Untitled
Fic title: Untitled
Author: herminekurotowa
Beta: jj1564
Genre: RPS, slash
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 3,000
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these people. I'll only play with them before putting them back in my box of toys.
Warnings: post-mpreg, amnesia!Jared, hurt!Jared, bottom!Jensen, bad description of awesome sex
Summary: Fierce warlord Jared is in love with a man he can't remember. When they meet, he learns more about some secrets than he ever thought possible.
A/N: This is my fill for round three of spn_masquerade. Original prompt is here.
It's hot inside the palace, as usual. In the summer, the temperature is always high, and though the inhabitants of High Padaleck are used to it, it doesn't mean they aren't afflicted by the heat.
Jared wakes with a start, soaked through because of the morning heat, the familiar image of wide green eyes lingering for a moment longer, then dissipating like a phantom. It's strange as for five years, Jared had tried to come up with a face accompanying a tall, lean body and drew a blank; but since the Acklesian negotiators submitted an offer of truce, maybe even peace, there were echoes of a deep voice and images of startling green eyes haunting his dreams.
It's his fault: that he can't remember the face of the man he loves and that his dominion is war-torn. He'd never thought that his stupid decision to declare war on Acklesia in order to stand up to his father's reputation could ruin his dominion and his life. But today is the day he'll start fixing at least a part of his failure.
~~~~
Traveling under the summer sun is exhausting. The terrain, though, is too dangerous to travel during nighttime, so Jared's convoy moves in the mornings and evenings, resting when it's too hot or too dark.
They have already headed west for nine days. It's the last night in the mountains; the next day at noon, they will arrive at Ackles City.
Jared can't sleep.
“Tomorrow's distance will be demanding.” Jared is startled by the head of his guard's voice. “Do you want me to knock you unconscious, my lord?”
Jared can't stifle a small smile. “Thank you, Tahmoh. That's not necessary.”
He throws little twigs and pieces of bark into the fire, which is not nearly enough to keep the cold of the night away. These mountains are crazy, too hot in the daytime, too cold in the night.
“If you don't mind me asking, my lord, will you accept the offer?”
After a minute of silence, Jared replies, “Yes. The last campaign was disastrous, and we won't survive another year if we keep on fighting. The offer is fair, even generous, if you consider our situation.”
“The new king of Acklesia is said to be a fair man, though I'd never heard of him before the coronation.”
“I never knew there was another heir to the throne when the old king died and his son was murdered. Maybe that's a reason they kept him a secret.”
“Maybe. Anyway, you should try to get some sleep, my lord.”
“I know, I'll try. Goodnight, Tahmoh.”
“Goodnight, my lord.”
Jared watches the fire burn, golden flames and red ember, but in the end, it's green eyes he's dreaming about.
~~~~
During the last hours of his travel, Jared has too much time to think.
He tries to evoke the image of a face, but all he can see in his mind's eye are eyes (of a color he never saw before), plush lips (soft, oh so soft), and strong, capable hands. He remembers the feel of soft skin under his fingertips, tight heat around his dick, and a mind-blowing orgasm.
He knows love when he sees it; he's been in love for five years with a man that he can't remember. He's had it all, and then he screwed up, and now, he has nothing but a scar as a reminder.
Why the Acklesian negotiators and emissaries' call caused his mind to take a walk down memory lane, where there is nothing left but ruins, he doesn't know. He has a hunch, though, deep down in his guts, that his fate will be sealed in the white palace of Ackles City, softly gleaming right before him under the sun, on the White River bank.
Though the king warranted safe conduct, the low-rise buildings with white plastered facades are looming threateningly above him. The inhabitants lining the streets wear sullen looks; and Jared wishes he had ordered more than fifty members of his guard to escort him.
The streets are narrow and dusty, thus the convoy is moving slowly towards the palace. Made of marble and clay bricks, it towers above the city, gleaming and august. Each step of his horse brings Jared nearer to the palace gate, his anticipation increasing, his tension growing.
Finally, the group arrives at the gates, where a tall man with kind eyes is waiting for them, flanked by soldiers in shining armors.
“Greetings, my lord Jared,” the man says, bowing. “I'm Timothy, the Omund's son, King Jensen's majordomo. Welcome to his majesty's residence.”
“Thank you for the warm reception, majordomo, equally on behalf of my soldiers.”
“Please come inside. We will take care of your horses, and refreshments will be served as soon as you wish. His majesty will welcome you tomorrow morning, so you can rest today.”
With a thankful nod of his head, Jared guides his horse over the threshold, inside the palace courtyard.
There's no way back now; there never was.
~~~~
The royal palace is nothing like Jared's. It's made of stone, and clay, and carved wood; there are paintings and hangings on the walls, and it's cool inside and among the shades of various patios. And it's big enough to accommodate all of Jared's soldiers.
Jared's palace is made of wood and clay; it's meant to be portable, to be packed up and rebuilt elsewhere, even though it's already two generations since the court moved. It was Jared's father who called himself king, and the council and their families a court. Jared, though, knows what he is: a warlord, a minor player in the big game, and it was the need to prove himself that made him declare war to his neighbors.
After a nice bath and a light meal, he's lying on the bed in his room, trying to relax, but feeling restless. Staring at the ceiling, he mulls over his future actions, but in the end, they will depend on the king's benignity and good will.
Finally, in the afternoon, he decides to take a walk in the gardens. He is accompanied by Tahmoh, and it's good having a familiar person at his side.
The air in the gardens is heavy with the fragrances of the lush plants and flowers. There are weeds and medicinal herbs, palm trees, fruit-bearing trees, and exotic perennials. The whole layout is made more for pleasure than usefulness, and this is another feature that's different from the vegetable gardens in Jared's palace.
The two men follow a path between rose beds, just enjoying the sight, when there's laughter, joyous and clear. A merry little boy is running around the bend, just stopping short at the sight of a couple strangers. The wind tousles his brown locks, green eyes looking askance at them.
“Hello, little one,” Jared says, smiling despite the knot in his stomach at the sight of the boy, who looks eerily familiar.
“Daaaad!” the boy yells.
Footsteps herald the father's coming. Walking around a rose tree, he stops behind his son, his hand reassuring on the boy's shoulder. When the man looks up, Jared can see that his eyes are green - that these are the eyes from his dreams. That this is the man he dreamt about.
~~~~
Jared is stunned. The only thought left in his mind is it can't be real.
Then the man speaks, and it's the deep, husky voice that haunts his dreams.
“Greetings, Lord Jared, welcome to Ackles City and the palace.”
Tahmoh beside him bows, nudging Jared in his rips and into alertness.
“Oh... you... I'm... hello.” He tries for a smile, but it's brittle like a dry leaf.
An awkward silence arises, broken by the stranger, who isn't a stranger, among the rose trees. “This is Julian,” he says. “He's my son.”
Apparently, he assumes that Jared knows him, which isn't the case. That is, Jared knows that he should know him since he must have met him before. The only thing he knows for sure, though, is the fact that he caressed the man's pale body, counting the freckles all over. He still can feel the phantom touch tingling on his fingertips.
But how do you ask a person's name you've been intimate with, because you don't remember?
Jared's getting a headache.
“I'm Jared, Lord of High Padaleck. But you already know that. This is Tahmoh, my second-in-command, head of the guard.” (Tahmoh bows again.) “And... excuse my bold question, but... who are you?”
Jared can see the light in the man's eyes waver, the small smile on his lips shatter to thousand tiny pieces. When he answers, his voice is sad.
“I'm Jensen, King of Acklesia, your host.”
Engaged with unraveling a fleeting thought, Jared reacts too slowly to the flash of metal he notices from the corner of his eye, and it's only after there's blood on Jensen's arm that he manages to drag Tahmoh back. With his arm pressing on Tahmoh's throat, the other one clutching the wrist holding the dagger, Jared growls, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“That's the king and the heir,” Tahmoh wheezes due to lack of air. “They need to die.”
“Why? Why'd you want them dead?”
“Then you could mount the throne. You'd be king, and our people would rise to unimaginable greatness.”
“But we're warriors, not assassins!”
Tahmoh's reply is an elbow in Jared's ribs. He's thrown off balance for a heartbeat, trying to grab Tahmoh's legs, but seizing a foot. The soldier topples over, spinning around on his back, and, with a furious roar, kicking at Jared's head.
Jared can hear the crack his head makes on the hard soil, pain spreading from the back of his head and his jaw where Tahmoh kicked him. But soon, he is overpowered by darkness, an anguished cry the last thing he takes in.
~~~~
He wonders why the past is called the past when it's far from over, still lingering in his bones and his mind. He remembers how he met Jensen, and it was like happening upon water in the desert.
The line of his neck was the first thing he saw, then a deep voice was caressing his skin.
Jensen was among a group of the Collins clan's soldiers Jared's army captured during one of the first skirmishes, but since he didn't want to make war on the Collins clan, they were released soon after. Jensen, though, didn't return home with them, and now Jared knows why - Jensen never was one of Collins' soldiers.
He stayed, strolling around the camp, always followed by Jared like a lovesick puppy, always watched closely, not because he was a potential threat, but because he was gorgeous.
Jared remembers the reverence he felt in the first days of knowing Jensen, before he started wooing him. Jensen was always polite and friendly, though reserved, but no-one was ever able to resist Jared's amiable persistence; and soon, Jensen yielded. The first kiss was tender and burning, and fifteen kisses (most of them considerably more heated) later, Jared decided to let everybody know.
Jensen was kind of off balance that day, and Jared, enamored fool that he was, thought it a wonderful gesture to give him a necklace he made from bones and leather. Jensen took it with a gleam in his eyes, sparkling green, putting it on.
And then Jared rose among his knights sitting in the mess tent just like any other evening, raising his cup of wine, saying, “My friends, the gods are smiling upon us; we've been victorious and carried spoils home in heaps, and now they've sent me something more precious than cattle and gold. This is Jensen; he's mine now, and don't you dare touch him, because he is under my protection!”
He raised his cup even higher, hollering, “To Jensen!”, tossing his wine down. His knights did the same, laughing, catcalling, and passing lewd comments. Looking down into Jensen's eyes, into his eyes, he saw surprise, affection, and something like hurt swirling in green depths. Then a smile lit up his face, and Jared forgot about anything else.
Later in the night, they were alone in Jared's tent, lying naked on soft furs and blankets, and kissing. Jensen's skin was smooth and flushed where Jared's kisses trailed over it; his dick was full and weeping, matching Jared's.
Jared had a lover before Jensen, just a fling, so he knew what to do, but he still felt like a virgin, arousal and lust coursing through his veins. He knew how to use oil and drew pleasure from using it abundantly, opening Jensen up with fingers and tongue, seeing him writhe, hearing him moan.
When he nudged his dick inside, he felt like coming home.
Jensen's eyes were wide, flecked with a mixture of greens, like a forest in summer. He was flushed all over, his adorable freckles standing out, and he panted low, sweet sounds, encouraging Jared to thrust harder and deeper.
Jared never came harder in his life; he almost blacked out.
Now that his brain can piece the parts together, he knows that knocking him unconscious was the only way that Jensen could leave unhindered that night. But he knows, too, how hurt he felt when he woke up to Jensen tip-toeing towards the exit.
“What are you doing?” he said, rubbing his eyes.
Jensen turned, sighing, his shoulders sagging. “Jared,” he replied, desperation in his voice. “I need to go.”
Suddenly, Jared was wide awake. With just a few strides, he crossed the distance, grabbing Jensen's arm. “What? Where? Why do you need to go?”
“Let go. Let go of me.” Jensen's voice was sad, but determined.
“Never! I just found you-”
That was the moment Jensen hit him hard, rendering his world black and featureless for five years.
~~~~
When Jared opens his eyes, his head hurts, but he feels as if the fog his mind had been wrapped in is gone. Turning his head, he sees Jensen sitting beside his bed, holding his hand between both of his.
“Tahmoh?”
Startled, Jensen looks up. “He's dead,” he replies. “I had to kill him in order to protect my son.”
“I'm sorry,” Jared sighs. “I didn't know he planned to assassinate the both of you. I hope we still can have peace talks.”
“I never wanted to negotiate about peace.” Jensen confesses. “I wanted to bribe or threaten you, or would have surrendered unconditionally. I... just want to have you in my life again.”
After a break, Jared says, “I know you.”
“No, you don't, it's been five years, and you never knew me.”
“That's not what I mean. I know who you are. For five years, I didn't know the man I dreamt about almost every night.”
“What-? Why-?” Jensen looks confused, and Jared just wants to skip over all the talking and go right to the kissing and making up. But there's still that feeling of betrayal lingering in his guts.
“When you left that night... when you hit me with... something... I lost any memory of you. The only thing you left behind was a scar - here.”
Jensen's fingers are burning the skin around the small scar on Jared's chin. He sighs. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you... I didn't want to leave you.”
“Yet you did. Was it because of that woman, Julian's mother?”
Jensen huffs, scandalized. “Of course not! Why would you think... oh.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he looks at Jared with soft, sad eyes. “You didn't get my messages, did you? You never knew?”
“Knew what?”
“When we met, I was the untitled son of King Ackles, never meant to mount the throne, and your enemy's son. First, I tried to pry about, but then... I couldn't resist you.” He leans closer, taking Jared's hand again. “I fell in love with you. You need to believe me that I loved you. I still do.”
“So why did you leave?”
“I overheard plans to overthrow you - some of your men thought you were getting weak; they wanted to kill you because of me. So I had to leave you. But I killed the men responsible first so I knew you were safe.”
That's another piece of the puzzle he didn't know was missing.
When Jared woke up back then, Tahmoh told him a couple of his officers killed each other in a duel. That explanation troubled him in a way he couldn't interpret, but it was the story everyone told him, thus he believed it in the end. Jensen and his possible involvement didn't get a mention at all.
“I didn't know,” Jared says. His headache is getting worse, making thinking more difficult with each passing minute. “No one told me about you; all I had left of you were vague images and strange dreams I couldn't place.”
Jensen sighs. “All the time, I thought you didn't want to deal with me, that you were disgusted with me...”
“Why would I be disgusted with you?”
“Back when we met, I was not only untitled, but also shunned because, well, Julian- there's no mother. He's our son. He's your son.”
The headache is killing Jared. There's definitely too much thinking involved, that he can't handle right now. “I... don't understand.”
Jensen's voice is getting small, cautious, when he replies. “The Acklesian royal caste was composed of men and women able to bear children. Every male royal was able to do so; it was a blessing of the gods, but that was in my forefathers' days. Now, it's a rare event, and the man is shunned because he is considered weak.”
“I... still don't understand.”
“Jared, Julian is your son, yours and mine.” Jensen explains earnestly; “I got pregnant that night we... made love. I returned home since I didn't know where to go. My family hid me until I was the only one left in the line of succession. And now I want you back in my life. I want us to be a family and rule our realms together.”
Jared's too tired to understand much, but there are two things he got. “You still love me? And I have a son?”
Jensen smiles, lighting up the room. “Yes, and yes.”
“Can we have more children?”
“Yes, but not right now.” Jensen grins. “Sleep now, my heart.”
A soft hand is caressing Jared's cheek, and he can't keep his eyes open. Sleep sounds good. Sighing contentedly, he burrows deeper into the pillows and blankets surrounding him. Then Jensen's warm body is beside him, his strong arms engulfing him, which is how it should be - not a dream any longer, but a wonderful reality.
~fin~