Yes, I'm actually posting a story...

[kitipurr]

Title: Your Highness

Author: Kitipurr

Pairing/Characters: Jared/Jensen

Warnings: Abuse of fairy tale like settings.

Summary: Jared was the younger prince until his brother died; now he's heir to the throne. Jensen is a lord who hasn't been to court in years. There's a party.



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Your Highness

“Your Highness.”

Jared turned with a sigh from the balcony to see Lord Morgan entering the room. The man had been first his tutor, then his companion and now his aid and advisor, and it was his advice that Jared counted on more than anything in the world. Of course, right now, he was hoping that Morgan had advice on how to escape via some secret back door to the castle.

“JD, tell me there’s a way out of this?”

Jeffrey Dean Morgan, High Lord of Westwood, knew more than anyone what the young prince was feeling right now. For the past eighteen years Prince Jared Tristan William Angus (yes, Angus) had been almost completely overlooked by everyone, from his parents to the subjects of the realm, in favor of his older brother, Crown Prince Jeffrey Michael Phillip Ignatius (yes, Ignatius - the royal family didn’t mess around with ancestral names, damn it). The Crown Prince had been eight years older, had been from childhood a strapping, hearty youth with devastating good looks, charm, and charisma. Prince Jared, in contrast, had been scrawny, slender, and small until he had reached fifteen, and then he had been scrawny, slender and awkwardly tall; the younger prince had had all the same benefits of education and breeding, but almost no attention had been paid to him beyond ensuring he would make a good husband for some foreign princess some day in a good political match. Even his sister, the Princess Royal Megan Rebecca Isabella Emannuella (oh, don’t give me that look), just a year younger, had received more attention, as a beautiful and self-assured child.

Then, two months ago, the Crown Prince had been killed in a riding accident. The kingdom had been devastated. The Queen had taken to her bed from the shock, only recently beginning to make public appearances again, and then the common thought was that she wasn’t expected to be long in following her beloved son to the grave out of grief. The King, quite a bit older than his wife, also seemed considerably worn by the loss of his expected heir, suddenly much older than his seventy or so years.

And all eyes had turned to the new future king.

Prince Jared was in no way prepared for the attention. The sudden currying of favor from courtiers who had previously completely ignored him, the sudden flirtations from available young ladies and their ambitious parents, the sudden pressures from various members of the court trying to gain power over their new future king. JD felt sympathy for the young man as the boy tried to navigate the shark-infested waters of royal politics and society from which he had for so longer been excused. Lord Morgan had done his best to continue to look out for the boy with whom he had been entrusted since his birth.

Morgan had never been an important courtier, which was why he was put in charge of Prince Jared’s education and care. Morgan’s father had been just high enough in the politic structure that the royals had wanted to bestow on him a token of favor, but not important enough that they had wanted to grant him any real power. Putting the man’s son, JD, in charge of the second prince had been the perfect solution, a position of token respect without any real power. JD had recognized it for what it was, and at first had been insulted. His father, however, had been a wise man, and pointed out that a prince was a prince, no matter how other people viewed him, and if he did his best to raise the boy properly, one day the boy might be in a position to reward him for the effort. Of course, JD had never imagined these circumstances arising, but he was now very glad that he had taken his father’s advice to heart, even if at the time it had been more because of a feeling of duty to the child rather than any belief that one day he would benefit.

“I’m sorry, Jared,” Morgan said quietly as he moved to stand next to his prince. Before the Crown Prince’s death, Morgan’s habit of calling Jared by his given name had been simply an endearment between them, and something no one else would have cared much about, had they known - Morgan had wisely ensured that it was a private habit and not a public one, for the boy’s sake. Now, it was a means of comforting his future King, letting him know that at least one person in his life was still the same as before. “Your mother has insisted on this, and she is still the wife of the reigning king.”

“I just…” Jared ran a hand through his hair, and Morgan placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“You can do this,” he murmured kindly. “It’s just a ball - it’s food, and dancing. You’ll dance with your sister first, then a few of the ladies. You need to get you to the public events, you know.”

“It’s everyone trying to get their claws in me that I can’t stand,” Jared sighed. “They’re all vipers and rats. It’s like they don’t remember that I can remember how they treated me three months ago. That I wasn’t good enough to wipe off their shoes until Jeff died.”

“What matters is that you do remember,” JD smiled. “You know who you can trust and who you can’t. Everyone else, you play like their pieces on the chess board.”

Jared nodded. He was good at chess; gifted, in fact. JD had noted when the prince was young how good Jared was at strategy and started the boy at games such as chess and poker as soon as possible. It was the best way to learn how to deal with courtiers, Morgan had told him in an amused tone. Jared had learned from the best, too - the King’s top scientists, who were not important enough to be granted time with the heir of a king who enjoyed flattery too much and was not as wise as his courtiers liked to make him think he was. Jared had also played with some of the country’s top military minds - not the generals who earned their places because they were second sons of the most influential nobility, but the captains and lieutenants who actually ran the military and understood strategy both in battle and in peaceful defense.

Jared had learned from other ‘nobodies’ as well. His instructor in economics and business weren’t the King’s advisors, but commoners who actually made their living through trade and commerce; Morgan had found honorable men who truly understood how the country worked and how the markets, both local and international, were affected by the policies of the crown. Jared’s father wasn’t a bad king, and the country wasn’t exactly in dire straits, but Morgan’s father had always believed that they could be much more prosperous if only the court weren’t so overrun with ‘self-involved pantywaists’ as he called them. Morgan, after years of watching from behind curtains as those with the right amount of money and the right turn of flattering phrase convinced the King of the right decision, rather than those with the good of the country in mind. Which was why he had taught Jared to think for himself, to listen to those who didn’t always use a silvery tongue to deliver their opinions, and to always hear more than one side to an argument before reaching a conclusion.

Morgan had hope for his country now, if only Prince Jared could resist the pressures around him.

“You’re good with people, Jared,” he said quietly, looking out at the sun setting over the city beyond the prince’s balcony. “You’re smarter than most people think, which gives you the advantage over them. Let them underestimate you, but remember never to underestimate them.”

“She wants me to find a bride, you know,” Jared said softly. “She probably has one already picked out. Some perfect little…” Jared made a face, refusing to be rude about even an unknown lady. “Someone who’ll know how to get me to do whatever she wants.”

“Your mother underestimates you more than anyone else,” Morgan smiled. “And remember, for all she is your mother, and she is the Queen, you are the future of our country now. That is more important than anything else.”

“Even my happiness?” Jared asked, turning to his friend. JD shook his head fondly, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“You could never be happy doing something that wasn’t for the good of the country, my prince. What makes you happy will make the country happy.”

“You have so much faith in me,” Jared sighed, looking out his window again.

Morgan smiled. “I know you better than you know yourself, Highness.”

~~

Jensen watched as his sister fussed in the mirror one last time. If his mother hadn’t insisted that he accompany MacKenzie to the palace, he wouldn’t even be here right now. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to court - possible before he had left for school when he was ten. He had hated it then, had hated everything Joshua had ever told him about being at court, and he had no interest in going now. But their mother was too ill to go, Joshua was still in France on business, and someone from the family had to accompany Mac or it would be inappropriate for her to go, and THAT wouldn’t do. Crown Prince Jeffrey may have been too old for his sister to marry, but Prince Jared - sorry, Crown Prince Jared now - was a perfect age to consider his sister. Jensen tried to picture his sister as a Princess and refrained from grimacing, just in case she caught him and asked what he was thinking. His sister would be perfect at court, actually - vain, and completely focused on frivolity. Well, at least it would position the family for financial gain, and Jensen couldn’t argue with that; the more money they had, the farther from court he could stay. ‘Business’ and all. That’s how Josh got out of it every time.

“What do you think, the diamonds?” Mac was crooning to her reflection. “He is the prince, after all.”

“The rubies,” Jensen said, idly glancing at his nails. “Every girl there will be wearing diamonds. The rubies will make the red in your hair stand out, and set you apart. You’re wearing the gold and ivory dress, right? The rubies will set off the gold well.”

Mac glanced at her brother in surprise. “What?” he asked, bored. “It’s not like I want you to look bad. Just because I don’t want to be going to this farce doesn’t mean I’m deliberately out for you to fail.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not a complete boor,” Mac smiled. She reached for the necklace he had suggested, along with the matching drop earrings and a small ring for her pinkie. “I’ll never understand why you don’t like court.”

“I don’t like self-centered people who are more interested in how they look than what’s good for the people,” Jensen retorted sourly. “And that’s what court is, a collections of the biggest boobs on the planet.”

“They’re not all bad,” Mac sighed. “I know you think so, but that’s because you haven’t been in years.”

“I’ve heard enough from Josh, thanks.”

“Josh is bad with people. I’ll agree, most of them are completely horrible, but not all. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jensen sighed and straightened his waistcoat. He could make out his own reflection in the glass behind Mac, and was satisfied with his appearance. He may have to suffer the boors of his class, but at least he would look good doing it.

“Come on, we’re going to be late as it is.”

“The fashionable are always late, brother,” Mac laughed. “Besides, you just don’t want to miss out on the food.”

“Mac, it’s the palace,” Jensen laughed. “There will be enough food this one night to feed all the poor of the country for a month. I’m hardly worried.”

Mac turned and held out her arms, her eyebrow cocked. Jensen knew what she was asking. “Stunning, sister. If the prince doesn’t fall in love on the spot, he’s as much a fool as his brother was.”

Mac hit him on the arm with the fan she had selected. “Remember you can’t insult the late prince at court please? He is still being mourned, you know.”

“Only by those who weren’t smart enough to recognize he was a moron,” Jensen snorted as he offered his arm. “The country is blessed to be rid of him. I guarantee we would have been at war with all our neighbors before his coronation anthem had ceased to echo in the cathedral.”

“Just remember to be nice?” MacKenzie sighed. “If you insult the important and influential people, I haven’t got a chance.”

“Yes, my dear, I shall be on my best behavior.”

Jensen escorted his sister down the stairs to their waiting carriage. As he helped her pack her very ample skirts into the coach, he prayed to god he would survive the evening.

~~

Jared stood on the landing above the ballroom, watching the dancing. He would be expected to make a grand entrance behind his parents once the majority of the guests had arrived, but that wouldn’t be for at least an hour yet. For now, he was taking stock of the people he knew, those he didn’t, and those he wanted to avoid at all costs. Beside him stood the one person, beside Lord Morgan, whom he knew he could trust with his very life.

“That’s Lady Sophia,” Chad was whispering, pointing to a young lady in burgundy. “Nice enough. Father is…”

“Lord Bush, one of the King’s advisors,” Jared nodded.

“Very good,” Chad grinned. Lord Chadwick Michael Murray was the youngest of six sons of a minor northern Baron, and had been hand-selected by Morgan at the age of five to be Prince Jared’s companion. Lord Murray had been happy to have one less son to have to find a place for, since even as the companion of a younger, unimportant prince it meant Chad would likely have some position in the palace for the rest of his life. Morgan had often remarked his regret at having selected a boy so completely incapable of reverence, but Jared suspected it was only half-hearted regret. Chad’s ability to ignore Jared’s significantly higher status had been one of the few things in Jared’s life that made him feel happy.

Chad had always been a much more outgoing boy than Jared, and his quick intelligence and ability to charm people had worked to Jared’s advantage in many ways during their youth. Chad knew just about everyone, at least as an acquaintance, and he was well-liked, even if he was knows as a bit of a trouble-maker at times. Now, he was an exceptional ally to the young prince as they looked out over the crowd.

“She’d be a good dance partner,” Chad said. “Her father’s ambitious, but she’s pretty headstrong and not likely to be willing to be used just for his gain. Plus,” he grinned, “I think she likes me, which means she’s not going to try to get into your breeches just for a crown.”

“Chad, you think every girl likes you,” Morgan said, appearing from the left. “And you’re only right about half the time.” He held out a plate of sandwiches to the prince. “Your Highness, I thought you might like snack.”

“What about me?” Chad asked indignantly, reaching for a sandwich. Morgan swatted his hand away as Jared chuckled.

“You, young man, can go get your own,” Morgan growled. “Nothing is stopping you from going to the hall on your own. His Highness must stay here until he is announced.”

“And I have to stay and keep him company,” Chad replied firmly, managing to snag one sandwich. “It’s hard work, educating him on what girls are safe to dance with.”

“I’d say any girl who won’t dance with you is a good start,” Morgan grumbled.

“Who do you think, my lord?” Jared asked around a bite of roast beef and cheese.

Morgan turned and looked out on the crowd, brow furrowing. “Lady McCoy is considered pleasant enough,” he said thoughtfully. “Though, she barely comes up to your waist, which could be awkward.” Chad guffawed through a mouthful of turkey, which Morgan pointedly ignored. “Lady Tall is a lovely girl, though her mother is very ambitious and the young lady may be more than willing to follow her advice. Could make her difficult to deal with.”

“Whaboutlayhris?”

“Lord Murray, do swallow before speaking.”

Chad gulped. “What about Lady Harris? She’s a feisty beauty.” Jared looked at where his friend was pointing, to a lovely redhead laughing with Lord Welling’s eldest son.

“I’ve heard she has claws,” Morgan smiled sourly.

“What about her?” Jared asked, indicating a lovely brunette in blue dancing with the youngest Rosembaum boy. “She’s pretty.”

“Lady Cortese,” Chad shuddered. “Don’t go there, my friend. She’d eat you for lunch. Major bi… um. Unpleasant.”

“Indeed,” Morgan coughed lightly. It appeared he was trying not to laugh.

“So, I’m safe with Lady McCoy, Lady Bush…” Jared sighed. “My mother will make me dance with more than three girls before I can escape.”

“Your mother will make you dance with at least a dozen, Your Highness,” Morgan said regretfully. “The ball is in your honor, after all.”

Jared snorted ungentlemanly. “My honor,” he said. “The ball is nothing more than an excuse for the court to curry favor while she tries to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“But it’s a chance for you to learn who’s more interested in your mother’s favor than your own,” Chad shrugged. “Seriously, think of this as reconnaissance. If people want to get to know you, they’ll be paying you court instead of your mother.”

“My mother is the Queen,” Jared said softly.

“And you are the future King,” Chad grinned. “Your mother has power only as long as your father is alive, and sorry, but he’s not long for this world, my friend. You have a long reign ahead of you. Anyone with a brain will be seeking your favor over hers.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Jared sighed.

“Lord Murray does have a point,” Morgan said, clearly reluctant to agree with Jared’s friend. “This is, at least, a test of a person’s political savvy.”

“I’d rather have people be honest with me,” Jared groaned.

“Alas, my prince, I don’t think you’ll get much of that,” Chad said sympathetically. “It’s court. No one is honest here.”

Morgan didn’t say anything, but in his eyes Jared thought he saw agreement.

~~

“Oh, isn’t everything lovely!” MacKenzie sighed as they entered the main ballroom. Jensen knew she had been to court many times, but even he had to admit, the palace seems particularly opulent tonight. The candlelight glittered off the many mirrors that had been placed to create an impression that the rooms were even larger than they already were, and to reflect the glittering of crystal chandeliers and glass vases filled with the most beautiful flowers to be found. Add to that the crush of men and women in their finest silks and satins, and the thousands of sparkling jewels decorating necks, ears, wrists, hairdos, and waistcoats, and there was no end to the display of wealth and beauty.

“My lord!” Jensen was not entirely surprised to hear a voice he recognized, though he wouldn’t have imagined it calling for him. He turned to receive a kiss on the cheek from his favorite cousin.

“My lady Harris,” he said warmly. He had always liked Danneel, even if she was a tad headstrong and conniving for his taste. Still, she was smarter than most people he knew, and was exceptionally good to the people who depended on her estate for their livelihood, even if she did her best to keep that a secret from the rest of the aristocracy. Danneel embraced MacKenzie warmly.

“My dear, you are magnificent this evening! You’ll certainly catch the prince’s eye in that gorgeous gown!”

“Thank you, cousin,” Mac said cheerfully. Danneel had always been her idol, which perhaps was one of the reasons Jensen’s sister hadn’t turned out to be the spoiled brat she might have been. “Only my brother’s advice saved me from being an utter wall flower.”

“I doubt you could ever be such a thing,” Danneel laughed gaily. “Though, Jensen’s advice on attire is sought by every wise woman in the county.”

“I simply have better taste than most,” Jensen said airily, knowing his cousin would take it in the jest intended. “And how fair you this evening, my lady? Have you already captured the prince’s heart, or are you giving the other ladies a chance before you devastate him completely?”

“He hasn’t even appeared yet!” Danneel sighed dramatically. “All this beauty, wasted on the rabble of our tier.”

“Not appeared yet?” MacKenzie asked, surprised. “Isn’t this ball for him?”

“The prince can’t appear until Their Majesties do,” Danneel said. “Rumor has it, the Queen is still attempting to repair the damage of her long mourning period to her complexion.”

“We could be here all night,” Jensen sighed. Danneel elbowed him playfully.

“Still not playing good courtier, I see,” she giggled.

“Never, not if I can help it,” he smiled.

“Ladies, good evening!” The group looked up to see Lord Tom Welling and Lord Michael Rosenbaum approaching. Tom and Michael were two of the few members of his own class that Jensen could stomach; Michael was irrepressibly mischievous and completely without that self-righteous air most of their peers put on, while Tom had always been reserved but dignified, and was known for his kindness - something most of their peers ridiculed behind his back. He had met both men at school, and though Tom was expected to take over his father’s Dukedom someday and had been carefully groomed for the responsibility of his family’s considerable fortunes and estates, Michael had the freedom of being the youngest of several sons and thus ‘utterly disposable’ as he put it. Lord Rosenbaum couldn’t care less what Michael got up to, so long as he stayed out of prison and didn’t rack up too much debt in the meanwhile.

“Lady Harris, you look stunning, as always,” Michael said impertinently, though Danneel simply giggled in appreciation.

“My lord, you are, as always, completely inappropriate,” she said, hiding her smile behind her fan.

“If I was appropriate, you’d think me ill and worry,” Michael laughed brightly.

“Lady Ackles, you are particularly fetching this evening,” Tom said quietly, bowing over MacKenzie’s hand gracefully. “My Lord, you must be particularly proud to have such a splendid jewel on your arm tonight.”

Jensen smiled and bowed, accepting Tom’s compliment on his sister’s behalf. He didn’t miss the pleased flush on Mac’s cheek. “Thank you, Welling, she is indeed a credit to the House of Ackles, is she not? I believe I should have brought a stick to fend off the suitors!” Mac fanned herself dramatically, but Jensen knew she was thrilled with the attention.

“Indeed, I feel compelled to offer my protection on your behalf, sir,” Tom smiled, his eyes never leaving MacKenzie’s blush. “Perhaps if I should have the pleasure of the first dance? That would, of course, indicate that all others should beware my wrath should they offend milady’s good humor.”

“If my brother would allow,” Mac said, curtseying deeply. “It would be an honor, sir.”

“I wouldn’t dream to object, my dear friend, though I warn you, she is known to endanger a toe or two,” Jensen said conspiratorially, and Tom chuckled, offering his arm to MacKenzie.

“I’m a brave soul,” he said, smiling. “And such a risk is worthy of being seen with so great a beauty.” He led her off to the dance floor where a waltz was starting.

“Egad man, you realize he’s completely enamored,” Rosenbaum murmured. Jensen glanced at Michael, surprised.

“You’re dreaming, man,” he said easily, reaching for a glass from the tray of a passing servant. Snagging a trio, he handed one to Danneel and to Rosenbaum. “She’s a child to him.”

“He hasn’t seen her as a child for years now,” Danneel chuckled, sipping the champagne. “This is what you miss by avoiding court, cousin. Your sister may very well be the next Duchess of Welling, if he ever gets the courage up to ask for her hand.”

“You’re mad!” Jensen scoffed. He looked to where the pair was dancing - his little sister was a mere infant compared to his friend. “She has her sights set on the prince, anyway.”

Danneel shook her head and turned to Michael. “Lord Rosenbaum, do ask me to dance so that we may get away from the fog surrounding my cousin’s head.”

“Indeed, my lady, though I warn you, I have been known to step on a toe or two myself.”

“I’m a brave soul, My Lord. Plus, I have heels with which to retaliate.”

“Ouch!” Michael laughed as he led Danneel off into the crowd.

Jensen frowned into his glass - could Tom really want to marry his sister? His baby sister? She was an infant! What would a grown man like Welling see in her? Rosenbaum and Danneel were talking nonsense, certainly.

He watched MacKenzie laugh at something Tom said as he spun her around, and his brown furrowed.

He needed something stronger than champagne.

~~

Chad had left him to seek out a dance or two, and Morgan had been called for to deal with god-only-knew what, leaving Jared to his own devices. Which meant after about twenty minutes, he decided to sneak down to the dining hall. Morgan had supplied him with a full plate of sandwiches, but Jared’s sweet tooth inevitably won out over the desire to avoid people or maintain protocol… and there were éclairs.

There were, in fact, a lot of desserts. Jared had long ago made friends with Samantha, the palace pastry chef - he may have been a scrawny slip of a lad in his youth, but one of the reasons he had blossomed into the towering hulk of muscle he was now was because of the intense physical regime Morgan had implemented to counter the young boy’s insatiable appetite for sweets. Sam was the one woman in the whole palace whom Jared felt comfortable with, seeing her as part older sister, part mother figure in a way his own mother was not. She listened to him, consoled him, and chided him when necessary without deference to his royal position. She had even allowed him to help her do such menial tasks as kneading bread while he talked, something he suspected Morgan had approved of as a way of learning about what it meant to be less than a prince.

So, as this ball was, more or less, in Jared’s honor, he knew Sam would have ensured there were all sorts of goodies to his liking, and he wasn’t disappointed. Slipping into the banquet hall through the back stairs, he found a table loaded with cakes, tarts, creams, chocolates and candies galore. Sighing happily, he had stuffed three tiny éclairs into his mouth before he had even grabbed a plate.

That was when he heard chuckling. He turned, sheepishly, to see a man - a very handsome man - leaning against the wall enjoying a pint of ale.

“Take it you were a little hungry?”

Jared blushed, chewing carefully before swallowing. It wouldn’t do to choke in front of a guest. “Sorry… just…” He waved a hand absently, unable to come up with a decent excuse for his behavior.

The man grinned, lifting his glass. “Fear not, your secret is safe with me. I’ve been ravenous a time or two in my life. Though,” he said, gesturing toward the table laden with less sugary fare, “I prefer something a little more sustaining.”

Jared smiled. “I’ve already had about a dozen sandwiches, and I was just really craving something sweet.” He blushed slightly. “I suppose I needn’t have been such a pig, though.”

“Nonsense, no one was looking,” the man smiled. “I was busy with my beer, I saw nothing!”

Jared grinned. “Thanks, it would be unseemly to be viewed as a glutton.”

The man glanced around the room at the dozen or more tables piled with every delicacy the known world could provide. “My dear sir, I can’t imagine anyone NOT being viewed as a glutton tonight,” he mused. “Our dear prince is celebrated with the very fat of the land, and then some. If you only dined on broth and bread from this table, you still eat better than half the citizens of the kingdom.”

Jared frowned. “You disapprove of the fare?”

The man shook his head, a shadow passing across his emerald eyes. “I think it extravagant even for the palace,” he said. “Mind me not, though - I am not known for my courtly ways. Most think me a prude and beneath knowing.”

Jared smiled shyly. “Most have thought me unworthy of their time and attention. We are well matched for the back rooms.”

The man smiled, and Jared felt his heart melt a little; he was a beautiful fellow, indeed. “Well then, here’s to being outcasts at court!” he declared and took a long draught on his ale.

“You enjoy being outcast?” Jared asked, moving to add some cheese and fruit to his plate. The man shrugged, selecting a piece of meat and dipping it in the sauce. Jared felt his mouth go dry as a bit of sauce clung to the man’s pink lip, and he quickly ate some cheese to try to hide the heat he felt on his cheeks.

“I am indifferent, I suppose,” the man said easily. “I have never had a taste for politics and game playing among the peerage. Most think me odd for it, but I prefer trying to do something useful with my time instead of trying to acquire more fortune through laying flattery on a weak mind.”

“You think the king weak minded?” Jared asked. He had never heard anyone speak this way before, not even Morgan or Chad had ever been so blunt. He was amazed at this man’s words, and yet he found himself not amazed by them, realizing he had sometimes thought the same thing.

“I think he could have been a great king,” the man sighed. “I think he could have done great things for our people, but instead he spent his life granting favors to those who gave him the nicest compliment.” He glanced up. “I apologize if you take offense, sir; I know my views are not shared by many. I simply believe we are placed to positions of power by God in order to bring comfort to those less fortunate. Few nobles see my point of view.”

“Indeed,” Jared nodded. “Most seem to think that telling pretty lies for the benefit of their own pocketbooks is the best way to spend their time.”

“Which is why I rarely visit court.”

“What brings you here this evening?” Jared asked, carefully. The man scoffed.

“What brings everyone here this evening?” he chuckled. “To see and be seen, to acquaint with the future king and whatever power-hungry lady captures his heart. Whether one agrees with the custom or not, one should be aware who has the power to make life difficult.”

Jared noted the way the man spoke of ‘the prince’ - clearly, he had no idea that he was that person, and for some reason the thought made Jared feel oddly relieved. There was something so freeing in knowing this man had no idea who he was, and was speaking to him as though he were anyone else. “You think the prince will make life difficult?”

“I think, unless he is very different from his father and his brother before him, that he will be ruled over by the woman cunning enough to snag him into her bed,” the man said simply. “I think, unless we are very lucky and he marries one of the few women of true virtue and sense among the aristocracy, that he will be led by the nose by his new queen, and by the courtiers clever enough to bribe her or flatter her into siding with their own selfish causes.”

“You seem very sure,” Jared frowned. “What if he is his own man?”

The man’s eyes softened. “We can only hope, I suppose. But he is the son of this queen - I fear we haven’t much cause for hope.”

“You dislike Her Majesty very much,” Jared said softly. The man had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“You may think me treasonous, I suppose,” he replied. “I apologize for my arrogance, but I do think, had she remembered her family origins, perhaps she could have done more for our people than she has for the state of fashion.”

“Her origins?” Jared asked.

“Ah, yes, the well-kept secret,” the man chuckled ruefully. “Most have forgotten now, I suppose - it has been quite nearly twenty five years, and she has done all she could to destroy those who might remember. Her grandfather was a mere coal-worker from the southlands; her father, a very successful businessman who managed to land himself an earldom at a young age because he saved the life of the king’s father’s youngest brother in war. She was the youngest daughter of that earl, a child of his old age, so by the time she was presented at court, he was quite respected and many had forgotten the family’s meager beginnings.”

“How is it you know it?” Jared asked. He had never heard such a thing told about his mother, and he marveled at it. His mother had always been so sour toward the poor, as if she resented them for their situation.

“Her grandfather worked on my great-grandfather’s estate,” the man replied. “Her grandmother was a maid in our family’s dairy. My grandfather’s valet was her grandmother’s brother. He often told my brother and me stories of her father’s exceptional business mind as a lesson on how to deal honestly with people. He was so disappointed that she seemed to forget the people she came from, when she could have been helping them instead.”

“I imagine she was ashamed of so simple a background,” Jared mused. The man shook his head.

“To come from hard-working and honest folk is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said firmly. “She should rather be ashamed to have become so frivolous and wasteful as she has. Her father, had he lived to see it, would be ashamed of her, I think.”

Jared stayed silent, nibbling on a peach, and for a moment quiet descended on the room. The man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I am sorry, I have, I think, had too much drink.”

“Something troubles you?” Jared asked.

“Yes… no… I suppose I should not be. I have learned my sister is no longer a child. It is something I must accept, and I should be glad for her preference in a husband - a well-bred and upstanding fellow rather than seeking to land a prince merely for the crown - but it is hard. She will always be a little girl in pigtails, playing with dolls.” The man raised his glass with a smirk. “Thus, I drink.”

Jared chuckled. “I have a sister too, though I have never really thought of her growing up and finding a husband. I suppose I shall reach that day too, very soon, and shall also seek out the ale to cope with it.”

The man laughed. “To sisters growing up against our will!” He drained his glass, and winked. “I suppose I should get back, as I am supposed to be her escort to protect her honor. Though, if truth be told, I am more certain of her honor with Welling than I am my own with you!”

Jared flushed as the man stepped closer. He could smell the ale on the man’s breath, sweet with apple and barley as the man clapped his shoulder, leaning in with a slightly drunken conspiratorial whisper. “Enjoy your sweets, my friend,” he said in a low husk. “A fellow as handsome as you can afford to indulge himself from time to time.”

Jared shivered as the man ran a hand down his arm.

And then he was alone.

~~

Jensen found himself back in the ball room. What had he been thinking, speaking that way to a complete stranger? It had been the ale, he told himself solidly; certainly it had nothing to do with the man’s gorgeous hazel eyes, that thick mop of chocolate hair that he had fought to keep himself from running his fingers through. Man; hah, barely more than a boy, he thought ruefully. That had been what had kept him from impulsively plundering that beautiful mouth when a bit of frosting had clung to the upper lip.

Jensen had rarely allowed himself a romantic entanglement. A flirtation at best, something where he was certain his partner was no more serious than he, where both parties were keenly aware it was all in fun and nothing more. Perhaps that was his trouble tonight - seeing McKenzie so enamored of a beau when his last entanglement had been far too long ago; he vaguely recalled a dalliance with the son of the Marquis of Kane, a brief back-hall tryst at a party at Lord Carlson’s northern estates in celebration of his son’s engagement. His blood quickened at the memory of hard flesh pressed to flesh, warm hands and eager tongues, easy and uncomplicated in the dark corner of an alcove… And in his mind, he suddenly began picturing a taller partner in a corner fumble, dimples and moles decorating a darker complexion, that shy uncertain smile creeping out from waves of long dark brown hair…

God, he had to get out of here.

“Ackles, where have you been, man?” He stopped sharp when Lord Rosenbaum caught his arm, clapping him about the shoulders. “You’re missing all the fun!” He nodded toward where McKenzie was still dancing with Welling. “Twice someone’s attempted to cut in Tom. There were almost swords when Lord Boreanaz tried it. Your sister’s captured herself a duke!”

“God, don’t remind me,” Jensen growled, pulling Michael into a side alcove. “If this night goes on much longer, I may yet manage to embarrass my entire family.”

“What’s with you, I’ve never seen you so ruffled,” Rosenbaum said with amusement. “Have you been drinking?”

“Apparently I am not coping with MacKenzie’s womanhood as well as she is,” Jensen sighed, running a hand over his face. “And in response, I am drinking too much and making a fool of myself.”

“I haven’t seen you stumbling on the dance floor over a lady’s feet,” Michael grinned. “Certainly this isn’t an older brother’s panic alone. What had you in such a lather?”

“There was… god…” Jensen took a deep breath to compose himself. “This man… boy… in the hall. My friend, I have never seen anything so exquisite. Sneaking sweets and blushing like a virgin. Thank god I hadn’t drunk any more before he came in, or I might have stolen him away right there.”

“New blood, eh?” Michael grinned. “I haven’t seen anyone that inviting in a while, perhaps I should go and check him out myself!”

“Not on your life!” Jensen growled. “Lord, look at me, defending my prize like a dog in heat.”

“Well, well,” Michael grinned. “When was the last time someone caught your fancy, anyway? Perhaps this is what you need to unbind your knickers.”

“Michael, I don’t even know the boy! Never seen him before in my life!”

“All’s the better,” Michael said wickedly. “Leap before you look for a change, Jensen! Go back and strike up a conversation, before someone else steals off with him! How often do we see new meat on the market?”

Jensen hated when Michael spoke that way, but the man had always been crude in a way Jensen could appreciate; Michael had always been the least dainty of all his society friends, preferring his horses and games to courtly politics, and he was a terrible flirt who enjoyed immensely the chase of anyone he knew he would never allow themselves to be caught.

“I’m far too drunk, Michael, don’t encourage me into mischief.”

“Jensen,” Michael said, surprisingly sincere. “You deserve to find someone for yourself, instead of spending all your time caring for your family estates in your brother’s absence. For once in your life, throw aside your reserve and go after what you want!”

“I spoke foolishly to him,” Jensen sighed. “I belittled the crown. Surely he is the son of some court negotiator who will take offense to my politics.”

“Ackles, if he didn’t rebuff you for your talk, certainly you can endear him with more romantic murmurings. Be bold, fellow!”

Jensen shook his head. Was he drunk enough to actually listen to advice on the heart from Michael Rosenbaum?

“If I should be beheaded for this, I’ll never forgive you,” he muttered, straightening his waistcoat. Michael laughed and pushed him back toward the banquet hall.

“I’ll testify at your hearing, my friend. You couldn’t help it, it was the wine!”

~~

Jared sighed as he leaned against the door. The maid and her suitor had been there for the last ten minutes, and there was no way he could go out the other door; that required him to go through the crowded ball room. Morgan was going to kill him if he wasn’t on the landing in just over fifteen minutes to meet his parents and be presented to their guests. Worse, his mother might actually notice he was missing.

He was just about to consider dropping a tray to startle the lovers and hopefully cause them to disperse when the door to the hall opened and… that man returned. That beautiful man who made Jared’s heart flutter for no reason except that he existed. That man who made his mouth dry and blood race and his stomach clench.

The man, who closed the door behind him and stared at him intensely.

“Uh, hi,” Jared said nervously. The man moved toward him, sure at first, but then about halfway across the room he faltered.

“I… I wanted to apologize again,” the man said slowly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was… am… a tad in my cups.”

“Your sister,” Jared breathed. “You mentioned.”

“Yes, sister,” the man said slowly. He took another step forward. “But too… you… I tend to act foolish when I am beguiled.” He stepped closer, and Jared felt light-headed.

“Beguiled?” he breathed.

“It’s ridiculous, I know,” the man said, pausing in his approach. “To have only laid eyes on you and to be so… I have never been good when I am…” He waved a hand wildly. “It’s just… my sister, you know… and then to see someone so beautiful…”

“Beautiful?” Jared marveled. “Surely you’ve had too much wine! I was acting the child, stuffing pastries in my face! Hardly the act of seduction.” He laughed nervously, and the man smiled gently.

“You have no idea,” he breathed, reaching out a hand, hesitantly, clearly wanting to touch Jared’s face but not quite daring. “I have always been an odd fellow, and the idea of someone so free with themselves… so unafraid to be seen as other than a dainty prude…”

“I was just hungry,” Jared huffed, blushing, and the man’s hand made contact with his burning cheek.

“See? That’s just so magnificent. Too many would rather starve than satisfy a desire.” Jared felt those eyes burning into him.

“Do you… desire?” he whispered, stepping into the man’s space without a second thought. What was it about this man that made his whole body go completely crazy?

“Oh, I do,” the man murmured softly.

And then Jared was being kissed.

It was gentle but firm, tender but possessive. He felt like he was being drugged, his head all light and dizzy with glee. This man, who didn’t know who he was, was kissing him because he was beguiled. This man, with the hypnotizing eyes in which he wanted to fall and never return.

Too soon the kiss ended.

“Lord help me,” the man breathed. Jared huffed a breath unevenly.

“My Lord,” he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. This one was less tender, more of a challenge, and he felt an arm snake around his waist, pulling him close to that hard, gorgeous body. His own hands found their way under the man’s great coat to his waist, grasping tightly. They grappled for a moment as they kissed, the heat between them rising. Jared felt intoxicated.

The man pulled back suddenly, panting, a hand moving to Jared’s chest. “My god, you are amazing,” he gasped heavily. “Should I not believe we could be interrupted at any moment, I should lay you out right here and take you for my own, ensure your father must give you to me forever.”

“Would you?” Jared squeaked. He blushed at the sound of his voice. “My lord…”

“Jensen,” the man breathed, leaning in to nip at Jared’s neck lightly. Jared hiccupped at the feel of teeth pulling at his skin.

“Jensen,” his sighed heavily. His hands grasped at Jensen’s waist as the man pulled away, his eyes dark with desire.

“Meet me in the gardens in ten minutes?” the man asked, his voice heavy with promise. Jared opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The man smiled and placed a finger to Jared’s lips. “Come to me, my pet,” Jensen whispered thickly. “Come to me, and you will never want for bliss again.”

“I…” Jared couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Jensen smiled, stroked Jared’s lower lip gently, and Jared couldn’t resist his tongue’s desire to taste that finger. Jensen’s eyes widened with heat, and a small groan escaped as Jared drew the finger into his mouth.

“God have mercy,” Jensen gasped. Jared found himself smiling. “Come to me,” Jensen whispered one last time, then stepped back suddenly. Jared watched, marveled, as the man - as Jensen - tugged at his pants, breathing heavily. “The gardens,” he croaked.

Jensen turned and rushed out the door before Jared could say a word more. He stood dumbstruck, every part of his body utterly frozen. Stone. One part more than the rest.

He found he could barely breathe. Never had he felt like this before, about anyone. Not that he had had much experience, but he had watched men and women before, stolen upon his brother’s many trysts in the gardens with various suitors and the occasional servant. Never had his body reacted this away since the first time he had woken in the night to dreams of having a lover of his own. Never had he wanted someone so badly that it paralyzed him.

“There you are!” Jared started as Chad ducked into the hall from the ballroom. “Where have you been, man? Your mother wants to begin any minute now!”

“Uh, I…”

“Hungry, right.” Chad sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the back stairs. “God’s mercy you were born to a family of plenty; a peasant farm would have collapsed from your unending appetite long ago.” He banged the door back, revealing the startled servants. “Don’t mind us, my friends,” Chad sang cheerfully as he whisked his prince passed in a hurry. “Just go about your business!”

~~

Jensen stopped the first waiter he saw with champagne and downed a full flute in moments before taking the second more slowly. He needed to get a grip on himself. He was certain of his object’s returned desire, there was no question in his mind. He had felt the boy’s erection grow against him, and what he had done to his finger… Jensen had only barely restrained himself from coming right there in his pants. His body was already anticipating what he would do to the boy in the gardens, away from prying eyes and possible intrusions, and it was all he could do to walk as slowly as he needed in order not to hurt himself.

“Brother! The prince is to be presented!” Jensen turned distractedly to MacKenzie’s voice, a groan working its way up from the pit of his stomach. Damned royalty and their bad timing! There was no way he could slip out while the future king was being introduced formally to his subjects. Of course, certainly his soon-to-be lover would know that as well, and their tryst would be no more than delayed by the inconvenience of duty to court. Still, his traitorous body rebelled at the very core to the idea of even a moment’s delay.

He allowed his sister and cousin, along with their various friends who had gathered in a cluster, to pull him into their group at the edge of the floor. Somehow they had managed to take up position close to the stairs, even though there were plenty of nobles with more status than any of their group; Jensen suspected Danneel’s charms combined with Michael’s wiliness had accomplished that little feat. This was a huge coup, as tradition dictated that the first ten or so guests at the bottom of the stairs to the left would be presented to the prince by the queen, as hostess introducing the guest of honor to the most available peers. Their position meant they would be in that lucky group.

Yippee.

He dutifully took up position between his sister and Tom as the crowd assembled, summoned by the trumpeters performing the royal anthem. He felt Michael press close behind him as he whispered, “Success with your affairs?” in an amused tone.

“There will be once this stupid presentation is over,” he growled. Michael laughed in his ear, and then they were turning to the landing.

~~

“Stop fidgeting,” the Queen hissed sourly, and Jared refrained from spitting back that it was difficult to act proper when you had a hard on. His father, who looked even older than Jared could ever recall, watched his wife’s fussing with disinterest, and Jared felt a cold wash as the words Jensen had said wash over him. He had always viewed his parents with some awe, as the distant but beautiful Majesties of his kingdom. Suddenly, he saw them in a different light - an aged man not yet hunched over but clearly frail, and the woman who he no longer saw as beautiful and lofty, but rather cold and disdainful. How long had he wanted their approval? Now he felt nothing for them but pity. He sighed, feeling Morgan brushing at his great coat.

“Are you alright, Highness?” the man murmured softly.

“Enlightened,” Jared murmured in response, watching his mother sniping at her maid who was trying to straighten her hair one last time. “How long will this take, do you think?”

“You’ll be introduced, and then you must lead the first dance,” Morgan said softly. “May I recommend Lady Bush? She is an excellent partner, and will likely make it easier for you.”

“Indeed,” Jared sighed. In his mind, he could only picture green eyes. He would not be in the gardens in ten minutes. He hoped Jensen would wait for him.

The trumpets were playing, and then his mother was pushing his father forward. Not too gently, Jared noticed. He shook himself and stepped forward, waiting to be announced.

“Their Royal Majesties, King Gerald the Sixth, and Queen Sharon!”

The trumpets blared as his mother plastered on her most winning smile - a smile Jared realized for the first time was completely fraudulent. She was not remotely happy to be here, to be doing this, but she commanded the crowd for the thrill of the power she held over them. His father, meanwhile, appeared solemn and dull, as though bored with it all. Perhaps Jensen had been right, he thought sourly. His father was king, but it was his mother who truly held the power.

He listened to the processional anthem, picturing his parents making the slow, steady path down the long staircase. He sighed, realizing with a little relief that he was no longer aroused. It was a good thing, he mused, having to make the trip down the stairs himself. On the other hand, it was yet another revelation as to how miserable his life was going to be, once he himself was king, if he allowed his mother’s desires to become reality. Jensen’s words once again haunted him: a loveless marriage to a power-hungry woman. Would he become his father, a ghost of a man, indifferent to his wife and the world around him?

“Highness?” Chad was looking at him oddly. “Is something wrong?”

“I…” He glanced toward the entrance to the stairs, and thought of his parents. “I don’t want to be like them.” He didn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until he saw the sympathy in Chad’s eyes, and the firm look on Morgan’s face.

“You won’t,” Chad replied softly. “You’re not them, Jared.”

“Do what makes you happy, Jared,” Morgan agreed. He smiled, brushing at the prince’s coat absently. Jared wondered if JD realized he had used Jared’s first name in front of Chad. The look in Chad’s eyes said his friend had caught the slip, and Jared smiled; Chad was going to make Morgan’s life hell for that one.

“My lords and ladies, His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Jared Tristan William Angus.”

Jared smiled suddenly. “Hey, Chad, do me a favor? Go out to the gardens and tell Jensen I’ll be a little late?”

Chad looked confused, but nodded as the prince stepped through the door to the sound of trumpets.

~~

Jensen looked up as MacKenzie and Danneel both tightened their grips on his arm. Damn, he was going to have bruises. The king and queen descended the stairs in all the usual solemn dignity and slowness that could be expected, but right now it was driving Jensen positively insane… though, it was relieving his arousal quite well, and he was no longer in near pain with need. Boredom could do that to a person. He closed his eyes and imagined himself elsewhere. The gardens, perhaps.

“God, there he is!” Mac whispered excitedly.

“My goodness, he is handsome!” Danneel gasped, fanning herself violently.

“My, my, who knew the younger prince cut so nice a figure?” Michael murmured. That caused Jensen to sigh; if even Rosenbaum, a notorious womanizer, thought the Prince was good-looking, the pursuit of him would be even more ridiculous. He opened his eyes and turned toward the stairs.

And choked.

He… that… but… guh…

“Ackles?” Rosenbaum hissed in his ear. Jensen felt embarrassment draining his face of all color.

“That’s him,” he croaked hoarsely. “The… he…”

“Prince Jared is…” Michael’s eyes bugged. “From the hall?” Jensen nodded once, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

He had kissed the Prince. In the banquet hall. With the éclairs.

Part of his mind was screaming, praying the Prince would somehow miraculously not see him. Standing at the foot of the stairs, in the front of the entire crowd. Because, that would be perfect. Maybe he could become invisible. Well, he was standing next to Danneel, whose beauty was known for capturing people’s attention to the complete dismissal of everything around her. Sure, maybe he could get lucky.

And maybe pigs would fly out of his ass right there.

He was frozen like a statue - a garden gnome, he thought ruefully - and that of course was when the Prince’s eyes landed on him. Those beautiful, gorgeous, amazing hazel eyes. Jensen swore that for a second the Prince paused on the stairs, but surely that didn’t happen. The Prince was… well, a prince, and he knew how to walk down stairs, right? They had training for that sort of thing. Walking. And stairs. And stuff.

The Prince reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped before the first guest to be presented. Lady Dushku and her daughter - Eliza Of The Famous Breasts, as Michael called her. Next was Lord Weatherly and his new bride Lady Jessica, and beside them Lord Singer and Lord Manners. And then it was them.

“My son, this is Lord Michael Rosenbaum,” he heard the Queen saying. She had that tone; she had always made clear she didn’t like Michael much, though it only encouraged Michael to be even more irreverent. “And this is Lady MacKenzie Ackles - how lovely to see you again, my dear.” Jensen felt his sister’s low courtesy, and then…

“And this is…” The Queen faltered. Not surprising, as Jensen hadn’t been to court in so long she probably didn’t recognize him. Her secretary, a weird little man named Kripke (whom Jensen had always liked despite his being a little… well, squirrelly), whispered in her ear, and her eyes brightened as if she suddenly recognized him. “Lord Jensen Ackles, Lady MacKenzie’s brother.”

Jensen bowed low, feeling his knees shake. When he straightened, it was to those eyes burrowing into him. Deeply. He blushed, certain he was as purple as the grapes he had wanted to feed the bo… er, young man in the banquet hall. “Your Highness,” he rasped.

Jared’s lips quirked. His eyes flashed.

The Prince was amused.

“Lady Danneel Harris,” the Queen was saying, as Jensen attempted to find breath. Then Tom, because though only ten introductions were absolutely required, the Queen had always taken a liking to Tom. But then it was over, and it was time for the dancing to resume and Jensen found his legs ready to run for the door. The Prince would choose a young lady, and he could escape. He closed his eyes.

A hand fell on his wrist.

“Lord Jensen, may I have this dance?”

Jensen opened his eyes. Jared was standing before him, smiling.

“Your Highness,” Jensen breathed.

The Prince led him to the floor taking him tightly into his arms and pulled him in. Jensen looked up into those hazel eyes. The shyness of the boy in the hall was still there, but there was something else, a sparking of new confidence. “I… I think I liked ‘pet’ better from you,” he whispered. Jensen swallowed hard, and the Prince smiled.

A waltz started, something Jensen vaguely thought he knew, but it didn’t matter because he was here with Him. The bo… the young… the… Jared. He was Jared. Jared was He. Him. Here.

“Close your mouth, My Lord,” Jared murmured in his ear as they turned. “Or I may ask you to show me what you can do with it right here.” Jensen snapped his jaw shut and he heard the Prince chuckle low and throaty.

“Oh my god…”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jared replied, breathing more heavily than the dancing certainly caused.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness…”

“No,” Jared said firmly. “Don’t be sorry. I like you like that. I like you not treating me any differently than you would anyone else.”

“But…” Jensen shook his head. “Your Highness…”

“Jensen.” Jared captured Jensen’s gaze with his own, and he smiled. “I… I was terrified of this whole thing, until I saw you at the foot of the stairs.”

Jensen bit his lip.

“You make me want to be king.”

Jensen breathed out slowly.

“You make me want to be at court,” he said, barely able to hear himself. Jared must have heard, through, because he smiled widely.

“Well, that’s good, because it would be a little hard for you to marry me if you lived somewhere else.”

Jensen’s eyes widened. “Marry you?”

“That’s what this dumb ball is all about, right?” Jared smiled shyly. “Finding me a mate?”

“A… a wife, Your Highness,” Jensen shook his head. Jared bent his mouth to Jensen’s ear and huffed a soft breath against the lobe. Jensen shivered, his body pressing against Jared’s of its own volition.

“A mate,” Jared repeated. “If there’s one thing I remember most distinctly from all my studies, it’s that the king hasn’t been required to take a queen only since, god, my great-great-great grandfather’s day. Before that, even. Like, three hundred years ago, at least. I can marry a Royal Prince Consort, and then later choose a Lady Surrogate of the Nursery to have the honor of baring my heirs. Or I can just pass the title to my sister’s kids, whatever. I mean, didn’t Gerald the Fourth do that?” Jensen groaned as he felt Jared’s hardness pressing against him. “You’re the one who knows history, aren’t you?’

“Um.” Jensen gasped as he felt cool air on his cheek. He glanced around. How did they get to the gardens? When did that happen?”

“You wanted to meet in the gardens in ten minutes,” Jared chuckled as he pulled them off onto one of the footpaths and then off the path into one of the ancient stone gazebos. Jensen felt himself flushing. “Sorry, we’re a little later than planned.”

“Your Highness…”

Jared was kissing him. It was possessive, passionate, powerful. Jensen was certain he would faint from the sheer intensity of it. When Jared pulled away, they were both breathing hard, and Jensen suddenly found himself faced with… that boy again.

“Your Highness?” He stepped forward as the Prince pulled away to lean against one of the stone columns of the gazebo.

“Sorry, I… just, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.” The Prince laughed. “You… I’ve never met anyone like you, no one ever paid me the least bit attention even when they knew who I was. You didn’t have a clue, but you talked to me for me, and then you were all commanding and demanding and it was so amazing! And somehow when I saw you again I thought… I was just crazed or something, like I could…”

The Prince was disappearing, retreating, and Jensen realized it was because of his reaction. He reached out to touch Jared’s face gently.

“Hey, look at me.”

Jared looked up, startled. Jensen was a little surprised at himself. Somehow they had shifted roles, and now they had shifted back again, and even he didn’t understand what was going on, except he knew one thing hadn’t changed.

“You are the most amazing, beautiful person I have ever seen in my life, Your H… Jared.” He forced himself to use the Prince’s name, and he was rewarded by the excited flash he saw in the young man’s eyes. “I am not usually so impulsive, but when I saw you it was if my entire being knew I had to have you, to get to know you and be with you. I have never wanted anyone so instantly as I wanted you.” He smiled softly, caressing the Prince’s cheek; Jared leaned into the touch unconsciously, and Jensen felt his heart leap. “I was just surprised that you turned out to be… well, you know, you. You-you. It threw me.” Jared looked unsure, and Jensen stepped forward, his usual confidence returning. “I just have to get used to the idea, that’s all.”

Jared smiled, and Jensen felt his body tingle like it had the first time he had seen Jared smile. That sheepish grin with a lip smeared with frosting. He touched those lips with his thumb, remembering, and the heat seared him as it had the first time. Jared’s tongue snaked out to catch his thumb, and Jensen felt his blood boil.

“God…” He breathed, stepping closer. Jared bent his head, and their lips met. Jensen felt hands in his hair, pulling him in, his own hands seeking out those thick chocolate locks he had admired earlier. When they finally parted, it was only their lips that were no longer touching, the rest of their bodies practically fused together.

“Come to me?” Jensen whispered, his forehead tipping to touch the Prince. Jared whimpered, and Jensen ran his hands down the man’s back.

“Always,” the Prince sighed.

~~

Lord Chad Michael Murray had been wandering the gardens for at least twenty minutes. Who the hell was Jensen, and why was Jared going to be meeting him? Chad was sure he knew every friend the Prince had ever had, how had he missed this guy?

He rounded the south path corner and was drawn by noises coming from the Minuet Gazebo. Great gazebo, he thought with a grin; just the right number of flower trees surrounding it for maximum privacy, but no trees blocking the moonlight overhead, the long benches made of oak with the red silk pillows that felt so soft against your skin.

Oh yeah, he really liked that gazeb… oh.

Chad hurried his way back along the path to the ballroom doorway. There he saw Lord Morgan looking out into the garden, anxiety on his face. Chad stepped up to the man and rested a hand on his arm.

“Back inside, My Lord,” he said, a grin spreading on his face.

“Lord Murray, the Prince…”

“Is busy, my friend. Busy busy busy.”

“Lord Ackles?”

“Royal Prince Consort Jensen,” Chad chuckled. “Practice saying it, it will get easier.”

Morgan stared for a moment, and then broke into a wide grin.

“I can’t wait to tell the Queen.”

~And…
Curtain~