Of Kings and Men
Spring break is finally here and I have finally found time to put pen to paper (metaphorically). Happy Easter to everyone!
Title: Of Kings and Men
Pairing: S/A(us), S/X, S/B, mentions of S/Cecily
Rating: Rish
Disclaimer: Do I look like Joss Whedon? (Please don’t answer that)
Summary: AU. What are the obsessions of Kings and men? Darkish, kinda angsty fic with a hint of non-con.
Notes: Dedicated to darlaslilgirl. This is inspired by her fantabulous manips found here. I just couldn’t resist. They are so gorgeous. Hope that my humble offering has done them justice.
The whisper of silk fluttered around him like the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings, quick and dizzying. He sighed as another pair of cloying, perfumed breasts was thrust almost right up his nose.
“If you could excuse me…” Spike stood up from his opulent dais with determination, barely preventing himself from gritting his teeth as the wenches swarmed around him with wails of disappointment and last minute attempts to garner his favor.
As gently as he could, he pushed past all the coy glances and the subtle lingering hands, making his way towards the courtyard, praying that the women would find other more alluring prey to obsess themselves with before he had to return for the royal feast. It didn’t matter how many times he hinted at his proclivity for men. The harpies seemed convinced that their excellent skills would soon win him over from the “rough and inexperienced fumblings of mere boys.”
As if they could compare…
He breathed in deeply of freedom and nighttime air as the crisp, outside breeze filtered through his heavy, confining garments and refreshed his senses. Yanking impatiently at the stiff collar, uncaring of the image of impropriety he would present to anyone who he might happen upon, he sank down upon a stone bench, relieved to be away from all the gossip and politics of the court for the moment.
If it weren’t for the chance of seeing the object of his reluctant desire, he wouldn’t even attend such a farce. He snorted. “Small, intimate gathering,” his arse. It was just a way for all the Kings to posture and strut around while ugly bints cooed and inflated royal egos with their shameless prostitution.
Thank the graces that his reputation kept most of the impotent fools from approaching him for “civil conversation.” Sadly, the ladies in waiting had no qualms. And not much better conversational skills either.
He sighed again. What wouldn’t he give to be back at his own court where his subjects knew better than to approach him without his permission?
“King Spike…” Spike turned, startled at the sound of another man’s voice from a close proximity. He hadn’t even heard the approaching footsteps.
Blue orbs darted up to meet shy brown eyes that dropped away as cheeks flushed a soft, sweet color that eclipsed even that of the roses in full bloom around them. Spike wondered if they would glow as pretty a shade when he had the man-boy in his bed.
As if suddenly remembering his manners, Spike arose from the bench gracefully and bowed slightly in greeting. His mind ransacked for a name to put to this strangely familiar face but it eluded him.
“Allow me to confess my ignorance and apologies in not knowing your name,” he offered charismatically.
The tall brunette blushed even more, dark curls falling around his face as he ducked his head bashfully. “Alexander, new King of Sundalia, at your service,” he mumbled, bowing endearingly awkwardly in return.
Alexander.
Spike rolled the name around his tongue, tasting it like fine wine. It meant protector or defender, a fitting name for a boy with loyal, puppy brown eyes, eager and willing to follow anyone who offered him a little affection. Perhaps, he just might be the one to protect Spike from the blonde King’s unnatural obsession.
“You look a little heated, pet,” the older man remarked casually. “Perhaps, you should remove some of your heavy garments to relieve your distress.” He patted the spot on the bench next to him invitingly.
Alexander bit his lip uncertainly. “But won’t that be most improper?”
Spike’s smile could have charmed the knickers off the most stubborn of matrons. “If you won’t tell, I won’t tell,” he cajoled in a lazy drawl.
Bending to the primal force of the blonde man’s unrelenting appeal, Alexander quickly pulled his intricately knitted royal wool vest off, tugging open his linen white shirt as well before dropping onto the bench next to Spike. He sneaked a peek at his languidly sprawled companion, seeking some sort of sign that he was doing something right. He wanted so desperately for this most respected and feared of all Kings to like him, to see him as a fitting companion, to pay him attention…hell, something, anything would do.
When beats of silence had drummed in his head long enough, he began fidgeting. His sight swiveled towards the relaxed figure, who appeared to be slumbering. He took the time to admire the strong planes and angles of Spike’s face, illuminated in the pale moonlight, and the full, lush lips that looked like they belonged more to one of those persistent, frightful wenches of the court than a fierce warrior King. If the women had looked at all like this man, perhaps he might not have evaded their lips. The thought surprised him, for he had never dreamed that he would be attracted to men but on second thought, who would not be, to this man?
From the moment he had caught sight of the small, lean, wiry King, Alexander had felt a strange, irresistible pull towards the man and looking around the room, he had noticed that he wasn’t the only one. Kings and ladies of the court alike had tracked Spike’s progress around the room with covetous eyes though none, except the most persistent women, had dared approach the awe-inspiring figure, who was a legend among warriors, second only to one. When the King had wearily escaped the stifling attentions of the royal bitches, Alexander had found his feet discreetly trailing after the majestic presence.
He had followed the blonde out to the courtyard, careful to keep a certain amount of distance between them. After Spike had collapsed on one of the stone benches tucked away from view, he had debated on what to do next. Should he approach the King before someone else came along and stole his opportunity?
As he had hemmed and hawed like the hag that his cousin had always called him disdainfully, Spike had stripped down to just the standard linen shirt that all Kings wore for their official activities. The revealed muscular chest with just a light dusting of hair had left Alexander dry-mouthed. Like a pond to a thirsty man, the image had drawn him from his hiding place and before he knew it, he was sitting here next to the blonde King, God.
Turning his attention back to the present, he slid admiring eyes further down the perfect body and was confronted with a heavy bulge, outlined by the tight leather breeches molded to Spike’s form like a second skin. Feeling his blush renew itself, his gaze shied away lightning quick, only to catch the amused cobalt gems of Spike’s open eyes.
Embarrassment snatched his voice even as he fretted for words of explanation.
“Like what you see then?” The question was more of a statement as it was laced with confidence. Spike smirked, just a hint of tongue showing, as he regarded the adorable child encased in a man’s body next to him.
“I-I,” the boy stammered, voice small in the face of Spike’s overwhelming presence.
Taking pity on his companion, Spike soothed, “It’s alright, luv. No shame in desiring another man.”
Alexander reddened even more than Spike thought was possible. He was going to enjoy teaching this lovely, young King the arts of pleasure, he thought, suppressing a groan as his cock struggled against the confines of his britches.
A horn blared in the distance, breaking the tension between them. Spike got up regretfully, muscles tensing as nervousness twisted them. It was time for the feast and that meant…
“Will you dine with me?” He stretched, falsely nonchalant, as he turned to regard the still sitting boy. “Be my companion at the table,” he elucidated for the confused Alexander.
Hopeful worship filled the boy’s brown gaze before regret obliterated it. “I’m afraid I must sit next to my cousin.”
Spike stiffened, not used to being refused. Seeing this, Alexander rushed to explain. “Duty must come first though I am certain his company will be much less stimulating than yours.”
Somewhat appeased, Spike softened. “Stimulating, huh?” The boy blushed again. “Pray, tell me, which one of our delightful Kings is your cousin?” He barely kept the sarcasm at bay.
The brunette hesitated, anxiety thrumming through his larger frame and Spike suddenly knew, icy vines of realization wrapping around his beating heart. No wonder he had found the boy so alluring, so familiar.
Taking a deep breath, Alexander admitted in a whisper, “It’s Angelus.”
With quick, jerky movements, Spike pulled on his wool vest and straightened his clothes, as if his simple actions would keep the memories away. Fearfully, Alexander followed suit, worried that he had lost whatever chance he had had of gaining the older man’s friendship.
“Will I see you after the feast?” he queried in a quavering voice.
“Perhaps.” Spike forced a smile at the boy as he prepared to walk away. He knew that he was breaking young Alexander’s heart but he just couldn’t handle seeing the boy now. He had to get away.
Once out of sight, his movements quickened into an almost run as adrenaline raced through his body, sending his heartbeat into overdrive. What wouldn’t he give for one thing in his life to be untainted by that hulking Irish lout?
His steps sped towards the banquet room, dread and anticipation warring inside his head. Maybe if he could get there fast enough, he might be able to find a seat just farclose enough…
Then, a shadow fell across his path, and past and present collided.
************
Some years ago…
Golden tresses tickled William’s nose and a peal of delightful laughter swelled his heart before his darling princess danced away from him.
“Sometimes I believe that you like my hair more than me,” Elizabeth mock complained with her hands on her silk clad hips.
“Now Buffy, you know that ain’t true.” He stalked after her playfully as she continued to giggle and pretend to run away from him.
He caught her, making her squeal happily, and lifted her off the ground in a twirl of dazzling emerald green color in the bright sunlight.
“Careful,” she admonished as he almost allowed her to slip from his hands. “Or you’ll get grass stains on my dress.”
“Luv, they’re both green. No one will notice.”
“My father will.”
At the mention of Emperor Giles, William’s expression turned sour. He gently set her down before pacing around her enormous garden.
“Will…” she began uncertainly.
“Does the ponce still insist upon giving you to the best warrior?” he ground out angrily.
“Will…”
“You’re not a piece of chattel he can sell to highest bloody bidder!”
“He’s my father,” Elizabeth whispered sadly. “He can do whatever he wants with me.”
William stopped pacing long enough to notice her distress. He dropped to his knees in front of her, rubbing his face against her dress.
“Oh Buffy, Buffy. I am so sorry. But what are we to do if I cannot have your hand?”
She ran her fingers through his golden locks gently, smoothing the unruly curls back in place. Her heart wept for this sweet boy at her feet. She ignored thoughts of her own fate, choosing instead to focusing on trying to find a way to comfort her handsome King.
Only she knew the pain in his soul, his deep seated need for love and affection. He had been a lonely boy, raised by his sister Drusilla, who had fought for their survival until he was of age and could take the throne. But by that time, the years of constant vigilance and fear had taken its toll and ironically, the happiness at witnessing his coronation finally tipped her over the edge to insanity. It was as if she had only held it together until he no longer needed her.
Her condition had plunged him into a deep depression and he had succumbed to the machinations of his enemies in the court by taking comfort in one of the ladies in waiting named Cecily. She had betrayed him terribly, nearly causing him to lose his kingdom. Of course, he had survived and vanquished his foes, bringing the country back under his iron control, but it was not without a price. He had come to view every act of affection with suspicion and his lonely heart had surrounded itself in a cage so that he might never be that vulnerable again.
Then, she had come along. She had brought him the sweetness of love and companionship. She was the sunshine that brightened his bleak, solitary existence. Simply put, she was family.
“You must not give up hope, Will,” Elizabeth stated with determination. She cared nothing for what would happen to her, only that her fate might not damage her beloved anymore than he already was.
William snorted, pushing to his feet. “How can I not?” He began to pace again. “The great Angelus has come to claim you. I am no match for the seasoned warrior.”
“Then you must train.” Elizabeth lifted her chin and captured his gaze with her conviction. “He only has the motivation of lust but you have the motivation of love.”
William laughed bitterly, the sound twisting into a sob. “Is love enough?” he asked. “It didn’t save my sister. It didn’t stop Cecily from turning against me.”
“Will…”
William changed tracks suddenly. “I heard he’s a handsome man,” he commented, shooting her a challenging glance. “He’s strong and powerful, ruler of a kingdom much greater than mine, and they say he has a face like that of an angel’s…”
Without warning, Elizabeth slapped him.
Shocked, his tirade broke off and he lifted a trembling hand to touch the place where palm had met flesh.
“Do you think so little of me, William?” she hissed, tears threatening though she would not let them fall. “How dare you insult me like this? I am not one of those court wenches, selling their favors for a hint of status and beauty. I am Princess Elizabeth, the woman who cared enough to find the soul inside the hard shell of a terrifying warrior King.” She gave him such a fierce look that he was ashamed.
“And you’d do well to remember that.”
She spun around and stalked inside, a proud, regal figure retreating to her sanctuary.
That would be the image that played in his mind when he was defeated a few months later by a gleeful Angelus. He focused on it, blocking out the triumphant expression on a standing Angelus’s face and the heartbroken one on hers. It would be the only image he ever allowed himself to have of her when painful memories surged to the fore of his mind. He preferred to remember her that way and that way only:
Strong in the face of his cowardice and insecurities.
************
Present
“William!” Angelus bellowed heartily. “How wonderful it is to see you!” He clapped Spike on the back as if they were old friends instead of enemies.
When no answer was forthcoming, he turned to the silent, haggard figure next to him, remarking slyly, “Wouldn’t you say so, my dear?”
Elizabeth stepped into the light, her downcast emerald eyes a dull, tarnished green. “Yes, my lord. It is always lovely to meet an old friend.” Her voice was the whisper of a dead woman.
Malevolent brown eyes slid back to the imperceptibly seething blonde King in front of him before dismissing his consort without so much as a look. “Run along now, Buffy.” Spike flinched but Elizabeth bore it all without a reaction. “Be a good girl and secure a seat for Spike next to mine. He and I have so much to discuss.”
As she left, Spike struggled not to show his emotions, aware of the shrewd gaze trained on him.
“Now, William, where were we?”
Angelus invaded his personal space like a snake slithering up to its hypnotized prey. Lifting Spike’s clenched jaw with a huge paw, he smashed his lips down on the smaller man’s mouth in a parody of the standard peck on the cheek used by old friends to greet each other.
Spike debated pushing Angelus away but the thought was unthought as soon as it popped into his mind. The vengeful King would just take it out on Buffy if he didn’t obey.
However, that didn’t mean that he had to give in gracefully. His lips were defiantly unyielding for a few seconds before he allowed the tongue to rape his mouth.
One hand made its way to the back of his head, holding it in place while the older man plundered his mouth, and the other hand wrapped around his back to immobilize him completely.
Controlling prick, he thought to himself wrathfully. Angelus knew he wasn’t going anywhere until the man was done with him. The hands were just adding insult to injury.
As he submitted himself completely, the one-sided kiss - if it could even be called that - grew less brutal and more sensuous. He felt Angelus’s tongue caress his, teasing it to come out and play. At the same time, the hand at his back slid down to palm his ass, pressing him against the bulge in the brunette’s britches and slowly, hips ground into him seductively.
He shoved the other man away so violently that teeth dragged across his lower lip. Breathing heavily, he claimed lamely, struggling not to let his emotions show, “We’ll be late for dinner.”
His gaze stayed on the ground intently though from the corner of his eye, he could see Angelus licking his blood off the man’s own teeth and he could practically feel dark eyes stroking along his body, lingering on his crotch.
“Very well,” Angelus finally said with a smirk. “It’d be a shame to miss the feast. Buffy was ecstatic when she had heard you were coming and had ordered the cooks to make something special in your honor. But, the poor thing ended up overtaxing herself.” The handsome man paused, forcing Spike’s unwilling blue eyes up to meet his.
“You see, she is with child. The healers had confined her to bed rest but the silly girl refused to listen. Fortunately…” Spike could barely restrain himself from wiping off that smug expression, “she has a competent husband to take care of her. I would not have let her attend the feast. After all, the excitement might be too much for her but she had begged and pleaded so…charmingly…that I relented…as long as she agreed that after the feast, she’ll be staying in her quarters until birth.” Angelus smiled sadistically, showing sharp white teeth, stained with just a tiniest smidgeon of red.
His blood.
Spike shuddered and cursed himself for his reaction when Angelus’s eyes just plainly lit up with hunger for his pain.
“Let us not keep the others waiting.”
With one last leer, Angelus headed into the banquet room, a huge, imposing figure striding away, leeching the life out of all that he left behind.
Spike shivered, wrapping the vest around himself more tightly as if he could ward off his anxiety and unsettled emotions.
He didn’t understand why the older warrior was so fixated on him. What had he ever done to deserve such attention?
Maybe, he thought, if he wished hard enough then the Powers might take pity on him. But then again, he smiled coldly, they were high and mighty bastards that didn’t give a damn about Kings or men.
Stepping into the banquet room, he instead cursed Angelus’s existence and his own as well, for he knew. Deep down in his heart, he knew that…
…Angelus wasn’t the only one who was obsessed.
Title: Of Kings and Men
Pairing: S/A(us), S/X, S/B, mentions of S/Cecily
Rating: Rish
Disclaimer: Do I look like Joss Whedon? (Please don’t answer that)
Summary: AU. What are the obsessions of Kings and men? Darkish, kinda angsty fic with a hint of non-con.
Notes: Dedicated to darlaslilgirl. This is inspired by her fantabulous manips found here. I just couldn’t resist. They are so gorgeous. Hope that my humble offering has done them justice.
The whisper of silk fluttered around him like the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings, quick and dizzying. He sighed as another pair of cloying, perfumed breasts was thrust almost right up his nose.
“If you could excuse me…” Spike stood up from his opulent dais with determination, barely preventing himself from gritting his teeth as the wenches swarmed around him with wails of disappointment and last minute attempts to garner his favor.
As gently as he could, he pushed past all the coy glances and the subtle lingering hands, making his way towards the courtyard, praying that the women would find other more alluring prey to obsess themselves with before he had to return for the royal feast. It didn’t matter how many times he hinted at his proclivity for men. The harpies seemed convinced that their excellent skills would soon win him over from the “rough and inexperienced fumblings of mere boys.”
As if they could compare…
He breathed in deeply of freedom and nighttime air as the crisp, outside breeze filtered through his heavy, confining garments and refreshed his senses. Yanking impatiently at the stiff collar, uncaring of the image of impropriety he would present to anyone who he might happen upon, he sank down upon a stone bench, relieved to be away from all the gossip and politics of the court for the moment.
If it weren’t for the chance of seeing the object of his reluctant desire, he wouldn’t even attend such a farce. He snorted. “Small, intimate gathering,” his arse. It was just a way for all the Kings to posture and strut around while ugly bints cooed and inflated royal egos with their shameless prostitution.
Thank the graces that his reputation kept most of the impotent fools from approaching him for “civil conversation.” Sadly, the ladies in waiting had no qualms. And not much better conversational skills either.
He sighed again. What wouldn’t he give to be back at his own court where his subjects knew better than to approach him without his permission?
“King Spike…” Spike turned, startled at the sound of another man’s voice from a close proximity. He hadn’t even heard the approaching footsteps.
Blue orbs darted up to meet shy brown eyes that dropped away as cheeks flushed a soft, sweet color that eclipsed even that of the roses in full bloom around them. Spike wondered if they would glow as pretty a shade when he had the man-boy in his bed.
As if suddenly remembering his manners, Spike arose from the bench gracefully and bowed slightly in greeting. His mind ransacked for a name to put to this strangely familiar face but it eluded him.
“Allow me to confess my ignorance and apologies in not knowing your name,” he offered charismatically.
The tall brunette blushed even more, dark curls falling around his face as he ducked his head bashfully. “Alexander, new King of Sundalia, at your service,” he mumbled, bowing endearingly awkwardly in return.
Alexander.
Spike rolled the name around his tongue, tasting it like fine wine. It meant protector or defender, a fitting name for a boy with loyal, puppy brown eyes, eager and willing to follow anyone who offered him a little affection. Perhaps, he just might be the one to protect Spike from the blonde King’s unnatural obsession.
“You look a little heated, pet,” the older man remarked casually. “Perhaps, you should remove some of your heavy garments to relieve your distress.” He patted the spot on the bench next to him invitingly.
Alexander bit his lip uncertainly. “But won’t that be most improper?”
Spike’s smile could have charmed the knickers off the most stubborn of matrons. “If you won’t tell, I won’t tell,” he cajoled in a lazy drawl.
Bending to the primal force of the blonde man’s unrelenting appeal, Alexander quickly pulled his intricately knitted royal wool vest off, tugging open his linen white shirt as well before dropping onto the bench next to Spike. He sneaked a peek at his languidly sprawled companion, seeking some sort of sign that he was doing something right. He wanted so desperately for this most respected and feared of all Kings to like him, to see him as a fitting companion, to pay him attention…hell, something, anything would do.
When beats of silence had drummed in his head long enough, he began fidgeting. His sight swiveled towards the relaxed figure, who appeared to be slumbering. He took the time to admire the strong planes and angles of Spike’s face, illuminated in the pale moonlight, and the full, lush lips that looked like they belonged more to one of those persistent, frightful wenches of the court than a fierce warrior King. If the women had looked at all like this man, perhaps he might not have evaded their lips. The thought surprised him, for he had never dreamed that he would be attracted to men but on second thought, who would not be, to this man?
From the moment he had caught sight of the small, lean, wiry King, Alexander had felt a strange, irresistible pull towards the man and looking around the room, he had noticed that he wasn’t the only one. Kings and ladies of the court alike had tracked Spike’s progress around the room with covetous eyes though none, except the most persistent women, had dared approach the awe-inspiring figure, who was a legend among warriors, second only to one. When the King had wearily escaped the stifling attentions of the royal bitches, Alexander had found his feet discreetly trailing after the majestic presence.
He had followed the blonde out to the courtyard, careful to keep a certain amount of distance between them. After Spike had collapsed on one of the stone benches tucked away from view, he had debated on what to do next. Should he approach the King before someone else came along and stole his opportunity?
As he had hemmed and hawed like the hag that his cousin had always called him disdainfully, Spike had stripped down to just the standard linen shirt that all Kings wore for their official activities. The revealed muscular chest with just a light dusting of hair had left Alexander dry-mouthed. Like a pond to a thirsty man, the image had drawn him from his hiding place and before he knew it, he was sitting here next to the blonde King, God.
Turning his attention back to the present, he slid admiring eyes further down the perfect body and was confronted with a heavy bulge, outlined by the tight leather breeches molded to Spike’s form like a second skin. Feeling his blush renew itself, his gaze shied away lightning quick, only to catch the amused cobalt gems of Spike’s open eyes.
Embarrassment snatched his voice even as he fretted for words of explanation.
“Like what you see then?” The question was more of a statement as it was laced with confidence. Spike smirked, just a hint of tongue showing, as he regarded the adorable child encased in a man’s body next to him.
“I-I,” the boy stammered, voice small in the face of Spike’s overwhelming presence.
Taking pity on his companion, Spike soothed, “It’s alright, luv. No shame in desiring another man.”
Alexander reddened even more than Spike thought was possible. He was going to enjoy teaching this lovely, young King the arts of pleasure, he thought, suppressing a groan as his cock struggled against the confines of his britches.
A horn blared in the distance, breaking the tension between them. Spike got up regretfully, muscles tensing as nervousness twisted them. It was time for the feast and that meant…
“Will you dine with me?” He stretched, falsely nonchalant, as he turned to regard the still sitting boy. “Be my companion at the table,” he elucidated for the confused Alexander.
Hopeful worship filled the boy’s brown gaze before regret obliterated it. “I’m afraid I must sit next to my cousin.”
Spike stiffened, not used to being refused. Seeing this, Alexander rushed to explain. “Duty must come first though I am certain his company will be much less stimulating than yours.”
Somewhat appeased, Spike softened. “Stimulating, huh?” The boy blushed again. “Pray, tell me, which one of our delightful Kings is your cousin?” He barely kept the sarcasm at bay.
The brunette hesitated, anxiety thrumming through his larger frame and Spike suddenly knew, icy vines of realization wrapping around his beating heart. No wonder he had found the boy so alluring, so familiar.
Taking a deep breath, Alexander admitted in a whisper, “It’s Angelus.”
With quick, jerky movements, Spike pulled on his wool vest and straightened his clothes, as if his simple actions would keep the memories away. Fearfully, Alexander followed suit, worried that he had lost whatever chance he had had of gaining the older man’s friendship.
“Will I see you after the feast?” he queried in a quavering voice.
“Perhaps.” Spike forced a smile at the boy as he prepared to walk away. He knew that he was breaking young Alexander’s heart but he just couldn’t handle seeing the boy now. He had to get away.
Once out of sight, his movements quickened into an almost run as adrenaline raced through his body, sending his heartbeat into overdrive. What wouldn’t he give for one thing in his life to be untainted by that hulking Irish lout?
His steps sped towards the banquet room, dread and anticipation warring inside his head. Maybe if he could get there fast enough, he might be able to find a seat just farclose enough…
Then, a shadow fell across his path, and past and present collided.
************
Some years ago…
Golden tresses tickled William’s nose and a peal of delightful laughter swelled his heart before his darling princess danced away from him.
“Sometimes I believe that you like my hair more than me,” Elizabeth mock complained with her hands on her silk clad hips.
“Now Buffy, you know that ain’t true.” He stalked after her playfully as she continued to giggle and pretend to run away from him.
He caught her, making her squeal happily, and lifted her off the ground in a twirl of dazzling emerald green color in the bright sunlight.
“Careful,” she admonished as he almost allowed her to slip from his hands. “Or you’ll get grass stains on my dress.”
“Luv, they’re both green. No one will notice.”
“My father will.”
At the mention of Emperor Giles, William’s expression turned sour. He gently set her down before pacing around her enormous garden.
“Will…” she began uncertainly.
“Does the ponce still insist upon giving you to the best warrior?” he ground out angrily.
“Will…”
“You’re not a piece of chattel he can sell to highest bloody bidder!”
“He’s my father,” Elizabeth whispered sadly. “He can do whatever he wants with me.”
William stopped pacing long enough to notice her distress. He dropped to his knees in front of her, rubbing his face against her dress.
“Oh Buffy, Buffy. I am so sorry. But what are we to do if I cannot have your hand?”
She ran her fingers through his golden locks gently, smoothing the unruly curls back in place. Her heart wept for this sweet boy at her feet. She ignored thoughts of her own fate, choosing instead to focusing on trying to find a way to comfort her handsome King.
Only she knew the pain in his soul, his deep seated need for love and affection. He had been a lonely boy, raised by his sister Drusilla, who had fought for their survival until he was of age and could take the throne. But by that time, the years of constant vigilance and fear had taken its toll and ironically, the happiness at witnessing his coronation finally tipped her over the edge to insanity. It was as if she had only held it together until he no longer needed her.
Her condition had plunged him into a deep depression and he had succumbed to the machinations of his enemies in the court by taking comfort in one of the ladies in waiting named Cecily. She had betrayed him terribly, nearly causing him to lose his kingdom. Of course, he had survived and vanquished his foes, bringing the country back under his iron control, but it was not without a price. He had come to view every act of affection with suspicion and his lonely heart had surrounded itself in a cage so that he might never be that vulnerable again.
Then, she had come along. She had brought him the sweetness of love and companionship. She was the sunshine that brightened his bleak, solitary existence. Simply put, she was family.
“You must not give up hope, Will,” Elizabeth stated with determination. She cared nothing for what would happen to her, only that her fate might not damage her beloved anymore than he already was.
William snorted, pushing to his feet. “How can I not?” He began to pace again. “The great Angelus has come to claim you. I am no match for the seasoned warrior.”
“Then you must train.” Elizabeth lifted her chin and captured his gaze with her conviction. “He only has the motivation of lust but you have the motivation of love.”
William laughed bitterly, the sound twisting into a sob. “Is love enough?” he asked. “It didn’t save my sister. It didn’t stop Cecily from turning against me.”
“Will…”
William changed tracks suddenly. “I heard he’s a handsome man,” he commented, shooting her a challenging glance. “He’s strong and powerful, ruler of a kingdom much greater than mine, and they say he has a face like that of an angel’s…”
Without warning, Elizabeth slapped him.
Shocked, his tirade broke off and he lifted a trembling hand to touch the place where palm had met flesh.
“Do you think so little of me, William?” she hissed, tears threatening though she would not let them fall. “How dare you insult me like this? I am not one of those court wenches, selling their favors for a hint of status and beauty. I am Princess Elizabeth, the woman who cared enough to find the soul inside the hard shell of a terrifying warrior King.” She gave him such a fierce look that he was ashamed.
“And you’d do well to remember that.”
She spun around and stalked inside, a proud, regal figure retreating to her sanctuary.
That would be the image that played in his mind when he was defeated a few months later by a gleeful Angelus. He focused on it, blocking out the triumphant expression on a standing Angelus’s face and the heartbroken one on hers. It would be the only image he ever allowed himself to have of her when painful memories surged to the fore of his mind. He preferred to remember her that way and that way only:
Strong in the face of his cowardice and insecurities.
************
Present
“William!” Angelus bellowed heartily. “How wonderful it is to see you!” He clapped Spike on the back as if they were old friends instead of enemies.
When no answer was forthcoming, he turned to the silent, haggard figure next to him, remarking slyly, “Wouldn’t you say so, my dear?”
Elizabeth stepped into the light, her downcast emerald eyes a dull, tarnished green. “Yes, my lord. It is always lovely to meet an old friend.” Her voice was the whisper of a dead woman.
Malevolent brown eyes slid back to the imperceptibly seething blonde King in front of him before dismissing his consort without so much as a look. “Run along now, Buffy.” Spike flinched but Elizabeth bore it all without a reaction. “Be a good girl and secure a seat for Spike next to mine. He and I have so much to discuss.”
As she left, Spike struggled not to show his emotions, aware of the shrewd gaze trained on him.
“Now, William, where were we?”
Angelus invaded his personal space like a snake slithering up to its hypnotized prey. Lifting Spike’s clenched jaw with a huge paw, he smashed his lips down on the smaller man’s mouth in a parody of the standard peck on the cheek used by old friends to greet each other.
Spike debated pushing Angelus away but the thought was unthought as soon as it popped into his mind. The vengeful King would just take it out on Buffy if he didn’t obey.
However, that didn’t mean that he had to give in gracefully. His lips were defiantly unyielding for a few seconds before he allowed the tongue to rape his mouth.
One hand made its way to the back of his head, holding it in place while the older man plundered his mouth, and the other hand wrapped around his back to immobilize him completely.
Controlling prick, he thought to himself wrathfully. Angelus knew he wasn’t going anywhere until the man was done with him. The hands were just adding insult to injury.
As he submitted himself completely, the one-sided kiss - if it could even be called that - grew less brutal and more sensuous. He felt Angelus’s tongue caress his, teasing it to come out and play. At the same time, the hand at his back slid down to palm his ass, pressing him against the bulge in the brunette’s britches and slowly, hips ground into him seductively.
He shoved the other man away so violently that teeth dragged across his lower lip. Breathing heavily, he claimed lamely, struggling not to let his emotions show, “We’ll be late for dinner.”
His gaze stayed on the ground intently though from the corner of his eye, he could see Angelus licking his blood off the man’s own teeth and he could practically feel dark eyes stroking along his body, lingering on his crotch.
“Very well,” Angelus finally said with a smirk. “It’d be a shame to miss the feast. Buffy was ecstatic when she had heard you were coming and had ordered the cooks to make something special in your honor. But, the poor thing ended up overtaxing herself.” The handsome man paused, forcing Spike’s unwilling blue eyes up to meet his.
“You see, she is with child. The healers had confined her to bed rest but the silly girl refused to listen. Fortunately…” Spike could barely restrain himself from wiping off that smug expression, “she has a competent husband to take care of her. I would not have let her attend the feast. After all, the excitement might be too much for her but she had begged and pleaded so…charmingly…that I relented…as long as she agreed that after the feast, she’ll be staying in her quarters until birth.” Angelus smiled sadistically, showing sharp white teeth, stained with just a tiniest smidgeon of red.
His blood.
Spike shuddered and cursed himself for his reaction when Angelus’s eyes just plainly lit up with hunger for his pain.
“Let us not keep the others waiting.”
With one last leer, Angelus headed into the banquet room, a huge, imposing figure striding away, leeching the life out of all that he left behind.
Spike shivered, wrapping the vest around himself more tightly as if he could ward off his anxiety and unsettled emotions.
He didn’t understand why the older warrior was so fixated on him. What had he ever done to deserve such attention?
Maybe, he thought, if he wished hard enough then the Powers might take pity on him. But then again, he smiled coldly, they were high and mighty bastards that didn’t give a damn about Kings or men.
Stepping into the banquet room, he instead cursed Angelus’s existence and his own as well, for he knew. Deep down in his heart, he knew that…
…Angelus wasn’t the only one who was obsessed.