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He was not ready to face Splinter.\n\nThe task of killing another turned out to be a harder one to fulfill than he had thought. He had loved everything about his training up until that point. He thought he was ready to move forward, to be an official part of the clan. \n\nNow, he questioned everything. \n\nIf he could not follow through with killing the son of the man who had killed his father, how could he ever expect himself to be able to execute a contract? He could not bring himself to that level of detachment.\n\nHe returned to his hiding spot to retrieve his disguise. As he dressed, he wondered what his life would have been like as a simple farmer’s son. Honest work with and honest skill that benefited many. \n\nSitting in the dark, Leonardo contemplated his options. Part of him loathed the idea of returning to Splinter. But, where would that leave him? He had no other skills but the ones meant to kill. And, if he defected, the Rats would not hesitate to seek him out and kill him to protect their secrets. \n\nFaced with no other option, Leonardo headed home. \n\nHe trudged along the outskirts of the forest to admire the stars before having to enter under the thick canopy. He never took the same path or a direct path when returning home. A worn path was a guide, so there could never be one. \n\nDespite his training, Leonardo always made a point to pass by his favorite spot in the forest, the upside-down tree. \n\nThe tree had somehow taken root on the underside of a cliff face. Growing down and out towards the light, the tops of its branches reached the ground and spilled out in every direction. Judging by its size, it had to have been hundreds of years old.\n\nHe had climbed it many times to get to the top of the cliff where a small spring sat. Some of the tree’s roots could be seen at the bottom of the clear pool. Leonardo found it to be a marvel of life’s persistence. \n\nIf the tree could survive and thrive in such a strange and difficult situation, so could he. \n\nA rustle of leaves behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Drawing his dagger, he turned to see what it was. \n\nA pure white stag stepped into a clearing and the area seemed to brighten with his presence. Majestic antlers branched out high above his head. The steady, grace of his movements led Leonardo to believe that it was no ordinary stag. \n\nHe had never seen anything so beautiful. A little unsure, Leonardo bowed to him while tucking the dagger back into its sheath. If it was a forest god, it would not be wise to offend him. \n\nIt took his breath away when the stag gestured in kind and Leonardo swore he saw him smile before bounding away back into the thicket. \n\nIn a state of disbelief, Leonardo made his way through the small, hidden village and into one of the many entrances of his home. \n\n“Leonardo?”\n\n“Yes, Splinter, it’s me.”\n\nSplinter entered the room followed by three other rats. The excitement from seeing the stag left him as a lump formed in Leonardo’s stomach then moved to his throat. \n\n“Well?” Splinter prompted. \n\nLeonardo began to remove the farmer’s disguise. “I could not do it.”\n\nOne of the other rats huffed. \n\n“He is not the first to have difficulties going through with their first assassination,” Splinter stated, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the offending rat. \n\n“No, he is not,” another rat agreed, taking a step forward. “But the fact that he is not truly one of us means that he has to be better if he wishes to be accepted.” He regarded Leonardo. “Why could you not kill them?” \n\n“I made it to the chambers of one of the princes,” Leonardo said. “I was ready to kill, until I saw him. Then it all became too real. I could not bring myself to do it. He is innocent.” He decided it would be best not to mention the fact that the prince had woken up. \n\nThe rat who had huffed before, scoffed. “We are not to judge innocence or guilt. We are hired to kill, so we kill.”\n\n“I cannot be so cold,” Leonardo said, looking down at the ground. “I cannot kill someone simply because someone else believes they should die. He has wronged no one.”\n\n“Your father wronged no one,” Splinter said. “But he was killed so what he had could be taken.”\n\n“The prince did not do that,” Leonardo argued. “His father did. Send me to kill just the king and I will do it.”\n\n“The king must know that his legacy will not go on,” Splinter insisted. \n\n“Enough,” the third rat interrupted. “It’s better this way. We need to stay out of politics.”\n\n“He’s right,” the second stated. “We only allowed this political assassination to be his test because it was one of personal revenge and knew it wouldn’t really change anything in the long run. Now that the boy has proven that he doesn’t have what it takes to be one of us, we need to decide what to do with him.”\n\n“I will not reveal any of your secrets,” Leonardo said. \n\n“That isn’t our only concern,” the third said. “Not only do you know our secrets, you know our skills and, frankly, you’ve mastered them quite well, aside from your unwillingness to kill.”\n\n“Then, he can teach,” Splinter offered. \n\n“I don’t know if anyone will send their child to be trained by an outsider,” the first said. \n\n“He was raised here,” Splinter argued. \n\nThe third shook his head. “He is still an outsider.”\n\n“What are my options,” Leonardo asked. \n\n“We don’t know yet,” the second said. “This is unprecedented. The leaders of multiple clans are coming together to decide.”\n\nThe pit in Leonardo’s stomach filled with despair. If they decide that he is too much of a risk, there was no way to stop them from ending his life. There was nowhere he could hide. They would find him. \n\n“We will let you know,” the first said as they exited. \n\nSplinter regarded Leonardo for a moment before saying, “Come eat.”\n\nLeonardo followed Splinter into another room where a plate with fruit, cheese, and a small loaf of dark bread waited. As Leonardo tore into the bread, Splinter placed a small bowl with three boiled eggs next to the plate. \n\nBoiled eggs were Leonardo’s favorite, especially when they were cooked enough to solidify the whites while keeping the yolk creamy. \n\n“They were supposed to be a reward,” Splinter said as Leonardo reached for one. \n\n“I’m sorry,” Leonardo said, picking up one of the eggs. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others but, I saw a white stag, in the forest as I made my way back tonight. I don’t think it was what it appeared to be.”\n\nSplinter sat down in his favorite chair as he pondered Leonardo’s encounter in silence. His schooled expression showed nothing of what was going through his mind. After a while, he sighed and looked into the cold fireplace. \n\n“Perhaps you made the right decision.”\n\n…..\n\n“Wake up.”\n\nRaphael’s gruff voice pulled Donatello from the best sleep he had ever had. The bed was comfortable and he wanted nothing more than to stay just a little longer. \n\n“It’s morning,” Raphael said, nudging Donatello. “My father will be here soon. You have to get back to your bed. He can’t find you in mine or he might beat us both.”\n\nThat was enough to snap Donatello out of his sleepy haze. He shifted to get up and was met with pain. The sores on the back of his legs weren’t the only things that hurt. Looking up at Raphael, he felt his face flush as he remembered the events of last night. \n\nThe door opened and the king stepped through. “He’s still in your bed.” Nevio followed him inside but stayed back, waiting. \n\nRaphael jumped out of bed and hastily pulled on his pants. “We exerted ourselves to the point of exhaustion. I was too tired to care that he had fallen asleep before going back to the floor.”\n\n“Good,” Arigio said with a wide smile. “But, don’t make a habit of it. Never let him forget his place.”\n\n“Yes, father.”\n\nArigio nodded to Nevio. “Go on.”\n\nRushing over to the bed, Nevio knelt next to Donatello. “Are you alright?”\n\nDonatello nodded. “I’m a little sore.”\n\n“That’s normal.” Nevio flashed Donatello a knowing smile. “Did he use the oil?”\n\nDonatello nodded. \n\n“Good,” Nevio said with a sigh of relief. “In time, it will no longer hurt in the morning. You might actually start to enjoy it.” \n\n“I doubt it.” Donatello reached out and gently touched the deep bruise on Nevio’s cheek. Tears filled his eyes and he wondered how Nevio could still be smiling. \n\n“I’m fine,” Nevio reassured him. “I’m here to tend to you. Let me see how those wounds are healing up.”\n\n “What is that smell?” Michelangelo blurted out as he entered Raphael’s room. “And why is father’s slave messing with Raph’s slave?”\n\n“Nevio is tending to Donatello’s wounds,” Raphael said, punching Michelangelo in the arm. “Don’t be stupid.”\n\n“Don’t hit your brother,” Arigio warned. “What you smell is the scent of sex.”\n\nMichelangelo made a face and then looked at Raph. “Was he willing?”\n\n“He is a slave,” Arigio said. “He doesn’t need to be willing, just obedient.”\n\n“Everything looks good,” Nevio said as he stood and collected his things. “The muscles will feel tight for now but once you get moving, the pain will dissipate.” \n\n“The two of you go help with breakfast,” Arigio said before turning to leave. “I have a busy schedule today and I don’t want things delayed any longer.”\n\n“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said. “Come, Donatello.” \n\nDonatello quickly dressed in his simple slave attire and followed Nevio to the kitchen. \n\nThey were met with a sweltering heat the moment they stepped inside. In the winter, the heat of the kitchen was welcome but in the midst of summer it was almost unbearable. \n\nDonatello went to his station, checking and tasting items that were meant to go to the princes. The plates were not to leave his sight. Anything added would have to be sampled. This process insured two things, that the food was good enough to be served and that there was no poison. \n\nHe would have to sample everything again at the table when he delivered the food. \n\nNevio was responsible for the king and queen. Two other slaves tended to the plates of Arigio’s mates. They did this with every meal. The four of them were the best fed slaves in the kingdom. \n\n“Raphael doesn’t like any brown on his eggs,” Donatello said after looking at one of the plates. “And the yolks look too set. These are over cooked.”\n\nOne of the kitchen hands pulled the plate aside while another got to work preparing two more eggs. \n\nOnce the meal was finished, the four slaves left the kitchen together, pushing carts laden with food. Each cart had enough food to feed a small family and the majority of it would return to the kitchen, untouched.\n\nDonatello served Raphael first. He ladled some porridge into a bowl then added cream, candied nuts, and honey. Before placing it down he took a bite, placing the used spoon into a bucket. Michelangelo liked his porridge with butter, sugar, and berries. Donatello had to admit that he liked Michelangelo’s better. \n\nTheir plates with eggs, sausage, bread, fruit preserves, and cheese were placed down while they ate their porridge. Donatello went through several utensils, sampling each item. By the time he was done, he was full. \n\nHe stayed close while they ate, remaining ready to serve them or to clear emptied plates. \n\nWhen the princes were finished with their meal, Donatello cleared the table and rushed the dishes and leftovers back to the kitchen. \n\n“No complaints from the princes,” he announced as he left the cart. He didn’t have the luxury to linger. \n\nHe met up with the brothers in the wash room. Aids were there, tending to them while they soaked in their baths. Fortunately, this was one task that was not left for Donatello and it gave him a few moments for himself. \n\nStripping himself, Donatello took the opportunity to bathe using a bucket of water and a scrub brush. A clean set of clothes was waiting for him and a fox child took his dirty clothes to be cleaned. \n\nDonatello then went into the connected room to inspect the clothes that had been set out for the princes. They were going to be sitting with their father at court later and needed to be dressed properly. They needed to look regal but not in their finest. \n\nHe switched out a few items, either because he knew that the princes had out grown them or did not like them. Everything had to be in pristine condition, nothing could show any sign of wear, so he looked over every inch. \n\nMichelangelo was the first to be sent in to be dressed, giving Raphael more time to be pampered. He saw the clothes and smiled. “I love this one. The fur is so soft.”\n\nAfter Michelangelo put on all that he could himself, Donatello got to work. Michelangelo studied Donatello’s face while he helped him get dressed. “So, you and Raph had sex?”\n\n“Yes, my lord,” Donatello replied while he worked on some fastens. \n\n“Were you willing,” Michelangelo asked. \n\n“I am a slave,” Donatello said, wishing he could ask the prince to stop moving so much. “It doesn’t matter.”\n\n“It does to Raph,” Michelangelo said. “He’s told me before that he didn’t want it to be forced. He wants a willing partner. He seems upset, so it makes me think that you weren’t willing. But, I don’t know why he would force it and he won’t tell me.”\n\n“It’s not my place,” Donatello said. \n\n“I command you to tell me,” Michelangelo said, emphasizing his order with a stomp of his foot. \n\n“It was because of your father,” Donatello told him. “He said that if the prince did not have me, then he would take me for himself.”\n\n“No wonder he’s mad,” Michelangelo mumbled. “His choices were, lose you or force you, two things he never wanted.”\n\n“You’re all done,” Donatello said as he finished with the last buckle. \n\n“Don’t be mad at Raph,” Mikey said as he shifted to test the fit. \n\n“I am not given that luxury,” Donatello stated. \n\n“Yeah.” Michelangelo sighed and headed for the door. “I’ll see you in the court room. Father tells me that a rabbit is coming in today. I hear they look like rats with long ears.”\n\n“A rabbit?” That was interesting news. There were no rabbits in Benvolio’s empire. They live in a land across the vast ocean. Travelers and traders tell stories about them but Donatello has never seen one. “That would be interesting to see. Do you know why they’re here?”\n\n“Father didn’t say,” Raphael said as he entered the room. “He just told us that we were having an audience with one and not to stare.”\n\n“We both know father was directing that last part more towards me,” Michelangelo said as he headed out the door.\n\n“Is this alright,” Donatello asked, gesturing to the ensemble. \n\nRaphael sighed. He hated formal attire, preferring his hunting or training gear. “That will do.”\n\nThe formal attire looked like warrior gear but was more ornate and lacked practicality. The leathers were soft, instead of sturdy and was trimmed with fine, soft pelts. The only thing worn that was battle ready were the weapons. \n\nRaphael’s weapon of choice was a pair of double headed battle axes that he wore across his back. Not easily accessible if he were to enter into a fight. They were more for show. \n\n“We need to put in an order for new arm belts,” Donatello said and he pulled the belt tight around Raphael’s bicep. “This one is on its last notch.” The size of Raphael’s arm was both impressive and frightening. The thought of him striking Donatello caused his cheek to hurt. “It’s not too tight, is it?”\n\n“It will do for now,” Raphael said. “Are you done?”\n\n“Yes, my lord.”\n\nRaphael tested the fit. “I hate wearing this shit.” He looked at himself in a long piece of polished metal. “But, father insists and I can’t go against his wishes.”\n\n“Are you alright, my lord,” Donatello ventured to ask. “You seem out of sorts.”\n\n“I’m fine,” Raphael said, keeping his eyes on his reflection but abruptly turned away. “Let’s go.”\n\n“Yes, my lord,” Donatello said and followed Raphael. \n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Leonardo took his time returning home. He was not ready to face Splinter.

The task of killing another turned out to be a harder one to fulfill than he had thought. He had loved everything about his training up until that point. He thought he was ready to move forward, to be an official part of the clan.

Now, he questioned everything.

If he could not follow through with killing the son of the man who had killed his father, how could he ever expect himself to be able to execute a contract? He could not bring himself to that level of detachment.

He returned to his hiding spot to retrieve his disguise. As he dressed, he wondered what his life would have been like as a simple farmer’s son. Honest work with and honest skill that benefited many.

Sitting in the dark, Leonardo contemplated his options. Part of him loathed the idea of returning to Splinter. But, where would that leave him? He had no other skills but the ones meant to kill. And, if he defected, the Rats would not hesitate to seek him out and kill him to protect their secrets.

Faced with no other option, Leonardo headed home.

He trudged along the outskirts of the forest to admire the stars before having to enter under the thick canopy. He never took the same path or a direct path when returning home. A worn path was a guide, so there could never be one.

Despite his training, Leonardo always made a point to pass by his favorite spot in the forest, the upside-down tree.

The tree had somehow taken root on the underside of a cliff face. Growing down and out towards the light, the tops of its branches reached the ground and spilled out in every direction. Judging by its size, it had to have been hundreds of years old.

He had climbed it many times to get to the top of the cliff where a small spring sat. Some of the tree’s roots could be seen at the bottom of the clear pool. Leonardo found it to be a marvel of life’s persistence.

If the tree could survive and thrive in such a strange and difficult situation, so could he.

A rustle of leaves behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Drawing his dagger, he turned to see what it was.

A pure white stag stepped into a clearing and the area seemed to brighten with his presence. Majestic antlers branched out high above his head. The steady, grace of his movements led Leonardo to believe that it was no ordinary stag.

He had never seen anything so beautiful. A little unsure, Leonardo bowed to him while tucking the dagger back into its sheath. If it was a forest god, it would not be wise to offend him.

It took his breath away when the stag gestured in kind and Leonardo swore he saw him smile before bounding away back into the thicket.

In a state of disbelief, Leonardo made his way through the small, hidden village and into one of the many entrances of his home.

“Leonardo?”

“Yes, Splinter, it’s me.”

Splinter entered the room followed by three other rats. The excitement from seeing the stag left him as a lump formed in Leonardo’s stomach then moved to his throat.

“Well?” Splinter prompted.

Leonardo began to remove the farmer’s disguise. “I could not do it.”

One of the other rats huffed.

“He is not the first to have difficulties going through with their first assassination,” Splinter stated, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the offending rat.

“No, he is not,” another rat agreed, taking a step forward. “But the fact that he is not truly one of us means that he has to be better if he wishes to be accepted.” He regarded Leonardo. “Why could you not kill them?”

“I made it to the chambers of one of the princes,” Leonardo said. “I was ready to kill, until I saw him. Then it all became too real. I could not bring myself to do it. He is innocent.” He decided it would be best not to mention the fact that the prince had woken up.

The rat who had huffed before, scoffed. “We are not to judge innocence or guilt. We are hired to kill, so we kill.”

“I cannot be so cold,” Leonardo said, looking down at the ground. “I cannot kill someone simply because someone else believes they should die. He has wronged no one.”

“Your father wronged no one,” Splinter said. “But he was killed so what he had could be taken.”

“The prince did not do that,” Leonardo argued. “His father did. Send me to kill just the king and I will do it.”

“The king must know that his legacy will not go on,” Splinter insisted.

“Enough,” the third rat interrupted. “It’s better this way. We need to stay out of politics.”

“He’s right,” the second stated. “We only allowed this political assassination to be his test because it was one of personal revenge and knew it wouldn’t really change anything in the long run. Now that the boy has proven that he doesn’t have what it takes to be one of us, we need to decide what to do with him.”

“I will not reveal any of your secrets,” Leonardo said.

“That isn’t our only concern,” the third said. “Not only do you know our secrets, you know our skills and, frankly, you’ve mastered them quite well, aside from your unwillingness to kill.”

“Then, he can teach,” Splinter offered.

“I don’t know if anyone will send their child to be trained by an outsider,” the first said.

“He was raised here,” Splinter argued.

The third shook his head. “He is still an outsider.”

“What are my options,” Leonardo asked.

“We don’t know yet,” the second said. “This is unprecedented. The leaders of multiple clans are coming together to decide.”

The pit in Leonardo’s stomach filled with despair. If they decide that he is too much of a risk, there was no way to stop them from ending his life. There was nowhere he could hide. They would find him.

“We will let you know,” the first said as they exited.

Splinter regarded Leonardo for a moment before saying, “Come eat.”

Leonardo followed Splinter into another room where a plate with fruit, cheese, and a small loaf of dark bread waited. As Leonardo tore into the bread, Splinter placed a small bowl with three boiled eggs next to the plate.

Boiled eggs were Leonardo’s favorite, especially when they were cooked enough to solidify the whites while keeping the yolk creamy.

“They were supposed to be a reward,” Splinter said as Leonardo reached for one.

“I’m sorry,” Leonardo said, picking up one of the eggs. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others but, I saw a white stag, in the forest as I made my way back tonight. I don’t think it was what it appeared to be.”

Splinter sat down in his favorite chair as he pondered Leonardo’s encounter in silence. His schooled expression showed nothing of what was going through his mind. After a while, he sighed and looked into the cold fireplace.

“Perhaps you made the right decision.”

…..

“Wake up.”

Raphael’s gruff voice pulled Donatello from the best sleep he had ever had. The bed was comfortable and he wanted nothing more than to stay just a little longer.

“It’s morning,” Raphael said, nudging Donatello. “My father will be here soon. You have to get back to your bed. He can’t find you in mine or he might beat us both.”

That was enough to snap Donatello out of his sleepy haze. He shifted to get up and was met with pain. The sores on the back of his legs weren’t the only things that hurt. Looking up at Raphael, he felt his face flush as he remembered the events of last night.

The door opened and the king stepped through. “He’s still in your bed.” Nevio followed him inside but stayed back, waiting.

Raphael jumped out of bed and hastily pulled on his pants. “We exerted ourselves to the point of exhaustion. I was too tired to care that he had fallen asleep before going back to the floor.”

“Good,” Arigio said with a wide smile. “But, don’t make a habit of it. Never let him forget his place.”

“Yes, father.”

Arigio nodded to Nevio. “Go on.”

Rushing over to the bed, Nevio knelt next to Donatello. “Are you alright?”

Donatello nodded. “I’m a little sore.”

“That’s normal.” Nevio flashed Donatello a knowing smile. “Did he use the oil?”

Donatello nodded.

“Good,” Nevio said with a sigh of relief. “In time, it will no longer hurt in the morning. You might actually start to enjoy it.”

“I doubt it.” Donatello reached out and gently touched the deep bruise on Nevio’s cheek. Tears filled his eyes and he wondered how Nevio could still be smiling.

“I’m fine,” Nevio reassured him. “I’m here to tend to you. Let me see how those wounds are healing up.”

 “What is that smell?” Michelangelo blurted out as he entered Raphael’s room. “And why is father’s slave messing with Raph’s slave?”

“Nevio is tending to Donatello’s wounds,” Raphael said, punching Michelangelo in the arm. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t hit your brother,” Arigio warned. “What you smell is the scent of sex.”

Michelangelo made a face and then looked at Raph. “Was he willing?”

“He is a slave,” Arigio said. “He doesn’t need to be willing, just obedient.”

“Everything looks good,” Nevio said as he stood and collected his things. “The muscles will feel tight for now but once you get moving, the pain will dissipate.”

“The two of you go help with breakfast,” Arigio said before turning to leave. “I have a busy schedule today and I don’t want things delayed any longer.”

“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said. “Come, Donatello.”

Donatello quickly dressed in his simple slave attire and followed Nevio to the kitchen.

They were met with a sweltering heat the moment they stepped inside. In the winter, the heat of the kitchen was welcome but in the midst of summer it was almost unbearable.

Donatello went to his station, checking and tasting items that were meant to go to the princes. The plates were not to leave his sight. Anything added would have to be sampled. This process insured two things, that the food was good enough to be served and that there was no poison.

He would have to sample everything again at the table when he delivered the food.

Nevio was responsible for the king and queen. Two other slaves tended to the plates of Arigio’s mates. They did this with every meal. The four of them were the best fed slaves in the kingdom.

“Raphael doesn’t like any brown on his eggs,” Donatello said after looking at one of the plates. “And the yolks look too set. These are over cooked.”

One of the kitchen hands pulled the plate aside while another got to work preparing two more eggs.

Once the meal was finished, the four slaves left the kitchen together, pushing carts laden with food. Each cart had enough food to feed a small family and the majority of it would return to the kitchen, untouched.

Donatello served Raphael first. He ladled some porridge into a bowl then added cream, candied nuts, and honey. Before placing it down he took a bite, placing the used spoon into a bucket. Michelangelo liked his porridge with butter, sugar, and berries. Donatello had to admit that he liked Michelangelo’s better.

Their plates with eggs, sausage, bread, fruit preserves, and cheese were placed down while they ate their porridge. Donatello went through several utensils, sampling each item. By the time he was done, he was full.

He stayed close while they ate, remaining ready to serve them or to clear emptied plates.

When the princes were finished with their meal, Donatello cleared the table and rushed the dishes and leftovers back to the kitchen.

“No complaints from the princes,” he announced as he left the cart. He didn’t have the luxury to linger.

He met up with the brothers in the wash room. Aids were there, tending to them while they soaked in their baths. Fortunately, this was one task that was not left for Donatello and it gave him a few moments for himself.

Stripping himself, Donatello took the opportunity to bathe using a bucket of water and a scrub brush. A clean set of clothes was waiting for him and a fox child took his dirty clothes to be cleaned.

Donatello then went into the connected room to inspect the clothes that had been set out for the princes. They were going to be sitting with their father at court later and needed to be dressed properly. They needed to look regal but not in their finest.

He switched out a few items, either because he knew that the princes had out grown them or did not like them. Everything had to be in pristine condition, nothing could show any sign of wear, so he looked over every inch.

Michelangelo was the first to be sent in to be dressed, giving Raphael more time to be pampered. He saw the clothes and smiled. “I love this one. The fur is so soft.”

After Michelangelo put on all that he could himself, Donatello got to work. Michelangelo studied Donatello’s face while he helped him get dressed. “So, you and Raph had sex?”

“Yes, my lord,” Donatello replied while he worked on some fastens.

“Were you willing,” Michelangelo asked.

“I am a slave,” Donatello said, wishing he could ask the prince to stop moving so much. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to Raph,” Michelangelo said. “He’s told me before that he didn’t want it to be forced. He wants a willing partner. He seems upset, so it makes me think that you weren’t willing. But, I don’t know why he would force it and he won’t tell me.”

“It’s not my place,” Donatello said.

“I command you to tell me,” Michelangelo said, emphasizing his order with a stomp of his foot.

“It was because of your father,” Donatello told him. “He said that if the prince did not have me, then he would take me for himself.”

“No wonder he’s mad,” Michelangelo mumbled. “His choices were, lose you or force you, two things he never wanted.”

“You’re all done,” Donatello said as he finished with the last buckle.

“Don’t be mad at Raph,” Mikey said as he shifted to test the fit.

“I am not given that luxury,” Donatello stated.

“Yeah.” Michelangelo sighed and headed for the door. “I’ll see you in the court room. Father tells me that a rabbit is coming in today. I hear they look like rats with long ears.”

“A rabbit?” That was interesting news. There were no rabbits in Benvolio’s empire. They live in a land across the vast ocean. Travelers and traders tell stories about them but Donatello has never seen one. “That would be interesting to see. Do you know why they’re here?”

“Father didn’t say,” Raphael said as he entered the room. “He just told us that we were having an audience with one and not to stare.”

“We both know father was directing that last part more towards me,” Michelangelo said as he headed out the door.

“Is this alright,” Donatello asked, gesturing to the ensemble.

Raphael sighed. He hated formal attire, preferring his hunting or training gear. “That will do.”

The formal attire looked like warrior gear but was more ornate and lacked practicality. The leathers were soft, instead of sturdy and was trimmed with fine, soft pelts. The only thing worn that was battle ready were the weapons.

Raphael’s weapon of choice was a pair of double headed battle axes that he wore across his back. Not easily accessible if he were to enter into a fight. They were more for show.

“We need to put in an order for new arm belts,” Donatello said and he pulled the belt tight around Raphael’s bicep. “This one is on its last notch.” The size of Raphael’s arm was both impressive and frightening. The thought of him striking Donatello caused his cheek to hurt. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It will do for now,” Raphael said. “Are you done?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Raphael tested the fit. “I hate wearing this shit.” He looked at himself in a long piece of polished metal. “But, father insists and I can’t go against his wishes.”

“Are you alright, my lord,” Donatello ventured to ask. “You seem out of sorts.”

“I’m fine,” Raphael said, keeping his eyes on his reflection but abruptly turned away. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, my lord,” Donatello said and followed Raphael.
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