The Palace raids the underground market, the first day that they put Jongdae up for sale. He watches through half-closed eyes as Palace guards swarm the market. Some shapeshifters get loose, some get put down. Some merchants die.

Eventually, Jongdae falls asleep. He’s awoken by the opening of the cage door, the fetid air of the market rushing in.

“You fell asleep,” a voice says. Amused. The stranger pats Jongdae’s head kindly.

Later, Jongdae will learn that his name is Kai.

Everyone else is wary, even with the collar. Kai takes Jongdae as his due.

He’s crouched on the floor, dressed in the simple black of a guardsmen. Only the yellow dragon stitched on the underside of his sleeve gives his status away. He’s a member of the royal family.

He has lips that smile, and eyes that are cruel.

“Lynx,” he reads, off the plaque on Jongdae’s cage. “Male, ninety pounds. Fresh-caught. Price, 30 taels of silver.”

Jongdae’s been numb and uncaring for so long, the wave of humiliation that rushes over him makes him bury his face in his arms.

“Do you want to be free?” The man asks, gently. “Come out, lynx.”

Jongdae raises his gaze, heart pounding.  

The man sits on the ground, cross-legged. Ready to wait.

You’ll set me free? He asks. What comes out instead is a series of low barks.

“The people who caught you are dead,” he says. “Or, they will be. Soon.”

Jongdae lowers his head, thinking. The man sighs, makes to get to his feet.

Jongdae crawls out of the cage in a rush. The man gets hold of his chain and pulls – Jongdae’s elbows give way, and he falls face-first into the man’s lap, legs halfway in the cage.

“Good boy,” the man praises, Jongdae’s hair. “You’re so dirty.”

Jongdae grabs the chain, held in the man’s hand, lifting himself up on his arms. The man takes hold of Jongdae’s waist and pulls, until Jongdae’s sitting in his lap.

He’s not that much bigger than Jongdae, but his hold is strong.

Jongdae waits and keep waiting for him to remove the collar. The man keeps running his finger around the edge of the collar.

He takes it off.

The first few noises Jongdae makes don’t sound like words. He manages to say “thank you,” eventually.

“Don’t thank me,” the man says. He Jongdae’s cheek, smiles.

Someone’s approaching, collars held like keys on a keychain. Kai passes one to him.

Takes a new one from him.

Snaps it around Jongdae’s neck, before he can react. “Thank the Pit,” the man says. “It’s fair.”

The Pit – it’s a gladiatorial contest, between shapeshifters.

Jongdae grabs hold of his robe.

“They’re dead,” the man explains, “because of the Palace. You’re Palace property now. If you want to be free-“ he breaks into a smile again, curving full lips – “go into the Pit.”

The man pushes him off his lap and takes up Jongdae’s chain.

Jongdae opens his mouth to bite his leg; the man kicks him casually, and Jongdae bites his own cheek instead, blood welling instantly. Kicks him a second time, in his side, when he doesn’t move, stunned by the pain.

“Come,” the man says, voice now cool. “Don’t waste my time.”

Jongdae has to crawl, on hands and knees. His legs are too wasted from his time in the cage to support him upright.

No one looks at them, as they pass. Just people breaking open other cages, changing the collars of the other shifters. Just dead people and people alive and shifters somewhere between. Less than alive, but not dead yet.

There aren’t other shifters in the truck that the man leads him into, not yet. His chain gets hooked to one of the protruding metal rings; the man adjusts it, so short that Jongdae’s head is plastered against the wall of the truck.

He leaves; Jongdae closes his eyes. He wants to sleep.

Footsteps. Jongdae keeps his eyes closed.

A thumb wipes the blood that leaked out earlier away.

“Open your mouth,” the man says. Jongdae does, because he doesn’t sound gentle.

It’s a waterskin that he puts by Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae drinks, because Jongdae’s thirsty and down at the core, it’s all about survival.

He finishes the whole waterskin, ling at the opening hungrily.

“Hungry?”

Jongdae nods.

”Smart,” the man says, when Jongdae takes his finger into his mouth, around it. He replaces it with biscuits, that Jongdae finishes. He the crumbs from the man’s hand, pretending he can’t taste the saltiness on his palm.

“Survive the Pit,” the man says. Jongdae nods, and the man gives him another biscuit.

It’s crisp, made of almond and butter. Jongdae holds on to that taste, the whole journey to the pit.

--

a/n- short chapter to start things off