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Raised as the prince’s whipping boy and personal companion was a fate worse than death. If it weren’t for the eternal damnation suicide would have brought him, Donatello would have killed himself long ago. \n\nMaybe one day his tormentors would take it too far and the gods would grant him his place in paradise. Until then, he would endure. \n\nHis life wasn’t without joy. Prince Raphael’s tutor was kind and was one of the few who had never resorted to whipping him for the misdeeds of the prince. Hun, on the other hand….\n\nDonatello hissed in pain as he shifted in bed. He was on a thin mat on the floor but that wasn’t the reason he was uncomfortable. It was hard to find a comfortable position after taking a switch to the back of the legs. \n\nHun was Raphael’s weapons’ instructor and Raphael had been a little too flippant during practice that morning. As a result, Hun took out his frustrations on Donatello. \n\nIt hurt to move. The open wounds pulled and Donatello knew that it would be worse in the morning. \n\n“Would you stop,” Raphael complained from his bed. “I can’t get to sleep with all this noise.”\n\n“I’m sorry,” Donatello hissed. \n\n“What is the matter?” Raphael demanded, sitting up to glare down at Donatello. \n\n“The sores on the back of my legs are making it difficult to get comfortable,” Donatello stated. \n\nLighting the candle on his night stand, Raphael got up and crossed the room. “Whippings have never given you problems before.”\n\n“I’ve never received one from Hun before,” Donatello argued. “The others usually do one leg, once. Hun did both, multiple times. No matter how I lay, it hurts.”\n\n“Let me see.”\n\nDonatello was hesitant but knew better than to argue. Fighting the pain, he got to his feet, turned around, and with trembling hands, removed his pants. \n\nRaphael knelt to examine the makeshift bandages. “Tuck your tail any tighter and it will be in your ass. Relax. I won’t touch you there.” Pulling down slightly on the bandage, Raphael lifted the candle higher to inspect the wound. “Your flesh is warm. That’s not good.” Standing, he felt Donatello’s face with the back of his hand. “The warmth has not spread.”\n\nRaphael walked across the large room and opened the door. There were always servants and guards at the ready at any given moment. They would stay up all night just in case the royal family wanted something. \n\nDonatello could not hear what was said aside from the common, “Yes, your majesty,” reply. As they waited in silence, Raphael used his candle to light the mounted lanterns. \n\nIt wasn’t long before there was a gentle knock on the door. \n\n“Come in,” Raph called out as he blew out his candle. \n\nNevio, King Arigio’s whipping boy growing up and the one who had taken care of Donatello during infancy, entered the room. “Your majesty.” He bowed to Raphael before beginning his approach towards Donatello. “I understand you have some deep lashes?”\n\n“Hun whipped me today,” Donatello answered, struggling to hold back his tears. Though he could speak freely around his caretaker, Donatello had to remind himself that Raphael was still in the room. Saying the wrong thing would get him in trouble.\n\n“Lie down,” Nevio instructed. “I’ll tend to them.” Nevio was the only one who understood what Donatello was going through. He was also the son of a conquered king, taken as a child to serve the new king’s son. \n\nLike Donatello, his legs were covered in old scars, lashes that Arigio had earned for him. Though Arigio eventually took him as a lover, being a slave, he was never raised to the ranks of a mate. While Arigio’s mates led a pampered life, Nevio slept on a pallet on the floor with the rest of the servants. \n\nIt was a wonder that he had managed to maintain a pleasant disposition. There was almost always a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. How was it that he wasn’t dead inside?\n\nNevio tended to Donatello’s wounds. The salve he used stung at first, it took everything Donatello had not to cry out, but the pain faded, leaving a dull ache. \n\n“What is going on?” The booming voice of the king had Donatello frozen in terror. “Why has my son summoned you to his room?”\n\n“Donatello needed me to tend to him,” Nevio replied in an even tone as he carefully wrapped Donatello’s legs. “Your weapons’ master has a heavy hand.” Giving Raphael a sideways glace, Nevio smiled. “It seems that the young prince did not wish to lose his servant to a fever and had requested that I do what I am permitted.”\n\n“Is it bad?” Arigio asked. \n\nNevio shrugged. “I’ve had worse. Your father’s weapons’ master also had a heavy hand and you liked to try his patience.”\n\n“Don’t forget your place,” Arigio warned. \n\n“Never do,” Nevio smiled as he put away his supplies.\n\n“Do you really care so much?” Arigio asked the young prince and knelt next to Donatello. Placing his hand at the base of Donatello’s carapace, Arigio forced his finger under Donatello’s tail. “Don’t fight me.”\n\nHis finger pressed against Donatello’s entrance. The pain if it caused Donatello to tense and whimper. Arigio hummed with displeasure. “You haven’t had him yet.”\n\nRemoving his hand, Arigio considered his son. “Are you not interested in him?”\n\n“I don’t know,” Raphael mumbled, uncomfortable with his father’s question.\n\n“At your age you should be having sex,” Arigio stated. “If you don’t want him, we can do a call out so you can select a mate and I will take him.” He looked down at Donatello and ran his fingers over Donatello’s cheek. “He turned out prettier than I thought he would.”\n\n“Arigio,” Nevio said, “he’s too young.”\n\nArigio lashed out so quickly that Nevio barely had time to react. The back of Arigio’s hand connected with Nevio’s face, sending him to the ground. “Your place,” Arigio roared.\n\n“My apologies, your majesty,” Nevio said as blood fell from his lips. \n\nDonatello moved to comfort his caretaker but his hand was snatched away before it made contact. Arigio lifted him as if he weighed nothing and tossed him on the bed. Turning to Raphael, he said, “Have him tonight or I’ll take him in the morning.”\n\n“He’s hurt,” Raphael argued. \n\n“He is a slave,” Arigio hissed. “Your pleasure is all that matters.”\n\nUnable to maintain eye contact, Raphael looked at the ground. “Yes, father.”\n\n“You’re done here,” Arigio said to Nevio. “Clean yourself up and get back to bed.”\n\n“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said as he collected himself off the floor. \n\nArigio took a few deep breaths to settle his anger before turning back to Raphael. “I will check him in the morning.” He did not wait for Raphael to reply before storming out of the room after Nevio. \n\nRaphael stood, looking at Donatello. “I don’t want to lose you to him.”\n\nTry as he might, Donatello could not stop the flow of tears as Raphael joined him on the bed. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about it. \n\n“You have to lower your tail,” Raphael said as he poured olive oil on his fingers. “Or we could not do this and you can go to my father in the morning.”\n\nThe thought of being with Arigio was enough to motivate Donatello to part his legs and lower his tail. It wasn’t much of a choice but staying with Raphael was preferable to being with Arigio. \n\nRaphael was generous with the oil, pulling his finger out every few seconds to add more. Donatello had to admit that he hadn’t expected Raphael to take his time. He made what was expected to be a painful experience, nearly painless. \n\nRaphael’s finger occasionally brushed against a spot inside Donatello that sent shockwaves to his core. Donatello’s body started to react to the stimulation and it wasn’t long before his penis emerged. \n\nBiting his bottom lip, Raphael grabbed it with his oil slicked hand and gave it a few solid tugs. There was a needy look in his eyes as he admired its length. \n\nWith a heavy sigh, Raphael moved between Donatello’s legs and added more oil to his cock before placing his tip at Donatello’s well stretched entrance. \n\n“Wow,” Raphael grunted as he pushed into Donatello. He took care not to push in too deep to avoid grinding against Donatello’s tender legs. \n\nHe struggled to last longer than a few staggering thrusts. Trembling, he let out a soft cry and came inside of Donatello. He sat back on his feet, looking down at Donatello while he settled his heavy breathing. Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t seem satisfied at all. \n\nThe thought of failing to please Raphael had Donatello in a sudden panic. Maybe the prince was considering letting his father had him after all. \n\nRaphael reached out, paused for a moment and then grabbed hold of Donatello’s penis. Donatello gripped the sheets and gasped as Raphael jerked him off. \n\nAfter a few moments, Raphael straddled Donatello’s hips and lowered himself down. The tight warmth of Raphael’s inner walls took Donatello’s breath away. He couldn’t believe what was happening. \n\nRaphael road him hard, taking in the entire length of Donatello’s cock. The shock from the unexpected act coupled with the pain in his legs, helped Donatello last long enough for Raphael to climax again. The sudden clenching of Raphael’s rectum around his cock overruled all other sensations. \n\nIt was the first orgasm for Donatello and it left his body numb. For a brief moment he was in a state of bliss. The pain in his legs quickly snapped him back to reality. As the euphoria wore off, it left behind a sickening sensation. \n\n“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Raphael mumbled, looking down at the pillow next to Donatello’s head. “Not even Nevio.”\n\n“Your father…,” Donatello started but Raphael interrupted him. \n\n“Will be checking you in the morning, not me.”\n\n“I won’t say anything,” Donatello promised. \n\n“Good,” Raphael replied and then got up to blow the wall lanterns out. “You can say in the bed, if you want. Maybe you’ll have an easier time getting comfortable and we can get some sleep.”\n\nDonatello didn’t think he could get up even if he wanted to. “Okay.” \n\nWith the last of the lanterns extinguished, Raphael crawled back into bed. In the dim moon light, Donatello swore he saw a glimmer of moisture on Raphael’s cheek. \n\n…..\n\nHe was never allowed to forget who he was or that it was his duty to avenge his father. Every day of Leonardo’s life was spent training, learning how to hide in the shadows and to kill. Though Leonardo would never be able to be king, at the very least, they could get their revenge against the ones who so callously killed King Demitrio. \n\nAnother thing that Leonardo was never allowed to forget was that rats were loyal to no one. They were assassins and thieves, selling their services to those who could afford it and never choosing a side in a conflict. The fact that Splinter had sworn loyalty to a king made him an outsider to his own people. \n\nWhen Leonardo asked Splinter why he had gone against the nature of rats and sworn loyalty to his father, Splinter told him that it was because Demitrio showed him mercy but did not go into details. \n\n“A man like your father, deserved my loyalty,” Splinter told him. \n\n“Why must I be the one to take revenge?” Leonardo asked as he sharpened his sword by the fire. “You loved him so much, why don’t you do it?”\n\n“He was your father,” Splinter replied. \n\n“I never knew him,” Leonardo argued. \n\n“The reason for that is because Arigio killed him,” Splinter pointed out. “Aside from that, I am too old to do it. I had difficulties escaping when you were a baby and that was sixteen years ago. My body will no longer allow me to do it, so you must.”\n\nLeonardo checked the edge of his blade. “What will happen after?”\n\n“Prove your skills with this and the others will accept you,” Splinter said. “You will be the first turtle assassin. You will be added to the network and sent out on missions. And, I will finally have peace.”\n\nLeonardo sighed and placed his blade in its scabbard as he stood. “Very well. If it will help you find peace, I will do it.”\n\nIt wasn’t the first time Leonardo had gone into the city surrounding the castle. He had run the roof tops many times at night, just for fun, mapping out the streets. He knew his way through the city better than anyone. \n\nToday he was hiding out in the open. Turtles were common in the area. His sword and dagger were hidden among the loose folds of his over sized attire. He looked like the youngest son of a simple farmer wearing hand-me-down clothes, sent to the city to fetch supplies. No one paid him any attention. \n\nHe found himself a place to hide until dark. Shedding his baggy clothes to reveal the dark colored ones underneath that made him appear as nothing more than a shadow. \n\nSettling in, Leonardo closed his eyes and entered into a meditative state that allowed him to rest while remaining aware. He waited until it was well past dark when only the lowest of citizens were still awake, peddling goods and services that were either illegal or questionable. \n\nNow the fun would begin. \n\nWithout as sound, Leonardo made his way through the city, staying in the shadows. He slipped past sentries with ease as he made his way through the castle grounds. \n\nLike the city, the castle was built for defense. Secret passageways snaked through the interior and, judging by the level of dust within them, had been forgotten. Despite the fact that it was his first time in the castle, Leonardo knew them well. Splinter had made sure of it. \n\nHe had checked several rooms before finding the one he was after. Drawing his dagger, he crept his way to the bed, ready to slit the throat of his slumbering victim. \n\nThe light of the waning moon shone through the high window, illuminating the young prince’s face. He was the younger of the two, named Michelangelo. A backup just in case something happened to the first. \n\nClutching the dagger, Leonardo stood over the prince ready to strike but hesitated. He wasn’t able to bring himself to do it. \n\nThe young prince opened his eyes and even in the dim light the bright blue seemed to sparkle like a well-polished sapphire. They filled with fear as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone. \n\n“Are you a ghost?” He glanced quickly at the dagger. “Are you here to kill me?”\n\nLeonardo didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice. There was something about the prince that caused his heart to hammer in his chest. \n\nStepping back, Leonardo fought with himself over what to do next. He wanted to stay. The longer he stayed the greater the chance of getting caught. Then there was the fact that he was there to kill the prince. If he left, the prince would see how he entered the room. \n\nMichelangelo’s blue eyes narrowed as he studied Leonardo’s face. “Why would a ghost be younger than when he died?”\n\nLeonardo must have made a face because Michelangelo sat up to explain. “You look just like the former king, only young. Who are you?”\n\n“What is going on?” King Arigio’s voice echoed down the hall. \n\nAs Michelangelo’s attention was turned to the door, Leonardo raced out through the secret passage. \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"He was never allowed to forget who he was or that his being alive was thanks to the mercy of the king. Raised as the prince’s whipping boy and personal companion was a fate worse than death. If it weren’t for the eternal damnation suicide would have brought him, Donatello would have killed himself long ago.
Maybe one day his tormentors would take it too far and the gods would grant him his place in paradise. Until then, he would endure.
His life wasn’t without joy. Prince Raphael’s tutor was kind and was one of the few who had never resorted to whipping him for the misdeeds of the prince. Hun, on the other hand….
Donatello hissed in pain as he shifted in bed. He was on a thin mat on the floor but that wasn’t the reason he was uncomfortable. It was hard to find a comfortable position after taking a switch to the back of the legs.
Hun was Raphael’s weapons’ instructor and Raphael had been a little too flippant during practice that morning. As a result, Hun took out his frustrations on Donatello.
It hurt to move. The open wounds pulled and Donatello knew that it would be worse in the morning.
“Would you stop,” Raphael complained from his bed. “I can’t get to sleep with all this noise.”
“I’m sorry,” Donatello hissed.
“What is the matter?” Raphael demanded, sitting up to glare down at Donatello.
“The sores on the back of my legs are making it difficult to get comfortable,” Donatello stated.
Lighting the candle on his night stand, Raphael got up and crossed the room. “Whippings have never given you problems before.”
“I’ve never received one from Hun before,” Donatello argued. “The others usually do one leg, once. Hun did both, multiple times. No matter how I lay, it hurts.”
“Let me see.”
Donatello was hesitant but knew better than to argue. Fighting the pain, he got to his feet, turned around, and with trembling hands, removed his pants.
Raphael knelt to examine the makeshift bandages. “Tuck your tail any tighter and it will be in your ass. Relax. I won’t touch you there.” Pulling down slightly on the bandage, Raphael lifted the candle higher to inspect the wound. “Your flesh is warm. That’s not good.” Standing, he felt Donatello’s face with the back of his hand. “The warmth has not spread.”
Raphael walked across the large room and opened the door. There were always servants and guards at the ready at any given moment. They would stay up all night just in case the royal family wanted something.
Donatello could not hear what was said aside from the common, “Yes, your majesty,” reply. As they waited in silence, Raphael used his candle to light the mounted lanterns.
It wasn’t long before there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Come in,” Raph called out as he blew out his candle.
Nevio, King Arigio’s whipping boy growing up and the one who had taken care of Donatello during infancy, entered the room. “Your majesty.” He bowed to Raphael before beginning his approach towards Donatello. “I understand you have some deep lashes?”
“Hun whipped me today,” Donatello answered, struggling to hold back his tears. Though he could speak freely around his caretaker, Donatello had to remind himself that Raphael was still in the room. Saying the wrong thing would get him in trouble.
“Lie down,” Nevio instructed. “I’ll tend to them.” Nevio was the only one who understood what Donatello was going through. He was also the son of a conquered king, taken as a child to serve the new king’s son.
Like Donatello, his legs were covered in old scars, lashes that Arigio had earned for him. Though Arigio eventually took him as a lover, being a slave, he was never raised to the ranks of a mate. While Arigio’s mates led a pampered life, Nevio slept on a pallet on the floor with the rest of the servants.
It was a wonder that he had managed to maintain a pleasant disposition. There was almost always a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. How was it that he wasn’t dead inside?
Nevio tended to Donatello’s wounds. The salve he used stung at first, it took everything Donatello had not to cry out, but the pain faded, leaving a dull ache.
“What is going on?” The booming voice of the king had Donatello frozen in terror. “Why has my son summoned you to his room?”
“Donatello needed me to tend to him,” Nevio replied in an even tone as he carefully wrapped Donatello’s legs. “Your weapons’ master has a heavy hand.” Giving Raphael a sideways glace, Nevio smiled. “It seems that the young prince did not wish to lose his servant to a fever and had requested that I do what I am permitted.”
“Is it bad?” Arigio asked.
Nevio shrugged. “I’ve had worse. Your father’s weapons’ master also had a heavy hand and you liked to try his patience.”
“Don’t forget your place,” Arigio warned.
“Never do,” Nevio smiled as he put away his supplies.
“Do you really care so much?” Arigio asked the young prince and knelt next to Donatello. Placing his hand at the base of Donatello’s carapace, Arigio forced his finger under Donatello’s tail. “Don’t fight me.”
His finger pressed against Donatello’s entrance. The pain if it caused Donatello to tense and whimper. Arigio hummed with displeasure. “You haven’t had him yet.”
Removing his hand, Arigio considered his son. “Are you not interested in him?”
“I don’t know,” Raphael mumbled, uncomfortable with his father’s question.
“At your age you should be having sex,” Arigio stated. “If you don’t want him, we can do a call out so you can select a mate and I will take him.” He looked down at Donatello and ran his fingers over Donatello’s cheek. “He turned out prettier than I thought he would.”
“Arigio,” Nevio said, “he’s too young.”
Arigio lashed out so quickly that Nevio barely had time to react. The back of Arigio’s hand connected with Nevio’s face, sending him to the ground. “Your place,” Arigio roared.
“My apologies, your majesty,” Nevio said as blood fell from his lips.
Donatello moved to comfort his caretaker but his hand was snatched away before it made contact. Arigio lifted him as if he weighed nothing and tossed him on the bed. Turning to Raphael, he said, “Have him tonight or I’ll take him in the morning.”
“He’s hurt,” Raphael argued.
“He is a slave,” Arigio hissed. “Your pleasure is all that matters.”
Unable to maintain eye contact, Raphael looked at the ground. “Yes, father.”
“You’re done here,” Arigio said to Nevio. “Clean yourself up and get back to bed.”
“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said as he collected himself off the floor.
Arigio took a few deep breaths to settle his anger before turning back to Raphael. “I will check him in the morning.” He did not wait for Raphael to reply before storming out of the room after Nevio.
Raphael stood, looking at Donatello. “I don’t want to lose you to him.”
Try as he might, Donatello could not stop the flow of tears as Raphael joined him on the bed. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about it.
“You have to lower your tail,” Raphael said as he poured olive oil on his fingers. “Or we could not do this and you can go to my father in the morning.”
The thought of being with Arigio was enough to motivate Donatello to part his legs and lower his tail. It wasn’t much of a choice but staying with Raphael was preferable to being with Arigio.
Raphael was generous with the oil, pulling his finger out every few seconds to add more. Donatello had to admit that he hadn’t expected Raphael to take his time. He made what was expected to be a painful experience, nearly painless.
Raphael’s finger occasionally brushed against a spot inside Donatello that sent shockwaves to his core. Donatello’s body started to react to the stimulation and it wasn’t long before his penis emerged.
Biting his bottom lip, Raphael grabbed it with his oil slicked hand and gave it a few solid tugs. There was a needy look in his eyes as he admired its length.
With a heavy sigh, Raphael moved between Donatello’s legs and added more oil to his cock before placing his tip at Donatello’s well stretched entrance.
“Wow,” Raphael grunted as he pushed into Donatello. He took care not to push in too deep to avoid grinding against Donatello’s tender legs.
He struggled to last longer than a few staggering thrusts. Trembling, he let out a soft cry and came inside of Donatello. He sat back on his feet, looking down at Donatello while he settled his heavy breathing. Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t seem satisfied at all.
The thought of failing to please Raphael had Donatello in a sudden panic. Maybe the prince was considering letting his father had him after all.
Raphael reached out, paused for a moment and then grabbed hold of Donatello’s penis. Donatello gripped the sheets and gasped as Raphael jerked him off.
After a few moments, Raphael straddled Donatello’s hips and lowered himself down. The tight warmth of Raphael’s inner walls took Donatello’s breath away. He couldn’t believe what was happening.
Raphael road him hard, taking in the entire length of Donatello’s cock. The shock from the unexpected act coupled with the pain in his legs, helped Donatello last long enough for Raphael to climax again. The sudden clenching of Raphael’s rectum around his cock overruled all other sensations.
It was the first orgasm for Donatello and it left his body numb. For a brief moment he was in a state of bliss. The pain in his legs quickly snapped him back to reality. As the euphoria wore off, it left behind a sickening sensation.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Raphael mumbled, looking down at the pillow next to Donatello’s head. “Not even Nevio.”
“Your father…,” Donatello started but Raphael interrupted him.
“Will be checking you in the morning, not me.”
“I won’t say anything,” Donatello promised.
“Good,” Raphael replied and then got up to blow the wall lanterns out. “You can say in the bed, if you want. Maybe you’ll have an easier time getting comfortable and we can get some sleep.”
Donatello didn’t think he could get up even if he wanted to. “Okay.”
With the last of the lanterns extinguished, Raphael crawled back into bed. In the dim moon light, Donatello swore he saw a glimmer of moisture on Raphael’s cheek.
…..
He was never allowed to forget who he was or that it was his duty to avenge his father. Every day of Leonardo’s life was spent training, learning how to hide in the shadows and to kill. Though Leonardo would never be able to be king, at the very least, they could get their revenge against the ones who so callously killed King Demitrio.
Another thing that Leonardo was never allowed to forget was that rats were loyal to no one. They were assassins and thieves, selling their services to those who could afford it and never choosing a side in a conflict. The fact that Splinter had sworn loyalty to a king made him an outsider to his own people.
When Leonardo asked Splinter why he had gone against the nature of rats and sworn loyalty to his father, Splinter told him that it was because Demitrio showed him mercy but did not go into details.
“A man like your father, deserved my loyalty,” Splinter told him.
“Why must I be the one to take revenge?” Leonardo asked as he sharpened his sword by the fire. “You loved him so much, why don’t you do it?”
“He was your father,” Splinter replied.
“I never knew him,” Leonardo argued.
“The reason for that is because Arigio killed him,” Splinter pointed out. “Aside from that, I am too old to do it. I had difficulties escaping when you were a baby and that was sixteen years ago. My body will no longer allow me to do it, so you must.”
Leonardo checked the edge of his blade. “What will happen after?”
“Prove your skills with this and the others will accept you,” Splinter said. “You will be the first turtle assassin. You will be added to the network and sent out on missions. And, I will finally have peace.”
Leonardo sighed and placed his blade in its scabbard as he stood. “Very well. If it will help you find peace, I will do it.”
It wasn’t the first time Leonardo had gone into the city surrounding the castle. He had run the roof tops many times at night, just for fun, mapping out the streets. He knew his way through the city better than anyone.
Today he was hiding out in the open. Turtles were common in the area. His sword and dagger were hidden among the loose folds of his over sized attire. He looked like the youngest son of a simple farmer wearing hand-me-down clothes, sent to the city to fetch supplies. No one paid him any attention.
He found himself a place to hide until dark. Shedding his baggy clothes to reveal the dark colored ones underneath that made him appear as nothing more than a shadow.
Settling in, Leonardo closed his eyes and entered into a meditative state that allowed him to rest while remaining aware. He waited until it was well past dark when only the lowest of citizens were still awake, peddling goods and services that were either illegal or questionable.
Now the fun would begin.
Without as sound, Leonardo made his way through the city, staying in the shadows. He slipped past sentries with ease as he made his way through the castle grounds.
Like the city, the castle was built for defense. Secret passageways snaked through the interior and, judging by the level of dust within them, had been forgotten. Despite the fact that it was his first time in the castle, Leonardo knew them well. Splinter had made sure of it.
He had checked several rooms before finding the one he was after. Drawing his dagger, he crept his way to the bed, ready to slit the throat of his slumbering victim.
The light of the waning moon shone through the high window, illuminating the young prince’s face. He was the younger of the two, named Michelangelo. A backup just in case something happened to the first.
Clutching the dagger, Leonardo stood over the prince ready to strike but hesitated. He wasn’t able to bring himself to do it.
The young prince opened his eyes and even in the dim light the bright blue seemed to sparkle like a well-polished sapphire. They filled with fear as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Are you a ghost?” He glanced quickly at the dagger. “Are you here to kill me?”
Leonardo didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice. There was something about the prince that caused his heart to hammer in his chest.
Stepping back, Leonardo fought with himself over what to do next. He wanted to stay. The longer he stayed the greater the chance of getting caught. Then there was the fact that he was there to kill the prince. If he left, the prince would see how he entered the room.
Michelangelo’s blue eyes narrowed as he studied Leonardo’s face. “Why would a ghost be younger than when he died?”
Leonardo must have made a face because Michelangelo sat up to explain. “You look just like the former king, only young. Who are you?”
“What is going on?” King Arigio’s voice echoed down the hall.
As Michelangelo’s attention was turned to the door, Leonardo raced out through the secret passage.
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