A story i wrote for one of my classes on my fav. Character Dosandos Versandez's past..not done having people edit it but this is what i have for now. if anyone has idea's for a better title please tell me i am looking for better ones
The Beginning
Leather straps held the young boy up, blood trickling down the lacerated flesh of his back. The loud crack of a whip echoed through his ears as the whip was brought against the skin of his back. The bone of the spine had finally begun to show when the whip finally stopped its onslaught. His Egyptian master stood solemnly before grabbing the youth’s chin and violently spitting out, “So son of Ra, where is your fathers fury to protect you.”
Grasping a heated blade, the master pressed it against the wounds on the boys back which oozed blood from them as he spat out, “You are nothing but a slave Dosandos, nothing else!”
A footstep echoed through the chamber as Dos was left with shallow breaths. The once lit torches were doused, sheathing the child in darkness. He was alone, his adopted family at home in tears for the five year old son being whisked away. Dos cried silent tears as pain coursed through his body, his back a canvas of scars. His wrists bound in leather, felt raw and tender from the constant coarse rubbing. His crime was one of accusation for amongst the slaves he was hailed as the son of Ra. This was due to Dos’s youthful appearance which was full; unlike other malnourished and starving children he appeared healthy. His long black and gold hair which shown in the light giving him a more elegant appearance. He was seen as the slave’s hope, which made him the target for punishment from the slave drivers.
Hours went by slowly and painfully. Sleep never occurred, then again how could it his body held standing. The warm wind ran across his bare skin, slowly heating his body. After three hours he had broken into a sweat.
When Dos’s time of release came, his body collapsed legs unable to take his weight. The foot of a slave driver cracked into his ribs after a harsh order to get up was shouted. Through sheer will Dos rose to his feet and painstakingly walked out. Murmuring surrounded him as he walked the streets slaves, shop owners and other citizens pointing and whispering.
Upon entering the small stone hut which was his home, he was lifted in his mother’s arms. Pain ran through every bit of his body but it was a sweet pain, his mother’s warm love calming his erratic hear. Dos’s adoptive mother wept as she held her adopted son in her arm, her heart breaking to see him in such pain. His father stood to the side solemn, silent and deep in thought
Dos was carried to a small bed of straw and laid down in it. His mother held his hand close, as she sung. A soft lullaby drifted into Dos’s ears; slowly it lulled him into the dark unconsciousness of sleep. Dreams of torture, gods and tears drifted through his mind. As he awoke after five long minutes of rest he overheard his parents discussing what to do with him. He could hear his mother softly weep with every word she uttered, until he once again fell asleep. In and out of sleep was how he rested. At points he would vomit upon waking from his body’s overexertion and the pain which pulsed through him
As the full onslaught of the afternoon sun slowly began, Dos awoke fully from his restless slumber. As he rose, he took notice of the fact no pain flowed through his beaten body. All his bruises had disappeared and the scars of cauterized wounds had faded till they were barely noticeable. Ignoring it, accounting what he saw to his mind playing tricks on him. Dos scampered out of the hut entrance to find his parents.
Sand slapped his bare feet as he took each steep. Dust and sand kicked up into the air behind him. His dark hair flowed in the wind, the gold strand shone in the sun light brightly. As the Nile loomed before him, he cried out at the top of his lung, “Mother, Father I have come to do my work!”
Lifting their heads, they gazed upon their son with shock. It was if he had forgotten the beating he had received the night before. Tear would swell from his mother’s eyes as she gazed upon him. As Dos ran up to her to get his tools to cut the weeds, his mother dropped her own tools as she lifted him into her arms. She held him close as tears streaked her cheeks at the sight of her boy moving. A whip cracked into her back though, which forced her to drop Dos. As the slave driver was about to shout out his command it hung on his lips as he gazed upon the tumbling youth. His eyes were filled with fear as the young boy who had been beaten so severely was before him. Dos’s father grasped the rolling Dos with one hand and hoisted him to his feet.
The slave driver couldn’t believe what was before his eyes. He knew the youth had been beaten and whipped, yet there he was hardly a mark upon his body. Conflicted thoughts ran through the man's mind as he questioned himself. Could this young boy truly be the son of Ra, or was he just lucky.
Dos slid from his father’s arms and rushed to get his tools. Eyes followed and watched his every movement, bewilderment written on the faces that watched. This boy they had watched walk the streets, beaten and scarred yet he stood before them hacking at weeds with a child’s exuberance. Hope filled their hearts, hope for this boy to be son of the exalted sun god Ra.
Dos in his entire child like innocence didn’t perceive the transpiring thoughts around him or their affects on his future. As the day wore on other slave’s would slowly return to their work, the slave driver though was silent the entire time. As the day ended Dos’s face had a large smile on it, as he thought he had won with the largest pile of weeds
Skipping merrily back, Dos cheered and chanted how he won and was the best weed cutter. His parents watched him with eyes filled with fear, bewilderment and happiness to see their child’s youthful essence still there despite the beatings. A small seed of jealousy though had sewn itself into the other parents, most seen their children perish from starvation, overexertion and beatings, yet their son walked and stood despite it. Why should they be the lucky ones, a small voice utter into their minds, A dark shadow had sheathed itself over Dos without him knowing it.
The slave driver headed for the palace, knowing that the information he had was of dire knowledge. As he rushed forward through the palace entrance, a hand sprung forth stopping him. The rotten stench of decaying flesh filled the slave drivers nostrils, as a man with a metal mask came forth from the shadows.
Fear held the slave driver in place, for as he looked upon the man he could see the look of death on the rotten flesh of the mans body. He could feel a murderous blood lust ooze forth, a slow wet blot slowly formed in the slave drivers robe. A low deep laugh could be heard coming from behind the mask, as a dark malevolent voice uttered, “Do not worry peon you will not die. No I’m here to make sure you solve a problem.”
The man could only stutter out, “A p-p-p-problem.”
“A young slave whose called the son of Ra.”A decayed corpse like finger was put on the lips of the slave driver before he could speak, “He is of a great untapped power, but to prevent this from being a problem you must have his parents killed before him. State to the pharaoh they are traitors planning to kill him. I have set up evidence to prove this, do this for me and your reward will be immortality.”
As he was let go, the slave driver to tell the pharaoh the lie woven by the stranger. A dark laugh filled the halls as the man disappeared into the shadow, muttering out as he faded, “Oh my brother, mommy Lilith and father Michael can not save you as I take center stage in their eyes. Nosferatu will be the apple of their eye.”
As Dos slept a dream filled every corner of his mind, a dream of a man cloaked in a fiery golden light. The warm hand which the man used to touch Dos’s cheek was warm and comforting. A woman whose eyes were the shadow, horns curling around her head in a crown cradled. The love he could feel emanating from them soothed him, taking away all the remaining pain from the memory of the beatings until it completely disappeared. A warm voice whispered into his ear, “Wake up.”
His eye’s opened wide to see his mother before him, her eye’s filled with fright. Curiosity filled Dos, so in his youthful voice he asked her, “What’s wrong mommy?”
Tears trickled down her cheek as she kissed his forehead, as she said, “Mommy and daddy have to go away for aw-..”
She would never finish the sentence as a blade plunged through the center of her chest.
Warm blood dripped from the gaping wound as the sword was pulled out. Collapsing on Dos, her body’s blood covered him until he was caked in a crimson glaze. Anguish, anger and despair filled him as he gazed into his mothers lifeless eyes. A burning sensation filled him and as he let out a mournful cry of pain, fire erupted from him. The sky filled with violent flames as the young boy screamed in anguish. As he cried out his mothers name the flames descended upon the village of the slaves.
Flesh burned, blood evaporated and bodies turned to ash as the night wore on. When the young Dos had finished weeping the fires dissipated and all that was left was the stone huts and the ashes of the dead. Nosferatu stood on the palace pillar watching the fires all night in amazement. Sliding into the shadows Nosferatu darted to the pharaoh as he was informed of the occurrence in the slave village. From his hiding place in the shadows Nosferatu whispered into the Pharaoh’s ear, “There is a young boy left in the village who caused all the chaos. Seal him in a stone box as punishment for the destruction he has caused. As long as he is out destruction will be left in his wake.”
The pharaoh looked at his guards and ordered them to capture the child and bring this destructive force before him to be sealed away. Underneath the mask Nosferatu smiled coldly, before searching for the slave driver. He discovered the man dancing merrily in one of the palace halls and when he came forth from the shadows the slave driver jumped with joy at the sight of Nosferatu. Gleefully he uttered to Nosferatu, “I did as you told me to, now shall I receive my reward?”
“Oh yes you shall receive immortality. Yes as parts of me to replace this rotten flesh I am housed in.” His voices was cold, dark and filled with sadistic glee
Serpent like leeches came from Nosferatu’s flesh, enveloping and cocooning the slave driver before he could scream. Blood dripped down, as the crunching of bone could be heard. One of the leaches cleaned all traced of the slave drivers death, as his dead body was pulled into a mouth which had opened on Nosferatu’s abdomen. Nosferatu uttered in the dead silence, “Tasty,” Before disappearing into the shadows.
Exhausted Dos collapsed onto the ground panting, his body coated in the dried blood of his mother. As the guards swarmed forward into the hut and saw the young child, the look at their surroundings. Ashes mixed with the sand of the floor, swords and spear heads were melted on the ground and scorch mark plastered the stone walls. Gazing upon this nearly conscious child who was caked in blood, the soldiers couldn’t understand how he did so much damage. None the less they could not disobey the pharaoh, so one hoisted Dos up onto his shoulders and solemnly carried him out surrounded by his fellow guards as they headed to the palace.
Upon entering the throne room of the palace the guards set Dos down before the pharaoh. The head of the guard then bowed before the pharaoh as he proclaimed, “We brought you the youth as you commanded Pharaoh Tutankhamen.”
The young pharaoh walked up to Dos and lifted his face up by the chin. As he examined Dos, he wondered how this boy was such a danger, how he had destroyed a whole village of slaves in one night. Dos coughed a bit of blood due to the overexertion of his body, some of which entered the pharaoh’s mouth unknowingly. His blood would later lead to the death of the young pharaoh due to his blood being a highly venomous poison. Tutankhamen nodded to his guard, who then dragged the young boy to a large stone box. The box itself was three meters by three meters, small holes carved into the sides for oxygen and food. As they put Dos inside, he could be heard pleading for mercy and not to be left alone. It would take six guards to lift and slide the thick stone lid which sealed Dosandos inside.
As he laid inside, Dos slowly fell into an uncomfortable slumber. Only waking hours later to hear men and women shouting Tutankhamen had been poisoned and had died in his sleep. A smile came across Dos’s face as he felt the unjust sealing had been righted
Time slowly passed while inside the box. The hours would turn into slow turning minutes, days into hours, weeks into days, and months into weeks and years into months. As time slowly dragged by for Dos, his aging process had noticeably slowed.
After what had seemed like an eternity, loud grunt could be heard outside of the box one day. As Dos opened his eye’s the lid was lifted off, light cascading in and covering Dos. Several armored men stood outside, panting as the spoke in a rough dialect new to Dos’s ears. The only word he did understand which was constantly said was Alexander. Confusion hit him like a bullet, what had happened to Egypt, was he still there or was he somewhere new?
As the men looked down inside the box for the first time they were put in a state of bewilderment at the sight of a seven year old in perfect health. Many of the men talked amongst each other on what to do, even directing questions to the young boy until they noticed by his confused expression he didn’t understand them. Dos piped up unsure if any would understand him, “Excuse, but where am I.”
The men looked at each other with expressions of amazement, and one after what seemed like an hour stepped forward. Dos watched as the man cleared his throat, before in rough Egyptian Arabic said to him,” Ah so your Egyptian, well then eat more Macedonia.”
Dos arched an eyebrow as he chuckled softly, “Eat more Macedonia?”
The man’s face turned a bright red as he realized his mistake. His voice stumbled as he bowed his head shame and corrected himself, “W-w-w-welcome to Macedonia.”
Dos smiled at the sight of the embarrassed man, for it had been a long time since he had seen people. When two of the men hoisted him out of the box though, he began to squirm in fear. With grips of iron they hauled him our and began to carry him. Struggling in their grasps, fear clung to his heart.
A large white palace loomed before them and this fear in Dos’s heart increased exponentially who knew what feats had been achieved by people while he had been sealed.
For all he knew they could be prepared to seal him in a new box. Afraid he watched as the soldiers talked to a man of regal appearance. The mysterious mans golden blonde hair and lightly tanned skin made him appear gentler in contrast to the dark haired and scarred soldiers who had carried Dos.
The name Alexander once again constantly seemed to come up in the conversations as Dos strained to understand this new dialect before him. He watched as the regal man looked at him with shallow green eyes, and with wide eye’s Dos began to panic as a smile spread across the man’s face. A wave of sheer dread washed over Dos, thoughts of enslavement, death and torture ran through his mind as he worried about the meaning of the smile. As the man reached one of his hands forward, Dos instinctively shrank back. The man seemed to chuckle at this action increasing the fear inside Dos’s heart. He gulped, was the man mad now because he had moved back, was he going to beat him?
The man finally rested his hand in Dos’s hair ruffling it gently. “My name is Alexander, young one. I am the king of Macedonia.” The man uttered in perfect Egyptian.
“P-p-please don’t hurt me...” Was all the frightened Dos could utter.
Alexander shook his head, “No young one, no one shall hurt you...What is your name?” He asked Dos in a comforting voice.
Still nervous and fearful Dos replied, “Dosandos…...”
A bit curious of the unique name, Alexander was unable to get himself to ask about it as he saw the fear in Dos’s eyes. Instead he decided to try to make him feel more comfortable, “Would you like some food young Dosandos.”
Dos though for a second in fright, though his hunger quickly over rode the intense feeling of fear so he ended up violently nodding. Alexander chuckled at the sight of Dos’s violent nod, it
showed to him a chance of the obvious fear in the youth to be taken away. He led Dos to a large room with a long golden table. Dos jumped out of pure instinctual fear when he heard Alexander clap his hand. Quickly he slid underneath the table as he curled up in expectation of the worst. He lifted his head though when he heard laughter echo the room. Peeking out from underneath the table he was amazed to see the sight of Alexander laughing.
Several people swarmed and in their hands they carried golden platters of fruits, olives and meats. Dos’s mouth was agape the whole time, drool dripping down. Upon the moment the platters of food were set down, Dos pounced upon the platters of food ferociously. As he seemed to devour the food, Alexander sat and watched him. Dos though was slowly feeling depressed and frustrated for whenever he put a delicious morsel into his mouth, the only taste he had was of ashes. For as food would enter his mouth it would burn and turn to ash from the heat his insides exhumed.
A tear trickled down Dos’s cheek as he realized then he could never truly be human. Seeing the tear Alexander realized the sadness Dos was feeling. As he lifted Dos up into his arms he began to rub his back as to comfort him.
Dos cried hard into Alexander’s chest, releasing all his inner sadness and loneliness. All Alexander did was hold the crying Dos, silent and unknowing of how to make him smile again. When the tears finally ended, he felt two fingers lift his chin up. As he lifted Dos’s chin up to look at him in the eye’s, Alexander made him an offer, “How about you life with me, as my adoptive son?”
Dos’s eyes turned into large discs of surprise, the adoptive son of royalty could this offer be real. Minutes went by as he pondered on his decision. After ten full minutes of thinking he would finally answer, “Yes.”
Alexander smiled, for some unknown reason he had felt some father like attraction to the young Dos upon setting his eyes on him. This would father like attraction would develop and deepen over the encompassing years. Dos would be the first Alexander would come out and
admit his attraction to men and women. Dos though slowly aged as he spent his time with Alexander, only appearing eight physically after ten years of living with Alexander.
In 323 B.C.E, Alexander then known as Alexander the Great died of unknown causes, Dos would grieve deeply for his adopted father’s death, those years he had spent in Alexander’s care filled with happiness and joy. Three days after the death of Alexander the Great, Dosandos would end up running away from the palace out of depression.
As he ran, Dos tripped amongst the rocks, cracking his head against one. As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, a hazy face loomed over him. A sharp pain in his mouth awoke him, only for his first sight to be a man holding his tongue and piercing it with a medium pearl sized gold ball piercing. The man muttered to himself in a low voice which sent shivers down Dos’s spine. Out of nowhere in a loud nasally voice he repeated over and over, “Oh yes our clients will enjoy the pleasures you bring.”
Dos gulped as he realized this man had taken him and was now going to make him a sex slave. After days of toiling pain and humiliation, days of learning how to speak with the ball in his mouth, Dos had been broken. The man began to perversely smile when he realized Dos was properly broken, as he thought to himself that this boy would be the gem of his group of slaves. Like a common object, Dos was handed from person to person. Forced to do things against his will, Dos’s nights were filled with silent pained tears in a restless slumber.
Three months into it, he watched a young woman leave the room, handing the man a small bag of coins. Dos turned to his head to the side and vomited in disgust, leather strap holding him down in a bed. Blood trickled down his wrists from the tightness and coarse sandpaper like feel. The man merrily skipped in holding the bag of coins in his hand. He began to chant at Dos, “Oh how you’ve made me a pretty amount of coin.”
A familiar burning sensation ran through his body as anger, anguish and despair coursed through his mind, heart and soul. Flames licked around him in a blink of an eye slowly burning the leather straps to cinders. A nearby volcano erupted as a fire rained down from the sky. The people of Pompeii ran in mass hysteria and confusion, as many would be struck down by fire and molten rock. The man who had been Dos’s master was a smoldering corpse. Dos burst out of the hut, his body encased in fire as he ran, fleeing from the life of a sex slave.
Dos finally stopped running after an hour, falling to his knees in pure exhaustion. The flames which surround him slowly fading away, until they had finally completely dissipated. As Dosandos slowly fell into a state of unconsciousness the image of an incoming Roman Battalion loomed before him. His final words before he finally fell into the dark abyss were, “I’m free.”
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