They are taken away from their home

The wagon rumbled away down the path, pulled by a team of large, black horses. It was one of twenty or so in a large convoy being escorted away from the castle by a large group of scary huntresses with Irena at their head. Only, instead of looted treasure or other provisions like the others, this one had an iron cage on top, the wooden floor covered in a layer of straw. It was like a cart you'd use to transport some dangerous wild animal, only inside there was just Marcus and his poor, suffering Father. The young prince was kneeling awkwardly on the itchy straw, bunny tail still jammed in his butt, looking miserably down at the **** King lying next to him.

After shouting at her daughter, Irena had spent some time patching up his Father's wounds while he'd just watched and cowered behind her. The cruel huntress had carefully wiped the blood away and bandaged the worst injuries, murmuring softly to the moaning King like she was talking to a skittish horse. She'd seemed genuinely remorseful about what Felicia had done. It was strange for Marcus to see after she'd been so cruel to him, but then she hadn't done anything quite this bad, no matter how painful that beating with the crop had been. Maybe she did have a heart after all, not that it made things any better for him. She still wanted to make the both of them her pets after all.

When the King was looking a bit better, she'd had two of her huntresses carry him out the hall between them. Meanwhile, she'd grabbed poor Marcus by the waist, growled at him to stay still, and then just lifted him up and tossed his naked body over her shoulder like a sack. The young prince had been too terrified to struggle, and had just lay there trembling with his legs over her chest and that awful bunny tail sticking out his naked butt while she carried him through the door.

He'd been taken past groups of huntresses striding through the corridors of his home, some of them carrying loot from the treasury, while others were moving shackled prisoners. Those they'd captured were all men or boys, trussed up cruelly in various awful ways, with gags shoved in their mouths. An older dark-skinned huntress almost as tall as Irena herself had been leading one of the stable grooms around by a pair of leather reins. The poor boy had all these awful straps fastened tightly over his muscled body, including what looked like a horse's bridle on his head complete with metal bit between his teeth. Then a little further on Marcus had seen a pair of laughing girls just older than him carrying a wooden pole on their shoulders. Hanging from it by both arms and legs had been one of his Father's stewards, a portly man who'd been sobbing softly, his naked body covered in angry red welts from the whip one of the girls had in her belt. The pair were chattering happily about some exercise regime they were going to put their new piggy on to trim his fat.

Irena had strode out the castle gates with him to where all these wagons were waiting just outside the keep. There was also a line of fierce huntresses with bows in hand, watching over a sobbing group of women from the castle. Noblewomen and servants crouching in the grass, terrified and distraught as the men they knew and loved were taken away from them. Still carrying Marcus, Irena had stepped over to address them, standing there tall and fierce like a triumphant lioness. Even through his terror, the young prince had felt sick with shame at the thought of all these women seeing him dangling over the huntress' shoulder, naked and sobbing with a fluffy tail shoved in his bruised butt.

Irena had told the group of women that she was taking their men away because they had been too weak to master them. She'd said that they must first learn to be strong like Kaprians, then find new males who they had not bonded to as sons and husbands and train them properly. Should they prove themselves, Irena promised the aid of her huntresses to teach them to defend themselves. None of the women looked very convinced of this while armed huntresses ransacked their home, but Irena didn't seem to care very much. Instead, she'd just turned and strode away, barking at her soldiers to keep loading up the wagons.

After that, she'd taken the sobbing Marcus to this cage and lain him gently on the straw inside beside his Father. She'd warned the young prince in a scary voice to stay quiet and keep his tail in or she'd punish him, then she'd locked both Father and Son inside and ordered everyone to get moving. Soon the row of carts were trundling away down the road, the castle slowly disappearing off into the distance as they moved further away. The other men were leashed to the wagons, **** to march naked behind the convoy in a huddled group while sneering huntresses with whips drove them on, lashing any who faltered. As awful as it was to sit here on itchy straw while this cart carried him away from the only home he'd ever known, Marcus couldn't help but feel glad he wasn't in that position.

Kneeling there now and crying softly, he just watched his **** Father, tears dribbling down his cheeks. The King moaned softly, stirring on the straw, but didn't wake. Marcus reached out a hand and touched his Father's forehead, running his fingers over clammy, sweat-stained skin. The King had always seemed invincible to him, so very brave and strong compared to a weak and girly boy like him. Now, watching his Hero brought low like this made him feel like his heart was tearing in two. Please, he prayed silently, let his Father be okay! After everything that had happened, he wasn't sure he could bear it if the King never stirred again. He just needed his Father awake! Then he'd be able to stop crying, and together they could think of a way to escape before this got even worse!