The Crown Resurrected (2/6)
Fic title: The Crown Resurrected
Author name: herminekurotowa
Artist name: dulcetine
Beta: jj1564
Alpha: somersault_j, junkerin
Genre: RPS, pre-relationship
Pairings: Jared/Jensen, Jensen/Matt (implied), Jared/OMC (implied)
Word count: 20,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: hurt!Jensen, slavery, torture, implied child abuse, mention of castration and rape
Disclaimer: If I would own anything or anyone depicted in this work of fiction, believe me, I'd do other stuff.
Summary: Jared and Jensen are both noble princes. But while Jared is the successful conqueror, Jensen is mistaken for a bed slave. He is stripped of his past and thrown into a present full of pain and hurt. And his future will only bear death and destruction.
Jared is drawn to the mysterious man in his bedroom. He could use him, but doesn't want to; he wants to love him, but dares not to touch him. He tries to save his live, but instead Jared hurts him worse than ever. Maybe, though - maybe together they can heal each other.
Chapter 2
As the youngest child of the Lordmaster of the Seal, Jensen could have everything he wished for.
On the other hand, life as a family member of Villads Ackles never was easy. His older brothers, Ragnar and Eric, lived up to the high expectations that their father cherished. His sister Yngvild, never expected to be anything other than a wife; she married a kind count and lives now overseas, so she is safe from their father.
Jensen, though. Jensen is the black sheep in his father's sight. He is a dreamer, a starry-eyed idealist, not the murderous soldier Villads Ackles wants him to be.
As long as his mother lived, he was able to be a happy boy. After her death, his father tried to beat her stories and hugs out of him, but failed. In a last attempt to get rid of the failure, he erased his son's name and put a collar around his neck.
Now Jensen is a slave with a new name.
Peaches.
He hates the man who gave him the drug, and the man who ordered him, and the drug that made him tell his most precious secret.
It was only ever his mother who called him that, never when someone could hear, and she said this one word with so much love and affection that he never could forget. And now this tyrant wrenched it from him violently.
If he could, he would kill the tall man with his bare hands. Unfortunately, he is tied to a little alcove close beside the canopy bed in his father's room with a leash, his hands bound. His wrists are already rubbed sore as he tried unsuccessfully to get free.
He doesn't know who the tall man is, presumably a general, or another high-ranking officer of the Padaleck army, or maybe a member of the royal family, but it is not important.
Villads Ackles is not a great father, or even a great human being, but he is an extraordinary politician, leading the realm to unforeseen heights. Jensen won't tolerate the defilement of his father's rooms and achievements.
It is no wonder that a people worshipping scaly lizards spawned tyrants and dictators, leaders who violate humans in the worst possible way. He was lucky that the tall man only was interested in knowing about his father. He can't imagine what else he could have been forced to do, or what the tall man could have done to him.
He shudders at the thought.
So he sits in his little alcove, waiting for something to happen, brooding. And getting hungry.
When he woke up midway through the morning, tied and bound, there was a pitcher of water standing beside him. That was all he took in the whole day, first drinking off the pitcher, then charging it with pee.
It is near dark, and Jensen is almost asleep when he hears the door being opened and closed.
Getting up to his feet is painful, his body still hurts, and he thinks he is running a fever. He can't see who entered the room, but the person is shuffling around. They throw a sword and belt on a lounge chair, followed by a cloak and velvet coat, walking slowly around the canopy bed. They come in sight, fumbling around with their shirt.
It is the tall man.
Bloody teeth.
Stunned, the man stops dead. “'Dils,” he says, then grabs the knife in his boot, leaping at Jensen.
Bracing himself for the attack, Jensen raises his arms, but instead of thrusting, the man is cutting at Jensen's bonds.
“Oh 'Dils, I'm so sorry,” he says. “I was so busy the whole day, I completely forgot about you. Did you eat? 'Dils, you didn't eat!” Fussing over Jensen's sore wrists, he keeps talking. “This is standard with new slaves in my bedroom, though I never had one before. And I didn't want you to stay here all day all alone, but as I said, I was so busy, I forgot. I'm so sorry.”
The tall man reaches for a bell pull, never averting his eyes from Jensen's hands and wrists, and all Jensen can think is how big and warm these hands are. His mind is buzzing, and he can't understand half of what is said. This guy just raped his mind in cold blood, and now he is acting like a bleeding heart.
Jensen's knees almost buckle; he desperately needs some food, and maybe some willow bark brew against the fever. Supporting him, the tall man leads him to the lounge chair, lowering him onto the soft cushion.
The sword is only a few inches away, half-hidden by the garments.
Slowly, Jensen's hand is creeping towards the weapon while his other one is still held between paw-like hands, their owner mumbling nonsense he can't follow.
A Padaleck adjutant opens the door, so Jensen withdraws his hand. Bloody teeth.
“Your-”
“Bring food. And wine. And I want Armstrong to check this slave over. Hurry up!”
“Of course,” the adjutant says, closing the door.
Picking up the garments along with the sword and belt, the tall man puts them into a chest., then pushes an occasional table Jensen's father used to put his feet up in front of the lounge chair.
“Don't get up,” he says, “they'll bring some food soon. The cook is great, but I think you know that.”
Yes, he knows. Jensen is glad that the cook, Briana, is still alive. She is one of the few friends he has - had. He has no friends now.
A slave doesn't have friends, and he is a slave now.
~~~~~~~~~~
The day was awful.
Jared had to decide the fate of the highest ranking officers his men took captive. The law says death for the generals and enslavement for their families.
Jared can accept the fact that he has to sentence three men to death, after all it will be quick, but enslaving innocent family members... that is something he doesn't want to do. So he wrestled the whole afternoon with General Beaver, trying to spare the poor women and children a fate worse than death. At least he succeeded in obtaining adjournment until Penikett's return.
But while attempting to save three families from enslavement, he completely forgot about the one slave already in his care.
Armstrong diagnosed a fever, but was pleased with his general health, scowling at Jared who shrugged a shoulder. He had given orders not to leave permanent damage on the rack, so the slave is left with bruises and scratches; he should be glad that his new master didn't order another whipping.
Jared is watching Peaches eating, first hesitantly, then enthusiastically scooping stew into his mouth.
He really is handsome, with subtle fingers, bright eyes, and a strong jaw. Jared can imagine that he was expensive. Maybe it is possible to manumit him, after Ackles was captured.
Still pondering Peaches' fingers, Jared raises his eyes and sees his counterpart frozen in fear, eyes bulging. He reacts without delay, at the same time unsheathing his dagger and launching himself out of his chair. He can feel the draft where a blade rips his shirt sleeve, his own blade sinking into warm flesh without much resistance.
The intruder is a young man, almost a boy, lying on the floor, choking on his blood. His brown eyes are looking daggers at Peaches who is standing stiff and trembling. When he speaks, his voice is rough.
“The Wolf will tear you limb from limb, traitor.”
Tearing open the door, Jared alerts the guards standing there, who are completely flustered. One leaves to inform Massee, the second-in-command, the other one hurrying ahead into the room to give first aid.
The slave is kneeling besides the injured youth. There are tears streaking down his pallid face, his shaking fingers are pressing a bunched up cloth onto his chest, but Jared can see that it is no use, there is already the pale face of death shining under the skin.
The slave is pushed aside by the guard trying to staunch the flow of blood, wiping his eyes with blood-smeared hands, and suddenly, Massee has gripped his throat with a hand, pushing him against the wall.
“What did you do, you filthy bug?” Massee asks through grit teeth, his body barely containing his anger.
“Massee!” Jared snaps. “Let him go! He's not involved!”
The officer obeys, dropping the slave to the ground. He then walks to the guard, inquiring about the unlucky assassin. His answer is a shake with the head in the negative.
Turning a blind eye on his men, Jared focuses on Peaches, kneeling beside him.
“It's okay. No one will hurt you. Do you know him?” he says, glancing to the dead youth.
Peaches nods hesitantly, answering with a small and rough voice. “He's... he was a stable boy. He was a... a friend.”
Jared sighs. “I'm sorry, but he tried to kill me, and I just reacted. Now listen,” he continues, his voice steady, “are there any secret passages in this room?”
Big, wet eyes are looking at him, and Jared says, “Answer me; I won't hesitate to drug you again if you don't open your mouth.”
The answer is given reluctantly. “I-I don't know of secret passages. I don't think there are any in this part of the castle. My... the Lordmaster wouldn't want to make himself vulnerable in his own rooms.”
“Good. That's good. Now let's take care of this mess.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Someone dared to attempt assassinating his prince, and Massee is seething. This rotten piece of meat is lucky to be dead because second-in-command Michael Massee would rip him to shreds if he was still alive. And the stinking slave should be executed on the spot, as he is surely involved. Unfortunately, he can't do a thing as long as his prince prohibits him from skinning the bug alive.
His best men are searching the prince's rooms; they can't find any secret passages or closets which is pretty much frustrating. He glares at the servants cleaning the plank floor, pondering whether they could be involved too.
His prince only has eyes for the slave, and that is something Massee can't understand. He is just a bug. Admittedly, he is a handsome man which makes him a pretty bug, but a bug nevertheless.
Finally, Qualls finds the assassin's way in - the window.
Massee is impressed. The prince's rooms are high above the ground, climbing the facade needs some balls which means a repeat is not to be expected. In addition to the guards in front of the doors, he'll station a guard under the windows with orders to keep an eye on the external facade.
~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, they are alone. It's rather late, and Jensen is dead on his feet. And then he remembers why it is not a good idea being alone with the tall man and straightens himself bolt upright. He still doesn't know who he is, though he assumes he must be royalty as the guards called him 'Highness'.
The tall man is running his hands through his long hair, sighing.
“Maybe we can have some peace and quiet now, I'm exhausted,” he says, ushering Jensen to his cushion in the alcove. “I'm sorry that this is necessary, but better safe than sorry, right?” he apologizes while tying Jensen's damn collar to the damn leash.
Staring at the wall in the dark, Jensen waits for the other man to make a move, but nothing happens apart from clothes rustling and the bed creaking. His cushion is rather comfortable, but he only has a thin blanket, and the cold and fear make him shiver.
He thinks about poor Elias who is dead now, his body dragged through the door in order to be buried and mourned by his family. He was Jensen's first crush, two years younger, who never knew he broke his heart when he told Jensen, breathless with excitement, that he would be engaged.
He thinks about Elias' last words, addressing him as a traitor because he didn't know the truth. His friend died thinking Jensen had betrayed his family and his people. The thought breaks his heart all over again, making hot tears pool behind his eyes.
Where will he find help when even one of his best friends since childhood thinks him capable of betrayal? What will others think of him, those don't know him as well as Elias? Will he be known as Jensen Ackles the traitor when the only thing he ever wanted was to end a meaningless civil war?
He can't even blame his father; he should have anticipated the reaction to his dissent. It is his own fault he is in this situation, and he doesn't know what to do.
Noises from the bed make him tense - the creaking of the bed frame, rustling of clothes. He doesn't dare turning, so his mind has to provide images for the sounds. However, nothing prepares him for what happens.
A blanket is thrown over him, thick and heavy, then a body is sliding behind him under it.
Panic is settling in, he goes rigid and tense, his heart beating through his chest.
Long fingers are stroking through Jensen's hair. “Shhhh,” the tall man says, snuggling in closer, aligning himself with his back. Instead of what he expects to happen, he only feels the heat of the other body seeping into his cold bones, hears breathing evening out and, finally, soft snoring.
The panic and fear leave him exhausted, and he feels warm and comfy, so soon he is asleep in the arms of his captor.
The new day starts with confusion when Jensen can't remember where he is, and panic when he remembers, and there is an unmistakable, hard body part poking in his butt.
But again, none of his vividly imagined scenarios come true when the tall man stirs, smiling at him sleepy-eyed.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice rough. “Sleep well?”
Jensen nods. It is true; he slept well despite the night's emotional turmoil.
“Great. Now let's have some breakfast, I'm starving.”
After the tall man has finished his morning toilet, Jensen is allowed to perform his ablutions behind his father's privacy screen. His body, especially his back, is still painfully sore and aching, with new bruises thanks to the 'special treatment' he received. They don't know how close he was to breaking, but it wasn't the physical abuse that made him betray his father. It was the tall man and that damn drug.
He doesn't want to go there. The drug has been messing with him, leaving him with no option but to do what he was told. It was a feeling that made his skin crawl, knowing that he did things he didn't want to do.
When the other man leaves the room for breakfast, Jensen is left alone, this time without bonds.
A little later, a young soldier brings food, staring at Jensen while he eats. He stares at him like he had never seen a slave before, and that is a strange thought as there surely are slaves in the southern capital. Nevertheless, Jensen starts fidgeting under the scrutiny.
The question is unforeseeable.
“You are a bed slave?” The soldier asks.
Jensen's hand stops halfway to his mouth.
“Are you good? ... In bed?”
He can feel the heat coloring his face. How does this imbecile dare...! Oh yes, they think he is a bed slave.
“You can't say no to any order, can you?” The soldier leers at him.
His hand is sinking slowly onto the plate in his lap, the bread getting too heavy to hold any longer.
“Maybe you should ask... his Highness first if he deigns to share.”
Now that was a great answer! Jensen gives himself a pat on the back when the young man falls silent, blushing, but soon after, when he is left alone again, he just feels sick.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jared has stew for breakfast. It is delicious, but he is missing the fruits he usually eats in the capital's palace. He can understand why the northern people eat so much stew and strong broth: they need filling, hot food because it is just too cold. He needs to wear his cloak all the time in order to not freeze to death.
He'll have some fresh fruits delivered from the south though, just to have something to eat that is not cooked to death.
While eating, he ponders the problem of the slave, Peaches. He needs him alive and safe, and that is the problem.
The past night taught Jared that the slave is considered a traitor among his own people. There is a good case to believe his life may be in danger, so Jared can't let him out of his sight. He can't have him around all the time either.
'Dils.
He spent the whole morning walking through the castle, trying to decide what to repair first as there was still a lot of damage caused by the fighting during the capture. In so doing, he learned the ways, but it was exhausting, and Jared was happy about the lunch break. After, he found the problem's solution when a priest of Saramaganta asked for help to feed the orphans.
Looking at the priest kneeling before him, Jared was lost in thought, barely listening to the old man.
The worshippers of the Great Newt believed that a single touch of their god could ignite the world or extinguish the sun, thus the priests wore habits covering their bodies completely, including their hands. Novices also wore face veils until they proved they were worthy by resisting temptation.
Jared gives a low spoken order, and Qualls is heading to his room, hurrying to obey. Qualls is smart and loyal, and Jared likes him, but when only a few minutes later a hooded figure is let into the reception hall, he wonders where the soldier got a Saramaganta novice's habit so speedily.
The only thing visible from Peaches' body and face are his eyes, amazingly green under the black veil. He is sitting silently on a stool besides Jared's throne, Qualls standing behind him, all the time vigilant. If the slave made one wrong move, he would be dead before he knew it.
Jared is glad that he can rely on his guard, as the priest's request is taking up all his attention. Still, he is fascinated by the man's belief in the city's conqueror to grant his request, which makes him wonder what the true-born lord decided on that matter.
Finally, the priest is finished. Jared rises, making the veiled slave beside him flinch.
“Reverend Father,” he addresses the supplicant, “I'm sorry to hear about the poor children's sorrow; I know the innocents are a war's first and especially hard hit victims. I am also sorry to say that I can't provide funds as the Lordmaster's purse is empty, and the Crown's purse is far away.
“The Crocodilians, though, devour the greedy and bless the needy. I'll give you a bag of gold out of my pocket to feed the orphans and appeal to my soldiers for a coin of their choice. I hope there will be enough donations in order to repair the old orphanage. I'm sorry there isn't more I can do for your children.”
The old priest is silent for an instant, staring, then bows as low as his back allows. “Your Highness is most generous. I thank you on behalf of my fosterlings. I will praise your name in the mornings and pray for your soldiers in the evenings. May the Great Newt bless you manifold.”
“Thank you for your blessing, reverend Father. I'm sure the Crocodilians will be pleased when we help their little cousin's children. I'll send messengers as soon as the fundraising is finished.”
Nodding the priest's dismissal, Jared sits down. This damned throne was made for a much shorter person and his rear is starting to complain.
Beckoning Massee over, he says under his breath, “Ask around if there are craftsmen under my forces who volunteer to repair the orphanage. Make it clear that they do so by their own choice. I want the citizens to see that we are no monsters.”
Turning around to face the assembled petitioners, citizens and officers in the reception hall, he notices the slave staring at him.
“It seems that you're not a good slave, Peaches, hmm?” he says, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Immediately, the slave's gaze drops to the floor, his head bowing. He says no word, though.
Chapter 3
Author name: herminekurotowa
Artist name: dulcetine
Beta: jj1564
Alpha: somersault_j, junkerin
Genre: RPS, pre-relationship
Pairings: Jared/Jensen, Jensen/Matt (implied), Jared/OMC (implied)
Word count: 20,000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: hurt!Jensen, slavery, torture, implied child abuse, mention of castration and rape
Disclaimer: If I would own anything or anyone depicted in this work of fiction, believe me, I'd do other stuff.
Summary: Jared and Jensen are both noble princes. But while Jared is the successful conqueror, Jensen is mistaken for a bed slave. He is stripped of his past and thrown into a present full of pain and hurt. And his future will only bear death and destruction.
Jared is drawn to the mysterious man in his bedroom. He could use him, but doesn't want to; he wants to love him, but dares not to touch him. He tries to save his live, but instead Jared hurts him worse than ever. Maybe, though - maybe together they can heal each other.
Chapter 2
As the youngest child of the Lordmaster of the Seal, Jensen could have everything he wished for.
On the other hand, life as a family member of Villads Ackles never was easy. His older brothers, Ragnar and Eric, lived up to the high expectations that their father cherished. His sister Yngvild, never expected to be anything other than a wife; she married a kind count and lives now overseas, so she is safe from their father.
Jensen, though. Jensen is the black sheep in his father's sight. He is a dreamer, a starry-eyed idealist, not the murderous soldier Villads Ackles wants him to be.
As long as his mother lived, he was able to be a happy boy. After her death, his father tried to beat her stories and hugs out of him, but failed. In a last attempt to get rid of the failure, he erased his son's name and put a collar around his neck.
Now Jensen is a slave with a new name.
Peaches.
He hates the man who gave him the drug, and the man who ordered him, and the drug that made him tell his most precious secret.
It was only ever his mother who called him that, never when someone could hear, and she said this one word with so much love and affection that he never could forget. And now this tyrant wrenched it from him violently.
If he could, he would kill the tall man with his bare hands. Unfortunately, he is tied to a little alcove close beside the canopy bed in his father's room with a leash, his hands bound. His wrists are already rubbed sore as he tried unsuccessfully to get free.
He doesn't know who the tall man is, presumably a general, or another high-ranking officer of the Padaleck army, or maybe a member of the royal family, but it is not important.
Villads Ackles is not a great father, or even a great human being, but he is an extraordinary politician, leading the realm to unforeseen heights. Jensen won't tolerate the defilement of his father's rooms and achievements.
It is no wonder that a people worshipping scaly lizards spawned tyrants and dictators, leaders who violate humans in the worst possible way. He was lucky that the tall man only was interested in knowing about his father. He can't imagine what else he could have been forced to do, or what the tall man could have done to him.
He shudders at the thought.
So he sits in his little alcove, waiting for something to happen, brooding. And getting hungry.
When he woke up midway through the morning, tied and bound, there was a pitcher of water standing beside him. That was all he took in the whole day, first drinking off the pitcher, then charging it with pee.
It is near dark, and Jensen is almost asleep when he hears the door being opened and closed.
Getting up to his feet is painful, his body still hurts, and he thinks he is running a fever. He can't see who entered the room, but the person is shuffling around. They throw a sword and belt on a lounge chair, followed by a cloak and velvet coat, walking slowly around the canopy bed. They come in sight, fumbling around with their shirt.
It is the tall man.
Bloody teeth.
Stunned, the man stops dead. “'Dils,” he says, then grabs the knife in his boot, leaping at Jensen.
Bracing himself for the attack, Jensen raises his arms, but instead of thrusting, the man is cutting at Jensen's bonds.
“Oh 'Dils, I'm so sorry,” he says. “I was so busy the whole day, I completely forgot about you. Did you eat? 'Dils, you didn't eat!” Fussing over Jensen's sore wrists, he keeps talking. “This is standard with new slaves in my bedroom, though I never had one before. And I didn't want you to stay here all day all alone, but as I said, I was so busy, I forgot. I'm so sorry.”
The tall man reaches for a bell pull, never averting his eyes from Jensen's hands and wrists, and all Jensen can think is how big and warm these hands are. His mind is buzzing, and he can't understand half of what is said. This guy just raped his mind in cold blood, and now he is acting like a bleeding heart.
Jensen's knees almost buckle; he desperately needs some food, and maybe some willow bark brew against the fever. Supporting him, the tall man leads him to the lounge chair, lowering him onto the soft cushion.
The sword is only a few inches away, half-hidden by the garments.
Slowly, Jensen's hand is creeping towards the weapon while his other one is still held between paw-like hands, their owner mumbling nonsense he can't follow.
A Padaleck adjutant opens the door, so Jensen withdraws his hand. Bloody teeth.
“Your-”
“Bring food. And wine. And I want Armstrong to check this slave over. Hurry up!”
“Of course,” the adjutant says, closing the door.
Picking up the garments along with the sword and belt, the tall man puts them into a chest., then pushes an occasional table Jensen's father used to put his feet up in front of the lounge chair.
“Don't get up,” he says, “they'll bring some food soon. The cook is great, but I think you know that.”
Yes, he knows. Jensen is glad that the cook, Briana, is still alive. She is one of the few friends he has - had. He has no friends now.
A slave doesn't have friends, and he is a slave now.
~~~~~~~~~~
The day was awful.
Jared had to decide the fate of the highest ranking officers his men took captive. The law says death for the generals and enslavement for their families.
Jared can accept the fact that he has to sentence three men to death, after all it will be quick, but enslaving innocent family members... that is something he doesn't want to do. So he wrestled the whole afternoon with General Beaver, trying to spare the poor women and children a fate worse than death. At least he succeeded in obtaining adjournment until Penikett's return.
But while attempting to save three families from enslavement, he completely forgot about the one slave already in his care.
Armstrong diagnosed a fever, but was pleased with his general health, scowling at Jared who shrugged a shoulder. He had given orders not to leave permanent damage on the rack, so the slave is left with bruises and scratches; he should be glad that his new master didn't order another whipping.
Jared is watching Peaches eating, first hesitantly, then enthusiastically scooping stew into his mouth.
He really is handsome, with subtle fingers, bright eyes, and a strong jaw. Jared can imagine that he was expensive. Maybe it is possible to manumit him, after Ackles was captured.
Still pondering Peaches' fingers, Jared raises his eyes and sees his counterpart frozen in fear, eyes bulging. He reacts without delay, at the same time unsheathing his dagger and launching himself out of his chair. He can feel the draft where a blade rips his shirt sleeve, his own blade sinking into warm flesh without much resistance.
The intruder is a young man, almost a boy, lying on the floor, choking on his blood. His brown eyes are looking daggers at Peaches who is standing stiff and trembling. When he speaks, his voice is rough.
“The Wolf will tear you limb from limb, traitor.”
Tearing open the door, Jared alerts the guards standing there, who are completely flustered. One leaves to inform Massee, the second-in-command, the other one hurrying ahead into the room to give first aid.
The slave is kneeling besides the injured youth. There are tears streaking down his pallid face, his shaking fingers are pressing a bunched up cloth onto his chest, but Jared can see that it is no use, there is already the pale face of death shining under the skin.
The slave is pushed aside by the guard trying to staunch the flow of blood, wiping his eyes with blood-smeared hands, and suddenly, Massee has gripped his throat with a hand, pushing him against the wall.
“What did you do, you filthy bug?” Massee asks through grit teeth, his body barely containing his anger.
“Massee!” Jared snaps. “Let him go! He's not involved!”
The officer obeys, dropping the slave to the ground. He then walks to the guard, inquiring about the unlucky assassin. His answer is a shake with the head in the negative.
Turning a blind eye on his men, Jared focuses on Peaches, kneeling beside him.
“It's okay. No one will hurt you. Do you know him?” he says, glancing to the dead youth.
Peaches nods hesitantly, answering with a small and rough voice. “He's... he was a stable boy. He was a... a friend.”
Jared sighs. “I'm sorry, but he tried to kill me, and I just reacted. Now listen,” he continues, his voice steady, “are there any secret passages in this room?”
Big, wet eyes are looking at him, and Jared says, “Answer me; I won't hesitate to drug you again if you don't open your mouth.”
The answer is given reluctantly. “I-I don't know of secret passages. I don't think there are any in this part of the castle. My... the Lordmaster wouldn't want to make himself vulnerable in his own rooms.”
“Good. That's good. Now let's take care of this mess.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Someone dared to attempt assassinating his prince, and Massee is seething. This rotten piece of meat is lucky to be dead because second-in-command Michael Massee would rip him to shreds if he was still alive. And the stinking slave should be executed on the spot, as he is surely involved. Unfortunately, he can't do a thing as long as his prince prohibits him from skinning the bug alive.
His best men are searching the prince's rooms; they can't find any secret passages or closets which is pretty much frustrating. He glares at the servants cleaning the plank floor, pondering whether they could be involved too.
His prince only has eyes for the slave, and that is something Massee can't understand. He is just a bug. Admittedly, he is a handsome man which makes him a pretty bug, but a bug nevertheless.
Finally, Qualls finds the assassin's way in - the window.
Massee is impressed. The prince's rooms are high above the ground, climbing the facade needs some balls which means a repeat is not to be expected. In addition to the guards in front of the doors, he'll station a guard under the windows with orders to keep an eye on the external facade.
~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, they are alone. It's rather late, and Jensen is dead on his feet. And then he remembers why it is not a good idea being alone with the tall man and straightens himself bolt upright. He still doesn't know who he is, though he assumes he must be royalty as the guards called him 'Highness'.
The tall man is running his hands through his long hair, sighing.
“Maybe we can have some peace and quiet now, I'm exhausted,” he says, ushering Jensen to his cushion in the alcove. “I'm sorry that this is necessary, but better safe than sorry, right?” he apologizes while tying Jensen's damn collar to the damn leash.
Staring at the wall in the dark, Jensen waits for the other man to make a move, but nothing happens apart from clothes rustling and the bed creaking. His cushion is rather comfortable, but he only has a thin blanket, and the cold and fear make him shiver.
He thinks about poor Elias who is dead now, his body dragged through the door in order to be buried and mourned by his family. He was Jensen's first crush, two years younger, who never knew he broke his heart when he told Jensen, breathless with excitement, that he would be engaged.
He thinks about Elias' last words, addressing him as a traitor because he didn't know the truth. His friend died thinking Jensen had betrayed his family and his people. The thought breaks his heart all over again, making hot tears pool behind his eyes.
Where will he find help when even one of his best friends since childhood thinks him capable of betrayal? What will others think of him, those don't know him as well as Elias? Will he be known as Jensen Ackles the traitor when the only thing he ever wanted was to end a meaningless civil war?
He can't even blame his father; he should have anticipated the reaction to his dissent. It is his own fault he is in this situation, and he doesn't know what to do.
Noises from the bed make him tense - the creaking of the bed frame, rustling of clothes. He doesn't dare turning, so his mind has to provide images for the sounds. However, nothing prepares him for what happens.
A blanket is thrown over him, thick and heavy, then a body is sliding behind him under it.
Panic is settling in, he goes rigid and tense, his heart beating through his chest.
Long fingers are stroking through Jensen's hair. “Shhhh,” the tall man says, snuggling in closer, aligning himself with his back. Instead of what he expects to happen, he only feels the heat of the other body seeping into his cold bones, hears breathing evening out and, finally, soft snoring.
The panic and fear leave him exhausted, and he feels warm and comfy, so soon he is asleep in the arms of his captor.
The new day starts with confusion when Jensen can't remember where he is, and panic when he remembers, and there is an unmistakable, hard body part poking in his butt.
But again, none of his vividly imagined scenarios come true when the tall man stirs, smiling at him sleepy-eyed.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice rough. “Sleep well?”
Jensen nods. It is true; he slept well despite the night's emotional turmoil.
“Great. Now let's have some breakfast, I'm starving.”
After the tall man has finished his morning toilet, Jensen is allowed to perform his ablutions behind his father's privacy screen. His body, especially his back, is still painfully sore and aching, with new bruises thanks to the 'special treatment' he received. They don't know how close he was to breaking, but it wasn't the physical abuse that made him betray his father. It was the tall man and that damn drug.
He doesn't want to go there. The drug has been messing with him, leaving him with no option but to do what he was told. It was a feeling that made his skin crawl, knowing that he did things he didn't want to do.
When the other man leaves the room for breakfast, Jensen is left alone, this time without bonds.
A little later, a young soldier brings food, staring at Jensen while he eats. He stares at him like he had never seen a slave before, and that is a strange thought as there surely are slaves in the southern capital. Nevertheless, Jensen starts fidgeting under the scrutiny.
The question is unforeseeable.
“You are a bed slave?” The soldier asks.
Jensen's hand stops halfway to his mouth.
“Are you good? ... In bed?”
He can feel the heat coloring his face. How does this imbecile dare...! Oh yes, they think he is a bed slave.
“You can't say no to any order, can you?” The soldier leers at him.
His hand is sinking slowly onto the plate in his lap, the bread getting too heavy to hold any longer.
“Maybe you should ask... his Highness first if he deigns to share.”
Now that was a great answer! Jensen gives himself a pat on the back when the young man falls silent, blushing, but soon after, when he is left alone again, he just feels sick.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jared has stew for breakfast. It is delicious, but he is missing the fruits he usually eats in the capital's palace. He can understand why the northern people eat so much stew and strong broth: they need filling, hot food because it is just too cold. He needs to wear his cloak all the time in order to not freeze to death.
He'll have some fresh fruits delivered from the south though, just to have something to eat that is not cooked to death.
While eating, he ponders the problem of the slave, Peaches. He needs him alive and safe, and that is the problem.
The past night taught Jared that the slave is considered a traitor among his own people. There is a good case to believe his life may be in danger, so Jared can't let him out of his sight. He can't have him around all the time either.
'Dils.
He spent the whole morning walking through the castle, trying to decide what to repair first as there was still a lot of damage caused by the fighting during the capture. In so doing, he learned the ways, but it was exhausting, and Jared was happy about the lunch break. After, he found the problem's solution when a priest of Saramaganta asked for help to feed the orphans.
Looking at the priest kneeling before him, Jared was lost in thought, barely listening to the old man.
The worshippers of the Great Newt believed that a single touch of their god could ignite the world or extinguish the sun, thus the priests wore habits covering their bodies completely, including their hands. Novices also wore face veils until they proved they were worthy by resisting temptation.
Jared gives a low spoken order, and Qualls is heading to his room, hurrying to obey. Qualls is smart and loyal, and Jared likes him, but when only a few minutes later a hooded figure is let into the reception hall, he wonders where the soldier got a Saramaganta novice's habit so speedily.
The only thing visible from Peaches' body and face are his eyes, amazingly green under the black veil. He is sitting silently on a stool besides Jared's throne, Qualls standing behind him, all the time vigilant. If the slave made one wrong move, he would be dead before he knew it.
Jared is glad that he can rely on his guard, as the priest's request is taking up all his attention. Still, he is fascinated by the man's belief in the city's conqueror to grant his request, which makes him wonder what the true-born lord decided on that matter.
Finally, the priest is finished. Jared rises, making the veiled slave beside him flinch.
“Reverend Father,” he addresses the supplicant, “I'm sorry to hear about the poor children's sorrow; I know the innocents are a war's first and especially hard hit victims. I am also sorry to say that I can't provide funds as the Lordmaster's purse is empty, and the Crown's purse is far away.
“The Crocodilians, though, devour the greedy and bless the needy. I'll give you a bag of gold out of my pocket to feed the orphans and appeal to my soldiers for a coin of their choice. I hope there will be enough donations in order to repair the old orphanage. I'm sorry there isn't more I can do for your children.”
The old priest is silent for an instant, staring, then bows as low as his back allows. “Your Highness is most generous. I thank you on behalf of my fosterlings. I will praise your name in the mornings and pray for your soldiers in the evenings. May the Great Newt bless you manifold.”
“Thank you for your blessing, reverend Father. I'm sure the Crocodilians will be pleased when we help their little cousin's children. I'll send messengers as soon as the fundraising is finished.”
Nodding the priest's dismissal, Jared sits down. This damned throne was made for a much shorter person and his rear is starting to complain.
Beckoning Massee over, he says under his breath, “Ask around if there are craftsmen under my forces who volunteer to repair the orphanage. Make it clear that they do so by their own choice. I want the citizens to see that we are no monsters.”
Turning around to face the assembled petitioners, citizens and officers in the reception hall, he notices the slave staring at him.
“It seems that you're not a good slave, Peaches, hmm?” he says, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
Immediately, the slave's gaze drops to the floor, his head bowing. He says no word, though.
Chapter 3