Okay, this actually started out as an idea for a drabble, but I ended up writing and writing until Consort evolved into this beast. It was posted on Tumblr in three parts, and I decided to post it here on FF, as well. PLEASE NOTE that Albert (Wesker) and Chris are probably OOC, and that's actually intentional. I wanted them to act a little more normal in a different time than they are normally in. If you have any problems with this fact, then click the back button and don't complain to me. If you don't mind, then please read on and enjoy the story. It is my baby, and I love it so.

It wasn't uncommon for the slaves of royalty to be given away as gifts. Chris knew this, acknowledged it, but never believed that the Prince would allow such a thing. He seemed far too possessive over his belongings. Chris was, predictably, not told about what was going to happen. As soon as the Prince, safe in his study, signed him over to the visiting lord for the day, servants came to fetch him from his bedroom.

He was brought into the largest bathing room available and was put through the meticulous cleansing customs he'd long grown used to. Chris was no longer shy about his nudity, given the amount of times he'd been through this process, but it seemed they were paying extra attention to detail this time around, like when he'd first been brought to the Prince.

First was a cool bath to prevent his skin from flaking moments after he was dry, hair scrubbed and rinsed so many times it was a miracle that he hadn't acquired a bald spot yet. It made him tense up and shiver, but the soothing floral scents wafting through the room allowed him to bear the temperature.

After he was patted down with a soft cloth to dry him, oils of the purest quality were rubbed and kneaded deeply into his skin. Albert loved to have his consort slick and easy to move against, and Chris secretly loved the feel of it, as well.

The last to come was his clothing, made of the finest silks and hand made beads, all light colored and tailored to fit both his size and appearance. Chris slipped into the flimsy tunic, surprised that there were no bottoms to go with it. Maybe the Prince was feeling particularly needy today...

Chris allowed himself to be led out of the room, but felt alarm when the servants brought him to an unfamiliar guest room rather than Albert's personal chambers.

"W-what's going on?" he asked, unsure and trying not to resist as he was fastened to the chains at the top of the headboard. Two shackles came around his wrists, a normal occurrence, but a third was fastened securely around his neck. Panic rose in his throat. "Why am I-"

The closest servant shook his head. "We cannot say. The Prince has requested us not to speak a word." Leaving Chris to rein in his emotions, the servants exited, letting the curtain fall back into place just as a hulk of a man entered. He recognized him as one of the lords the Prince often met with. Brian was his name.

Chris felt his eyes roam greedily over his oiled body, appraising him. "I was promised the best, and obviously..." The man ran a meaty finger down Chris' chest, clumsy and not at all arousing, "...I've been given it."

Trying not to grimace, the young man asked, "Where is the Prince?"

"In his study, going over documents. I called him on a favor, and he had no choice but to accept the terms. Of course, he didn't want his precious pet to be harmed in any way, so you're lucky I'm going to be nice about this." Brian untied the front of his pants and let them drop to the floor.

Tight-lipped, Chris clung to the idea that Albert had not given him up willingly, that if circumstances were different, he would have refused to give Chris up at all.

That idea was slowly fading into nothing but a wish.

There was no preparation as the large man – Brian – entered him. With every thrust, Chris silently pleaded for this whole thing to end.

The length inside him was wide, but shorter than Albert's, causing him less pleasure and more uncomfortable stretch. The body above him weighed far too much, was not smooth nor soft nor pale white. The heavy pants were not low, rumbling purrs that he loved to feel against the hollow of his throat. This man was not his Prince.

Turning his head away from the pig above him, Chris brought his gaze to the door and almost immediately cried out in relief.

The Prince was behind the curtain, leaning against the wall as he peered in to watch. The curtain hid most of his features, but Chris could tell just by the crossed arms that he was obviously hesitating, regretting what he'd done. He was sorry.

Locking eyes through the curtain, Chris jerked the chains around his wrists, opening his mouth to hiss quietly. "Albert... Albert...!" Hoping his pleading would show through his gaze, Chris' head snapped to the side as Brian delivered a harsh, backhanded blow to his jaw.

"Don't get whiny with me! I don't want to hear about that spoiled brat until I'm done." Brian barked, wrenching the consort's face back towards him.

It was over relatively quickly, despite feeling that years had passed. He felt Brian speed up before climaxing inside him, wanting nothing more than to suddenly wash himself clean.

"Marvelous, boy, simply marvelous!" Brian chuckled heartily, slapping the back of Chris' thigh as he pulled out messily. "I'll be sure to ask the Prince how much his lovely young consort is worth. You're rather distracted, though I'm sure I'll break you of that when you're mine." Pulling up his trousers, the large man left the room.

Albert was apparently still waiting outside, as his voice carried through the room quietly. They were arguing about him, about his price and the bruise that would probably show on his jaw the next day, escalating in volume as Chris struggled to come to terms about what had happened. Stretching out carefully, he jumped when Albert yelled quite loudly, something he'd only heard once before. Brian shuffled down the corridor, escorted by two guards on either side of him, and the Prince strode angrily into the room.

Strangely, Albert unlocked the collar around his neck and held his face with shaking hands, kissing Chris' forehead over and over again. Moisture leaked from the slave's eyes in the form of two fat tears and Chris realized that he was crying for the first time in years.

As soon as the cuffs around his wrists were released, Chris yanked them out of their hold and rolled out from under the Prince, clutching them tightly as he curled up and stared wide-eyed at the open window. The afternoon sunlight was bright and hot, drying the few tears on his cheeks quickly.

Hands were at his back, hesitant before they lifted him up into a sitting position slowly. Jumping at the contact, Chris shot a startled look over his shoulder at the Prince before turning away quickly. He hunched over his knees, ignoring the dull throb in the small of his back and the fluid pooling under him. He knew he'd been torn open, and when he stood, he expected to see red staining the sheets.

"Let me help." Moving around to the other side of the bed, Albert patiently held a hand out until his consort crawled towards him.

Wrapping the top sheet around his waist, Chris paid no mind to Albert as he swung his feet to the floor, standing shakily by his own power before straightening. A wave of nausea threatened to overcome him, but he breathed deeply until it dissipated. He must have seemed alright to Albert, because the Prince grabbed his arm a little too harshly and pulled him out of the room quickly. The sheet fluttered around his feet and dragged across the cold floor as he limped.

Albert ordered a passing servant in the hallway to walk with them. "Go to the main guest room and take the bedding outside. I want all of it burnt by sundown."

"But, sir, they-"

"Must I repeat myself?" he hissed, hand tightening around Chris' arm, "Come to my chambers once you've gathered them. You can take this one, as well." Plucking disdainfully at the sheet Chris held up around him, Albert waited until the servant nodded hastily before he left, dragging Chris along behind him.

When they reached his bedroom, Albert bypassed the bed and brought Chris straight to the connected bath after taking the sheet and dumping it by the doorway. Letting go of Chris, he watched as the young man held his arm close in pain and started drawing hot water from the ceiling reservoir to fill the bath. He debated on adding mild fragrances and salts to the water before deciding against it; Chris would be in more pain than he already was.

"Sit." he said, gesturing to the half full bath. When Chris hesitated, stepping back to hide himself in shame, Albert gave him a hard stare before sighing, "I'm not going to hurt you. Now get in."

Hesitating for another second, Chris wearily obeyed and sank into the hot water as Albert stopped it from overflowing. He looked away while the Prince undressed, feeling disappointed that he would not be left alone with his thoughts.

When pale arms wrapped around him from behind, Chris froze before thrashing halfheartedly. Part of him wanted freedom from being confined, yet he also wanted to fall back against the body those arms were attached to and drown his worries in the comforting hold. He settled for calming down enough for Albert to rest his forehead against the space between his shoulders, tolerating the tightening of his arms around his waist.

A sigh broke the silence between them. "I'm... sorry for what happened." The words felt awkward on Albert's tongue.

"No, you're not." Frowning, Chris leaned forward enough to prevent the Prince's head from touching him, sliding away a few inches, "I'm just a consort, remember? Your toy to play with until you get bored and pass me off to the next person. I was expecting it to happen eventually."

"And yet you had tears in your eyes when I came for you."

"Yeah, because I had no choice but to go through with it!" Chris pried the Prince's arms away and swam to the other side of the pool. "Either I allowed myself to be violated by that pig, or I could resist and be killed for refusing a royal order. One that came from you!"

Chris backed himself up against the edge when Albert tried to come closer, a wild glint in his eye that he knew was fear and desperation. Though he was bound to serve Albert's every command, he was physically capable of killing a man with his own hands, and they both knew it.

Sighing again, frustrated with the situation, Albert fought to stay where he was and not gather his consort up and make everything go away. "I didn't give the order." He admitted, rubbing the side of his face. "My father did."

"The King?" Eyes wide, Chris' stance relaxed a bit as he stayed pressed to the side. "But why?"

"Although Lord Brian is a despicable man," he spat, eyes narrowing at his reflection in the water, "his personal soldiers have been the most helpful in battle. The King promised anything that he might wish for, and you, unfortunately, caught his eye." Disturbing the water with his hand, he chose his words carefully before continuing. "When he requested to have you, I initially refused until he threatened to pull his troops out and triple their cost. After that, I gave the matter serious thought before I approved his request, though not without strict conditions."

Through his explanation, Chris came to slowly understand his words, but was still far from forgiving his actions. He nodded, brow furrowing before Albert stood, stepping out of the bath and reaching for two towels on the shelves. He held one out expectantly.

Reluctantly, Chris got up and waded through the water, taking the towel without looking the Prince in the eye. He dried himself briskly, feeling exposed with Albert looking but was beyond caring at this point. He was still just a toy, after all. Albert hadn't denied it.

Leaving the towels on the drying rack, the Prince led him back into the bedroom, only Chris deigning to fetch a pair of loose fitting pants. Albert slipped under the bed covers nude and waited for Chris to join him, but the consort merely sat on the far side, silhouetted by the now evening sun.

"You should rest a while," he suggested, propping himself up on his arm.

Chris scoffed lightly, "Why? So your precious pet doesn't look like a walking skeleton?" He was still bitter, and he had every right to be.

"Is that what you think you are to me? A pet?"

"Well, I am, aren't I?" Glancing over his shoulder, Chris saw the Prince's face alight with anger, "I sleep here, eat, bathe, live... the only difference between me and a dog you found on the street is that you bed me almost every night!"

Growling, Albert moved to grab Chris by the shoulder, twisting him harshly and pinning him to the bed. He ignored the fear and panic in the young man's eyes and held his chapped wrists together, leaning down to press their foreheads together in a mockery of what they'd done earlier.

"If you're so unhappy," He hissed, pressing the thin fingers of his free hand under Chris' chin to make him look up, "then why haven't you left?"

"Because you haven't let me!" Chris struggled against the hands that held him, tearing up but refusing to let the moisture fall from his eyes, "I'm not allowed to do anything without your permission, and you insist that you escort me whenever we leave the palace!"

The two men stared each other down, no longer Prince and his consort, but lovers at the end of their leashes.

Finally, to Chris' surprise, Albert backed down, releasing him and turning to lay on his side. Chris reined in his anger and breathed deeply through his nose.

"Go."

Blinking, the consort whipped his head around to stare at the Prince. "What?"

"Get out. You know where your room is. In the morning, someone will bring you clothes and enough money to let you live comfortably for a while." Albert closed his eyes as he felt the other man get up.

Sleep eluded him for a long while after Chris had left silently. There was no warmth radiating from the other side of the bed, no arms wrapping around his midsection, no light snores coming from parted lips. His bed was now cold and impersonal, much like himself.

Albert lingered on these thoughts, too pleasant to resist, and closed his eyes once more, willing himself into a restless doze. Illusions of a warm, tan body and an even warmer voice tempted him, and he eagerly gave in to the words that offered comfort, knowing that by tomorrow, they would be gone.

Chris woke early the next morning with a start, eyes wide as he shot up in bed. He could still feel the two pairs of phantom hands running over him, one frighteningly rough and the other gentle and soothing.

He didn't know which one he should be more afraid of.

Rubbing a hand against his face to rid himself of any lingering drowsiness, Chris could see two small bags and a large one next to the curtain covering the entrance of his room. He assumed they were his payment and clothes, just as Albert promised, and got up to rifle through the large bag. Every article of clothing was brand new, and looked warmer and covered more than his usual attire.

It was time to leave.

Chris dressed quickly in brown pants and a sandy tunic, then flung the bag of clothes over his shoulder after putting the money inside. He had no personal belongings, or none that mattered to him any longer, but he paused to look back at a dried, withered orange flower on the table.

Albert had once told him that Chris reminded him of the flower of a species of cactus; he described it as beautiful and vivid, bright against the desert sands, able to be seen even in the darkness of night. Chris had pondered on how it would look, so Albert had gone to fetch one from the gardens, hidden away in the back. Amazed by its beauty, he had immediately gone back to his room to press it between the pages of an old tome, weighing it down with a rock while he went to express his thanks to the Prince. It was the first thing he had ever given Chris without being asked, and the young man treasured it dearly.

Stroking the brittle petals carefully with a fingertip, Chris wondered if he was doing the right thing.

"Brian, you are a good friend, and an even greater ally." King Alexander stated, watching a satisfied smile slither onto Brian's face. His son sat beside him, his jaw tight with frustration. "You have served me well for many years, lending us the strength of your soldiers, and for that, I thank you."

"Please, your Majesty, it is no prob-"

"But," he waved a hand, cutting the Lord off. "But... regarding the consort you requested, you have gone against the demands of my son, and therefore have gone against me."

Brian looked distinctly nervous, sweat beginning to form on his low brow. He wiped it off shakily. "S-sire, if I may... The boy was disobedient! I-I was merely..." He trailed off as Albert clenched his hands around the arm rests of his throne.

"I specifically asked you not to harm Chris in any way, and yet you cuff his jaw and make him bleed. Uttering my name in your presence does not justify your actions." The Prince sneered, making Brian cower. "And then you had the gall to ask for ownership of Chris after mistreating him. You don't deserve anyone, let alone Chris."

"Albert." Alexander raised his hand again, and his son calmed immediately. Satisfied, he turned to Brian. "I am not a cruel man, Brian, so I will offer you a choice. Either face the penalty chosen by my son... or, you can resign your status as commander here and return to your home in the north. I'm sure your family and loving wife will be overjoyed to have you back."

Brian looked away, and the King took it as a submission. "Very well. Carlo, please escort this fine man to his carriage. And have the servants fetch his belongings."

A young, confident looking guard stepped forward and led the large man out of the room. When the chamber was empty again, Alexander turned to look at his son with a keen eye. "This consort must mean a great deal to you for you to get so riled up." He observed, watching Albert nod slowly. "Your wife doesn't know?"

"Annette doesn't care. She has her own lover to worry about."

Sighing, Alexander gave his dismissal and let his son leave. Albert may have been considered a man by many, but by his father, he was still just a young, selfish boy.

The walk to his chambers was silent. Not a single servant was in sight, and Albert suspected them all to be cleaning and tidying the guest room that the obese Lord had stayed in. Just as he expected, a group of female servants scurried out of the room with buckets of dirty water.

Leaving them be, Albert continued past and arrived at his room soon after. What he saw there made him freeze in his tracks.

Chris was laying on top of the bed, still dressed for travel, and was playing with a dried up flower. He looked so casual and carefree, tenderly holding the flower like it would break at any moment. It probably would, but Albert couldn't care less.

Chris had defied his orders, and yet he could summon no anger.

"You haven't left."

Shaking his head, the young man put the flower down on the nightstand and looked at the Prince, still standing in the doorway. Chris got up and stood in front of him, fingering the embroidered collar of his shirt.

"You once told me I reminded you of a cactus flower. When I went to leave..." Here he swallowed nervously, feeling as though his heart had jumped into his throat. He gathered his emotions together and felt the Prince respond somewhat positively when he pressed himself closer. "...I realized that the flower can't bloom without a cactus to grow on and protect it."

Their lips were almost touching, and Chris could feel Albert restraining himself. "You said you hated it here."

"I didn't say that. I was just... frustrated. Maybe I was overreacting, and maybe I wasn't. What should matter, though, is the fact that I'm staying here." A spark of playfulness ignited in Chris' eyes, his fear from the day dissipating as his confidence grew again. "And there's nothing you can do to change that, my Prince."

His words triggered a sudden reaction from Albert, his face held fast by firm hands as they kissed. Chris hummed in delight when Albert broke away to nuzzle his nose against his forehead, then brought them both to the lavish bed. They both fell at the same time, ignoring the golden cuffs at the head of the bed in favor of exploring each other all over again. Their clothes are shed and dropped to the floor, forgotten as they lose themselves in each other.

The Prince was tender in his ministrations, staying away from his healing rear and paying more attention to the growing length between his legs. Chris returned the favor eagerly, opening his legs carefully to let the other man lay on him. They were completely pressed together, and Chris could feel their hearts beating almost in time with each other through their rib cages.

Chris ground upwards and Albert ground back, running his fingers along Chris' arm and entwining their hands. Albert kissed up his throat, then back down to suck a collar of love bites around his neck. It was slow, passionate, and just what Chris needed.

In the after glow, when they're exhausted both physically and emotionally, Chris runs his fingers through Albert's loose blond locks and prays to every god he knows of that he can stay with the Prince for an eternity.