "If the prince is coming, it is likely he will make a visit. Girls, I want this place spotless. Prepare the King's Suite." A sick joke, really, to name their best rooms that, but who was Elia to complain?
The girls all jumped into motion, the ones that weren't occupied, however. But Elia did not move, nor did she even look up from her book. Deep down she was terrified. There was no way he would recognize her, she had only been nine when she escaped the palace. Yet there was that sinking fear, that despite everything she had done, she would be discovered.
"Elora, you do know that includes you too?"
She looked up from her book, looking at the Madame. "They're going to be running around making sure everything is perfect. Better to stay out of their way. Besides, I think I look fine."
Madame gave her a look.
"Alright, alright. I'll go." Elora got up, fabric billowing behind her as she walked to the stairs. It took everything in her not to shake. The child of her enemy. Her enemy, was coming. She had heard stories of him, of his cruelty, of his battles. If he found out who she was, she couldn't imagine the pain she would be in for. As much as she wanted to be spared of him, of servicing him, she knew the Madame would throw her right in the prince's path should he decide to show his face.

The Haradrim were always an impressive group to behold in motion. Whether riding the massive Oliphaunt warbeasts, the conquered Wulves, or even the fiery horses from the desert sands, they always managed to cut a handsome figure. Some Harad leaned into this impressive reputation, using it to enhance their otherwise plain appearances. And some Harad did not need help looking impressive.
Prince Romulus Vespasian was one such man. 6'6" in his socks, 300lbs of solid muscle, scarred and still somehow handsome despite the fights and the years. 25, in the prime of his youth, virile and vital and full of life. Loud, boisterous, with a casual confidence that came from never having completely lost a fight in his life. Covered in black armor that did nothing to hide the rippling muscle underneath, riding a huge Wulf with fur dyed red, and surrounded by 30 of the very impressive Haradrim who served him…
Romulus was every inch the Crown Prince as he came into town.

A fact he absolutely hated.

Maybe Lakeside could help him forget for a bit. The town was one of the bigger ones in this side of the country, and Romulus had been told to stay for a couple of days and make friends of the people. Father's advisors seemed to think if he was popular with the people, he would have an easier time eventually taking the throne. Romulus had sneered at them, wondering how they could think a recently conquered people would ever warm up to the boisterous brat of their conquering enemy, but they had sent him out just the same. So here he was.
Ah, well. Time to make the most of it.
"Lear, you know what I'm looking for." He called to his lieutenant, an equally young and impressive man on a horse near him. "Find me the bars, the brothels, and the bare-knuckle fights."
Lear nodded, and took off into town, a grin smeared across his face. Working for Romulus had been a long job for him, and the Prince always knew how to party.

Within a couple hours, Lear had checked through Lakeside, and had his results. 3 bars, 1 fight pit, and only 1 brothel worth mentioning, according to the townsfolk. He was headed there now.
A tall building in the same shady section of town as the fight pit, Madame Rosette's Emporium was an unassuming 3 story house, with nothing to mark it as a brothel but the brightly painted hanging sign on the porch, and the steady stream of people in an out. Lear took note that men and women both were coming in and out looking satisfied, which meant the place had boys as well as girls. A business minded woman, very good.
He stepped inside, and was met with the smell of sex and cheap perfume. There was an older woman, clearly the matron of the establishment, standing there scolding a much younger, prettier girl.
"Madame Rosette, I presume?" Lear said officiously.
It was a personal goal of his to always treat brothel owners with respect. You never knew when you might need a cheap whore.

Madame Rosette had managed to get her girls and boy to clear the place of any clutter and scatter. They had all changed into their finest clothes and adorned their finest jewels. They were waiting throughout the lobby, looking nonchalant, as if the Madame hadn't placed them there and told them how to act.
The Madame turned her head to the sound of a man approaching. She had a delicious smile adorned on her lips. Seductive and inviting. Elora made herself scarce as the man approached. She knew better than to tangle with the viper her mistress was. She needed to prepare herself as well. She hadn't planned to do much. She would add a pearl necklace and maybe some studs to her ears. She let her hair down from the bun that had moped her head and let the soft waves fall down her back. A little bit of khol to draw attention to her eyes. A bit of rouge on the cheeks and lips. Simple, but stunning. Her mistress will likely punish her later foe the simplicity of the look, only if she does not manage to catch the eye of the royal.
"You presume correct. I am Madame Rosette, at your service. I have everything that you can imagine. How may I be of service?"
The young girls and boy giggled to themselves over hushed worlds said between them. A harsh look from the mistress had them quieting. They knew her anger and what it would lead too for them. While she could be quite generous, she could also be quite cruel. Still, this brothel was better than most others. At least, that's what they were told.
Quickly, Elora find herself back down the stairs, pausing halfway down to watch the intruder. She had downed a glass of wine in her room to calm her nerves. It only seemed to make it worse. Her hands were shaking. She hadn't been this scared in years. Not since that night. Death didn't scare her but pain did. And if she wasn't careful, she would find herself at the wrong end of torture.

Lear grinned, a charming, disarming expression, and bowed low to the ground. "My name is Lear, madame, pleased to make your acquaintance." He stood and looked around approvingly. "I've been told this is the place to come for a good romp. I can only assume you've heard that Prince Romulus of House Vespasian is coming through town." He glanced at Elora, then at the few faces peeking out at him. "He has sent me ahead to make arrangements for him to spend a good bit of his time here. I'm sure whatever rooms you have will be adequate. A few details: 1. There will be guards. 2. The Prince will choose who he beds when he gets here. 3. I cannot give you a definite time for his arrival, and he'll likely be in and out regularly. And 4. Don't call him 'your majesty', 'your highness', or anything like that. If you must use a title, 'My Prince' will do fine, but he would honestly prefer you to call him nothing."

Romulus sincerely hated all of that garbage, and was on a first name basis with his inner circle of guards. He didn't spread his name around a lot, but it was out there, and people knew.

Lear took one more look around. "I can also assure you that you will be paid above and beyond for your troubles, as well as garnering extra business from the guards and the inevitable gaggle of strays and fans the Prince will pick up." His smile grew as he turned to leave. "In other words, we will make this worth your while, Madame Rosette." He made some rather intense eye contact, before finishing with a simple question. "Can I assume he will be welcomed?"

Lear knew full well that in her heart, Madame Rosette likely hated the Harad Prince. But her wallet would not allow that hatred to show. The girls, and indeed, the boys that Romulus would bed this week would be in the same boat, having to masquerade love for a person they probably hated more than their usual customers.
It was a fact that had made Lear sad for his boisterous liege, on more than one occasion.

Madame Rosette saw only the amount of coin her patrons had. She had no prejudice against others. She, in fact, benefited from the usurpers. She swooped in and took over in their little town. The mistress was the most powerful woman in the town, perhaps the most powerful person. She had something on everyone. She was untouchable.
The Madame bowed her head and dipped into a small cursty. "Of course the prince will be welcomed. We will prepare the king suite for him," a name Elora dispised for the penthouse room. Men who came into the most wealth would rent the room and be treated like a king. A king Elora was usually made to service for the night. "I will line up my boys and girls for him to chose from when he arrives. I will have a feast prepared for his arrival. Does he have a particular taste in wine? Rum? Or anything else?"
Elora was terrified. But now, not just for her but for the children as well. If the prince had a taste for little girls or boys, there was not telling how young Madame Rosette would let him go for the money. For the prince, anything was worth the money.

Lear's smile widened once more. "Wine in general is welcomed, though the prince in particular is a whiskey drinker. And as for his other tastes, anyone who can show him a good time, whether that's in bed or with a good story." Romulus was no monster. A man given to his appetites, but not a pedophile.
The lieutenant walked out and mounted his horse, before bowing from the saddle. "'Till we meet again, lovely lady." He spurred the horse, and sparks flew from it's hooves as the fiery creature ran off.
~~~~
Lear reported back, and found Romulus in the midst of challenging a particularly large farmer to an arm-wrestling match. He waited till the prince had handily defeated the man, with both arms, and with the farmer using both hands, before he said anything.
Romulus smiled and clapped the winded man on the shoulder. "Not bad, friend! Glad you're working for us and not fighting us." The Harad Prince knew full well the mixed emotions of the townsfolk. He looked up, and beamed at Lear.
"Ah, my trusty compatriot! What have you found?" He stood and walked over to where Lear was still on his horse. His red Wulf, Ruir, had been lying on the ground, but he stood up to his full 8' height when Romulus stood. He was a massive beast, matching his master's proportions, and was fiercely loyal.
Lear bowed from the waist, briefly, and grinned at the overly formal greeting. "3 bars, a fight pit and a brothel, Romulus. I think you'll like them all."
Romulus clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "Well. Sounds good to me!" He turned and leapt into the saddle, Ruir bowing slightly to help him make the jump. "Let's check that first bar!"
The entire entourage rode into town, whooping and laughing.
…….
It would be several hours before Romulus would make his way to the brothel. He glanced around, checking that his guards were in place, but relaxed, before stepping up onto the porch. Lear knocked on the door.

After gotten ready herself, Elora tended to the younger ones. Malicious compliance. She would make sure they had on their best, yes. But it would be so much they would look unappealing. Anything to keep their paws off the kids, especially the tainted prince. She dressed then in obnoxious clothing, bright colors and ruffles and feathers. She placed their best jewels around their necks and weaved their hair.
Standing next them, Elora looked regal and elegant, worthy of a king as far as whores went. She only hoped the prince took the bait and chose her or at least one of the older ones to spare the kids.
She noticed a couple of them were grimacing at their appearances. She crouched in front of the youngest one. A girl, Talia, who had started her bleeding at just eleven years old. She was the youngest working girl and unfortunately sought after by many of the disgusting patrons.
"You remember why I do this, right?" Elora cupped the girl's cheek.
"To protect us."
"To protect you." Elora repeated. "I will do everything in my power to protect you all. But you have to trust me." She turned to the others. "I know a prince is exciting. He's royalty and we've never had that before. But wealth and power does not mean that you will be treated kindly. You all know that from experience. Prince's don't have consequences. This one knows that. He can hurt you if he chooses too. You must be careful. Don't let him chose you."
Elora kissed the girl gently on the head and stood. She was dressed in ivory. Layers of tull and lace adorned her body. Sheer, but not quite. It gave one a glimpse to what she had underneath but not so much that she was giving a free show.
Their mistress called for them to come downstairs and she knew it must be just about time. She gathered the few children their were with her, only about five of them. The eldest was fifteen and the youngest eleven. The others felt old enough they didn't want her protection any longer. That was fine. But it was always an offer. Something that even the ones older than her took up from time to time.
They traveled down the flights of stairs and all lined up from shortest to tallest. It put Elora about closer to the end. She stood at about 5'5. A but taller than some of the women but shorter than most of the grown men.
An enforcer opened the door to the sound of the knock. After giving a final look that screamed, ve on your best behavior, Madame Rosette turned to welcome the newcomers.

Romulus stepped in, towering over the entire assembly. He filled a space a little too easily, but then again, it worked for him. He nodded slowly, taking in the scene, before addressing Madame Rosette.
"I believe food was mentioned?" Without really waiting for a response, he whistled over his shoulder.
"Fellas! Pick a partner and make sure they're fed."
His guards moved to obey, grinning. Romulus had an interesting sense of justice sometimes. Having the 'clients' play servant to the brothel workers was nothing new to them. The came in, and paused for a moment as they noted Romulus hadn't picked a bedmate yet.
He grinned, and looked over the smiling coquettes. "Madame Rosette, who usually gets sold cheapest?" He tossed a bag of at least 200 gold coins onto the table.
In an economy that had crashed so terribly, and now ran on copper, that was enough money to fund the brothel for an entire week.
He turned his eyes to the standing workers, noting ages and the gharish outfits. Clearly, someone was attempting to send a message. Attempting to make his decision easy, even make it for him in some ways.
Think again.

As he mentioned it, food was rolled out of doors that led to the kitchen. Mountins of food. Pheasant, pig, duck, and any other delicacy they could find. Fruits and vegetables of only the finest suppliers. Pitchers of wine and and several bottles of whiskey were placed throughout. All, of course, taken from the wages of the whores. Anything to increase their debt and ensure they can never leave.
Elora focused her attention anywhere but the prince. She looked away from the moment those doors opened. She was not yet ready to face the son of the man that killed her family, destroyed her livelihood.
She barely noticed as the women and some men around her were claimed byt the soldiers accompanied by the prince. As people scattered, she immediately made her way over to the kids in an attempt to hide them behind her skirts without being too obvious. Soldier rarely treated them well, and while some of the whores were able to manipulate them to their doing, the younger ones were not always so lucky.
It wasn't until she heard the prince speak again that she snapped her head up, watching as the Madame gladly took the purse of gold and calling for Claire. Claire, the almost fifteen year old girl. In her teenage years, her face had broken out and not all viewed her as clean or desirable. She was on the verge of being kicked out.
Claire was old enough to truly understand what position she was in and the dangers of it. Elora grabbed the girl's hand as the younger one tried to make herself smaller behind Elora.
"Elora," the Madame said threateningly. "Bring her here."
She didn't have much choice but to comply. She could make herself seem more desirable but there was no certainty that the prince would bite. Still, she let her robe fall open, exposing the deep cleavage her gown exposed. Her neck was bare other than a simple set of pearls. She guided the terrified girl across the floor. She gave her a subtle squeeze for support but she knew nothing she did would comfort Claire.
Elora gave a gentle cursty with all of her grace, she lowered her eyes and hoped her nervous weren't noticeable. "My prince," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. At least, she attempted too. There was a slight stumble in her voice. Something Claire didn't notice but her mistress did.

Romulus grinned, and gave Elora a clear once over. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment, noting the expression.
"We've got several days, you'll get your turn." His eyes stuck for a moment longer, before they slid to Claire. He smiled at the young gir. "About 15, right?" He snapped his fingers, and a very young man, probably no more than 15 or 16 himself, stepped forward, blushing furiously.
"My guards will entertain the rest, Madame Rosette, and you'll be paid for a full house." He smiled and snagged a bottle of the whiskey off the table. He glanced at Lear, before turning and heading towards the stairs.
Lear waited as Claire and the young soldier followed the Prince. When they were out of line, the 30 guards politely and gently picked their dates for the evening.
Not a single person looked in Elia's direction.
The guards led the coquettes to the table, and sat them down, proceeding to wait on the brothel workers hand and foot. It was a reversal of the usual roles, and the workers took full advantage.
Lear just smiled as he watched the goings on. He turned to Madame Rosette, and glanced at Elora.
"I'll be claiming this lovely lady, at top price." Lear smiled. No point in leaving such a charming young lady with no company for the evening.
…………….
Romulus let the girl lead him into the 'King's Suite', a set of lavish rooms that were much too opulent for a brothel, in his opinion. The youngsters both looked nervous, though for different reasons. They got to the rooms, and he closed the door behind them.
"So." He tossed himself onto a couch and pulled his boots off. "Obviously I'm not going to plough the fields of a child, though you're very pretty." He smiled at Claire, and popped the cork on the bottle. "So here's your job for the evening. Go and get some food, as much as you like, then come back up here and eat. Enjoy each other, whatever that means to you. I only ask that you keep me supplied with the liquor. Sound fair?"
The girl immediately nodded, her eyes wide. The young soldier blushed deeper as Romulus continued.
"I may also ask that you show Calvin here how to be a man. A gentleman, but a man." Calvin had to study his feet, his nerves were so obvious, but Romulus just laughed. "Think you can do that?"
"Yes, sir." The girl answered, glancing at the young, attractive, and clearly nervous soldier.
"What's your name? And don't call me sir." He grinned, a brilliant expression that warmed the room. "My name is Prince, if you must."
The girl stepped forward shyly. "Claire." Her voice was very soft.
Romulus swigged the bottle. "I'll do my best to remember, but I'm bad with names." He waved them both back out the door. "Go get some food, you look hungry."
They both skittered off, Calvin giving him a last embarrassed look before he went.
Romulus just smiled to himself and kept drinking.

Elora's look turned sour, only a smidgen and only noticeable to those who truly paid attention. She wasn't sure what terrified her more: the fact the prince meant to go through each and everyone of the workers which meant the younger ones as well, or that at some point, she would be next. But if her pain and death meant sparing them from a harsh fate, she would do anything.
She kept her holding onto Claire until the last possible second, regretting letting go every step of the way. Her back stiffened as the prince produced a soldier closer in age to Claire. Was he there to hurt her? Was he there for the prince's pleasure or his own?
Only time would tell, she supposed.
She was already in enough trouble as it was and there was only so far she could push before the punishment was too much. Madame Rosettes displeasure became obvious as the woman touched Elora on the shoulders, the arm. It took everything in the young girl not to flinch away or recoil.
Touch was… there was a lot of gray area when it came to touch. Best rule of thumb was that if she initiated it, she was fine. But in her line of business that was never the case, and she had gotten good in hiding her displeasure. She had too. There was no other way to survive.
Elora looked at the man in front of her who offered to take her for the night. He was good looking, charming. Someone this young and pretty usually had a girl back home, but she wasn't here and Elora was. It wasn't her job to question. She was there to entertain, to listen. Anything to keep them coming back.
"It's fifty for the night, love," Elora said gently. It was always the charming ones who's fists hurt the most. Best to go along with whatever they wanted.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Claire coming down the stairs and filling a plate of food. She wanted nothing more than to run to her and ask what she was doing, what did the prince want, but she knew better than that. Still, she shifted as though she was about to run to the girl. "If that's alright with you, and set and done, we should go upstairs, it's a bit loud down here for my preference. I prefer privacy."
She prefer not to be there at all but it was a few years too late for that.

Lear smiled at her, before stepping over to the bag Romulus had put down, digging a pouch out of his pocket and dumping its contents into the bag. There were at least 50 little clinks before he pocketed the pouch again. He glanced at Madame Rosette, who's eyes were fixed on the now bulging bag of gold, before nodding at Elora.
"Would you like some food?" It was a mild question, but his eyes flitted to Claire, just briefly, before they looked back at Elora, a mildly knowing expression in his eyes. The young soldier who'd come back down the stairs after her looked like he was shaking in his boots, and Lear slapped his shoulder as he walked over to get his own plate.
"You'll be fine, Calvin. Be gentle and let her show you." he said quietly. Calvin nodded at him, and shakily kept putting food on his plate.
Lear filled his own plate and snagged a bottle of the wine, before heading to the foot of the stairs. He turned and watched the men with the brothel workers. A few would leave drunk, a few would wind up with multiple partners, and a few would eat and hold conversation, and just talk until they were called away. He made eye contact with each of the heavy drinkers, giving them the be careful look.
He pointedly didn't look at Elora, not trying to rush her.

Before Elora could even open her mouth to respond, the tightening grip on her arm gave her her answer. Madame Rosette wanted Elora to be as skinny as possible without showing too much bone. Which, unfortunately, meant skipping meals from time to time.
"No thank you, I've already eaten." The grip loosened on her arm and the Madame's smiled turned just a bit more genuine.
"She'll take good care of you. Elora here is my best girl. Our patrons just can't keep their hands off of her. Sometimes it makes the other girls jealous." The Madame praised the young woman in front of her, pushing her towards the man.
Elora slid out of her grasp and followed in step behind the man. Her gaze shifted to Claire, her body tense and ready for a fight. Claire sent her a small smile and a wave, causing her to relax only just slight. She had become well versed in reading body language, and Claire was relaxed and happy. That was all she cared about. She only hoped it stayed that way or Elora would have to resort to other things.
She plucked a grape off the stem as they walked by and chewed it quietly. She grabbed herself a glass of wine. Just the one would hopefully calm her nerves. She wouldn't risk putting herself in a position of disadvantage by being intoxicated. But she needed something to help her get through this night.
She passed by Claire, her fingertips just brushing against the girl's arm before meeting him at the foot of the stairs. She brushed her hair off if her shoulders, letting the length of it fall down her back, laying just a few inches above her rear. "Come now," she waved for him to follow her.
Passed the second floor and onto the third. She walked to the end of the hall and opened up the room to her bedroom. Compared to the others, it was the largest personal room in the establishment, the king suite aside. In reality, it was roughly ten feet by ten feet, and there was barely any walking room with the bed placed in the center of the room.
Fabrics adorned the bed and walls. Flourishes of silks and stains in various colors were spread throughout. Paintings were hung on the walls, gifts. A stack of books by her bed were pressed against the wall. There was a small armoire by the door overflowing with gowns and gauzy materials. She closed the door behind her with a sounding click and pressed her back to the wood.

Lear watched the interaction between Madame Rosette and Elora, and his face darkened, just slightly. He gave Elora a small smile as she beckoned him, and followed her to the room, thinking.
They stepped in, and he turned to look at her as she closed the door.
With her back to it like that, she looked like a cornered animal. A beautiful one, to be sure, but an animal with hackles raised.
"So. My name is Lear, and I'm not here to hurt you." he said quietly. He turned and set the plate full of delicious food on the bed.
"I have a particular request for you tonight, if you'd be willing to oblige." He stepped around the bed and sat on the edge, before leaning down to examine her stack of books. He smiled at the choices, before pulling his boots off.
Once he was done, he looked at her, the look on his face sincere. "I have a thing about watching people eat. Particularly beautiful girls. Would you be so kind…?" He slid the plate in her direction.
Of course, he had no such kink, but she was clearly hungry and having food withheld.

Elora watched him carefully. Her books stacked up were different romances and a couple history books that Madame had let her get. Her other books were hidden under a loose board on the floor. Along with a few other things.
She didn't respond to him. She was smart enough to know that this was no kink of his. While she had several patrons who enjoyed feeding her out of their own hands, this was not it.
She shed her robe and gently draped it over the door of the armoire. Her ivory gown hung loosely on her figure. Her feet were bare as she walked across the cool floor. She stopped just shy of the man and stood in front of him. Her room was her domain. She was in charge. She was in charge. She reminded herself over and over again. She hadn't been this nervous since her first night she took a man to bed. All because a certain prince was here.
She draped herself over her bed. Her composure looked every bit the relaxed whore but deep inside she was tense and frightened.
"And I enjoy watching handsome men eat, Lear," she gave a lazy smile, "I'll make you a deal. For every two bites I take, you take one as well. And only from the other's hand."

Lear watched her, an appreciative look on his face. Not lecherous, not the ugly face full of lust that she got from so many men, but something that said he was more…. aesthetically impressed than aroused. She seemed nervous, and he wanted to put her at ease, but sincerely wasn't sure how to do that, other than to be as non-threatening as possible.
"That sounds good to me, Elora." He picked up a piece of fruit from the plate, smiling genuinely. "You first."
……………………….
The next few hours passed uneventfully. The guards, despite being Haradrim, rumored to be rough, feral men, were perfect gentlemen. They treated the workers with respect. The only ones who went back to the rooms were the ones whose date's made it clear they would enjoy it. Otherwise, the guards fed their dates, chatted for a while, and said goodnight, before heading back out to surround the house. A few stayed a bit longer, drinking and cracking jokes, before heading out as well, singing in 3 keys at once.
Romulus came walking out of the King's Suite towards 10 in the evening, his step a bit unsteady, with his arm around Calvin's shoulders. The younger soldier had the sleepy smile of a thoroughly relaxed man. He'd had been sent down a few times to get more alcohol, and the big prince had put it all down. The two youngsters watched him go, before rolling back into the bed where they'd been enjoying each other, like he'd encouraged them to. The night had started with eating, then conversation, asking Claire about bits of gossip she'd heard. She kept glancing at Calvin, who was a bit shy, but clearly kind, and Rom, a bit drunk by that point, had coached them on working out their shyness. At some point he'd stopped talking and just watched the fire, a faint smile on his face as the two relaxed with each other behind him. Claire was proving a good teacher, and her student was willing, if a bit overcautious.
Eventually, Romulus thanked Claire for the evening, scooped up a blissed-out Calvin from his spot on the bed, and helped the young soldier dress.

Lear had sat with Elora, feeding her and being fed, and occasionally asking about the same thing: gossip. He also made small talk about what kinds of books she liked to read, asked about her favorite foods, and kept their plate refilled. She was going to eat well tonight, if he had anything to say about it. He remained a gentleman, and made no attempt to take off anything more than his boots.
He heard the distinctive thumping of a drunk Prince heading down the steps and stood up, leaving the plate behind. "That's my cue. Thank you, Elora, for a lovely evening." He smiled and hurried out the door.
Romulus's exit had brought Madame Rosette out as well. "Madame Rosette, your employees do not disappoint. I shall return tomorrow." The Prince bowed low, somehow managing to keep his balance despite putting down 3 whole bottles of hard liquor. "Lear, my good man, point me to our camp." Romulus smiled at him, and they headed out.