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Defiance Ch. 01

By: SumOfAllThings



Tate plastered a pleasant smile on his face and tried to appear nonchalant as the young prince babbled endlessly on about the grandeur that was his life. He was clearly vein and spoiled and expected people to listen when he spoke. As the bastard son of a minor country Baron Tate could hardly explain to the younger man that he was a blithering and drunk idiot whose blatant lack of modesty was far from appealing. Instead, he smiled.

Unfortunately for him the princeling had not left Tate's side since the beginning of the night, except when he had to venture forth in search of more wine. He always came back though, rudely inserting him in the middle of any and all conversations. Aware that the attention he was receiving had nothing to do with his impressive listening skills Tate tried to divert the priceling's attention to some of the more accommodating members of his family. The younger man was not interested though and continued to force his company on Tate. 

As the night wore on the princeling tried to herd Tate towards a deserted corner in the gardens. Whenever Tate took an unexpected turn the princeling managed to move smoothly into his path without ever once making it look threatening or intentional to anyone who might have been watching. Unable to excuse him self or accuse the prince of having improper intentions Tate was slowly being pressed back. He searched frantically for one of his brothers, a friend, anyone who could come to his aid. Unfortunately for him people were more interested in watching the fireworks and festivities to take much notice of what was happening behind them. In fact, as Tate took a closer look at his surroundings he noticed that apart from the odd servant the majority of people around him were part of the king's entourage. 

He cleared his throat nervously as he tried to move, quite deliberately this time, back towards the main gardens. The lordling moved easily with him, once again blocking his path. Angry now Tate tried to force his way past him but this time the lordling grabbed his arm and quite literally propelled him into the shadowy outskirts of the garden. Tate slipped and fell painfully on his arm. He staggered back up quickly and tried not to panic as his eyes struggled to adjust to the surrounding darkness. The feast was still in full effect. People were loud and raucous; if he managed to insert him self among them he would be safe. 

He heard a slight rustling noise behind him but was too slow to avoid the vice like grip that took a painful hold on his throat. He had to step on his tiptoes to avoid being choked as a malignant voice whispered quietly into his ear. "Scream or cry out and I'll squeeze every last breath out of you, understand?" Gone was the drunken stuttering and youthful boastfulness of earlier. He choked Tate until the smaller man managed to gasp out a painful agreement and then pushed him down hard. 

Tate hit his head on the ground and was momentarily stunned senseless. As he lay still, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and catch his breath, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness until at last he was able to make out the outline of the princeling towering above him. 

As Tate watched the other man fumble with his belt sudden understanding dawned on him and he felt a wave of red hot anger sweep away all of his good sense. He pulled out his small eating dagger and when the young prince reached for him he plunged it towards the other mans hand. 

He expected screaming, cursing and calls for his immediate arrest. He was not prepared when the princeling kicked him hard in his side and pulled the dagger out of his grasp in one easy movement. He inspected it for a moment, grinned and tossed it away as a thing of no consequence. 

Squatting down on his haunches he began to pat the baron down in search of other weapons and was seemingly surprised when he found none. His hands moved towards Tate's belt buckle and the baron began to thrash. 

"Stop it!" The prince hissed his tone suddenly and bizarrely surprised. "I'm not going to hurt you; it's just a little fun. I've been watching you for days now."

"For god sake," Tate gritted threw bared teeth, "Let go of me. If anyone finds out I'll be ruined." 

The boys tone had changed again. Lustful and breathless he struggled to pin Tate in place. "You're a bastard of a no account baron, you have no worthy reputation to keep."

A knee forced apart Tate's thighs as the prince finally managed to pin both of Tate's wrists above his head with one powerful hand. He lent down and smothered Tate's bellows with his lips, effectively gagging the older man.

Furious and unthinking Tate's instincts screamed for blood. Sucking the prince's bottom lip into his mouth Tate bit down hard. His arms were released but they did him little good as he was punched hard in the gut. He grunted and released his hold. The next moment he felt two hands wrap once again around his throat.

His last thought before he lost conscious was a solemn one, for he realised he would die without having ever really experienced anything.

Defiance Ch. 02



Escape

"A child, younger than you, less experienced than you and you couldn't fight him off? What must I do Tate, have my guards protect you at all times. And how could you be stupid enough to let him corner you away from everyone else? You know how their people are; you know how little they think of us. By the god's boy, the state you were found in was humiliating! And worst of all is that everyone knows. Your reputation is in tatters and you've disgraced this household. You had better hope I don't let your brothers near you my boy else you might not live to regret your idiocy." 

Tate hadn't said a word when he was dragged out of bed by his father's right hand servant and councillor, he'd offered no complaint as he was marched discreetly to his father's private chamber and was shouted at for what seemed like hours. He hadn't so much as grunted as insult after insult was piled on top of him. He stood quietly and stoically as he was blamed for the prince's actions. 

Finally the old man stopped shouting, his eyes softened and he slumped dejectedly into his chair. Tate rather envied him. He was swaying on his feet and felt like he was going to collapse. Of course his fate really would have been sealed if he fainted like a delicate little woman.

"What am I to do with you Tate?" the old man said, his tone pained. "You're so clearly not one of us that it's impossible to hide you away." He put his face in his heads and groaned softly. "Perhaps I'm to blame, I never should have lain with your mother, but she was so beautiful, so exotic." His eyes rested on his son's and he heaved a quiet sigh. "Of course there in lies the problem. You look so much like her. You have her people's features, not mine. You're too slight, too quiet and your eyes are so accusing, just like hers. Before now I thought to marry you off to one of the more influential ladies, you might not have been happy with the match but it would have given you a decent life, but now who will take you other than the lowliest of families, who would try to weasel their way into our covenant. I cannot allow that, your brother's would not permit it."

Tate swallowed the painful lump in his throat as he tried to fight back the tears threatening to overpower his will to appear strong. "I'm sorry father." He said finally, quietly.

The older man flicked his hand, a dismissal to leave. Tate did as he was bid and when he finally reached the safety of his chambers he punched his door with his injured hand, relieved by the agony that shot up his arm. He had never in his entire life felt so ashamed. He couldn't bare it. He realized the only honourable thing left for him to do was take his own life and rid his family of the burden he had placed on them but to his own loathing he realized he couldn't do it. 

Gods help me! He thought despairingly, I really am a coward.

*************

The feast that night was tense. Not wanting to offend their guests the high baron and his household offered the same food, wine and entertainment as the previous evenings but the merriment and goodwill was quite obviously lacking.

Hasan couldn't help but stare at the princeling that ruined his son's life. He was a young lad of no more than twenty years but he was of an impressive height and build. He wore a short sword on his right hip and a long knife on his left. Light and handsome, he had an easy smiled and a pleasant manner. He was the sort of son every man wished for. He was everything that Tate was not.

It was well known that he was a favoured son of the king and as such was basically untouchable. A pity as the baron had spent much of the night contemplating his assassination. Time wasted it appeared.

When the feast was over and people began to break apart into couples to dance or wonder in groups and talk the baron was approached by the visiting duke him self, second hand man to the king. He was uncharacteristically alone.

"My lord," The baron said, bowing his head slightly. "I hope the night's festivities have pleased you?"

"As always you're the embodiment of hospitality baron Hasan. I wonder though if you and I might talk privately for a moment?"

"Of course my lord. How can I help you."

"Ah well, it is delicate, for you see it's recently come to my attention that Christian may have beheld him self to something that was not entirely freely given. I've come to understand that his actions may have much more dire consequences than he first imagined, especially for the young man involved."

"My lord," Hasan said, barely resisting the urge to strike down the man who spoke so casually of his sons disgrace. "It is better to not talk of such things."

"On the contrary my good man I think it quite necessary, in fact I think it might be the answer to your problems, for you see Christian has taken an unusually strong liking to your son and asked that you bequeath him to us so that he might serve in the king's house hold. I think you'll agree that it is a fair offer, considering the alternatives."

The baron began to sputter, unable to form words through his fury. "You want me to give my son to the prince as a servant?"

Smiling the duke slipped his arm through Hassan's. "Let me be blunt my good man. Your son was never going to earn his sword, he's what, twenty-four now and he's never been tried in battle. You could give him to the temple I suppose but the rumour is that he worships his mother's god and not ours. You know no respectable family will take him now. What's left but to kill him and forget he ever existed, and that's what you'll have to do eventually, unless you allow one of his brothers near him? Why not give him over to me. I'll take him to court, where the goings on here won't so much as cause a stir among the many intrigues and rumours that thrive in that place. He'll be well looked after and when the prince tires of him, which he no doubt will, I'll pass him onto my wife's services where he'll be sent to serve in her country manner until the day he retires. What say you?" 

Head swimming the baron pulled his arm free and retreated a few steps. "You need to give me time my lord, I have much to consider."

The duke's face finally darkened. "I'll have your answer now or not at all my lord. I do this to humour the prince but I am not about to beg for your bastard."

"My lord, please-"

"we leave first thing on the morrow, if he's to accompany us certain factors must be taken in to account. I need your answer now."

"But-"

"Very well then," the duke said resignedly. "I gave you a choice, remember that," 

"Wait!" Hasan gasped at the dukes retreating back.

He turned a smile on his face. "So then we have an accord?"

********************************************

Tate stared out of his windows at the festivities below and felt a painful pull in the pit of his stomach. His entire life had been ruined because a foolish man- child couldn't comprehend his own selfishness and stupidity. Whilst his life lay in tatters that bastard would spend the rest of his precious life in merriment and virtue. 

Intent as he was on the small world below him he did not here the approaching foot steps leading to his room until they were nearly on top of him. Mindful of what his father had said of his brothers he realised he had not locked the door. Too late he bolted forward. It banged open, knocking him back into the arm of his chair. He fell into it, much to the amusement of the duke and Prince!

He should have bowed to them but as the young lord reached out towards him all Tate could think of was ripping those hands to shreds. He pulled out his knife and this time he managed to slash the Priceling's hand. His victory was short lived as his arm was twisted to the point where a little more pressure would break it in two. He dropped the blade and cried out a vile curse in his mothers tongue. Ignoring the pain in his writs he twisted back round and slammed his head into the lordling face. The angle was poor but from the grunt he heard behind him he had managed to hurt the bastard. Next thing he knew he was lying face down on his own bed, having been flung almost halfway across the room. The lordling looked ready to kill him and had his knife out to finish the job.

Good, Tate thought viciously, I'd rather this death than to relive the shame all over. He closed his eyes, waiting for the death strike to finish his pitiful existence.

"Christian," The duke called out in an easy manner. "All this trouble to own him and now I have him for you you'd kill him? I think not my boy, not after the trouble I just went through."

"He struck me!" The prince whined.

"He's the son of a war lord, what did you expect?" He stepped closer to Tate, his eyes flowing over his body thoughtfully. "Runt though he is I imagine he's still had some training, haven't you boy?" He reached out and gripped Tate's hair, wrenching his head up into a painful angle. "I'll allow you your little fit this one time but if you ever take a blade to the prince again I'll have you quartered, you understand me?" Satisfied he let go of Tate and pulled him to his feet. "Your father and I have come to an accord. I graciously offered to take you into the kings hold and he has agreed. You'll be exclusively serving Christian, who he have agreed will not be lending you out and if he dose you are to come to me immediately. When your services are finished with him I will find you a place in my wives household in the country and there you will remain." Smiling he patted Tate's head in mock affection. "Pack your things. We leave on the morrow."

Wordlessly he watched the Duke leave his room, too stunned to protest until the door slammed closed and he found him self alone with the prince. Their eyes met and he saw the maliciousness in the other mans gaze. The lord moved towards him and despite him self Tate started to retreat until his back hit the wall behind him and he could go no further. 

"It's ironic really." The lordling said as he moved back and forth in front of Tate. "All this fuss and we didn't even do anything."

"Of course we didn't do anything!" Tate practically screamed. "I was unconscious you bastard." 

The lordling's smile grew brighter. "My point exactly. You were unconscious and though I'll admit I was tempted I generally prefer a more active partner. I assure you that your honour is still firmly in tact. And try to remember that you're the bastard, not I. " 

"Then why?" Tate screamed at him. "Why leave me in that state. You must have known what would happen."

"You tried to stab me." He shrugged. "And I was annoyed you weren't behaving. How was I supposed to know things would turn out so badly? If this had happened in court people would have thought it was hysterical."

"We're not in court." Tate said, his voice suddenly quiet. He shook his head and sat down on the end of his bed. 

The lordling snorted. "Obviously we aren't. If we were you would have thrown your self at me. Still, we should try to make the best of a bad situation. I'd like us to get to know each other a little better."

"Oh?" Tate asked his voice weak. "And perhaps horses will speak and men will fly." his voice hardened as he met the other mans eyes. "You should know my lord that despite anything else that happens in this world there will be one constant in your life and that is my hate for you."

"You are making things needlessly difficult Tate." The lordling said jovially. "Besides, I'm offering you a place at court. You should be thanking me. Without me you likely would have never seen it." 

"As your servant," Tate said incredulously. 

"As my companion." The prince corrected.

"And you think that is better? Are you really so blind? I wonder if despite personal preferences everyone at your court that caught your eye has lain with you in fear of the alternatives. Have you ever been denied before?"

The smile was a little less bright this time, the confidence faltering slightly. "Sometimes people act as you did but by the time we've finished they don't struggle anymore. They certainly don't fight me like you did." His back straightened suddenly. 

"And why would they? I'm a handsome man, powerful and generous. They're lucky I show them my attention. There are many who crave it."

"Well I assure you I am not one of them!"

"I can see that." He stepped over to Tate who was still sat on the bed and lent towards him. Tate lashed out at him but the prince laughed and easily caught his hand. "You're not very good at fighting, are you Tate?"

"I managed to black your eye." Tate said angrily as he tried to pull back. The next moment he was on his back and the prince was pinning him down again. "Let me go!" He demanded, struggling to keep the catch from his voice. "I'm warning you, let go!" 

"Why should I? You're mine now after all and if I want to play with you I will!" Tate felt a firm hand on his crotch, rubbing him threw the material of his trousers. He began to buck wildly but the prince only laughed and kept stroking him, his free hand effectively trapping both of Tate's above his head. "Why not relax Tate, I know you're enjoying It." he added as he felt Tate's manhood start to rise. 

Tate kicked out and was rewarded with a pained grunt from the prince as his knee connected with the other mans stomach. The prince fell on top of Tate, pinning him down. With a tremendous effort the older man rolled him off. He ran out of the room but had only managed a few steps when a burly arm wrapped around his waist and hitched up into the air. Feet dangling, Tate began to kick and punch the great brute holding him. The giant laughed at him and carried him back into his room. 

The prince had long recovered and was grinning as he watched Tate struggling. Suddenly Tate was falling. He hit the ground hard and stayed huddled up where he had dropped. The giant was chuckling softly. "Thant knocked some of the wind out of him." He noted as he nudged the smaller man with the toe of his boot and he failed to respond.

The prince gestured the giant away and lent down beside Tate until they were nearly on level with one another. "Pack your things." He said as he patted the smaller man on the leg. "We leave first thing in the morning." Thankfully he departed, but not before commanding the giant to guard him until they left on the morrow. He closed the door and Tate was left alone.

He stood up; his body aching from the abuse it had received over the past few days. He would have liked to have gone to sleep but he was thinking fast, trying to figure out how his father could have given his life away without even consulting him. He was not deluded into thinking he was the favoured son but he certainly felt a kinship with his father. As a bastard he had been granted certain entitlements that his title had never warranted. Why then was he being given to the person that had brought about his disgrace? How could his father be so cruel?

He brought out a small bag and began packing it with a few spare clothes and what ever valuable he had. He opened his window and looked down at the festivities below. If he climbed out onto the ledge and someone saw him he wouldn't get too far. The Gods only knew what they would do to him if he was caught running away. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Go with the prince," he said under his breath. "Or try to run." He stepped out onto the ledge, noting how small it was and hoping he would be lucky enough to land on the prince if he fell off it. He was sure footed though and he managed to make it to the back of the castle without falling off or anyone seeing him. He found an open window and climbed through into a dark room. It was empty; thank the gods, so he was able to sneak out the door without anyone sounding the alarm. He pulled down the cowl of his cloak and kept his head bowed as he passed through the halls. With so many strangers visiting and many of the locals drunk he was able to pass into the outer courtyard and through the servant's entrance without being challenged. He hurried into the town, ignoring the good natured greeting he heard. The cool summer breeze swept against his fevered skin as he broke into a run. 

He'd managed to make it out of the castle. Now all he had to do was flee the country.

************************************************

The duke noticed the princes enraged expression and barely resisted a sigh. What in the name of the gods was wrong with him now? "Is something amiss your highness?"

Fierce blue eyes settled on him, the anger emitting from them almost tangible. "He ran away!"

It took the duke a moment to understand what the prince was saying. "You mean the barons bastard. When, how?"

"Why not ask this great idiot." The prince said as he slapped his personal guard across the arm. The big man cringed, though the blow obviously didn't hurt him.

"He must have climbed out the window, my lord." The guard said his deep voice boomingly loud. "I watched the door the entire night; I swear he didn't pass through it." 

The duke let out a groan. The bastard had already caused too much hassle. Better that they were rid of him now before they returned to court.

"I'm going after him." The prince suddenly announced.

The duke laughed, he couldn't help him self. "My prince, you can't be serious. Your father expects you at court within the seven day."

The boy launched him self into his saddle and grinned down at the duke. "Then we had better get going." 

"My prince, we have no way of knowing where he is. How will we justify the delay to the king?"

The grin faded, replaced again with the fury. "I'll not let him make a fool of me my lord. The bastards mine by right, given to me by his own father. I plan to take back what is mine." 

What choice did he have? One day the idiot boy would be his king. "Very well my lord."He turned to his squire. "Bring me my horse!"

**************************************************

Truly he never expected to be followed. After three days of solid travel, sleeping under bushes and eating nothing more substantial than a few berries he was confident that he was a free man. A poor, ragged, homeless man but a free one none the less. Besides, he was nothing more than a conquest to the prince. The spoiled child obviously needed to feel like he could control everything and everyone around him. He had been irritated when 

Tate refused to share his bed. He wouldn't bother to come after him though, of that he was certain. 

The few people he met on the road gave him a wide birth. It was possible they had never seen anyone with his odd colouring before so he didn't take too much notice. He was used to being stared at. 

The first town he came to was called Isa. Though he had never visited the town he knew of its existence. Tired and dirty he made his way to the only inn and asked for a room and bath. He passed over a few coins, reluctant to part with them but desperate for a proper nights sleep. The inn keeper regarded him sceptically, his blue eyes full of mistrust. Tate shrugged it off and took his key. The bath was wonderful, the bed even better. When he woke the next day he felt 

considerably better for it. He'd slept in a little longer than he had planned but after the pace he had been keeping over the past few days he felt like he deserved a rest. After a decent breakfast, his purse much lighter because of it, he was back on the road again. 

He jut wished he knew where he was going.

************************************************

"Smallish, slight with brown hair and amber coloured eyes. He has copper coloured skin for goodness sake, you would know him if you saw him." The prince caught the innkeeper's shirtfront and pulled him close. "Has he passed through here?"

"Aye my lord. A young man of that description passed through just last night. He left late this morning."




Defiance Ch. 02



The prince pushed the innkeeper away, a huge smile he couldn't repress threatening to tear his face in two. "Then we have him. Quickly!" He said, gesturing the men outside and onto their horses. He threw a gold coin onto the innkeepers table. 

"My thanks for your assistance good sir."

The innkeeper looked at the gold with wide eyes and an open mouth. The prince hurried outside and vaulted onto his horse. "Not long now, my lord." He called out to the frowning duke. He repressed a smile as he saw the older man scowl. It amused him to watch the flickering emotions pass over the duke's face, emotions he thought he kept so well hidden. He was beginning to get sorely annoyed.

At least the bastard had been relatively easy to track. With his odd colouring he stuck out like a saw thumb and everyone who saw him easily remembered him.

He saw him as dusk approached. A lone figure outlined by the warm red sun, he was walking slowly with his head bowed. He was too far away for the prince to see his facial expression but he could imagine it as the figures head swung around and he saw the twenty men sat atop horses bearing down on him. He froze for a moment, simply staring. Then he ran.

***********************************************



Defiance Ch. 03



Tate was a fast runner, always had been. As a child when he had beaten in wrestling and sword play he had always excelled in running. His brothers used to mock him for it, telling him that he had been gifted by his mother's people with the art of being able to run away from a fight. It had shamed him at the time but now -

He broke through the tree's leading into the forest, jumping hastily over the outcropped roots and leaves. He heard cursing behind him and realized that his pursuers were stopping. They couldn't gallop through the woods; there were too many obstructions, too many things to fall over.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and felt his heart give way. They were so close. They must have been within grabbing distance just before he broke through the tree line.

He heard the prince then, his war trained voice caring easily over the distance between them. "You force me to come in there after you Tate and I'll make you regret the day your whore of a mother opened her legs to the man that sold you too me!" 

Tate stopped and turned around. Hoping he wasn't too far away to be properly seen he raised his right arm and made a gesture he hoped could sum up the entirety of his feelings. 

The prince started running, his followers a step behind him. Tate could barely hear the councilor screaming after them, demanding that they all turn back. He was too busy trying to make his tired legs go faster.

He dashed off the marked path and ran further into the thick underbrush. Twigs and branches tore at his hair and clothes, scratching his hands and unprotected face. He tripped once, cutting his shin on a sharp rock. Blood was dripping down his legs, soaking his trousers. 

Tate was hobbling by the time he came face first with a huge rock face. He stared up at it, realizing there was no way he was going to be able to climb up it in his condition. Exhausted and hurt, he could hardly stand up. 

He heard heavy foot falls behind him and realized the prince would be upon him in moments. Panic was threatening to overtake him common sense as he searched frantically for an escape. He'll kill me! He thought as he heard them close the distance between them. But what will he do to you before he kills you? A cruel voices taunted in the depths of his mind. 

His eyes latched onto a small hole in the corner of the rock face. He stared listlessly at it for a few moments before he had an idea. There was a small gap leading through to the other side, if he could fit through it he would gain a lead, however slight. He knew there was no way his pursuers would be able to follow through such a small space. 

It was a tight fit, made worse by the already constricted feeling in his chest. He wriggled through the small gap, trying to ignore the fear of being crushed or getting stuck as the hard stone pressed in one him. At one point his chest became wedged between the ragged rocks. He bit his lip until he felt blood pour onto his chin as he dragged him self through the small space, trying desperately to free him self. He managed it at last but he was sure he had damaged his ribs somehow. He only hoped they weren't broken.

He was moving slowly though, too slowly. He heard the prince and his men break into the clearing behind him and he wondered briefly if he was too young to feel his heart burst.

"You're telling me we lost him?" Christian demanded, his hand on his knees as he sucked in some much needed air. He felt like he was going to pass out! Say what you like about Tate but the little bastard could run. "He couldn't have climbed this thing that quickly. Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"My lord." Robert said, his sour face twisted into a look of near annoyance. "We followed his blood trail. He was definitely alone, how could he have tricked us?"

"Then where is he?" Christian asked, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. He lashed out, kicking a near by stone. "I will not lose him. I will not allow that bastard to make a fool out of me! Find his trail!"

"My lord." One of the younger guards squeaked, his young face a mask of excitement as he pointed wildly down a small gap in the rocks. "My prince I see him!"

Christian pushed the boy aside and squatted down to look through the hole. "Stop!" he bellowed, seeing Tate's legs escape the last part of the tunnel. The half blood crawled to his knees and looked over his shoulder at Christian, his eyes hooded and his face a mask of scratches and fatigue. 

"You're only making this harder on your self." Christian growled, resisting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs. "If you stay where you are and don't try to run again I promise I wont hurt you. I'll even honor the promise made to your father, but only if you stop right now!"

Tate looked at him blankly for what seemed like a long time. Eventually he just stood up. Christian saw his bloodied and ruined trousers for a moment before the other man walked away.

Christian could not recall a time when he had felt so angry. It frightened him that he could contain such rage, such fury. No one had ever denied him anything in his entire life and he was unsure how to react to such open defiance. He knew he should have let the half-blood go, that no good would come from following him, but his pride had been injured. He needed to catch up with the baron's bastard and put him in his proper place. And when he did catch to him, Christina felt a sliver of satisfaction roll through his entire body, he would make Tate pay for his defiance, he would heel the bastard and put him in his proper place, even if he had to break him to do it.

"Over the wall." Christian said, looking directly at his men. A few of the younger ones flinched back, fearful of his expression. 

Only Richard remained calm. Eying the prince thoughtfully he pulled out his water bag and took a long swig. "My lord, may I remind you that the councilor is waiting for us, as is the king."

"I am aware." Christian hissed. "Now may I remind you that I just gave a direct order? Disobey me again and I'm well within my rights to kill you here and now. Now move!"

Richard looked at him, taking just a little longer than necessary before he slung his sword harness over his shoulder and started to climb the rock face. The other men followed his lead and soon they all on there way up. It won't be long now, he decided as he watched over the surrounding countryside.

******************************************

Tate let out a strangled curse as his injured leg finally gave out on him and buckled. He collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily as he tried to accommodate his overworked lungs and heart. 

He felt a water drop land on his forehead, followed by another and then another. Soon it was pouring with rain and his entire body was saturated with water. He began to shiver violently and realized if he didn't find shelter soon he would probably freeze to death. With night vast approaching his options were further limited, for he couldn't search in the dark.

He managed to stand up and with the aid of a near by branch he hobbled forward onto the main road. He knew he should have been avoiding the roads altogether but he couldn't maneuver through the underbrush in his condition.

It didn't take long for a fever to set in. He was just lucid enough to realize that he was serious trouble when his leg gave way again and he found him self sitting in the middle on the road amongst the mud and water. He felt his eyes roll up in the back of his head ad then his world turned dark. ************************************** Lukas let out a bark of laughter as he watched his youngest sister, Rose, squabble with her doll. The look on the little ones face perfectly matched their mother's expression when she was annoyed. Being the eldest of their brood Lukas had had ample opportunity to study that expression in earnest.

Rose let out a shriek as Lucas two other sisters fished the doll out of her hand and pitched it above her head. Andrew, his second youngest brother started to scold them and the girls began to tease him unmercifully instead. 

"It's never quiet is it?" John asked. With less than a year between them John was Lukas's closest brother and best friend. He grinned as he watched Andrew jump out of their wagon and hightail it away from the girls. "I think they scared the life out of him." he said, chuckling quietly.

"Poor boy never stood a chance." Lucas agreed. He looked ahead and something the distance caught his eye. Nudging his brother he pointed ahead. "You see that?"

John sat forward, squinting. "It looks like a body."

"In the middle of the road? Do you think there might be thieves near by?"

John shook his head. "I don't know."

"Stop the wagon." Lucas said, he jumped off and ran the short distance to their parent's wagon. "Father, theirs a body in the middle of the road, just a little way ahead." He said, not giving them a chance to greet him.

His father stood up without a word and passed into the back of his wagon. He emerged moments later carrying his sword and some spare knives. He passed one to Lucas and kept the other at hand. "Come on; let's go check who it is." He turned to his wife. "You and the others stay here. Have the elder ones to round up the children and keep them safe. John can help you." 

She nodded her head and started herding the children towards her. Having spent their entire lives on the road even little Rose knew what was expected of her. They circled the wagons, the smallest among them huddling together.

Lucas and his father traveled the rest of the distance on foot. They were both tense, expecting an attack at any moment. When they were less that a stones throw away his father stopped, putting a hand out to halt him. "He looks injured, no?" he asked, frowning.

"He looks dead." Lucas said, squinting at the small body in front of him. His legs were lying in a puddle made red by his own blood and he was lying face down. "I'm going to check." Lucas said, not giving his father the chance to argue as he jogged forward and pulled the man onto his back. "He isn't dead." He called out, seeing the slender chest rise and fall shallowly. The strangers face was covered in mud and scratches, his hair was filthy and he was hot to the touch. "He's really sick father." He said, looking up as his father approached.

Davis frowned for a moment. "Bring him along then, we can't just leave him in this ditch." 

"Bring him," Lucas grumbled as he bent down, reluctant to touch the filth and gore that covered their new friend. Just as he was reaching for him the stranger's eyes popped open. The young man screamed out, shuffling away from Lucas as he brandished a dirty knife he had seemingly conjured from no where. He tried to stand up but his injured leg betrayed him and he fell heavily to the floor. His amber eyes were wide and feverish as he began cursing at Lucas, calling him a rapist and a ruiner of lives. He started to cry then, sobbing for his mother whilst simultaneously cursing his father. Lucas barely noticed Davis step up beside him. "The boys fever is making him delirious." His father caught sight of the knife in the young mans hand and unconsciously pushed Lucas back a few steps behind him. "Though he doesn't look it that boys accent is most definitely from up north, and his isn't a commoners tone either."

"He's sick father and small, I can take the knife from him easily enough." He went to do just that when the older man put out his arm, blocking Lucas's way. "If he's been trained among them he's plenty dangerous, small and sick or not. Why I once saw one of the northerner children vanquish a man twice his age, and he did it with a little smile on his face. Let him be, he'll soon tire him self out and then we can take his knife."

It took longer than either of them expected but eventually the young mans eye rolled up into the back of his head and he pitched forward. They hurried towards him, taking his knife and carrying him towards Lucas cabin.

"What's that?" John demanded when he saw what his brother and father carried. "You're not putting that thing in my cabin!"

"He's hurt John." Lucas said incredulously.

"I don't bloody care, he stinks!" 

"You don't exactly smell of rose's son." Davis said, smiling slightly as his son took a cautious sniff of his own arm.

"I don't know father, I actually think John smells rather pretty." Lucas cautiously lowered the stranger on to his pallet, sighing slightly with the realisation that he would probably have to burn the sheets later. "We'd better strip him; god knows what state he's in under all this muck."

John let out an exaggerated sigh. "Trust you to be the first one to suggest it. Go on then because I'm not touching him."

The strangers body was even worse that he expected. He was covered in a multitude of new and old bruises, he was too slim and the wound in his leg was already festering. It was a wonder he was still alive.

"Come on," Davis grumbled. "We're going to have to clean him up and take care of his leg. John, go and fetch some water, cold as you like. We need to break his fever." 

The stranger was listless through out their ministrations. At one point Lucas checked to see if he was still breathing. He was, but only faintly. They cleaned him up and applied some alcohol and roots to his leg. The pallet sheets were changed and then they wrapped him up in one of younger boy's shirts and trousers.

"Not much more we can do for him now." Davis said as he patted hi son on the arm went back to his own wagon.

"Looks like you're sleeping on the floor." John said brightly as he settled down onto his own pallet. "Here," he said, tossing a pillow at Lucas's face. "Sleep well." 

"Funny," Lucas grumbled as he settled down on the hard wooden floor. He fell asleep quickly, tired from the long drive and the excitement that had followed. ___________________________¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Christian watched his men with thinly veiled contempt. He knew he was making a mistake and that the king would be furious about the delay but he couldn't make him self turn back, not after everything he had gone through.

When his tent had been erected and one of the elder soldiers started cooking the rabbit he had snared a little earlier Christian allowed his eyes to linger over the younger soldiers. None of them were possessed the slight and sleek forms he tended to prefer but the smallest one, Christian believed the lads name was Joseph, would suffice for one night.

He called the lad to him as the others retried. With a backwards glance towards his comrades Richard silently entered the prince's tent. His blue eyes widened to two huge pools as Christian began to strip him. He could not have been more than eighteen years old. Christian wondered if he was a virgin. Tate's earlier words suddenly came back to him. Did the lad desire him or was he too frightened to protest. Either way Christian would have his way, as was proper for a man of his distinction. 

The boy, properly unclothed with his manhood bright and straining, fell onto the prince's lap with amazing vigor and surprising skill. Certainly no virgin then and clearly he was not being forced. Christian smiled and sat back, running his hands through the boy's fiery red hair and groaning his approval as his rod was sucked and licked to perfection. The boy could not take Christian's full length, few men could, but he seemed determined to try his hardest.

Christian spat on his fingers until they were dripping and inserted them into the boys wiggling bottom, loosening his hole until all three digits could fit snuggly inside. The boy groaned loudly around Christian's organ, causing the prince to smile. He pushed him off his mouth and caught his weight. Because he was a well muscled lad he was a little too heavy for Christian to handle him as he normally preferred. He strained to lift the lad up over his lap. His organ pushed into the boy's hole, causing him to gasp quietly. Christian started pushing the lad down far more quickly than was comfortable for him. He was half way inside when he grew impatient and rammed him self fully inside. The boy's eyes rolled in his head as he cried out. It excited Christian, that groan, his pain. He closed his eyes and pretended that it was Tate he had impaled. He launched forward, pushing the smaller man onto his back, raising the beautiful mans copper colored leg over his hip as he rammed into him as hard as he could. Tate's face, beautiful and sultry, his amazing amber eyes and silky hair. Christian let lose his frustration, pounding into the flesh crying out beneath him. When he caught Tate, when he got his hands around that lovely slender neck he would punish him, he would teach him for making Christian look a fool.

With that image in mind he came in an explosion, slamming into the flesh beneath him a few more times. He collapsed upon the quivering form, his eyes opening in disgust as he heard the sniveling whimpers. 

"Get out." He hissed as the solider.

The boy collected his clothing, not even bothering to change as he stumbled out. 

Christian watched him go and felt a spark of remorse. "Look what you made me do." He muttered before rolling onto his side and falling into a deep slumber. *************************************** Tate sat bolt upright and barely contained a yell. To his right lay a young man, with the coloring and facial features of one of the traveling folk. The tinker was fast asleep, either uncaring or unaware of who lay opposite him. Tate was in a caravan with brightly painted walls and pictures of flowers and bells covering every available inch of it. It was the sort of thing one expected to see in a little girl's nursery, and even then it would not have been nearly so garish. He sat up a little straighter and looked down at the bright red shirt and brown trousers he had been dressed in. Such colors didn't exist within his home. Men wore black or grey, women wore somber blues or latent grays. He twisted out of bed and dropped his legs over the side of the pallet. His ankle was throbbing painfully and he suddenly remembered that he had sliced it open. He lent down and tried to test a little weight on it when his foot met with a solid lump. Before his still dazed mind could encompass what was happening a figure sprung up and pressed him back down onto the bed. His first instinct was that the prince had found him and he needed to get away. He began yelling, cursing with everything he had. The tinker woke up and helped the prince to pin him down. A hand was slapped over his mouth, gagging his cries. 

A light was shone into the small cabin, held by a large elder man. Tate got a good look at the other man holding him then; the one he had thought was the prince. Another tinker, he realized, and almost identical looking to the one had had seen asleep on the pallet. Tate managed to bite down on the hand over his mouth and his assailant jumped back with a howl.

"Let me go!" he demanded, snarling uncontrollably at the surrounding men. He was too boxed in, he realized, too enclosed. He struggled against the tinker; the one he had thought was the prince. The other man was stronger than him though, especially in his weakened state. His hands were pinned to his side and though he bucked he couldn't free him self.

"Go ahead." The tinker said, smiling at him, mocking him. "Tire your self out and then maybe you'll be in more amiable mood."

Tate drew back his uninjured leg and kicked the tinker hard in the stomach. The older man let out a grunt and fell back. Tate sat up, preparing for only the gods knew what when the old man stomped into the wagon and clouted him in the face. He fell back, the pain and his exhaustion forcing his mind to shut down. ************************* Lucas was driving his father's wagon as they discussed what they should do with their new guest when suddenly the subject of their discussion burst from the back on Lucas's wagon and fell in a rather magnificent heap on the floor. His wrists and hands were tied, at least two of his ribs were cracked, if not broken, and he still couldn't stand up, never the less he was doing a valiant job trying to intimidate them. He blinked rapidly, staring threateningly at the wagon that was about to run him down. Lucas pulled back the reigns and stared incredulously at his father. "Is he insane?"




Defiance Ch. 03



"No, but their kind often seem like it. You're lucky that one isn't a full blood, if he was things would be a lot more difficult." He clasped his eldest son hard on the shoulder. "Go put him back then son. Like you said before, he's small and sick. You can handle him."

Lucas sighed and jumped down in front of the smaller man. Now that the fever had passed Lukas was able to study the other mans unusual amber eyes in earnest. His skin, though not quite so dark as Lucas's own, was a pleasant copper shade beneath the bruises. An unusually exotic face comprised of sharp features and a nicely shaped chin lent him an appealing quality that could not be entirely diminished by the scowl on his face. "Calm down!" Lucas said gently. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Why am I tied?" he demanded, "And why am I here? Who are you?"

"My names Lucas, you're here because we found you face down in the middle of the road and you're tied because last time you woke up you tried to attack us."

"You attacked me!" he yelled. "I was just trying to stand up."

Lucas had to concede that that wasn't entirely untrue. The stranger had scared him and he'd reacted in fear. "I'm sorry about that but before we put you in the wagon you did try to stab me." He opened his hands wide. "I won't try to hurt you again, as long as you promise to do the same. Do we have a deal?"

"Untie me!" he yelled.

Lucas rolled his eyes slightly. Why were things never easy? He walked over to the younger man and caught his tied hands. Before his guest could object he vaulted him up over his shoulder and carried him back to the wagon. He heard laughter behind him but was a little preoccupied with his struggling passenger. He dropped the other man onto the pallet a little more roughly that was probably necessary, especially considering his battered ribs, and drew out some more rope. The strange watched him, his breath coming out in short wheezes as he valiantly held in the pain he must have felt. When Lucas bent down and caught his ankle he tried to shuffle away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes huge as he tried to kick his leg free from Lucas's grasp. He let out a dry sob when the older man began to tether his legs to the pallet. "Don't!" he pleaded, the anger gone, replaced with what was quite obviously fear. Lucas was more gentle with the strangers other leg because the wound on his ankle. Never the less he made sure his guest wouldn't be able to kick him self free. He caught the strangers tied wrists and tethered them to the top of the pallet with a short length of rope. Bending down to look him in the eye he tested the bonds, making sure they wouldn't give. 

"You calm down and stop making demands and I'll untie you. Understand?"

He thought he had quelled the younger mans fiery temper, he was wrong. The little whelp spat at him! He wiped the spittle of his face and grinned at the boy as he wiped the spit onto the lads head. "You're a little old for tantrums my friend." He straightened up, shaking his head in wonder as the half blood strained against his bonds to attack him. Lucas's father was right. He really didn't want to meat a full blooded northerner.

*****************************

Tate stared listlessly at the wagon wall, trying to fight the numbing boredom that was slowly driving him insane. How many days have I spent tied to this pallet? He wondered as he sat up and tried to rub some of the feeling back into his ankles. He wanted to stand up, to move and walk. He would have done almost anything to be able to take a run around his father's estate. He jumped a little when the wagon door opened and Lucas stepped threw. Tate caught a quick glimpse of the darkening sky outside before the door closed and he was trapped back in the box.

Tate noticed the tonic and water in the tinker's arms and shuddered inwardly. He glared at as the other man moved busily around the cabin, studiously ignoring Tate. A few days ago the half-blood would have done everything in his power to attack the gypsy but finally he had to concede that he could not beat him tied and injured as he was.

Tate felt a wave of distaste pass through him as the tinker bent beside him and began prodding at the wound on his leg. All his life he had been told that the traveling folk were the worse kind of scum, that they were weak, disease ridden thieves that spent their lives living off hand outs of others. Looking at the elder mans strangely woven blonde hair and overly cheerful expression Tate had to admit that the tinker wouldn't pass for any sort of warrior among his people. But then to be fair, neither had he.

"I'm sure it isn't infected." He announced happily, making no comment towards Tate's sudden calm. "You're lucky we found you when we did."

Tate stared at him; barely resisting the urge to push the other mans hand of his leg. The tinker must have noticed his unease because he suddenly looked down at his own hand and back up at Tate. Sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest and lent back. "I had thought you an outlander, and as such removed from the barbarians rustic views." 

Tate looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I don't like being touched." He said eventually. He looked challengingly back at the other man. "By anyone."

He shrugged. "Suit your self. Of course if I can't touch you then I can't really help you much either." Standing up he reached out and opened a cupboard above Tate's head. He pulled off his shirt and trousers and placed them inside. He smiled when he noticed Tate was staring at him. He opened him mouth but his words were lost as the younger brother barged into the room. He began jabbering to Lucas in their own language and the words were lost on Tate. He stared as the two men moved fluidly around the small wagon and wondered how such large men could stand being trapped in such a small place. They seemed to make use of every available space, hardly even touching as they made ready for bed.

Tate pulled his legs up against his chest as the elder of the two reached out and tested the bonds that kept Tate hobbled. Tate resisted the urge to pounce on him and endured the tinker's smug smile as the ropes were tightened. It hurt but he'd been damned if he'd let the smug bastard know it.

The younger brother blew out their candle and settled into his cot. Tate expected Lucas to sleep on the floor as he had every other night. He let out a surprised grunt when the older man pushed him flat on his back. "What are you doing?" he hissed as Lucas crawled over him and lay down on the pallet with his back against the wagon's wall. He tried to slide off the pallet edge but there wasn't enough give in is bindings.

"I'm trying to go to sleep. I can't endure another night on that floor."

"Then I'll sleep on it!"

"I'm too tired to undo your bindings again. Just lie still and go to sleep." The tinker's arms wound its self against Tate's waist, forcing him further into Lucas's chest. 

With his arms and legs bound there was little Tate could do other than squirm. He began fidgeting, long after he heard the other tinker's light snoring. He wanted to start yelling, to fight, but he had finally learned that he could not beat the tinker. Maybe if he had a weapon of some sort, a sword or dagger, then he would finally be able to wipe the smug smile of the bastards face. He bucked angrily, his humiliation and despair battling to out do one another as he lay helpless in the arms of his enemy. He felt movement behind him, good! Why allow the bastard to sleep when I cannot. He bucked again, harder this time. He was shocked when he heard light laughter in his ear. "My friend, unless you want us to become far more familiar I would stop wiggling around. Its -- distracting... " 

Tate stopped what he was doing because his body tensed in fury. He opened his mouth but a hand slapped over it, muffling his bellows. The laughter in his ears grew more amused. "Calm your self; I'm not going to do anything to you, especially with my brother lying across from us. Now please, be quiet and go to sleep." Tate waited until the hand fell away from his mouth before he swore vehemently but quietly. He heard the laughter again; softer than before and soon after a soft and regular breathing pushing against his ears and though Tate thought sleep it finally beat him into sweet nothingness. *****************

Tate was warm and comfortable as he woke up the next morning. There was a slight thudding noise against his ear that threatened to lull him back to sleep so he stretched his arms, feeling a sudden sense of confusion when they refused to uncoil. His eyes opened wide as everything suddenly dawned on him and he found him self lying half on top of the tinker's chest. He tried to sit up but his bound legs were trapped beneath the tinker's powerful legs. He could feel the other mans chin resting against the top of his head and debated shooting upwards. He tried to move but the bastard's arm was still tight around his midsection. He was stuck.

"Let go!" He snarled, punching the other mans chest. He heard a slight grunt above him as the arm around his waist flexed slightly. "Did you hear me? I said get off!"

"Be quiet," The tinker said lazily. "Go back to sleep."

Tate punched him again, harder than before. "Let me go!" he hissed.

Tate let out an undignified squeak as he felt flexed finger's squeeze the flesh on his backside. He hadn't even noticed the tinker work his hands down his trousers. The other man squeezed hard until Tate strained his body to try and relieve some of the pain. Too late he realized that he just forced him self into the gypsy's full manhood. He tried to pull back but the other man kept him pined, slowly grinding their dicks together until Tate felt him self begin to rise. He gasped in pleasure as Lucas's other hand began massaging his backside. Lucas simultaneously lent down and pressed his lips against Tate's; forcing his tongue into the smaller mans mouth as he slowly bucked against him. Despite him Tate's hips started to move on their own accord. A tongue trailed up Tate's neck and pressed into his ear. "Do you want me to stop?" a smooth voice asked sweetly.

"Ugh!" Tate gasped, bucking harder into the larger man.

He heard the same mocking laughter as he felt a finger run down the crack of his arse. Suddenly a large finger was being pressed into his hole. "So tight." Lucas gasped in wonder. Tate whimpered loudly as he felt something pressed deep within him. A warn hand worked his trousers down his to his ankles and grasped his dripping dick. Tate couldn't stop the low moans as his body was stimulated beyond his wildest dreams. The jerks on his dick became harder as the finger inside of him continued to apply pressure on that spot. 

He finally rolled of Tate and stood up. He looked down at him for a while before eventually leaning forward and loosening the ties around his wrists and ankles. "Are you letting me go?" Tate asked, confused.

The tinker smiled, more mockingly than ever before. "If we do let you go what will you do with your new found freedom. You have no money, no weapons? When we found you were bleeding and broken. If I let you lose how long will you last before you kill your self, or before someone else dose the job for you?"

Tate slowly rubbed the circulation back into his arms as he tried to stand up. He managed, with the aid of the pallet. "At least it would be by choice." He stepped up, ignoring the pain that coursed through his damaged ankle. "And what do you care. You're not my kin."

"Tell me your name?" He asked softly, confusing Tate thoroughly as the younger man hobbled towards the wagon door. 

He thought about it for a moment and smiled. "Guess."



Defiance Ch. 04



He had never been a particularly kind master. With his every wish and thought granted he had attained a disturbing amount of arrogance at a very young age. He had killed before, in cold blood. He had ruined the lives of those who dared call him friend because of some imaginary dishonour they might have done him. Rape was as common to him as breathing. 

Tanis , the younger brother, second in line for the throne, the spare, knew only too well that he was kept alive as insurance. He had been kept under heel since birth to ensure him amiability. No one wanted the second in line to have a back bone, less his start to have delusions of grandeur. 

Tanis had watched his brother, the man he would one day have to bend his knee to, with growing concern. Their father was blind to Christian's cruelty. He seemed to have convinced him self that his eldest son's wrong doings were merely acts of boisterousness, that the arrogance was pride and the other gleaming imperfections were too slight and unworthy of notice. 

Watching him stalk into the court, bedraggled and five days late for his audience with their sire, Tanis could not help but wonder if their father would finally have his say with his wayward son. Everyone at court had heard the rumours of what Christian had done to the baron's bastard son. Tanis unsuccessfully tried to keep back his smile. Such an unworthy foe yet he had caused so much intrigue. Tanis had met the half blood once, years ago, before he had attained his first blood. Even then he remembered looking down at the outlandish young man. Tate had been polite and clearly well educated for a bastard, but one need only glance at him to guess he would never attain his first blood. Tanis wondered if the half-blood had proved them all wrong. The prince favoured his bandaged right hand. Had he been attacked, and if so who else would dare but the rebel bastard? 

His pale blue eyes flicked briefly over Tanis but there was no warmth in his gaze. The younger man looked away quickly. He had made it a point to seem as unthreatening and unassuming as possible since childhood. He doubted it would take much on his behalf to anger his elder brother into doing something to him. The king had other younger sons; Tanis was not so important that he could not be replaced.

"You are late." The king said, his grizzled voice carrying easily over the court room as he lent forward in his throne, his light eyes fixed sourly on the prince.

Christian dropped to one knee and bowed his head rigidly. "Forgive me my lord, a matter of urgency kept me away."

"We have heard. Did you manage to catch your bastard Christian?"

Tanis looked up in surprise. He was not the only one gaping. The king had just openly mocked his golden child. It only showed just how displeased he was. A quiet wave of laughter passed through the court. Tanis saw Christian's fist clench and wondered what poor soul would pay for his humiliation. 

A tense quiet passed over the court as the prince continued to stare at his boots. Suddenly he lifted head and stared at the king for a long moment before a huge smile broke out on his face. He chuckled good naturedly and shrugged. "Truthfully my lord, he got away fro me." He stood without invitation and approached the throne. He stepped beside the king and spoke quietly into their father's ear. Many emotions rolled over the king's features, settling at last with a look of grudging acceptance. "You are young Christian, and therefore mistakes are going to be made." The king smiled very slightly. "You are forgiven."

Of course he is, Tanis thought as he watched Christian drape him arm possessively over their father throne as he stepped behind the old man and looked out at the court. He could only be grateful that Christian had not caught up to the unfortunate young man that had caught his eye. He just preyed for the half-blood sake that he never did.

****************************************************************************

A month had passed since Tate had escaped the only home he had ever known. During that time he had travelled among the tinkers, a people he had previously and wrongly believed were weak willed and filthy. Once again his bigoted upbringing had been sorely misleading. The Gypsies were the kindest and most worthy people Tate had ever known. Their love for one another and the simple lives they lived was a breath of fresh air for him. They didn't believe in killing and their arguments were not solved with violence. They were far from soft but they were certainly pure, or so they seemed to Tate who had been brought up amidst a torrent of death and cruelty.

Almost all of them had accepted Tate easily into their tribe, not pushing him about his past or the circumstances that had landed him with them. He had refused to offer his name and everyone, with the exception on Lucas, had respected his wishes. Lukas had been somewhat difficult to put off in some other areas as well but his advances had not and, Tate realised, never would become too forceful. 

He thought briefly of Christian as he sat silently beside a happily talking Lukas and wondered if he was really free of the other man. Surely the princeling had lost his scent after so much time? He would have had to go back to his kingdom and face the wrath of the king he had forced to wait for him. Tate was free and safe. He should have been able to relax.

*******************

Christian pushed past the guards, half hoping they would try to stop him so he could finally let free his anger and frustration. He had lost him, lost him because of the dithering old fool he was forced to bend his knee to. 

Fortunately for the guards they did not try to interfere. Christian snatched the silver key from around one of their thick neck and let him self into the high tower room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

A tall, thin figure sat staring out between wide open windows. His face tilted upwards, pointedly ignoring the prince's presence as he seemingly studied the wide open skies. The prophet could always be found in the same position, looking out at the heavens, reaching for the unattainable. 

"The night sky is most particularly breath taking tonight, is it not Miliananious?" He asked brightly.

Two milky white eyes turned unseeing in his direction. "Why have you come to see me Christian?"

"I thought you were the prophet. Why not tell me?" If Christian was not so painfully aware of Miliananious true nature he might have found the prophet breathe taking. Hair as black as midnight and skin as smooth and as brown as an apple seed. Christian had known the prophet all his life, just as his father had and his father's father before him. In that time the prophet had not aged a year. A constant youth, yet one need only look into his blinded eyes and no man would mistake him for anything but ancient. 

The chains attached to the prophet's wrists rattled loudly as he fumbled for a chair. He stared out at Christian, his expression sorrowful as it always was. "You would know your destiny, my lord?" He shook his head and laughed quietly. "I could at least respect your grandfather Christian; at least he was not stupid enough to ask me so directly. How do you know I won't lie?"

"I know my destiny, creature. I come seeking someone; I would have you find him for me."

The prophet shifted his head, his sightless eyes turning back towards the window as he reached out and traced the lines of his chains. "If there is one so fortunate to escape your grasp what makes you think I would agree to find him for you?"

"Because I will be king one day Miliananious but unlike my father before me I have no respect for what you once were. All I see before me is what you are now, blind, weak, hobbled and trapped in the body of a mortal man. Do as I say else I'll take away your window, I'll throw you in the dungeons and wrap you in chains so heavy you wont be able to so much as move. You think you have no freedom now, you are wrong."  

The creature continued staring at him without really seeing him. "You are a cruel man." He said at last, very softly.

"Strength can often be mistaken for cruelly. Many must have thought you were cruel before my grandfather put you in your place."

"My place?" The prophet shook his head and laughed very quietly. "He didn't put me in my place Christian, he stole my life."

Christian was quickly growing bored with the animals whining. "Find my slave, creature. Find Tate De'Vann else I will finish what my Grandfather started all those years ago and I really will take your life. "

He bowed his head very slightly and looked back out of his window. "Ah, I see him now, this Tate De'Vann. A half-blood and a bastard. He has great courage Christian; I can see why you would want him."

"It's not his courage that interests me creature."

"I think you are wrong, young one. He is fair, even I can see that, but there are those that are fairer, men and women who would happily couple with you. No, it's his courage that has retained your interest. You cannot suffer such courage, such nobility in one so seemingly helpless. You seek to crush him, to make him into what you think he should be."

"And what prey tell would that be?"

"A shell, empty and hollow. You need to see him reduced to that state, it's the only way you can feel alive, it's the only way you can feel like a man."  

His anger flared and he saw red. He caught the blind creature by his brittle wrists and dragged him out of his seat. His hands dug into the slight shoulders as he shook the prophet with all the strength, thrilling in the way his head rattled back and forth like a rag doll. "I am a man, I will be king. Everyone wants to be me; they admire me, one and all. You are a beast, grounded and shackled. I am a MAN!" he threw the snivelling thing away from him, satisfying in the quiet moan the other emitted as he hit the cold stone floor. "Tell me where he is?" he demanded, trying to control his fury as he spoke very quietly.

"He travels with a tribe of Gypsy's." Miliananious voice was barely more than a whisper. "He's headed towards the southern planes." 

The prince turned on his heels and stalked out of the room. "Starve him!" Christian demanded as he passed the prophets guards. "No food for a week. Close the windows and tighten his shackles. Do as I say or suffer my wrath."

*************************************************************************

Tate noticed that Robert was watching him again and involuntarily looked away, unsure why the other man made him feel so uneasy. He was kind to Tate, in a distant detached sort of way. Certainly he had never tried to hurt him before, yet he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the older man disliked him. It made him feel like an unwanted interloper so he avoided him when he could, though in such tight surroundings it was difficult.

Tate watched as Lucas greeted his brother, smiling warmly as he the younger man shared some joke or secrete. Tate had never got on well with his brothers. Their differences had been too great and they had shunned him. He almost envied Lucas their closeness. The tinker must have sensed he was being watched. He looked up and noticed Tate and with a great smile on is face he gestured him over to join them.

It would have been easy for an idle observer to mistake Robert and Lucas as twins but after spending so much time with them their slight difference started to become painfully obvious. Lucas was the taller of the two, barely, his eyes were darker, his complexion slightly more ruddy. He had a richer voice and in Tate's opinion was probably the better fighter, though such things were unimportant to the Tinkers. 

"We're nearing a town," Lucas said excitedly. He wrapped his arm around Tate's waist and pulled him close. "It's been too long, I can hardly wait."

"Which town?" Tate asked, unsuccessfully trying to dislodge Lucas's arm. 

The older man noticed and smiled crookedly as he tightened his hold. "Itaery, it's just a little south of here. Do not fear Shantran, the people there possess skin with some colour. You won't stand out." He smiled wickedly and lifted an unprepared Tate off his feet, spinning him around and letting go, laughing as he stumbled. "Besides, my mother thought of a way to make you blend in."

________________________________________________________________________

Tate had just about had enough. Bad enough that he had allowed them to wipe paints and the gods only knew what else on his face and hands but now they were tying his hair in little knots, adding small trinkets and beads that chimed every time he moved his head. "No more!" He stormed; causing mother and daughter to flinch back. He instantly regretted frightening them, even more so when he saw the angry look in the older woman's eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He said quickly, before she exploded. He had seen her yell at her children before and as amusing as it had been to watch he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of her temper. 

Her mouth closed with an audible click as she glared furiously at him. "If you're going to have a tantrum Tate I'll send you outside to sit with Rose, otherwise sit back down and let us finish!"

He didn't want to insult anyone and he was grateful for all their help but he couldn't shake off who he was and if he was honest with self dressing in such bright colours and decorating his hair and face made him feel like he was less than a man. He could just imagine what his countrymen would say if they could see him now. "I think we've done enough." He said, softly and with a smile he didn't feel. "No one would recognize me now." He meant it to. He had no mirror to examine him self in but if he looked anything like Lukas he knew he would have looked completely different to his former self.

"Mother," Tana said before her mother exploded. "He's right; he already looks as much like us as likely ever going to. Besides, his hairs too fine to completely braid, it will only fall out and make a mess of him." She stood up and made a show of inspecting him, abruptly reaching out and laughingly tugging his hair. "You look like a real man now Tate." She told him with a huge smile

the irony was not lost on him. He forced another smile of his own and stepped outside. The moment he reached the bottom step a hand slapped gently over his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He fought down panic and gently reached up to disengage Lukas's hand. "Guess who?" Lucas breathed in his ear.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Tate asked, his annoyance plain.

"Because I enjoy making you jump." He laughed and walked around Tate. "And I like your scowl. Now then, let's have a look at you." He swept his gaze up and down the length of Tate's body, grinning brightly as the younger man fidgeted. "Only you could make such colour and splendour look sour."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, walking around Lukas and heading towards his wagon.

"I'm just being honest." Lukas looked surprisingly angry. "You look like your barely containing the urge to throw your self in a puddle of mud just to hide how you look. Do you find all of us so distasteful?"

For a moment Tate was speechless but then he turned furiously on Lukas and poked him hard in the chest. "Damn it Lukas, I'm trying my best! I doubt you'd fair any better among my people."

"Your father's people you mean." He said, almost jeeringly. "And I dare say you're right. After all, I've no stomach for murder. They'd think me a weak willed thing; I've no doubt of that."

Tate felt sick and bewildered. How had things ended in an argument between them? They had barely spoken two words to one another and now it looked like they were going to come to blows. He shook his head and ran his hands idly through his hair. "What do you want from me Lukas?" He asked eventually, staring thoughtfully at the elder man.

Lukas stared back at him for a moment before he let out a joyless bark of laughter. "May the gods take you Tate, the one time I try to draw your venom and you've none to give!"

Tate made a rude hand gesture at Lukas and this time Lukas's laugh was genuine. He shook his head ruefully and reached out to Tate, wrapping his arm around the small of his back and pulling him close. Before Tate could protest the elder man bent down and kissed him solidly on the lips. Tate made a muffled protest that grew more agitated as he heard the cat calls and giggling behind him. Lukas drew back after a few more moment but he didn't loosen his hold. "You have lovely eyes Tate," He said quietly.

"Right," Tate said, feeling completely mystified. One minuet they're arguing and then the next they're kissing. "Thank you." He added as an after thought, unsure what else he could say but acutely aware that Lukas wasn't letting go of him.

"You have a wagon for that sort of thing." Tana commented as she breezed by them. She wiggled her eyebrows at them and Tate felt his cheeks flair. 

"Get off." He hissed.

"Manners my friend."

"Get off please!" he snapped but he couldn't help the smile on his face. Lukas pulled a pained expression but he let him go eventually, walking off with an exaggerated slump in his shoulders. 

Tate turned away with a barely suppressed laugh that caught in his throat when he noticed that Robert was staring at him from the door way of their wagon. Their eyes met momentarily before Robert stepped back inside the small door. Tate stared after the young gypsies and decided there and then that he would make sure he was never left alone with the other man. There was something in his expression that reminded him quite distinctively of a man he would rather not remember.

******************************

Tanis walked slowly to the top of the spiralling stairs, his hands clasped firmly to the tightly packed bundle in his arms. The two guards on duty stared at him with unfriendly eyes as he attempted to step between them. The elder of the two reached out and grabbed his arm before he could pass. Tanis looked down at that hand and back at the soldier. "Release me." He said icily.

The guard let go reluctantly. "Apologies sire, but Prince Christian said no one is permitted to pass."

"Well prince Tanis is telling you to let him through." Tanis could see the look in the elder mans eyes and he didn't like it. "It's as much my birthright as his to see the prophet. Unless you take my brothers word over the kings I would advise you to move aside."

That did it. The guard moved, but Tanis could see it was a near thing. He waited until he was inside before he released the shaky breath he was holding. A figure in the dim light turned its head sharply at the noise, staring out amid a curtain of knotted black hair. Two eerily white eyes blinked owlishly in his direction, causing him to take a halting step backwards. It was so dark inside the high tower that all he could make out were those terribly white orbs and a tall, huddled over figure. "For a moment I thought Christian had come back to taunt me," the old one said self mockingly, his voice shockingly loud in the otherwise silent tower. Treslin saw a flash of his startlingly white teeth and realised the old one was smiling at him. "You and he share very similar blood but entirely different souls I see. You're brothers?"

"Yes." He whispered, stepping closer. "My name is Tanis."

"Ah, yes. Of course. The second born. Why have you not seen fit to visit me before now young prince? " 

"Truthfully great one, you frighten me." He looked down at the battered and beaten frame that contained such ungodly power trapped beneath a cage of human skin and bone. Not for the first time he wondered how his grandfather could have taken such power for him self.

"You fear me, young one? But I am helpless and under your control. Command me child, tell me your desires!" The venom in his voice was thunderous. Tanis gathered his courage and placed the basket at the creature's feet before hastily backing away. "You think you can bribe me with food?" the ancient one asked in surprise. He let out a shallow bark of laughter as he pushed it aside with the toe of his shabby boots. "I've not yet fallen so low."




Defiance Ch. 04



"I wasn't..." he swallowed and tried again. "It isn't supposed to be a bribe. I heard Christian talking, telling who ever would listen to him what he had done to you. I knew someone would suffer his displeasure after what the baron's bastard did to him. I promised my self I would try to help that unfortunate person. Truthfully if I had known –"he gestured uselessly at the blind one. "The food is little or nothing but I honestly have nothing else to offer."

The creature twisted his head at an odd angle that no human would find comfortable. "Come back to see me tomorrow." He said, it was not so much a request as it was an order. Tanis didn't say anything more; he could not find his tongue.

**************************************

Light fingers traced circles over his back and between his shoulder blades, causing Tate to shift slightly, still half a sleep as he became aware of the feather light sensations running across his body. A warm hand closed over his waist as the other caressed the back of his neck. He smiled as the hand reached up and began to play with his hair. "You're supposed to be keeping your hands to your self." Tate said, unsuccessfully trying to sound irritated.

"Then you should have slept with your shirt on." 

"It was too hot; I'm not used to such heat."

A hand reached over his chest and tweaked his nipple playfully. "Excuses Shantran, they bore me."

"I've noticed." The hand moved lower, sliding over his stomach and down towards the band of his thin hoses. "What are you doing Lukas?"

His ear was enveloped in hot wetness as Lukas nibbled softly at his lobe. "I was hoping to arouse you enough that you might allow me to ravish you. Is it working?"

"No!"

The hand moved lower, down into his light cotton trousers. He felt a dry chuckle in his ear. "It feels like its working." Tate let out a loud gasp, unable to stop him self from bucking forward. "Do you want me to stop? No? I didn't think so. So then little Shantran, have you ever been with a man?" He pressed his finger into Tate's mouth. "Suck," he said breathlessly. Lost in the bliss of the moment Tate did as he was bid. A moment later Lukas pulled his hand away and Tate felt pressure against his small hole. "Relax," Lukas commanded gently as he pushed in all the way to his knuckle, all the while keeping up a steady motion of Tate's dick. "So tight, so I suppose that answers my question for me, but then I did already know that didn't I?" Tate jumped as the light material of his trousers were ripped open. He felt cold liquid pressed against his hole followed shortly by another finger. He let out a loud gasp, not resisting as Lukas positioned Tate's leg up over his powerful thigh."Last chance Shantran; do you want me to stop?"

"I, God's I, yes, stop, stop now!"

"Are you sure?" 

Tate couldn't think straight. The wonderful feelings running through his body seemed to be sapping away all of self restraint. Suddenly he couldn't understand why he was so averse to being touched. He'd been with women before and the truth was he had never felt nearly as wonderful or overwhelmed by any of them. The other man seemed to have his best interests at heart, he certainly wasn't Christian. He wasn't controlling or violent, he wasn't trying to force Tate into something he didn't want.

He heard an amused snort in his ear. "By the gods Tate you think far too much! Yes or no man, but tell me quickly, I'm only mortal after all!" 

In answer Tate lifted his laced hands over the elder mans neck and positioned his head backwards. Lucas took up the invitation instantly and pressed his lips firmly but gently against Tate's. He shifted slightly and Tate felt the blunt end of Lucas's cock pressing against his hole. With lips firmly latched onto the half-bloods Lucas pressed forward, forcing his tool into and past Tate's opening.

It hurt more than Tate expected it to but Lucas was slow and gentle. With one hand he continued working the smaller mans dick whilst he moved the other slowly up and down Tate's stomach, caressing his skin tenderly whilst he whispered quiet endearments into his mouth. He broke their kiss abruptly and positioned him self closer to Tate's back. His hand latched onto the younger mans leg as he forced Tate to open them further apart. The half-blood let out a small grunt when Lukas pushed the rest of the way into him but he didn't try to push him away. 

They stayed as they were for what felt like a long time as Lucas allowed Tate the time he needed to adjust to having Lucas's large tool inside of him. Eventually the elder man began to move slowly in and out of Lukas and soon the pain was replaced with a feeling unlike any he had ever experienced. It came as a shock to him when he realised that he was the one making the loud moaning noises. He tried to quieten him self down but the things he was feeling were almost too much for him to bear. His orgasm was almost painful in its intensity and as he shot forward Lucas began to speed up behind him. He pounded into Tate's exhausted form before shooting his seed deep inside the younger man. He fell forward onto Tate's back and chuckled into his hair. "I knew you'd let me ravish you eventually." He said, gloating only a little.



Defiance Ch. 05



Tate eyed the town warily. He had never seen so many people in one place before and the sight of them all made him uneasy. His father's keep had been small and sparse. The occupying village could not have housed more than a few hundred people and they rarely all conjugated in the same space.

He eased a little further back behind Lukas, annoyed at himself for feeling so uncertain. The other man was oblivious to Tate's discomfort. "It's like watching a swarm of ants." Tate said eventually, his voice soft and slightly awed as Lukas brought them into a line at the town gates. 

Lukas didn't understand for a moment but then a huge grin appeared on his weather beaten face. "This towns pretty big as far as town go Shantran, but wait until you see an actual city! It will make this place seem as small and lonely as a desert."

Tate barely resisted a shudder. The prospect of so many people - it just seemed wrong to him. "Why can't we camp with the others?" he asked quietly.

Lukas grin faded slightly with disappointment. He had been so excited by the prospect of spending the night in a real bed at an inn. After spending so much time wedged into a small cot he had obviously expected Tate to be likewise inclined. "I thought you would want some privacy." He said at last, his tone carefully neutral and controlled. 

That was true enough. With Robert watching practically everything he did he certainly wouldn't turn his nose up at the prospect of a night without him. "I did, I mean I do! Its fine Lukas, please just forget I said anything."

Lukas grinned again and threw his arms around Tate's shoulders. "Ah, so I've finally found something that frightens the great and mighty warrior." He pulled a face of mock concern. "Don't worry Shantran; I won't let the big scary town hurt you!"

Tate hit him but it was a soft blow, meant to sting but not really hurt. He pushed Lukas away and folded his arms tightly over his chest as he glared daggers at the older man. He felt about four years old when Lukas reached over the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

When it was their turn to enter the town Lukas suddenly shushed Tate and stepped slightly ahead of him. The two guards on duty looked Lukas over with unimpressed eyes. They turned to Tate and openly sneered at him. "Your business?" The elder of the two demanded as his comrade made a show of handling his sword.

Lukas smiled charmingly and gestured to where Tate could just make out the group of brightly painted wagons. "We're settling here for a few days after a long journey. A night at the inns would prove a welcome change."

"Aye, and a chance to fatten your purse no doubt." The one with the sword said menacingly.

Lukas's look of easy contentment didn't change. "Sir's you wound me. I do not steal and I never will. I have money enough of my own." So saying he made two silver coins appear magically in his hands and offered one to each of the guards. "A boon of good faith, so my friend and I might pass?" 

They grumbled and moaned but the money did the trick and soon they were allowed to pass. Tate felt their heated eyes on his back and despite himself he was ashamed. The way they spoke to Lucas, as though he was the filth on the bottom of their shoes showed just how little regard people felt for travelers. And this is my life now, Tate realised with a pang of regret. A northern man of noble blood and I must endure their revulsion, the loathing of peasants.

He didn't know what sickened him more, knowing what he would have to endure for the rest of his life or realising the depth of his own arrogance for caring so much. ****************************************** Tate didn't care what Lukas said, the town was massive! The people milling around him, bumping into him and screaming over his head were deafening. When Lukas caught hold of his arm to help guide him forward he was too relieved to even try and shake him off. He gave himself over to the other mans care and reverently hoped they didn't get separated. He doubted he'd ever find his way back out if he did.

There was also a peculiar stink about the town. Tate was used to open fields and farms, and more recently the open road. They were good smells, clean and fresh. "Gods," He choked as he pressed his sleeve over his nose. "How do you stand the stench Lukas?" 

The older man laughed at him and took a great lungful of air. "The sweet stench of civilisation." He said as he exhaled. "I'd get used to it if I was you. We'll be heading into bigger and smellier cities than this one."

"Perfect." Tate grumbled. The soft cuff to his ear made his entire body tense.

"Stop grumbling and open your eyes." Lukas said, all grins and unending enthusiasm. Tate wanted to kick him. "This is life Shantran; you should learn to appreciate it." His arm snaked around Tate's shoulders. "Stay with us a while longer and you'll understand what I mean." 

They walked for a long time but Lukas seemed to know exactly where he was going. Tate wondered how many towns and cities the tinker could navigate his way around. "What about this inn." Tate asked as they passed a decent looking place. He could hear the muffled sound of a piper inside and reckoned the player wasn't entirely without skill. Lukas looked up briefly and smiled a little self-mockingly.

"I don't think we'd be too welcome in there Shantran." 

Tate's eyebrow arched on its own accord. "Oh?" he asked a little stiffly.

"No, you and I are going to grace our presence somewhere a little less, shall we say, fresh than this particular establishment."

"How much less fresh?" Tate asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

And there it was again, that same damn grin. ************************************************* Apparently in Lukas's eyes 'a little less fresh' meant a complete hell hole. Drunks were stumbling over the sand covered wooden floor, which was valiantly trying its damndest to soak up the various puddles spilled across it, none of which Tate wanted to spend too much time thinking about. Women and men were throwing themselves at the patrons, and most of them were far from decently dressed. He was convinced that at least half of them were whores. The walls were peeling brownish flakes and the front shutters were falling off their hinges.

"Are you insane?" Tate whispered furiously. "I don't want to die Lukas and I especially don't want to die in there."

The tinker was about to answer when a blonde shaped blur hurled it's self into his arms and knocked his back several steps. Tate's hand was already reaching for the dagger he no longer possessed when he noticed Lukas was laughing. The girl was hanging off his neck and shrieking with delight as Lukas crushed her into him.

"You old rascal you!" she said, her voice deep and thrumming. She was certainly no girl then. "It's been an age since I saw you last. I remember when you and I were of a height! How are you boy?"

Tate caught sight of the woman's face and felt surprised despite him. She was a contrast in appearance. Beautiful but haggard, proud but cheap. Her clothes named her a whore, her posture demanded respect. The golden hair was up wound up meticulously but the dress was worn and dull. He had no idea what to make of her.

"I'm well Joann and pleased to see you're still here. Robert will be even more pleased when I tell him."

"I'm surprised he's not here with you." She said before pointedly looking over at Tate. "Ah, but maybe that explains it. Is this one yours?" her eyes lingered on his face for a little too long. "My, my Lukas love, what are you trying to hide beneath all that silly paint." She reached out to touch him but Tate stepped hastily back. 

He realized he was bearing his teeth a little and fought to control his temper. "I can speak for myself." He said sharply. "And I don't belong to him or anyone else." A pity he sounded so much like a petulant child.

Unsurprisingly she didn't look intimidated, scared or even insulted. She just kept looking at him. "That's a strange accent you have their boy. I can't quite place it." Tate felt his breath hitch a little but she shrugged abruptly and turned back to Lukas. "Are you staying the night boy?"

"If you have a spare room." Lukas said a little uneasily. He threw a warning look at Tate who just glared back at him. "And perhaps a length of rope and a gag?" he muttered, just loudly enough for them to hear. He quickly changed the subject before Tate could respond. "So Joann, tell me how you've been fairing all this time?"

"I've been well enough I suppose." She said with an overly dramatic sigh. "Truth is though that I'm not getting any younger, and my particular profession isn't well suited to old age." She fished out a key from her pocket and passed it to him. "You can have your old room by the way." She said as she passed it to him.

He bowed his head in thanks and pocketed the key. "You've some years left in you yet I would think." He said brightly as he wrapped his hand around her tiny waist. "Why I'd say you're sill as beautiful now as you were ten years ago" 

She slapped his chest playfully." Get away with you boy!"

"Yes boy!" a huge bear of a man boomed from behind Tate. The half-blood turned around and sidestepped away from him in a fluid motion even his brothers would have envied. He continued to put space between them until he stood beside Lukas. "Get away!"

Even Lukas looked small beside such a giant of a man. Not only was he tall he was also grossly overweight. Where Tate lived a man didn't last very long unless they were fit and fierce. He had never seen anyone so big before and despite himself he was strangely fascinated. 

"Is there a problem?" Lukas asked politely. Tate could see the sword beneath the large gut and wondered if the fat man would be able to move quickly enough with it to skewer them.

"A problem? Of course there's a problem!" he waved his fat arms above his head in an attempt to capture the room's attention. "I don't want some filthy, stinking tinkers breathing the same air as me, that's the damn problem. Get out now before I show you and your whore the door."

Tate didn't register the insult at first. He had wrongly assumed the fat man was referring to Joann but the sneering glare thrown in his direction quickly enlightened him. That such an abomination would dare insult him caused his blood to boil. Who in the five hells did he think he was! "Better a filthy stinking tinker and his whore than a pig that smells like it died a week ago!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. The fat man blinked stupidly down at him as his mind slowly absorbed the insult. 

He reared up so quickly that Lukas only just managed to avoid being trampled. Tate stood his ground, he'd be damned if he was going to run away from a walking blob. He planted his feet, preparing to meet the other man fist for fist when an arm encircled his waist and carried him clear off his feet. He let out a surprised grunt as he was launched over one large shoulder and carried upstairs. Below him the entire bar had erupted into a massive fight. The blob had attacked the nearest man to Tate, knocking him into an elder man at the bar who instinctively punched the man next to him, which led to an all-out fist fight. It wasn't until Lukas dropped him on his feet and stared aghast at him that Tate realized he was grinning.

"Dear Gods!" Lukas gasped. "You're insane."

Tate laughed at him and tapped his heart. "I haven't seen anything so funny in months." A loud crash made both of them jump. "You were right Lukas, this was a good idea."

"You nearly got me killed!" Lukas said angrily. "How many times must I tell you, tinkers do not --gmmmppphh?"

Tate planted a fierce kiss on Lukas's lips before the other man could finish what he was saying. Lukas seemed shocked at first. Tate never started anything between them and was usually difficult when Lukas first approached him. Of course it didn't take Lukas very long to conquer his surprise. Two strong hands gripped both of Tate's buttocks and lifted him up off his feet until they were face to face. Tate grinned into Lukas's mouth, laughing as he was carried to the bed and dropped on top of it. Lukas practically ripped his own clothes off before attacking Tate's. The two men began battling with their tongues. Tate reached out and grabbed Lukas's dick and began a fast jerking motion. Lukas growled deep in his throat before Tate felt a fierce suction on his neck. Despite himself he let out a loud and pleasurable moan, opening his legs wider and allowing his friend to crawl between them. 

It appeared that the tinker had come prepared for their nightcap. He reached over the side of the bed and pulled a small vial of scented oil from his pack. Grinning he held it up for Tate's inspection, swirling the contents playfully. Tate gave the other mans dick another quick tug before rolling onto his stomach and rising up onto his knees. He let out a surprised yelp when a sound smack landed on his arse. "You're acting especially congenial today." Lukas commented breezily. Tate tried to rise up, preparing to show Lukas just how damn congenial he was when he felt a sharp prodding at his whole. "Loosen up." Lukas demanded, laughing when Tate swore at him. "And stop acting so indignant!" Lukas laughed. "I know you're loving it." 

Whether or not that was true was beside the point! Never the less Tate did allow his body to relax. He felt another finger press inside of him, circling his hole, teasing it open. Lukas large shadow passed over him before he felt a warm body press against his back. "God Tate, you're so beautiful."

Tate sniggered and Lukas growled. "You think that's funny?" He asked slyly before pushing into Tate in one swift moment. Tate would have shot off the bed if Lukas wasn't holding so hard onto his waist.

"By the gods!" He gasped. It hurt, but in a good way. Lukas waited a moment, allowing Tate the chance to adjust before he started slamming rapidly into him. The half-blood clenched down on Lukas's invading dick, grinning when he heard the other man moan. 

Tate whimpered when he felt the fullness inside of him withdraw. He was spun around and brought down hard on Lukas's lap. He found himself impaled on the bigger mans dick, being lifted up and down by Lukas's strong hands. Lukas kissed him suddenly, grinding their bodies together as his hand reached around and began jerking Tate's dick. The half-blood's body went rigid as he came, leaving him sated and exhausted. 

"Liven up Shantran." Lukas laughed, giving Tate's arse another sound swat. "We aren't done yet!"

Tate grabbed the other mans hair in response and gave it a sharp tug. He loved the look of hunger in Lukas's eyes as he began to jump up and down on his lap. The tinker was moaning now, squirming beneath him as Tate quickened the pace. He relaised he quite liked the new position. It was gratifying being the one in control for a change. He started swiveling his hips and within moments Lukas was rising up to meet him. He felt the insides on his walls coated in hot wetness before Lukas dropped onto his back, his chest heaving and his body covered in a thin coat of sweat.

Tate bent over him and knocked his fist against the elder mans chest softly. "Liven up Lukas, I'm not finished yet."

The tinker rolled them over until Tate's body was trapped beneath his and spoke quietly into the half-blood ear. "Don't worry Shantran, we have all night." ****************************************** Tanis fell back with a strangled gasp and hurriedly raised his blade. Christian struck at him with such force that it was all Tanis could do to hold onto the sword. Pain rose up his arm in a red haze, making it difficult to think. Sweat and the blood from the shallow cut in his eyebrow were dribbling into his eyes, blinding him. He felt blaring pain in his gut before his feet were knocked out from under him and a blade was pressed firmly against his throat.

"Do you yield little brother?" Christian asked triumphantly, his chest heaving even though there wasn't a scratch on him.

"I yield," he gasped. He felt the blade bite into his skin and for a moment he was convinced that Christian had cut his throat open. When the blade was moved he sat up and pressed his hands frantically against the wound but it was a shallow thing, done to further embarrass him. He managed not to flinch back when Christian bent down beside him and clapped his shoulder. "A valiant attempt brother." He said loudly, for everyone else's benefit. He leaned in close then and pressed his lips against Tanis's ear. "This is what happens when you fall under my notice little brother. Start being the invisible little wrench you always were and I shall endeavour to forget you exist. Counteract any order of mine again and I shall begin to take an active interest in you." he stood up, all smiles and grins and made his way among the fawning nobles watching over him. 

Tanis stayed where he was a for a moment, breathing hard and trying to control his fear. He noticed then that his swords master was glaring at him and he was on his feet in a flash. He walked towards him and felt his face burn when a thick hand clipped the side of his head. "What was that?" he asked incredulously. "You practically gave him the win."

"And what do you think would have happened if I had beat him?" Tanis asked softly, mindful that no one was within hearing distance. "Better to let him think he's the better fighter. I can sacrifice a little pride if it keeps me alive."

Kener's small grey eyes glared down at him. The older man didn't understand politics. He was a warrior through and through and to him the better fighter meant the better man. It wasn't always true of course, Tanis had already seen enough in his young life to know better, but it still shamed him a little that his teacher thought less of him because he had given away the win. And given it away he had. Christian was a good fighter, there was no doubt about that, but there were certainly men alive that were better than him. Perhaps if everyone wasn't so afraid of him he might have been one of the best but he would never face a worthy opponent that wouldn't eventually yield to him. And how would he get better if no one ever pushed him.

An arm suddenly slip into his and patted his chest gently. Lauria, Tanis's youngest sister, offered him a sympathetic smile. "I do not know what you did to anger him Tanis but I would not do it again."

Tanis had to bow to her judgement and yet, "What brings you out here, beside your sage advice."

"Why I have some gossip of course." She flashed him a wondrous smile. With their mother's dirty blonde hair and deep grey eyes she was a model of loveliness, and she knew it. Spoiled little brat, but he loved her dearly. "Have you heard what Christian has commanded? All of the tinkers, and I do mean all of them, are to be rounded up, every last one of them, and there to be either executed, imprisoned or driven out of the country. But do you know what else I've heard?" She didn't give him the chance to ask what. "The soldiers have been given the description of a particular tinker they need to find. A young man in his early twenties, with distinctive amber coloured eyes, light brown skin and brown hair. He said to be slight and he speaks in the high tongue like a noble. Does that remind you of anyone?" 

"By the gods!" Tanis gasped. "Surely he can't! How can father possibly permit this?" 

Lauria was having a splendid time telling the tale. "Apparently Christian has told him that he's doing a purge because their tribes are getting too bold. You know how father hates the travellers. He practically jumped at the idea of being rid of them." She giggled slightly. "My god, can you imagine the baron's son, living among the tinkers! He must have been desperate to have stooped so low." She hesitated a moment before blushing. "You've seen him haven't you? Is he really as fair as everyone is saying?"




Defiance Ch. 05



Tanis felt the heat rise in his face. His personal preferences laid in another direction but he could still appreciate beauty when he saw it. "He is exotic I suppose." He said at last with a shrug. "I should think Christian would be the person to ask."  

She gave him an incredulous look but didn't bother to respond. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running of, no doubt to tell her story to whoever else was willing to listen.

"Well now." Kener boomed beside him. "Looks like you and I are going to be busy."

"What do you mean?" Tanis asked suspiciously.

"Well you want to avoid your brother and get back into his good graces don't you boy? What better way to do it that to accompany your brother's men in this purge." Tanis's initial reaction was to refuse but he figured that if he was there he would be able to at least minimise the bloodshed. Besides, a small voice in the back of his mind assured him, they're only tinkers. 

He wondered then why he felt so damned guilty

********************************************* 

Lukas probably would have slept through the night but his Shantran was rolling around something fierce, mumbling and moaning a name over and over again. Lukas might have been jealous but the dread in his Shantran's voice did exactly embody longing. He wondered if this person, this "Christian" was the same man the half-blood had been running away from. It was certainly a possibility, though he feared he would ever get the truth out of his friend.

He won't even tell me his name, Lukas thought forlornly as he peered down at Tate's slumbering form. Even now the young man's face was twisted with fear and loathing. Lukas could only wonder what had happened to make him so terribly afraid. Tate was not a craven man, if anything he was too brave, sometimes to the point of stupidity, so what was it about this one man that filled him with such dread?

He reached out and gently shook Tate's shoulder. He was unprepared for the sudden hand that locked onto his throat, pressing against the arteries in his neck. Lukas gasped and frantically began to paw at Tate's hand. He managed to wrench himself free and threw himself off the bed and onto the floor. Tate looked down at him, his odd amber eyes wide and eerily bright in the shadowed chamber.

"I'm sorry!" he said and Lukas was shocked to see that he was almost crying. "God's I'm so sorry Lukas! Are you alright?"

"I've been better." The tinker replied wryly as he simultaneously rubbed his neck and backside. "That's quite a grip you have Shantran. Bad dream was it?" 

He shook his head and rested his face in his hands. Lukas got up gingerly and sat next to him. After a moment he let his arm drape across the smaller mans shoulders. He held his breath, wondering if he should keep silent about what he had heard. A part of him reasoned that it was the smart thing to do but his race were known for being too curious. "Shantran, who is Christian?"

The look his Shantran gave him, it was like a slap in the face. He pushed Lukas away and began to change rapidly into his clothes. Lukas recognised the look in his eyes, though he had not seen it for many months. The half-blood was only barely controlling his rage and Lukas realised any movement on his behalf would invoke a fight between them. He held still but when the other man reached for the door he realised he would have to act.

"You can't go out alone Shantran."

"Watch me!" He snapped in common.

"It's not safe for us, you know that!" 

"It's not safe for you, you mean!"

"Please Shantran, I'm sorry. I only asked because I wanted to understand you a little better. You keep so much of yourself hidden!" The half-blood turned his back on Lukas and suddenly, just like that, he stopped being sorry and started being very angry. Not just angry, he realised, he was furious. "By the gods, you won't even tell me your blasted name. After everything I've done for you, everything we've shared and still you give me nothing in return. So I said a name, one you screamed out, what of it? Do you think I will use the knowledge against you? What must it take to make you trust me? What must I do to stop you from constantly wanting to run away?" 

Tate's hand dropped and his shoulders hunched. He lent his back against the closed door and slowly slid down into a sitting position. 

They stared at one another from opposite sides of the room. "What dose Shantran mean?" The half-blood asked abruptly. 

"I thought you knew, I assumed you had asked someone."

He shrugged very slightly. Lukas should have known better. Because he never wanted to answer other people's questions he very rarely asked any of his own."It's difficult to translate into common. I suppose strictly speaking it means shared soul. It's a term of endearment between my people. It means we're..." he hesitated, suddenly afraid to finish the sentence. He took a deep breath and tried again. "It means we belong to one another, I suppose."

"One word means all that." His Shantran mused thoughtfully. He kept his head bowed as he looked up at Lukas through lowered eyelashes. "My name, if I tell you and someone finds out, it could get you and your entire group killed Lukas. Sometimes I think that perhaps my mind plays games on me and the one hunting me has already forgotten. If I thought for a moment that he was actually sane I might have been able to convince myself that that's true, but I know he's still out there. He wants me, only because I denied him. It drives him mad I think." He stopped speaking and pulled his long hair off his face. "It's only a name..."

"True," Lukas said thoughtfully, "But it's yours and it's a part of what makes you who you are. Tell me and I won't betray your trust. I swear can trust me Shantran."

They were still sat at opposite ends of the room. Lukas was too frightened to move, he could barely breathe. 

"It's such a plain thing." He said with a sad little smile. He shrugged. "Tate, my name is Tate."



Defiance Ch. 06



"Why can't we stay outside the gates like before?" Tate asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Because there are bandits outside the gates and they'll attack us. Now stop worrying Shantran, there's room enough for the entire tribe inside, especially during a festival."

Tate didn't say anything else but Lukas knew how tormented the younger man felt. It was casual but there if you knew where to look. The slight line between his brows, the stiffness in his limbs and the slight drop in his shoulders. "Come now my friend, it isn't as bad as all that is it? You enjoyed the last town enough."

"A desert in comparison you said." Tate said miserably. "You were not exaggerating Lukas." He raised his hands before Lukas could open his mouth. "I know, I know, I shall have to get used to it. Fine, but let me mope in peace won't you?"

Lukas stared at him for a moment and then fell down in a mock swoon. "It cannot be, has the infamous northerner actually made a jest?"   

Tate kicked him in the side, gently enough thankfully. "I am in possession of a sense of humor Lukas."

"Then where have you been hiding it Tate?" Lukas said, mocking his friends tone. He loved using Tate's name. Loved the fact that he had been entrusted with it.

Tate's eyes flashed. His Shantran was not used to hearing his name said aloud and it ruffled his feathers whenever Lukas spoke it. Not that the older man ever said anything unless he was certain the two of them were alone and couldn't be overheard. Tate was about to respond when something thudded into the side of their caravan. A moment later a bearded face peered inside the tiny room. The muddy brown eyes passed briefly over Lukas and locked onto Tate. He barked something in a language Lukas had never heard before and lunged at the half-blood. 

Tate, his expression perfectly smooth and calm, stepped back slightly and kicked their attacker in the face. The southerner let out a barked scream of pain and threw himself back out of the wagon. "What was that about?" Lukas asked him incredulously.

"I don't know." Tate said, looking annoyed but not particularly concerned that he had just kicked someone in the face. "I couldn't understand him." 

They heard a scream. It was one of Lukas's sisters, though he couldn't have said which one. Lukas threw himself outside and was immediately tackled to the floor. A boot ground into his back. Keeping him pinned as a hand wound into his hair. He felt cold steel against his neck and rancid breath against his cheek and wondered if it was going to hurt when he died. 

"Get off him!" A voice yelled from above. The southerner screamed and released Lukas. He looked up; expecting to see Tate but it was Robert that offered him his hand.

"Where is Tate?" He asked instinctively, the words tumbling from his mouth. 

He saw the confusion on Robert's face and then the sudden understanding. "Your Shantran was carried off back there. I came to help you." He gestured to the advancing city guards that had chased off the raiders. "Everyone else is fine."

Lukas only then noticed the dead man lying beside him. He looked questioningly at Robert. "He was going to kill you!" he said defensively.

They heard a screamed curse and then Lukas was running.

***********************

The entire room stunk of death, and madness. He raised his lantern higher, silently commanding his soldiers back with a hard stare. They shut the door behind him, confident that the monster locked in the tower room couldn't hurt him.

If Miliananious had looked sick before it was nothing compared to what he looked like now? He was a walking skellington, skin and bone and little else. Christian clucked his tongue despairingly. The stupid creature really had brought it down on himself. "Are you dead yet Miliananious?" he asked brightly.

Those white milky eyes looked up at him. He was sick but he wasn't mad, at least not yet. He didn't say anything, just watched Christian without being able to see him. 

Christian whistled a merry tune as he stepped into the room. He spun a key in his hand, the key to Miliananious chains. The creature could barely move, had not been able to stand up straight for longer than a few moments a day. And the only reason Christian even permitted that was because the last thing he wanted was to have to smell the creature's droppings."Do you want me to let you lose, creature?" he asked sweetly. The seer flinched, very slightly but it was enough. "Wait, no clever tongue, no promises of death, no insults?" he let out a cruel laugh, one that was meant to make the proud creatures blood boil. "Have I broken you at last Miliananious?"

A sigh, tired and small. "What do you want Christian?"

"You know what I want, what I require."

"I already told you, he travels south with a group of gypsy's-"

"Yes, yes I know that." He interrupted irritably. "That's not what I asked, I asked you, where is he?"

A long pause. "You want specifics my lord?"

"Do you want to be able to move again, to eat, to stare blindly out of your stupid little window? Yes you foolish beast, I want specifics, tell me exactly where he is!"

A longer pause and when he next spoke he sounds almost afraid. "I cannot see so far my lord; the divination doesn't work as accurately as that. I know he is south, I know he is in one of the larger city estates, high brick walls and crowded with people, but I do not know its name and I cannot see its colours. I think though that he is still in the province."

Christian rushed towards him. Miliananious did not flinch away from him as he hoped he might but he was clearly apprehensive. Christian grinned, his face very close to those blind, unseeing eyes as he unlocked the chains around the prophet's neck, and those twined around his chest, stomach and shoulders. The manacles on his wrists and ankles stayed put. He would not allow the beast a completely free rein. He lent out and caressed his finger over the prophet's hollow cheek. "See how I reward good behaviour, beautiful one?" He asked in a deep throaty voice he usually reserved for his more coy conquests. Miliananious did shudder then, but it was only a slight thing. He sat very still, tense as if he expected a blow. "You may have your window back Miliananious." He said, feeling generous. "And I'll tell the kitchen staff to start feeding you again."

He was almost all the way through the door before he remembered something else. "Oh and Miliananious, if Tanis comes to see you again you're to tell me exactly what you spoke of. Word for word, you understand me?"

There was no answer. "Defy me again creature and next time I'll have you thrown into a box and buried!" He didn't scream, he didn't have to. 

"Yes my lord."

"Every word, you hear me."

A quiet shudder. "Yes my lord."

****************************



Tate screamed, kicked, scratched, punched and bit at the hands carrying him but they either didn't notice or didn't care. The one whose nose he had broken leered down at him and slapped him a stunning blow to the face. He felt his head whip backwards and desperately tried to blink away the white haze hanging in his vision. He was vaulted over the side of a horse and strapped to it. He could hear sobbing beside him and looked up hazily at John.

Their eyes locked and the young man looked torn between terror and grief. Tate wanted to try and comfort him but he didn't understand what was happening. He saw a shape rise into the saddle in front of him and then they were galloping.

They had taken perhaps a dozen steps when the first arrow hit John's captor in the back. The horse reared and knocked him off. John shrieked but he was firmly lashed against the horse and didn't move from the saddle. 

Above him his captor screamed his anger. He hit Tate again, harder this time and launched off the horse and onto a spare. They set off; leaving Tate and Robert tied but mostly unhurt. He looked up at the soldiers riding past them, unconcerned that they were there as they chased their quarry.  



A moment later Lukas was beside him. He pulled Tate free as Robert went to work on John's bindings. "By the gods!" he gasped as he propped Tate onto his feet and enfolded him in a tight hug. He reached over and pulled Robert and John into the embrace, trapping Tate between them. "God's I thought I lost you."

The others didn't hear the approaching soldiers but Tate did. He struggled free just as the leader dropped a twitching body at their feet. The three brothers flinched back, clearly horrified. To Tate a dead body wasn't exactly common, after all he was still unbloodied in battle, but it certainly wasn't something to be horrified by. He stared down at it dispassionately and looked back up at the captain. Their eyes met very briefly before Lukas caught Tate's shoulder and pulled him back beside him. For a moment the northerner blood inside him boiled, even more so when Lukas eased his shoulder in front of Tate, blocking him partially from sight.

"Thank you, by the gods thanks you! You saved their lives!"

The captain's mouth soured into a fine line, like he wasn't quite sure how to respond. No respectable northerner wanted to be thanked for saving the lives of tinkers. He looked briefly at Tate again and then at John. "They only went after the two boys." He said, rather stiffly. It wasn't really a question, more of an accusation. Tate tried not to bristle at being referred to as a boy. The solider probably wasn't much older than him. "Why didn't they try to take any of the women?"

Lukas blinked up at him, understandably confused. "I-I'm not sure my lord, slave traders perhaps?"

"Perhaps," The captain said reluctantly. "Yet this is not the first attack, and every time they only go after the young men. I think they must be after someone, someone worth risking their lives for."

Tate felt his breath hitch. Only Robert looked suspiciously over at him, the others were still looking thoughtfully at the dead man. "Go on then." He said eventually. "Go into the town. Your people, I think may be worried for you."

Lukas's hand latched onto his upper arm, dragging him back towards the caravan's. As they walked past the unhorsed soldiers Tate felt a hand brush against his crotch, light but distinct. He stopped, too shocked to form any sort of response as he stared into the blank face of the middle aged solider that had grabbed him. He grinned suddenly, a gapped tooth, shockingly ugly smile and a moment later Tate felt a hard hand swat his backside. Lukas all but picked his up before he could respond. The soldiers started yelling after him, hooting and yelling obscene suggestions at their retreating backs. Lukas tried smiling at him, like it wasn't anything worth getting upset at. John was scarlet red and Robert was glaring at him with murder in his eyes. 

Tate broke free of Lukas's grasp and fled into the wagon. He pressed his face into the pillow and took a deep breath. He realized that he was becoming dangerously close to breaking apart. Why were the southerners attacking caravans, and more importantly why were they looking for young men? He shook his head desperately. It couldn't be Christain, it couldn't be. Why would employ the southerners when he had so many men at his own disposel.

Because it will take them time to come so far south, a voice suggested in the depths of his mind, because a messenger bird could cover the ground in no time.

"Why would he?" He asked out loud. He let out a shaky laugh that sounded only a little hysterical. "He wouldn't, he wouldn't!"

But he would, that little voice suggested nastily. 

*****************************************

Tate was quiet as they pulled into the large gates leading into Insarty. His striking amber eyes flicked constantly around him, eying everyone wearily and harshly. Unfortunately for Tate his unusual colouring and striking face demanded attention. It was not lost on Lukas how the city folk stared at his new lover. Half the time he found it a chore just to keep his hands to himself.

"You don't like it here." Lukas noted as casually as he could as they moved further into the city. Tate was obviously distressed though Lukas could fathom why. The way he acted anyone would think his mysterious hunter was waiting around the corner, readying to pounce. Besides, he had already been seen firsthand the dangers that awaited them outside the city boarders.

"I'm not used to so many people at once." He answered softly. He had said it before. Lukas couldn't quite grasp his unusual fear but he tried to understand it as best as he could. Tate did something then that truly astonished Lukas. Tate shuffled towards him until their shoulders were touching and in public no less! He could not help the smile that sprang to his lips as Tate sat stiffly beside him. By their barbarian standards the two of them were practically having sex with an audience. 

"No one's going to hurt you Tate, I won't let them." He meant it to sound soothing but Tate's eyes flashed with the beginning signs of anger. He was still angry and ashamed for having been carried off by the southerners, even though none of them could have prevented it. And Lukas wasn't sure what he had done exactly but he was aware that the following encounter with the guards had not helped any. He could understand Tate being angry because of the soldiers, but what had he done? 

"I can take care of myself." He said roughly as he eased back. He turned around abruptly and crawled back into the wagon. A moment later Robert crawled out to replace him. 

"Your tom cat is spitting again." He noted with a faint sound of distaste in his tone. "By his actions one would not think we saved his life, again."

Lukas shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. "He's trying, but we have to remember who raised him. It's a miracle he's come as far as he has." 

"Has he even told you his name yet?"

Lukas hesitated. He had never lied to Robert, not once in his entire life. The two brothers shared everything. What could it hurt to tell him...?

"Never mind," Robert said abruptly as two purple splodges appeared on his cheeks. "I can see you want to keep it to yourself. You've fallen for this half-blood haven't you?"

Lukas grinned at him. "What can I say little brother, he has charmed me, what with gentle words and his warm embrace."

They shared a heartfelt laugh that reminded him suddenly that since Tate had arrived they had not spent much time together. He wrapped his arm around the younger mans shoulders and gestured around the town. "I think you and I should have a drink tonight, what do you think?"

"Just the two of us?" Richard asked suspiciously.

"That's right. Just you and me. "

Robert grinned like a child. "I think that's an excellent idea."

************************************************************************

Lukas bent down and kissed the top of Tate's head lightly. "I'm going out with Robert tonight Shantran. He's feeling slightly neglected of late." He smiled that gentle smile of his. "Don't go out into the town alone Tate. It's not safe."

"What is safe?" Tate wondered aloud as he picked idly at the small charms in his hair. He looked over his shoulder at the older man and felt a moment of deep confusion. Is this my life? He wondered as Lukas closed the small door behind him and left Tate alone in the tiny wagon. Is this all there is for me, a future of travel and uncertainty with a man I barely even know? He watched him leave and suddenly he wanted to run. He pressed his head into his hands and released a loud ragged sigh that shook his entire frame. The urge was almost unbearable!

He just felt so damned vulnerable. He hated it, hated feeling alone and defenceless. His father has brought him up to be strong and had tried to install that within him since birth. But I'm no better than a whore now, he thought with sudden self loathing. He looked down at the bangles riding half way up his arm and felt his stomach sour. He pulled them off roughly and threw them away from him with all the force that he could muster. They hit the wall and fell about the cramped space in utter disarray. 

He stood up suddenly and rushed out of the wagon. He stumbled out amid the cold autumn air and rushed through the camp. All around him the tinkers were laughing and jesting. It ate at him, their laughter and their damned good intentions! Tate started running, giving into the need that he suddenly realised had been niggling at the back of his mind for weeks. He ran long and hard, revelling in the way the icy cold wind tore into the tender flesh on his face. It was cleansing, sharp and good.

When he stopped at last, with the air riding painfully in and out of his chest, he felt his knees shake with fatigue. Bent over with his hands over his knees he suddenly came to his senses. He looked around uncertainty and realised that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Stupid Tate, he berated himself angrily, utterly and totally stupid! He straightened up slowly and looked back the way he had come. The street he was on was well lit and wide but it was also completely deserted. 

He heard noise then, laughter and music coming from a street not far from where he was standing. Did he dare? Lukas had told him to stay in the camp; he said it was dangerous to walk the streets alone. But I'm already doing that, he thought wryly, how much worse can I make things?

He hitched his shoulders and moved cautiously through the streets. It opened up abruptly into a long embankment of inns and pubs. People ducked in and out of one establishment only to stumble into another. 

"You lost?" A tiny voice piped up behind him. Tate turned around and looked down into the dirty face of a street urchin. The child was skinny and swathed in various articles of ragged clothing. Tate could only guess at its sex. 

"Lost?" Tate let out a mirthless bark of laughter. "Is that obvious?"

The child screwed up its face, clearly struggling with Tate's thick northern accent. "You trying to get back to your tribe? I saw your caravans pull into the town earlier."

"Can you take me there?"

The urchins brown eyes flashed. "You got money?"

"No."

"Gold?"

"No."

The child shrugged. "Then no, I can't take you." It smiled suddenly, showing dazzling white teeth amid its dirty little face. "Here's some advice though, if I was you I wouldn't walk through the colour district alone. People like you don't too well in there."

"Where's the colour district?"Tate asked but the child was already scuttling down an alley and Tate had enough sense not to follow him. After a moment he stepped out into the street and walked alongside the inns. He was concentrating on where he was going and didn't notice the group of young men watching him from within a shadowed doorway of a particularly fine looking inn. He heard the catcalls but it didn't occur to him that they might have been directed at him. 

"Tinker, tinker what have you got in your pouches?" a sing song voice call out behind him in common. He threw an uninterested look over his shoulder and noticed the three finely dressed youths following him. Two of them held smoke pipes and the third was gesturing at him with a finely cut glass goblet.

Dear lords, what do I do to deserve this? He thought miserably as he walked a little faster. They started laughing and Tate felt his face burn. Could he go anywhere without being victimised? He squared his shoulders and steadfastly ignored their jeering and catcalls. Had he been capable of understanding their language he doubted he would have been able to remain so calm. As things were it was taking all of his self restraint not to react to their tones. It wasn't until they started to touch him that he felt the first real flashes of anger. When one of them reached out and tugged his too long hair he barely suppressed his mounting fury. He swatted the hand away as casually as he could and quickened his pace. He kept telling himself over and over again that he wasn't a northerner anymore. He was supposed to be a peace loving tinker. 




Defiance Ch. 06



Unsurprisingly they kept abreast of him, laughing in delight when he paused long enough to realise that they were herding him away from the well lit streets. "You must be lost." The one with the wine glass said, his voice thick and slurred as he smiled sloppily down at Tate. "Little tinkers usually know better than to wonder the streets alone." 

"Perhaps he isn't lost." The tallest one said with a dreamy smile. "Perhaps he's just stupid."

"Or looking for a little entertainment."The short, ugly one snarled, his pocked mark face scrunching up into a gap toothed smile. He reached out for him again but this time Tate refused to be bullied. He twisted below the young man's grasp and punched him hard in his flabby stomach. He heard a pained grunt and stepped swiftly out of the way before the fat fool fell on him. 

The other two youths exchanged started glances. "Here now! "The one with the wine glass began as he stepped forward threateningly. "Who do you think you are you dirty little-" Tate cut him off as he punched the taller man in the jaw, wincing slightly as the pain reverted from his fist up to arm. He stepped back quickly before the remaining fop could catch him with the wicked looking dagger he had pulled from the fancy sheathe at his waist.

"Tinkers don't attack first." He said accusingly, his eyes searching frantically for help. Tate could sense the people watching them. Suddenly conscious of how much attention he was receiving he momentarily let his guard drop. The youth took the opportunity to attack but the boy was slow, clumsy and drunk. Tate danced easily out of the way, suddenly amazed by the other mans lack of training. He caught the fop's wrist as he passed and turned it sharply, just as he had always been taught, until he heard a sharp crack. The boy screamed and dropped the knife, falling to his knees besides his winded friends. 

"Shantran!" A familiar voice yelled out to him. A moment later Lukas pushed his way through the crowd and forcefully caught hold of Tate's elbow. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed through gritted teeth as Robert went about trying to soothe the crowd. His grip was so tight that Tate's arm began to numb. He yanked him forward, practically pulling the smaller man off his feet. "Are you trying to get us all killed?" 

"I didn't –"he began apologetically.

"Shut up you little fool!" Robert screamed in his face. The open handed slap was so fast and unexpected that Tate didn't have a chance to brace himself. Robert pulled him free of Lukas and shook him angrily. "Come on, before these idiots decide to turn on us!"

"But I didn't-"

"I said shut up!" Robert's hand twisted Tate's collar as he half dragged, half carried him, presumably back towards their camp. "I hope the lay was worth it brother." He snapped over his shoulder at a stony faced Lukas. "Because it might just have cost us our welcome here."

********************************************************************

They didn't care that it wasn't his fault. They didn't care that he had not started the fight. He tried to tell them that the fops had provoked him but either didn't care or didn't believe him. He kept trying to apologise until eventually they just commanded him to stay silent. So he stopped talking and sat quietly in Lukas's wagon as they yelled at him.

It was not a very pleasant experience being yelled at for endangering the people who had taken him in and very likely saved his life. He needed some support amid all the screaming, all the anger and blame but Lukas refused to meet his eyes. That hurt, that more than anything else, more than the lingering acid sting in his cheek from where Robert had hit him.

A hand caught his upper arm suddenly and dragged him to his feet. Instincts and training made him want to dislodge that hand by any means necessary but he didn't struggle as he was hoisted onto his tiptoes and all but thrown half way across the tiny room into Lukas's arms. "Learn to control your whore, big brother!"

Tate knew Robert wasn't just angry about the night's disaster. He'd been building up to a confrontation with Tate for months. The younger man would have liked to know what he had done to make Robert hate him so much. He tried to be polite, not to provoke him, to stay out of his way. What else could he do? He flinched a little at the word whore but he didn't rise to bait. Lukas still didn't say anything. He just held onto Tate, his hands shaking a little with, what, hate, fear, anger – Tate didn't know.

Robert left first, a great storm cloud of anger as he rushed out of the small door. Lukas's parents went then, trailed after by their two other eldest children. Lukas pushed him down on the bed, not cruelly but certainly not gently either. He stared at him sadly; his mouth opened and closed a few times. "Don't leave the wagon Tate." He said eventually before he walked out. 

So he didn't, but it began to chafe him the longer he sat there on his own. It wasn't his fault; he knew it wasn't his fault. True enough that they had warned him not to go out on his own but how was he ever supposed to know that something so terrible would have happened. He was not one of them; he was not accustomed to being cooped up in a wooden box.

He lay down eventually, his eyes misting up with unshed tears. He didn't cry, men never cried. His father had taught him that. "Bastard!" he said, barely loud enough to be heard. 

But he wondered who he was referring to. Himself or his sire.

*************************** 

Lukas packed two satchels. He took all the food he thought they might need, plus a dagger for each of them. Clothes, sleeping bags, cooking utnesals. He packed light, they would only be alone for a small amount of time.

He stepped beside Tate's slumbering form and gently shook him awake. The half-blood blinked dazedly up at him. He had not spoken all that night, not even looked at anyone. His left eyes was badly bruised from where Robert had hit him. It must have hurt.

"Up Shantran." He said shortly.

Tate sat up slowly and eyed the bags in the corner of the room with big, wide eyes. He was quite obviously petrified but when he spoke his voice was calm, resigned. "You're kicking me out of the tribe."

Lukas shook his head and threw Tate's clothes at him. "I would not allow that, not ever. We have to leave though, for a little while. Those boys you tangled with were of prosperous houses. Rumour is that they're fixing to find you and take you to court. Our kind never fair well at court Shantran."

Tate changed quickly. For a wonder he didn't argue when Lukas took the lead. They passed through the camp. Those few people that were still awake waved silent farewells, knowing they couldn't make a scene and draw attention. 

When Robert joined them Tate nearly jumped out of his skin. Lukas looked worryingly down at him. There was something going on between the two men, something beyond the hostilities of the past few days. He didn't know how he had been so blind to it but he could see it now, see it clearly. He would have sent John away then but he knew it would have been a useless command. The tribe travelled together. That was where safety lied. He would not let Lukas go alone. He loved him too much to do that.

"Time to go." Robert said, almost sneering at Tate.

The half-blood didn't say anything, but then Tate never had to. The darkness in his eyes said it all. "Time to go." He repeated, looking at Lukas.

"Right" He agreed, before sending one last look at his mother and father. "Time to go."

******************************************************************* 

Tanis looked down at the frightened young men huddled together in cadges and chains and felt sickened beyond belief. What he was doing, the things he was being forced to do, they were barbaric. The tinkers for all their faults were not fighters. They did not know violence, could not contend with the horrors of what had been done to them. 

He wanted to end it all, to deny the soldiers their orders but he knew that as bad as it was, and it really was truly awful, it would have been a lot worse if he wasn't there. Because he was the only one stopping the young men from being raped and murdered for the hell of it. He was the one that was making sure none of the old ones suffered and that none of the women or young ones were hurt. It was not ideal but they were packed away and sold to the slavers, they were alive. There were not many of them though, to be fair. Tanis had only seized seven wagons in all the time he had been out hunting. He knew though that the other parties would not be as kind as his. There would not be much left for the slavers by the time they were over the blood lust. 

He tried not to think about that too much. He was only one man; he could only do the best that he was capable of. 

He walked among them, looking for that face he remembered from all those years ago. He looked deep into their eyes, sometimes having to force them to look at him. They cried at him. It was ghastly watching a man cry.

"He isn't here Kener." He said at last to his old friend and teacher.

The big man growled deep in his throat, an admission of annoyance. Just them a southerner rode hard into camp. He had the sort of face only as mother could love, made worse by his horribly broken nose and scraggly beard. Tanis disliked southerners immensely as did any self respecting northern man. It showed his brothers desperation that he had had actually hired them to help seek out the half-blood. 

"What do you want?" Tanis asked him, not bothering to disguise the sneer he could feel twisting his lips.

"I've some news for you." He said, purposefully not using Tanis's title. "I think I found the one your brother was looking for. Small whelp with gold eyes and brown hair. I had him, for a small time at least." He tapped the side of his nose and smiled nastily. "Did this he did. Not many tinkers that will try to fight back, not like him."

"So where is he?" Tanis asked with tried patients.

"Back the big city, Islington. Not too many days ride from here. My boys can't get him, city guards won't let us in. But you-"

He smiled again. He really was very unpleasant. 

*******************************************************************

Tate tried not to be left alone with Robert. He was very careful not to argue or speak overly much as they travelled. He knew perfectly well that the tinker was only a hair's breath from exploding again; He didn't want to deal with that, not when he had so many other terrible things to think about.

They travelled across the roads, not going in any sort of a hurry. They were just kind of waiting for the others to catch up to them. Lukas and Robert spoke and laughed together and when Lukas tried to involve Tate the smaller man just ignored him.

He didn't mean to be so harsh; he just couldn't make him self drop his guard around Robert. He knew the other man hated him and it was eating him up inside because he didn't know why. Sure, the fiasco with those stupid city boys hadn't helped but the hate had been there long before that.

He wasn't watching where he was going and accidentally walked into Lukas back. "Your pardon." He said without thinking. Lukas smiled at him.

"You're forgiven Shantran. We're stopping for the night."

"Stopping?" Tate repeated sluggishly. He looked around and was shocked to realise it was already dusk.

Robert dropped his bag on the dirt floor and gestured to a small roadside cabin. "I'm going hunting. I'm in no mood for hard biscuits and cheese again." He looked directly at Tate for the first time in days. "Seeing as you can't cook why don't you set up camp."

He would have anyway but he hated the way Robert made it into an order. He bared his teeth at him, not bothering to try and mask it as anything else. Robert just smiled at him like he'd won something and sauntered off.

Tate suddenly wanted to be doing anything other than just standing around and thinking so without even waiting to make sure Robert was out of eye sight he turned around and fiercely attacked Lukas's mouth, pouncing on him with such intensity that the other man nearly fell over beneath him.

"Tate!" Lukas said breathlessly, trying half-heartedly to fend him off. Tate reached out and cupped his groin, not bothering to be gentle as he forced Lukas back. They were suddenly both on the floor, in the dirt in the middle of the road. Lukas suddenly stopped resisting and started fighting for control because, despite being one of the most mild men Tate had ever know, in some respects Lukas needed to be in control, which was just to damn bad for him.

Tate fought back, not with force, he knew Lukas was stronger than him and he accepted that, but that didn't mean he just had to roll over and play the meek little whore. Because he was NOT a whore! He worked his hands down Lukas's trouser's and grabbed his hard organ, stroking him fiercely as Lukas began bucking beneath him. He put all of his weight on top of the tinker and lent down until his lips were level with Lukas's ear. "Do you want me Lukas?" He asked, mockingly, almost cruelly he realised. "Say you want me, beg to have me."

And gods help him, Lukas did. He started moaning wantonly, reaching for Tate, begging to be let inside of him. Tate felt sick suddenly, ashamed at him self for using Lukas, for playing with him because he needed a release for all of his anger. It did not excuse him for being cruel.    

He let go of Lukas's wrist and slowed his stroke. Lukas growled his protest but then his eyes started to lose some of the madness that had claimed him. This time when Lukas rolled them over Tate didn't protest. He felt Lukas pull down his trousers and then he was rolled gently onto his belly. They had no oil at hand so Luks had to use more natural lubricant. He felt fingers prodded inside of him. Lukas entered him quickly, almost brutally. He stated slamming into him. This was not love making, Tate realised as Lukas's other hand reached out and started rapidly stroking him. No, they weren't making love, they were fucking.

It was hard and raw and something completely new, and if he was honest with him self he needed to be fucked, to fuck, because he didn't think he could contend with Lukas's normal tenderness.

He came quickly, shuddering and pressing down on the tinker. Lukas grunted deep in Tate's ear, thrust a few more times and fell bonelessly on top of him.

"Tate?" Lukas said eventually, his voice small and nervous.

"Yeah?" Tate said, thinking they really should get up before Robert spotted them because he was pretty sure it wouldn't go down too well.

"I love you."

"Oh."

Oh!



Defiance Ch. 07



Lukas opened his eyes begrudgingly and stared languidly up at the night sky. Tate's warm body lay beside him, close and comforting in the chill spring air. He supposed he should be thankful that Tate still deigned to sleep beside him, especially when every gesture and word that came out of his mouth seemed to scream hostility. Lukas tried to push away the sudden bitterness he felt and concentrated on the stars glittering high above them. It isn't his fault, he told himself for what felt like the hundredth time, it's amazing that he has come as far as he has. But the resentment he felt still clawed at his belly, it still made him wonder what he had gotten himself into. 

He contained a weary sigh and tried to clear his mind, but as always everything seemed to lead back to Tate. Life had been so much simpler before he came. There was no animosity between Lukas and his brother, the troupe was certainly safer and Lukas could sleep at night without having to worry that the person he went to bed with might not be there when he woke up. But I love him, he thought, almost resentfully, and the implications left him sick and tired because he knew with a painful clarity that the love he felt would never be returned. He knew it the moment Tate had met his eyes after he had proclaimed his feelings, as he lay there raw and vulnerable, hoping for anything other than the sardonic smile and arched eyebrow that had been directed at him. "You don't love me, Lukas." He had said, cold and as hard as ice. "You can't love me. You don't even know me." 

And he had realised, after he had gotten over the initial shock and heartache, that he really didn't know his Shantran, not one damned little bit. With some work he had managed to tease Tate's name from him but even that had been an ordeal of constant reassurances and pledges of trust. He had no idea if his friend was learned, what sort of household he had been born into, whether he was a fighter, a servant or the unwanted beget of some nobleman, as Lukas's father had always suspected. All he really knew about Tate was that his friend was frightened and confused and terribly, terribly angry.  

The tinker propped his head on his hand as he studied the younger mans slumbering form. His Shantran really was breathtakingly lovely, even more so when he was sleeping and the constant turmoil that often seemed to plague his waking hours was locked away in slumber. His face was smooth and calm and achingly beautiful. Lukas looked down at his full mouth and felt an almost overwhelming need to kiss him. "God's help me." He said softly, feeling that painful and familiar ache in his chest.

Whenever they were alone Robert called Tate a whore. He said the only reason the half-blood even suffered Lukas's ministrations was because he needed protection and food. He said that Tate was a trickster and a vagabond. He said Tate hated Lukas as he hated all of them. He called Lukas was a fool for loving him.

And lady and lord above help him but Lukas was starting to believe his brother. He didn't act on his feelings because he didn't want to be considered the spurned lover simply because Tate had reacted so coldly towards him but as the days wore on, and Tate became more withdrawn and cruel, Lukas couldn't help but wonder if his Shantran was desperately trying to repair some of the damage he had caused by encouraging Lukas's advances. It wasn't helping that their tribe still hadn't caught up with them despite the fact that they were moving at a snail's pace. All of them were worried; Lukas couldn't understand what was taking them so long. He began to worry that the youths in the city had brought trouble down on the entire camp, but that made no sense. Without the three of them there to be indentified there was no way the city guards could blame their troupe for anything. They may have been horribly unfair but they did have to follow some laws. Tate looked up at him suddenly, his golden eyes wide and thoughtful as he lay beside him. They gazed at one another for a long time until Lukas could bare it no more. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Tate's breast. The gentle rise and fall of his Shantran's chest was a painful comfort. Lukas half expected to be pushed away when he felt a gentle hand rest on his forehead and gently caress his hair back from his forehead. It was a small thing, almost too small to note but for him it was enough, because fool that he was, he loved him. ****************************************************************************** Tanis surveyed the new group of tinkers with a critical eye. The trio of idiot boys had described Tate's description perfectly and the city guards had confirmed it. The southerners stood beside him, scaring the life out of the city folk. Behind them the tinkers were crying and calling out, demanding to know what they had done to be treated so terribly.

Tate was not with them. The half-blood had clearly run off after the incident with the city boys. It didn't exactly surprise Tanis, after all it was in keeping with his nature to run away at the first hint of trouble, it was an annoyance though. He had hoped to find the half-breed that afternoon so he might present him to his brother within the week. The delay wasn't going to help his brothers temper, which meant Tanis's position was precarious at best. He knew he was barely a stone's throw away from being discreetly disposed of. He didn't want to die, not because some foolish bastard had driven his brother half insane with lust.

He made his way to the cadges and stared from one face to another. They were not a large troupe; there was only one male among them over the age of seventeen. Tanis stopped their leader, he must have seen over fifty summers but he was still an impressive size with a bulk that did not consist solely of fat. His ice blue eyes stared accusingly back at Tanis, silently demanding to know why his people had been put into cadges. "I'm looking for a man." Tanis said, speaking common for the other mans benefit even though he wasn't entirely fluent. "He would speak with an accent similar to mine. He is small and lightly built with brown hair and yellow eyed. His name is Tate. Has he travelled with you?"

The old man lifted his chin and set his jaw stubbornly. Tanis raised his eyebrows and was surprised when the tinker copied his expression. "Come now," he said reasonably. "He isn't here now is he? There isn't any point in trying to help him anymore. Just look at the trouble he's already got you into. Tell me where he went and I'll do everything I can to make sure you and your tribe remain safe."

The old man just continued to stare at him. Tanis suddenly felt a little desperate. When Christian caught up with them and met the proud old man he would do anything to gain the information he wanted. Tanis didn't want to think what those monstrosities might entail. He could see the little girl sobbing against her mother's chest and the handsome youth stood wide eyed behind his father. Christian would hurt them for resisting him, he would kill them, and Tanis was chillingly confident that his brother would enjoy it. 

"Please," He said softly. His eyes flickered back to the young man seated stiffly beside his father. "Think about your family."

Those ice blue eyes bored into him. "Believe me my lord, I am." Robert made a grab for Tate but the smaller man jumped nimbly out of his grasp. He retreated back, putting as much distance as possible between them. Lukas tried not to let his own fury show, he had known the confrontation was going to happen eventually but he had hoped the others would have caught up with them so he could rely on his father for some support. He didn't relish the notion of fighting Robert.

"Something's happened and it's all your damned fault!" Robert bellowed at Tate. "If they've been hurt I'll personally see to it that your skinned alive!"

"Stop it Robert!" Lukas yelled, inserting himself firmly between the two men. "Think about what you're saying to him. By the god's man, what is wrong with you? Father taught us better than this."

"And where is father, Lukas? He should have been here days ago and yet we've seen no sign of him! Something's happened to him, to all of them and it's his fault! I tell you it was a mistake taking him in the first place."

"But we did and he's here and he's a part of my life." Lukas reached out for his brother but Robert pushed him angrily away. "Why are you acting this way? Why do you hate him so much?"

"Why?" Robert suddenly hissed, "Why? Why in the hell do you think? Lady and lord above Lukas are you really so damned selfish? What, you think you're the only one to ever find love? I was in love once Lukas, or don't you remember Alia?" He pointed hatefully at Tate over Lukas's shoulder; he wasn't talking to his brother anymore. "She was beautiful, young and so stupidly innocent! She said she loved me. She said she would marry me. Do you know what happened, you little sneak, she went out to bathe whilst the rest of us made camp. Some of your kind stumbled across her. Seems I wasn't the only one to find her beautiful." Tears washed down his little brothers cheeks but the hate and malice remained as he struggled to push Lukas aside and reach Tate's frozen form. "They destroyed her, utterly and totally! The healer said she wouldn't ever have a baby! I think that's what finally broke her; I think that what made her drive the dagger into her own chest!" he let out a bellow of hate and rage and pain. "That's all your kind is good for! You're murderers one and all. Or didn't you think I knew what you are, where you're from? Don't think for an instant that I don't know who you are, Tate!"

His Shantran stumbled back as though he had been struck. His great golden eyes turned accusingly on Lukas and the emotions within them took his breath away. "No, Please, I didn't. Shantran please, I didn't tell him. I didn't tell anyone. I kept my word to you, I swear it."

"That's all that matters to you, isn't Lukas. You need to keep you're whore happy!" Robert's voice took on a tone of pleading as he caught Lukas's arms. "I want him gone Lukas. It hurts too much to look at him. Please just send him away. He doesn't love you." 

Tate kept retreating back, he turned around suddenly and he started running and even though Lukas went after him he knew that he would never catch him. Tate was lightening on legs. He yelled uselessly after him but Tate soon vanished from his sight.

"He doesn't love you Lukas." Robert screamed desperately as Lukas kept running helplessly after Tate. "Let him go! We need to find our family."

But Lukas couldn't let him go, not yet. ******************************************************* "I can follow him, my lord." The tracker said confidentially as he bowed before Tanis. He stood back up and grinned, looking very much like a wolf. "From what I've gathered they left by the eastern gates. They would be travelling slowly, waiting for their tribe. They might have even turned back around. I could very well stumble into them." "You know the half-blood isn't to be harmed." Tanis said sternly. "Nor any of his companions unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Of course my lord, but just so we're clear it's only the bastard that needs to be brought back alive?"

Tanis felt a wave of misgiving as he looked back at the tracker. "That's correct."

"He's un-bloodied isn't he?"

"He is, but so far he's managed to avoid us all. Do not underestimate him tracker."

"I never do my lord." He grinned his wolf grin again and vaulted up onto the saddle of his horse. "He can't be more than a few days ahead of us. Once I have him I'll double back and meet you on the road to Calardor. Does that please you my lord?"

"Just see to it that you bring him back. Do that and you can name your prize."

"Music to my ears my lord." He turned the horse around and kicked her off into a gallop. "Look for me my lord. I'll not fail you."

"God's help me," Tanis whispered very quietly. As much as he wanted to find the half-blood and end the insanity he couldn't help but wonder over the baron's son's fate. He was about to invite the young man into the hell of Christian's clutches. A part of him, a very small part, hoped they never found Tate. But it's his life or mine, he thought despairingly, and he wouldn't have been any sort of man if he put the life of a stranger before his own.

But what sort of man hands the lives of innocents into the clutches of a vicious and quite possible mad man? 

******************************************************************************

Someone was following him and he was pretty damned sure that it wasn't Lukas. Tate stopped very still and tried to let the outside noise wash over him. Whoever his tracker was he was very close and he was doing a damned good job of concealing his footsteps. 

He was half tempted to turn back on himself but he couldn't risk leading his stalker back to Lukas. Not after everything else he had already done to him.

He closed his eyes briefly before he started forward again. He knew that whatever was about to happen would make things much worse but he was at a loss for what he could do to try and avoid it. A part of him wanted to fall into a fit of despair and just crumple. He bowed his head briefly and kept going. Giving up was not an option, not ever. He would keep fighting just as his father had always taught him. 

Let them come. *************************************************************************** Lukas reached out and caught his little brother's arm. Robert glared accusingly back at him but he refused to be cowed by the other man, nothing would be gained from rushing three scores of soldiers. He bowed his head slightly and tried to sink further into the out growing shrubs. He could just make out the still figure of his father, his arms enveloping Lukas's youngest brothers. He couldn't see his mother or sisters. 

"This is the half-blood's fault." Robert snapped at him, quietly thankfully enough. 

Lukas was about to argue with him when he caught sight of the crest on the soldiers' chests. It was the symbols warn by the northern kings second born. He knew it well having visited the high city many times in his life.

As he sat still and examined the young man Tate's words suddenly came back to him with a painful clarity. He had said a powerful man was looking for him, surely he didn't mean the young prince? The boy had barely passed adolescence. Lukas looked at him a moment longer and then everything seemed to click into place. He felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He remembered the night his Shantran had had a nightmare. Tate had screamed out a name with such dread and loathing that Lukas had mentioned it to him afterwards. His friend had reacted venomously, threatening to leave him. Lukas had not pushed the subject of the mysterious pursuer after Tate had reluctantly offered Lukas his name, but the tinker had not forgotten. Tate had called his hunter crazed; he said he was consumed with need because he had been denied something for the first time in his life. The name he had screamed out had been Christian. So it wasn't Tanis that hounded the half-blood but his elder brother, the crowned prince. 

"Lady and Lord above." He groaned.

"What is it?" Robert asked worriedly. "You've gone as pale as a sheet. What's wrong?" 

"Oh god's Robert! We have to free them! There, see the young one in armour? It's prince Tanis."

Robert looked to where he was pointing, his mouth slightly agape. "What in the five hells is he doing here? What concern is a tinker's caravan to a prince?"

"It isn't us he's looking for." Lukas said very quietly.

Robert didn't need to say anything to him, his look said it all.

Tate stopped walking and tried to listen. It was difficult with his blood pounding in his ears but he reckoned he could hear the faint fall of footsteps. His eyes searched frantically for any signs of pursuit but the woods were too dense to see very far in any direction. "You sense me boy?" a voice asked mockingly from Tate's right. The half-blood spun around, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as he tried to look everywhere at once. He waited tensely until the voice rang out again, this time from behind him. "You're wise to fear me Tate. You angered a very powerful man not so long ago. You know who I mean."

Fear caught in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. "How do you know my name?" he demanded raggedly. "Who are you?"

Laughter, cruel and full of maliciousness surrounded him. "You have no blade half-blood, not even a dagger. Did the baron not teach you better? Or perhaps living among the filthy scavengers had further weakened your already lacking skills"

"Who are you?" Tate repeated, hating the fear he could hear in his own voice. "Damn you, what do you want? Show yourself!"

And he did, stepping out from the shadows with a wicked looking dagger in one hand and a broadsword strapped to his back. His pale golden hair and light milky skin named him a northern man even though his accent had already given him away. Their eyes locked briefly before Tate turned and ran. He could hear the footfalls behind him now; his stalker wasn't making any attempt to disguise his pursuit anymore. Tate was a very fast runner; he might have been able to outrun the other man if an expectedly thrown dagger hadn't pierced his calf. His leg crumpled beneath him as he let out a muffled grunt of pain. 

He turned around quickly and yanked the dagger out of his leg. He managed to stand up but he couldn't apply any pressure of his left calf. His attacker was smiling at him, laughing no doubt at his apparent weakness. Tate could feel the hot wet stickiness of his own blood running down his leg. He felt a wave of foreboding but he pushed it away and raised the blade defensively. 

"Are you planning to use that on me boy?" his attacker asked in mock amazement. "Perhaps you wish to claim your first blood?" he pulled the daggers twin from his side and spun it in one hand. "Drop it now; else I'll stick your other leg as well."

Tate spit at him. He flinched as the dagger flew past his head, allowing his attacker the opportunity the wrestle the blade from his hands. Tate struggled but the other man was much stronger than him. He felt a hand clamp onto his jaw and had to stand almost on his tiptoes as his face was turned up for inspection. "Pretty enough I suppose." The other man grunted thoughtfully. "But not of my liking. Still the prince should be well pleased." So saying he thrust Tate away from him. The half-blood fell heavily onto his back, the collision momentarily knocking the air from his lungs. He struggled to breathe as his attacker ripped a strip of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it tightly around Tate's injured leg. "He won't be pleased by the scar though." He said softly, apparently to himself. His hand clamped onto Tate's shoulder as he hoisted the smaller man into a sitting position. "I passed your little gypsy friends on my way here. They were talking about you, talking about how you had run off. It's lucky for them that you did. Otherwise I might have had to kill them." When he grinned Tate couldn't help but liken him to a wolf. He had the same savage, unruly glean in his eyes. Close up his hair and beard were scraggy and miss kept. He was tall but wiry and lithe. "You're a fast little shit aren't you boy. You nearly lost me a few times. How long did you know I was following you?" 

Tate spit at him. He expected a blow to the face but the other man gripped his injured calf and applied tight pressure. Tate threw himself backwards and tried to scream but he couldn't find enough breath to make any noise. The other man just held on more tightly. Tate tried to pry his fingers away but the tracker just smiled at him. "Stop it!" Tate gasped, expelling his breathe in a ragged gasp. "Stop!"




Defiance Ch. 07



"You want me to stop, promise me you'll behave. If not I'll break your arm. It won't make you any less pretty for his highness and will likely make you a hell of a lot more pliable. Now, are you going to do as you're told?"

Tate sucked in all of his breath and tried to block away the pain. The sensible voice in his head was screaming at him but he couldn't help himself. Damned to the consequences he thought wildly. Locking eyes with his newest enemy his schooled his expression carefully. "Fuck you!" He hissed, combining all the anger and revulsion he could into two small words. 

The tracker didn't smile at him when he broke Tate's arm. **************************************************************************** They were very old, older than man, older than the Fay that had combed the world long before history started. They were almost as ancient as the god's themselves. Huge and beautiful and free. 

"We hear you little brother." They called to him, their great booming voice's resounding almost painfully through his mind. "We see you little brother."

He tried to close his mind to them. They were too much, too alien for his small human mind to comprehend, but they would not let him go. They reached out for him, screaming his name. They wanted him, they said they needed him.

But then the world called him home and he opened his eyes almost gladly. *********************************************** The dream faded as the day wore on. Pain and discomfort seemed to push aside anything else, even fear. The wrappings around his wrist and calf did little to soften the constant jarring of the horse's urgent trot. Tate lent his head against the wolf's back and tried not to concentrate on the glass that was continuously being forced into his bones. He almost hoped a fever would take him but the tracker had treated his wounds too well. 

When they finally stopped Tate was very close to passing out. He had to be carried inside the wayward house. The innkeeper stayed away from the wolf, not bothering to ask what he was doing with a man dressed like a tinker. Tate suspected that had the wolf gutted him there and then the innkeeper would have shrugged it off. After all, what sort of self respecting man cared for the welfare of gypsies?  

There was one condolence he supposed. Now that he was gone Lukas and his family would finally be safe. Tate didn't have to live with the constant fear and guilt anymore. It was better for everyone that he was gone. Better especially for Lukas who had claimed to love him. Tate could have laughed at the tinker's stupidity. How could he say he loved him, didn't he see what Tate was? Didn't he understand?

"You don't speak very much do you?" The wolf commented as he prepared himself for bed. Tate met his eyes briefly before looking away. "If not your tongue then what is it about you that has endeared our prince so?" he asked, only a little mockingly. "You've a fair face and form, I'll grant you that, but surely it isn't all? There must be more."

Lukas had thought so, but then Lukas was naive for all that he was so well travelled. No, there certainly wasn't anything special about Tate. Nothing that would have interested a sane man. But Christian was not sane, though it seemed to him that he must be the only person in the world to realise it. 

"You're all the courters talk about." The tracker said, his eyes sparkling with mockery. "Some of them are swooning at the thought of you. They've made you out to be the most beautiful creature alive." His smile widened. "You'll not be shy of invitations once the prince has had his fill."

"What do you know of court?" Tate asked him, surprised at the sudden levity he could hear in his own tone. "I can hear it in your speech, though you try so hard to hide it. You've a crude and common mannerism about you that would be shunned at any mans court, especially the kings"

The smile slid of the wolfs face as he leaned forward in his chair. "I would be very careful if I was you half-blood."

"Or else you'll what?" Tate asked him, feigning curiosity. "You can't keep breaking things. The prince would protest I think." He sat up and met the other man's light eyes with unwavering contempt. "Act the pretender if you like but you're naught but a commoner and you and I both know it."

He didn't flinch away when the wolf reared up to his feet and drew back his fist. Tate silently urged him to strike out, to become so angry that he lost all control Do it, he thought, for god's sake just do it!. Their eyes locked and to his dismay he saw something change in the wolf expression. The tracker raised his eyebrows self mockingly and allowed his hands to drop listlessly as his sides. "You're a wily one boy." He said with grudging respect. "But I'll not take your life from you, no matter how angry you try to make me. You're for the prince and I intend to give you to him myself."

Tate smiled at him, though there wasn't a shred of humour in it. "Do as you will. I've found that among my father's people most men do as they please anyway."

"Are they not you're people too, oh most reverend bastard?"

Tate didn't even blink at the insult. He had heard it said far too many times in his life to still be so affected by it. He turned away and laid his head against the thin pillow on his bed. I have no people, he thought sorrowfully before sleep finally took him. No dreams visited him that night. *********************************************************** The soldiers moved on, heading north towards the high city. At a loss for anything else to do Lukas and Robert followed them. They spoke little, and only then to argue amongst themselves. There was no sign of Tate and as the days wore on Lukas began to give up hope that he might ever return to him. He learned from Robert that he had stupidly said Tate's name after the southern raiders had attacked their caravan and carried Tate off. Everything had been so muddled that he couldn't remember it well but he believed his brother and he cursed his own stupidity. Perhaps if Tate hadn't believed that Lukas had misplaced his hard won trust he might not have run away. But then the days dragged on and it suddenly seemed that his Shantran really hadn't cared for him all. Lukas should have known better. The northerners were raised from birth to hate tinkers. Just because Tate looked different didn't mean that his breeding had been affected by his foreign blood. He had used him and now Lukas's entire family would pay the price for it.

******************************************************************** Christian smiled lustfully at the decedent young man lying across the foot of his bed. The tumbler had caught his eye from the start and Christian was pleased when the young man was seemingly delighted by Christian's invitation. His sinewy and finely boned body was the sort Christian most coveted and he looked forward to letting lose some of the pent up energy he had been feeling of late. 

Of course nothing would fill the void he so keenly felt. He wanted Tate, wanted him more with each passing day. The tumbler would suffice in the meanwhile but he would never be able to offer what Christian really wanted, what he needed. 

The reports said that Tanis was on the half-blood's trail. Though he could be counted on for little Christian knew his younger brother was desperate to save his own miserable little life. He would do almost anything to fall back into the bleak animosity of his former life. If he succeeded in bringing Tate back the elder prince might even grant his brother's wish. Tanis was a craven sought after all, and easily controlled. Christians other younger brother was growing up to be far too out spoken for his own good. Why invite trouble?

"My prince?" The tumbler said shyly.

Christian blinked at him, having momentarily forgotten he was there. "What is your name?" He asked, smiling at the handsome young man.

"Adan, my prince."

His smile widened. Christian could be charming when he chose to be. He reached out and caught a lock of the tumbler's light golden hair. "What do you desire Adan?"

Bright blue eyes looked wantonly up at him. "You my lord," He said breathlessly, "I desire you."

Christian rolled atop the agile youth and slowly undressed him. He enjoyed the look of wonder in the young man's face. A part of him wondered if Tate would ever look at him in the same way. He stroked the tumbler's long, slender organ with one hand, enjoying the sensation of the other man's sure fingers as they untied his breeches.

He pulled the rest of his clothes off and sat back. The tumbler quickly knelt between his legs and set to work on Christian's dick. He worked the length of it with a soft and experienced tongue. Christian concentrated on him, trying not to imagine the man before him was the half-blood. He remembered the whore whose hair had been dyed brown for Christian's pleasure. He had hurt that poor unfortunate man quite badly. He couldn't help it, when he thought of Tate the longing came upon him full force. Surely he couldn't be blamed for that? 

"My prince?" The tumbled squeaked, his panicky voice cutting through Christian's thoughts. "Please my lord, you're hurting me!" Christian blinked, surprised to see he had pinned the tumblers slender wrists above his head. He didn't think he was really hurting the tumbler but he could understand how one in his profession would be mindful of their hands and wrists. He loosened his hold but didn't let him go entirely.

"My apologies Adan." He said soothingly before he bent down and fastened his lips against the tumblers neck, sucking and licking the spot he knew to be most sensitive. The tumbler started moaning and panting. He made little keening noise that made Christian smile. Tate would never do this for me. He thought angrily. He would never allow himself the pleasure of being with me. The anger began to bubble to the surface again but with a mastery of will he pushed it aside. He would be a king one day, he's be damned if he couldn't contain a bit of self will. He lifted the tumblers leg's over his shoulder's and was suddenly dazzled by the other man's marvellous flexibility as he pulled his own legs further back behind his ears. Christian lathered him up with oil and thoroughly prepared him before he gently entered his tight hole. 

The tumbler moved artfully, twisting himself into almost unnatural angles. He was a pleasure to have but to Christian's dismay he left the prince dissatisfied. He was not what Christian wanted, not what he needed. He sent him away when they had finished, thankful at least that the only mark he left on the other man was the light bite on his neck.

He lay back in his bed and closed his eyes. Soon, he thought, soon.



Defiance Ch. 08



Hey,

Just a quickie before you go onto the story. This chapter is a little different from the previous ones, as you'll find out if you decide to read on. I've had a lot of feedback, which I really appreciate by the way, and a lot of people have said the chapters are too short. What I've tried to do with this entry, and all of my other current stories, is lengthen them a little. Because I don't want the story quality to suffer they're taking a lot longer to write than they normally would. 

Plus I recently moved to a new country with a new man and I'm struggling to find the time to write as much as I used to ;o) 

Can I ask that you stay as patient with me as possible? A few of you seemed worried that I might not finish a story but I assure you they all have a conclusion, it just might take me a while to figure out what it is and then find away to write it down ;o)

So Cheers guys and I hope you enjoy.

Mickie

********* 

Tate hurt, from his throbbing calf to his broken wrist all the way up to his pounding head. He closed his eyes and lent his head against the wall of the old inn as the tracker ordered a room for them both. He could feel the fat old innkeeper's eyes on him. No doubt the old man wanted to know what a tracker was doing dragging an injured tinker into his establishment. It couldn't have been a common sight. Since he had first worn the gypsy's garb he had been banned from most taverns and inns. Not now though. No one would dare bar him now. 

He felt a firm hand on his upper arm and started violently. "Asleep on your feet lad?" The tracker asked, pulling him towards the stairs and all but lifting him up each step. "I'd think the son of a barren would be made of sterner stuff. Your mother's blood must have tainted your fathers something fierce."

Tate didn't bother to answer. The insults meant little to him now. All he really cared about was getting some sleep before he fell facedown from exhaustion. 

He limped after the tracker, trying not to flinch from burning pain in his leg. The tracker pushed him onto the bed furthest from the door. Tate was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

*******

"He's taken him hasn't he?" Tanis said quietly, trying to keep his anger in check as he walked alongside his old teacher. "That traitorous vagabond found him and then instead of bringing him back here he's taking him back to the palace himself. The son of a dog! If I ever get my hands on him I'll rip him in half."

"He might not have found him yet." Kenner said mildly, idly checking the locks on the wooden cages as they walked towards the front of the precession. "He might be on his way back here as we speak."

Tanis snorted loudly, causing some of the tinkers to raise their heads in alarm. He glared at them and immediately regretted it when a little girl began bawling her eyes out. Is this what I've become? He wondered in self disgust, a monster only fit to frighten tinker children?

"He could be dead." Kener suggested, as if such a thing could comfort him. "The bastard has proved remarkably resourceful. Perhaps he and the other two tinkers killed him."

"A number of people have seen two men of their description riding towards the palace. Of course he isn't dead! Damn it, Christian will crucify me unless I come back with him."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

A very good question and he supposed there could only be one answer. "We go after them."

They couldn't take a large number of men. Despite the tinkers passiveness they still outnumbered the soldier's considerably. So then it would just be the two of them. They were ready to leave in the hour.

******* 

Tate woke sometime later. It was still dark outside but he guessed it was getting close to morning. The tracker lay across from him, his bed positioned so that it blocked the door. Tate shifted slightly and realised that his feet were tied together. His leg cramped as he sat up and he had to stifle a moan. He looked up sharply to see if the tracker had noticed but the other man's breathing remained slow and constant. He squinted at the intricate knot binding his legs and repressed a curse. He wished he had enough light to see by, but he supposed wishing did him little good. He tried to untie the god forsaken thing but with only one hand it was near impossible. Maybe if he had more time but the sun was starting to rise and he knew the tracker would wake soon.

He needed a knife, any sort of weapon. Surely the other man's pack was filled with them. He eased himself down off the bed and pulled himself belly first slowly across the floor. Without the use of his legs and with only one arm it took him a distressingly long time but he finally managed to catch one of the packs. He sat up and started opening it.

"Come on lad, did you really think than was going to work?"

Tate let it drop and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't expected it to work but he had hoped it might. He looked up as the tracker rolled out of bed and stepped over him. The other man grabbed the top of Tate's injured arm and hauled him back to his bed. "You don't give up do you?" He asked as Tate desperately tried to gain some purchase with his feet and take some of the weight off his arm. "I have to admire your courage, if not your intelligence." 

Tate buried his face into his pillow and let out a muffled curse. By the gods, how much more could he take? He turned on his back and tried to sit up but the tracker knocked his roughly back down. He pulled out a knife from his belt and sliced Tate's bindings. "Put your boots on." He said, flashing his fierce wolf grin. "It's time to go."

******* 

Millianous stood up and stretched his aching back. The chains rattled loudly as he slowly flexed his thin arms and legs. By the gods how he wished to be free of the flimsy chains, but then that was impossible as long he remained trapped in the even flimsier prison of his own flesh. He released a tired sigh and tried not to dwell on the almost tangible sky that lay just beyond the crumbling stones. What would he give to step beyond the tiny window and feel the rush of the wind and sky on his face once again? If only the others would come for him. 

He stepped to the limits of his chains and reached out towards the window. It was open again now, opened because he had submitted and behaved. Wind and water caressed his outstretched fingers, bathing him in their purity and light. 

He heard laughter then, cruel and malicious. He stumbled back and nearly fell over the cumbersome chains. How long had he been watched? He shuffled back to his chair, desperate for some sort of anchor. Rough hands caught his arm, halting him mid-step and pulling him back. He was pulled close to the princeling, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from the young mortals fevered body. The chains attached to his wrists were pulled together behind his back. He could feel Christians other hand on his hip. "So beautiful," Christian mumbled into his ear, his voice mocking and dark. "So pitifully vulnerable."

"What do you want Christian?" Millianous demanded, refusing to be cowed by a half insane pup. His hackled rose when he felt Christian's fingers trace over his spine. "Do not!" He thundered, throwing power and fury into the two small words. Christian tensed but he didn't release him immediately. His own pride would not allow it. Instead he leaned forward and pressed a quick and chaste kiss against Milianous's hard mouth. There was no lust, no passion. Christian feared Millianous too much for that, even if he wasn't able to fully admit it to himself.

"Where is he?" He asked, Pulling Millianous to his chair and throwing him down into it.

"Your half-blood you mean?" The prophet asked mockingly. "One of your wolves has him I believe."

He could feel Christian's excitement and pleasure. It sickened Millianous that he had contributed to it.

"And they're on their way?" he demanded.

Millianous closed his eyes briefly and concentrated on the half-blood. It was becoming easier and easier to locate him. It was odd but there was something about the runaway that Millianous felt drawn to. He saw a brief image. The boy was sitting on a log within a forest. Just in front of him another man was cursing a fallen horse. In his temper he lashed out at his captive, kicking him a solid blow to the leg. The half-blood's eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He fell down onto his back and stopped moving. "They're on their way." He answered thoughtfully, his voice tepid with sorrow. It was odd that he should care about the wellbeing of a mortal but some small part of him felt for the young one. What would happen to him when Christian finally caught him?

********

Come here." The tracker snarled as Tate began to fall behind. His leg was throbbing and he was exhausted but the other man could have cared less. All that mattered to him was that they maintain their speed. The tracker wrapped his hand around Tate's uninjured wrist and pulled him close, forcing the smaller man to keep pace with him. Eventually though Tate's leg crumpled beneath him and he fell. "Damnable weakling!" the tracker yelled. "In the name of the gods, how did your father never drown you at birth?" 

The half-blood was too tired to mind the insult. It felt like someone was forcing rusted nails into his flesh. He lay back and tried to block out the other mans acid tongue but it was difficult to ignore the sharp slap across his face. "Answer me when I talk to you!" he snapped, twisting his hand through Tate's shirt and forcing him up into a sitting position. "By her lady's grace I swear I'll permanently cripple you if you don't get up."

Tate had to bite down on his tongue to kill his first response. He took a deep breath and gestured at his calf. "I can't. Call me weak or womanly but the damned thing won't take my weight. You're the one that decided to put a knife in me and it's hardly my fault that your horse was lame! What would you have me do, fly?"

The tracker snarled in disgust and pushed Tate away with more force than was necessary. Tate banged his head on the rocky ground and let out a quiet moan of pain. The constant pounding that had accompanied him since morning was but a pleasant memory compared to the fierce stabs of pain attacking his eyes and skull. He rolled over and wished quite uselessly that he was back in the wagon he had shared with Lukas. 

He must have fallen asleep because when he next opened his eyes the sky had turned black and there was a fire burning happily beside him. The tracker was staring intently down at him, his wolf like expression made more severe by the light of the fire and the encompassing darkness. His smile was ghastly. "There's someone out there half-blood." He said softly, his voice barely loud enough to travel over the crackling flames. "There might be two of them. They move so well though that it's hard to tell." His smile widened. "They will have horses. They may have brought us exactly what we need." 

For one heart halting moment Tate thought it was Lukas come to help him. Then a woman burst from the darkness and threw herself at the tracker. They went down in a tangle of limbs and blades. A hand caught Tate's shoulder and twisted him around. A smiling young lad of some twenty summers raised his blade and placed it gently against Tate's lips, clearly intending for him to stay quiet. He looked over Tate's shoulder and his grin widened, almost splitting his face with its intensity. Tate didn't dare move but he heard the trackers muffled scream. One more muffled groan and then silence.

"Well done sister." The boy said brightly. He looked back at Tate and gently rolled the blade across the half-bloods lips. "Hello little tinker." He said, still smiling as Tate stared stiffly back at him. "Tell me my friend, do you have any blades, any weapons at all?" he moved the blade away slowly. "Do not lie to me. Have you or not?" Tate shook his head once and the other man laughed. "You'll forgive me if check for myself." So saying he ran his hands over Tate's body, patting him down to ensure he was unarmed. When he was seemingly satisfied he fastened onto Tate's broken arm and drew it out between them. "My my little tinker, you have been through the wars lately haven't you? Did your friend do this or are you just clumsy?" 

With the blade gone Tate risked a glance over his shoulder. The tracker lay flat on the ground, his body bent at an odd angle. Was he dead? 

"Can't you talk little friend?" he looked over Tate's head. "I think we've frightened him Silvia." 

"Stop being cruel." The woman laughed. She bent down beside Tate and rested her hand on his knee. "You're unconscious friend seems to have hurt you quite thoroughly hasn't he? Misbehaving were you?" She tapped her long fingers over his leg and up his thigh. "My but you are a pretty one, isn't he pretty brother?"

"Beaten up but decidedly pretty, what a marvellous find you are. What do you think the traders would give us for him Silvia?"

"Well he's a half-breed. Take him out of these clothes and he'll be worth considerably more. Your people are not particularly popular at the moment." She said, looking back at Tate. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she pulled him to his feet. She was only a little taller than him but she was very strong. "I've a notion to keep him for myself." She said laughingly.

"Too bad we need the money." The lad said with an exaggerated sigh. He reached out and grabbed Tate's other arm, pulling him away from the woman and into his own embrace. "Though I've a mind to enjoy him before we sell him on."

"No!" Tate said, twisting in the other mans arm. He managed to free himself but then his own leg betrayed him and buckled. He fell to his knees, panting in agony as his injured leg pulsed angrily beneath him. The woman laughed and the boy smirked as he tried to crawl away from them. Why, he thought desperately, is this how it's always going to be? Is there nothing else? 

The boy dropped on top of him, his weight forcing the air out of Tate's lungs. He screamed out his fury and denial but the other man just laughed at him. Tate's feet scrambled for purchase, the pain in his battered body momentarily forgotten as he tried to break free. Hands ripped his brightly coloured trousers and forced them down Tate's thighs. Tate saw iron gleaming at the boys side and he reached for it. His attacker realised what he was doing a moment too late. Tate had the dagger in his uninjured hand. He held it up, preparing to thrust it in the bastard's neck. He never got the chance. He heard a pained grunt. The boys eyes widened in surprise as he looked questioningly down at Tate. "Silvia?" He said faintly before collapsing on top Tate. The half-blood tried to push him off but another force dragged the dead man off him. He looked up, expecting the girl. Instead the tracker flashed Tate his wolf smile and showed the younger man his bloody dagger. "You alright?" He asked, his eyes wide and almost crazed looking.

Tate's instincts took control. He surged up, trying to bury the knife in the trackers gut. The other man jumped away at the last possible moment. His smile sharpened as he looked down at the half-blood. "Is this how you thank me Tate? I just saved you from the southern slave galleys."

"Fuck you!" Tate hissed furiously, limping back from him. He could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks but for the life of him he couldn't seem to stop it.

"Drop the knife you little fool, or are you really going to make me take it from you, again?"

They stared at one another for a long time. Tate didn't try to attack him but he couldn't just give the blade up either. The tracker let out an exasperated sigh and stepped towards him. In one swift move he simply plucked the blade from Tate's numb fingers and placed it in his own belt. He shook his head wordlessly and gestured to the ground. Tate continued to stare at him until his legs were kicked out beneath him. 

"Do not move half-blood. I'm going to get our new horses."

And Tate didn't move, because he was finally starting to realised that he wouldn't get anywhere until he was whole and healthy and that wasn't going to happen if he kept giving the tracker excuses to hurt him. It had been a slow and painful lesson to learn but he understood now. He just hoped it wasn't too late. 

*********

We've got no food left, no money and we can't go into the towns or cities because the moment we do we're solider fodder. So tell me Lukas, truly and plainly, what is it you expect us to do?" 

Lukas tried to school his expression as he pulled out the last loath of hard bread they had left between them. Robert had been keeping up a constant flow of insults and misgivings since the following morning and Lukas had finally had enough. He threw the loaf at Robert and stood up. "Damn it Robert, I don't know what we're supposed to do now, I don't know how to save the others, I don't know how we're going to avoid the soldiers forever! Why do you keep asking me, why don't you know these things?"

"Me?" Roberts smile was cruel and bitter and entirely unlike him. "I would never suppose myself your equal in anything Lukas. How could I ever hope to succeed where you've failed?" 

Lukas opened and closed his mouth a few times but he couldn't find the words. The gulf that had opened up between them seemed wider than ever and he didn't have the slightest idea how they would ever cross it. He wished their father was with them. He'd make Robert see the way, he'd make him understand that the anger he was harbouring wasn't going to help anyone. But he's not here, Lukas thought as a fresh stab of guilt struck his chest, growing more profound as his mind wondered to thoughts of Tate.

They heard screaming then, loud and high. It had steadily grown worse as the days progressed and both brothers were at breaking point. Lukas supposed Tanis had been controlling his soldiers somewhat but since he had ridden off two mornings ago it had become an almost constant noise. 

"That could be any of our sisters." Robert hissed, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. "For mercies sake Lukas, what if that's Rose or Lillian?"

Lukas looked wordlessly back at him. He felt sick as dreadful images streaked through his mind. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to block out their screams.

"We have to do something Lukas!" Robert snapped. "Damn it man, listen to them!"

"I can hear them brother." He answered softly. 

"Then in the name of the gods do something!"

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Lukas said into his hands.

He only barely heard Roberts's mumbled reply. "This is your fault."

And the gods help him, it really was.

*********

"Can you read this?" The tracker demanded as he thrust a dirty piece of paper in Tate's face. "They did teach you to read didn't they?"

Tate took the parchment from him and scanned the contents. "It's confirming the outlawing of tinkers." He said faintly as his heart started hammering in his chest. "What are they doing with them after they've been rounded up?"

The tracker gave him a sly look as he plucked the paper from Tate's grasp. "I'm not sure; some will become southern slaves I suppose and the rest." His grin grew wide and wolfish. "I'm betting they'll be slaughtered. All the worse for them that you decided to seek their help, eh half-blood?" 

How could he defend himself when the other man was speaking the truth? It is all my fault; he thought guiltily, all of those people are going to die because of me. It was almost too much to bare thinking about. Instead he turned his head and scanned the town courtyard. He realised that he'd passed through the town before, a short time before he met Lukas and his family. It struck him suddenly just how close he was to his home, which meant he was just that much closer to Christian. For a moment white hot fear flared through him but it was quickly smothered with guilt. All those good, innocent people were going to die because of him, because he refused to give into a spoiled, stupid boy. Perhaps it was only fitting that he be given over to Christian. The gods only knew what the other man would do to him when they met. Tate very much doubted that the councillors promise to take him into his household would hold still hold sway. From what the tracker had said Tate had suddenly become common knowledge and clearly no one objected to his treatment.




Defiance Ch. 08



He stumbled when the tracker caught his arm and steered him towards some of the back streets. Tate was about to object when he caught sight of a dark Inn with blacked out widows and a faint red light above the door. The tracker wasn't looking at him anymore; his eyes were fixed on the young woman hanging outside the front porch.

Her corset was torn and dirty and indecently low cut and her dyed red hair and black charcoal eyes only confirmed what she was. She smiled as they approached, her small green eyes passing dismissively over Tate and landing on the tracker. She bared her crooked teeth in a tight smile and gestured them through the door with a flourish.

They were only inside for a few moments before a bony woman of advancing years swooped down on them. She smiled falsely at the tracker before staring slyly at Tate. "You selling?" She asked curiously.

The tracker laughed when Tate flinched back from her grasping hands. "I'm buying actually. I just need a room to put the boy until I'm done." His smile grew when she looked dubious. "Never fear mistress, he won't cause you any trouble." 

Tate was handed into the care of a young man who had enough bruises and cuts to rival even Tate's. "You belong to him?" He asked, when the two of them were out of earshot, though the tracker was determined to keep Tate within his sights until he was securely locked up for the night. 

"No," Tate said quietly. "I don't belong to him."

"You're a tinker though?" He smiled dreamily. "Where are all you bracelets?"

Tate turned his head from the tracker and the young woman he had chosen and looked out at the blackened window. "I threw them away."

"That's a pity, they're fine looking things." The boy looked over Tate's shoulder and frowned slightly. "Was he the one that hit you?" He asked quietly. 

"I certainly didn't do it to myself." Tate said, though he said it with a soft smile to show his venom wasn't meant for the boy. "But who hit you?" He asked, looking into the lads light blue eyes.

He shrugged and jerked his bony shoulder back towards the old woman. "She rents me out to a man," he shuddered slightly. "He likes to be rough."

"There seems to be a lot of men like that among the northerners." Tate said quietly. "You can't fight him off then?"

The boy looked scared by the mere thought of it. "He'd kill me!" he squeaked. 

Tate looked pointedly into the lad's eyes. "He seems to be doing that a bit at a time anyway. Why not run away? They can't be watching you every moment."

The lad let out a small bitter laugh. "They don't watch me at all! Just look at me, I'm hardly this places prize, that's why she lets him have me. If I ran away they'd never bother to try and find me. I'd starve in a few days."

"How long have you been here?" Tate asked, silently horrified that such a young man could have so bleak a future. 

"How long? I suppose forever is as good a number as any. 

"What is your name?"

"Ibin. And yours?"

Tate faltered for a moment. Did it really matter if he kept his name a secret? He was caught, what good would it do him now? "My name is Tate." He said, quietly enough so no one else could hear. He offered the young man a smile but it melted away when he noticed the boy was gawking at him. "What is it?" Tate asked, suddenly fearful. "Ibin, what is wrong?"

"You're him." The boy actually stepped back. "You're the one he's looking for."

Tate caught the lads arm and pulled him close. The tracker wasn't paying attention to them anymore; he was too busy with his young mistress. "Who is looking for me, Ibin, what are you talking about?

"Him, by the high heavens, him!"

Tate took a deep breath to try and settle his hammering heart. "You mean Christian don't you?" he settled his head on the startled lads shoulder. "By the god's, does everyone know?" Ibin stiffened beneath him and Tate quickly stepped away. He could appreciate not wanting to be touched. "Can you tell me what you've heard?" He asked, trying not to let the desperation sound in his voice.

The boy closed his mouth with a little click. "Just rumours and gossip. The town's strife with it. They say you ran away from Christian after you knifed him. They say you're the reason their hunting down the gypsies."

"Town strife with what?" A high voice suddenly snapped behind them. Both men turned around guiltily as a young mistress glared hauntingly at them. She was tall for a woman, easily Tate's height if not a little taller. She looked different to the other mistress's Tate had seen. She was cleaner looking for a start and she dressed almost decently. Her hand lashed out and she clouted Ibin across the back on his head. "I thought you were supposed to be watching the gentlemen's tinker Ibin, not chatting gossip to him. 

The boy bobbed his head guilty and took a sharp step back. "I was watching him mistress, I swear I was. He isn't going anywhere."

She sneered at the boy but it turned into a honey smile when her eyes met Tate's. "I can see why he's so eager to keep track of you. Gypsy or not you've got a look about you." She stepped closer towards him, closing the distance between them until she was uncomfortably close. "Though I'll wager my fortune that you're a half-blood. Did your mother like to open her legs to all comers little tinker?"

"No more than your own I'll wager." Tate said angrily. "Though by the looks of you I'd say you're hardly the subtle type yourself." She tried to slap him but Tate caught her wrist before she could land the blow. He smiled at her. "Does the truth sting my lady?" He asked curtly.

Her eyes became small and hard as she stared calculatingly back at him. "A half-blood indeed but certainly no tinker. That's a noble accent if I ever heard one. Tell me something boy, exactly whose little bastard are you?" 

"I don't see how that's any business of yours." The tracker snapped at the young mistress as he pulled his chosen girl behind him. "Come on then, I want this one locked up." His other hand latched onto Tate's wrist. "Off you go tinker, and mind your tongue before I cut it out for you." 

Tate was locked into a small room with no windows, very little air and barely enough room for him to sit down. He tried the lock a few times but the door was solid and it refused to give. Not that he had really expected it to. He had an unpleasant inkling that he wasn't the first soul to be trapped in the tiny prison. He settled down eventually and rested his head on his knees. He kept telling himself he had slept in worse places until eventually he dozed off. 

**************

Someone shone a bright light in his face, nearly blinding him as he hurriedly sat up. He could just make out the outline of two figures as his tired eyes tried to adjust to the sharp light. "Have you anything to say for yourself, master tinker." He recognised the voice as the young mistress that accosted him earlier in the day. She laughed glibly. "Or do you prefer to be known as Tate De'van, youngest son of the Barron Hasan?"

Tate slowly edged his way up into a standing position with the wall pressed firmly against his back. He smiled hatefully back at her. "At your service mistress." He said, bowing mockingly.

Her eyes closed slightly as she glared at him. She gestured the bigger figure beside her forward and Tate fell a large hand encircle his wrist. He was pulled out of his tiny prison and out into an empty common room. His eyes had finally adjusted to the torch and he could make out the features of the man that was holding so tightly onto him. He was a few years past his prime and his light blue eyes were surrounded with a dozen fierce scars. He had a nose that had been broken many times before and thick leathery lips. Tate gave his arm an experimental tug but unsurprisingly it did him little good. "Don't cry out." The mistress warned him, her big blue eyes fierce.

Tate shrugged at her. "Alright then. But where is the tracker?"

She smiled at him. "You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Killed him have you?" Tate asked casually.

"Do you care?"

Another shrug. "Not in the slightest."

"Come along then. I have someone who would like to meet you."

**********

"Well well, what do you make of this my old friend?" Tanis asked his old teacher as he examined the gnawed remains of what looked like two vagabonds. The surrounding camp had been left in a hurry. The tracker obviously decided it wasn't worth the effort of covering their tracks if he wasn't going to bury his attackers. 

"A struggle certainly." The older man said thoughtfully. "Clearly the tracker prevailed and he seems to have won himself a couple of new horses. No matter though, we have him now. These corpses are barely two days old."

Tanis smiled up at him. "Then let us be off. This game grows tiresome." 

********

They're moving too quickly." Lukas said miserably as he ducked down under a score of bushes. "We're going to reach the capital within a few days." 

Robert pulled at the loose, drab clothing they had stolen a few days before and plucked a spider off his shoulder. "I wonder how much of our family will be left by the time they get there?" He asked harshly.

Lukas looked sharply back at him but he wasn't in the mood for another argument. He bowed his head and prayed to the gods to give him strength not to throttle his brother. "Have you eaten yet?" He asked instead.

Robert flashed him a harsh smile. "Have you?"

"Not yet." Lukas said tiredly.

"Well me neither. Guess we're just going to have to tighten our belts. Tell me something Lukas, did you notice that the girls aren't screaming anymore."

Of course he had noticed. How could he not. "What do you want me to say Robert?"

"I want you to assure me that they're not already dead. I don't suppose you can do that though, can you big brother?"

Lukas looked back at him and wordlessly shook his head no.

"I didn't think so." Robert said quietly.

***********

The half-blood didn't start struggling until they tried to force him into Olivia's coach. He dug in his heels but his leg buckled almost immediately and he over balanced and fell over. Magnus had a firm hold on the boys arm and thrust him into the coach. He made the half-blood sit on the floor and pressed him back against the seat as Olivia stepped into the carriage. She wasn't normally a very hands on person but there was something about the mongrel's eyes that greatly bothered her. She pulled back her foot and landed a solid blow to the boy's side. He let out a quiet grunt and hugged his arms around his chest. Truly, he didn't look like much a threat curled up.

"That took some of the fight out of you didn't it." She said, feeling just a little smug as he curled deeper into himself. "Not so glib now, eh mongrel?" 

She hadn't expected him to answer her so she didn't take too much offense when he buried his face into his arms. She was a little surprised though. She had thought that the baron's children were trained warriors. A rumour had reached them in the town dregs that the half-breed was unblooded but surely he had some sort of combat training. To give up so easily just seemed bizarre to her. 

Still, if a small kick mad him quiet and complacent who was she to complain. She just wanted to sell him on and get back to her fine establishment. With the money she got from him she would finally be able to do up her place, make it fancy and respectable. The sort of place a real man would want to frequent instead of the ruffians she had to contend with.

They pulled up to a curve and Olivia pulled back the coaches ragged scarlet curtains. The house in front of her screamed of wealth and high blood. She hadn't crossed into the high houses since her years as a virgin beauty and she had almost forgotten how overwhelmingly fine they were up close. 

The moment she stepped outside and pressed her scuffed slippers to the cobbled ground she saw a guard bearing down on her. She raised her arms in a gesture of peace but he wasn't stopping. "I have something for Lord Thomas." She said loudly and shrilly. She gestured Magnus outside and he dragged the half-blood with him. Another guard was quickly heading towards them but neither of them seemed to care that she wasn't there to cause trouble. "Tell him I have brought him something he seeks, something of great importance!"

"A gypsy?" One of them asked mockingly. "There are plenty already hauled up in the capital. Be gone whore!"

"Not this one." She said indignantly, angry now that he was treating her like a common ruffian. "This one is special. For god's sake man, at least give me the opportunity. You'll not regret it."

Both men looked questioningly at one another. "It couldn't hurt to ask," the older one said with a begrudging nod in the mongrel's direction. "That one does fit the description." 

"Pass him over then." The younger one said.

Olivia laughed at him. "Don't be stupid. I'm not going to just give him to you. I caught him after all, I brought him here!"

She couldn't control her scream when the elder one drew his sword and stabbed Magnus in the stomach. The big man fell in a gurgling heap on the floor, spattering the pretty pavements a crimson red. She heard the coachman gasp behind her but he wouldn't come to her rescue, he was old and feeble. The younger guard grabbed the half-blood and pulled him close. The boy barely flinched as he was dragged towards the main house. "Be gone whore." The older man said with a disgusted shake of his head. "And don't show your dirty face here again. You're lucky I don't cut you down where you stand."

She turned tail and threw herself into the coach. The driver took off immediately, leading them back into the dregs of the town. "Bastards!" She said furiously. She hit the coach wall beside her. "Damned bastards!"

She barely made it through the front door when she felt a cold presence shift up behind her. She felt an icy sharpness pressed against her throat and a hot wheezing breath in her ear. "Where is my half-blood, whore?" The tracker asked her, his voice harsh and cruel as he pressed the knife into her flesh.

"I, I-"

"Never mind," He said dully, and then she felt a sharp pain flare through her throat, quickly followed by a hot wetness that poured down her chest. "I'll just find him myself."

The last thing she saw before the darkness rushed up to snare her was a wolfs smile.

**********

Ralan had met the half-blood previously, years ago before the boy had reached adolescence. He had been exotic then but it was nothing compared to what he looked like as a man. The rumours had not exaggerated his beauty. Even battered and bruised his features were exquisite. It was a pity that there didn't seem to be anything behind those magnificent golden eyes beyond dull fear and beaten submission. From what he had heard about the boy he had expected a spitting hell cat. Had he not laid eyes in his before he might have questioned whether he had the right man?

"Have you no tongue, young lord Tate?" He asked, only a little mockingly. The boy turned his head away and averted his eyes. Ralan reached down and gently caught his chin, forcing the young man to look at him. Those great amber eyes truly were beautiful. "You should greet a higher lord accordingly, child."

A shuddered sigh. "Greeting's my lord."

"Greeting's Lord Tate. How do you fare?"

"Well my lord." The boy said, staring unblinkingly back at him. 

"You're a hard lad to track. Half the countries been on your scent and here you just fall into my lap. It must be fate." 

"Then the fates must hate me." The boy said, so softly that Ralan barely heard him.

**********

Tate didn't fight when they placed him on the tiny room. He sat on the thin pallet and watched the young guard check the locks on the windows. He turned around and pointed an accusing finger at Tate. "You try to run away and my sergeant says he'll break your other arm, you hear me half-blood?"

Tate ducked his head respectfully but he was beginning to grow sorely bored playing the meek little captive. He told himself it was the smart thing to do, to make them think he was as docile as a kitten. It would not have been his first choice but he realised that he needed to play on his strengths and he knew one of those was his ability to appear quite harmless. It had already worked with the whore. When she had kicked him he had forced himself not to react and consequently she had left him alone. 

He stood up and checked the door. Unsurprisingly he was locked in. Even though he'd watched the guard a moment before he tried the locks on the windows. They were firmly closed to him as well. He shrugged and sat back down on the pallet. At least it was better than his previous accommodations. He reasoned that it wasn't the time to try to escape yet anyhow. Not when everyone was watching him so intently. The best thing he could do was wait until his leg had healed before he tried anything else. He leant back and closed his eyes and dreamt about dark painted eyes and woven golden hair.

*************

Lukas ran his hair over his long braided hair and felt a deep sadness well up in his heart as he raised the knife. It was only hair, he told himself, but that didn't soothe him because it wasn't true. Braided hair was a part of his people, a part of what made them who they were. 

"Hurry up!" Robert snapped at him, his eyes hard and unyielding as he tied his own shortened hair into a warrior's knot at the base of his neck. Lukas watched him sadly. His little brother had never looked more like a stranger.

He closed his eyes and hacked breathlessly away at his long braids. They fell like rope around his shoulders, spilling messily over the woodland ground. Lukas missed the weight of them instantly but he didn't comment as he pulled what remained behind his head and tied it into a tight knot. "What we must look like." He said softly.

"I'll tell you what we don't look like anymore." Robert said snidely.

Lukas stared questioningly back at him. 

"We don't look like victims anymore big brother." 

Lukas wondered suddenly, when did it happen? When did I lose my brother? "Which makes us what I wonder?" he said softly, but Robert wasn't listening.

"Time to go." He said, his eyes fixed on the huge walls that surrounded the city of the Northern Kings.

"Yes," Lukas agreed, "It's time to go."

***************

It was getting lighter for longer outside, which could only mean that summer was finally on its way. It was still chilly though. Tate pulled his loaned jacket a little tighter around his shoulders as he pulled his knees up against his chest. It had been a long time since he had been allowed some privacy. 

Lord Ralen's gardens were beautiful, if not slightly too well kept. Tate rather enjoyed wild flowers, more so since the variety he had seen whist travelling with the tinkers. A brief image of Lukas passed through his mind before he pushed it firmly away. 

He tested some weight on his leg and was pleased that it barely twinged in protest. He was healing at least. Even his arm was getting stronger. 

"You should smile more often." A deep voice said beside him. Tate looked up sharply and felt a dead weight in his stomach. He hadn't even heard the lord Ralan approach. When the other man sat down beside him Tate stood up. "Sit," The lord said, quietly but firmly. Tate sat back down, uncomfortably aware that he was being stared at. "Do you think your fooling me?" Ralan asked at last, his tone light and pleasant.

"Fooling you my lord?" Tate shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"With this little act of yours. What is it you hope to achieve?"

"I'm not-" Tate began but he was quickly interrupted.

"You expect that I'll just allow you to escape?" The lord clucked his tongue in disapproval. "You're going to earn me a pretty penny boy, not to mention the prince's favour. I'm not going to let you out of my sight until then." They both sat there in silence but Tate could feel the other mans sudden displeasure. "Have you nothing to say?" He demanded at last.




Defiance Ch. 08



"Nothing at all." Tate said numbly. "Do with me as you will, there's nothing I can do to stop you." 

He grunted as a hand wound through his hair and pulled his head back. He caught Ralen's wrist but he didn't try to dislodge his hold. "Do with you as I will?" The lord repeated, making it into a question. "And what if I should decide to keep you, what if I should decide to use you before I pass you onto your prince? What then?"

"If you do," Tate began and he felt a moment of calm as he released the other man's wrist. "If you do I'll tell him. I swear to the gods that I will! And I'm sure you can imagine what his reaction will be."

He tensed as he waited for the other man to strike him down. When he felt soft lips pressed against his Tate's heart began hammering in his chest. He was sure his threat would have worked! But the kiss ended quickly and the other man was smiling when he pulled back. "I think that perhaps I'll request to have you once the prince has had his fill." His smile grew wider. "You're a devious little beast aren't you? Well we'll see how well you cope in court. We leave on the morrow." He ran a light caress over Tate's cheek. "Enjoy the garden Tate. It may be a while before you're let back off a leash."

**********

Tanis waited impatiently in lord Ralen's foyer. They had been left to their own devices for too long and Tanis was eager to collect his prize and go. When at last Ralan came into greet them the other man was dressed in finery that far surpassed Tanis's dirt streaked travelling clothes. He could have cared less though. He wasn't there to impress a know nothing lord.

"My prince," The other man said mildly, performing a small bow. "What a pleasure." His tone indicated it was anything but pleasant to have them there. "How might I assist?"

"Sources tell me that you have managed to acquire something that belongs to me." The information had been fairly easy to find out. Apparently the woman that had been murdered was spotted bringing a gypsy to the lord's home not long before she was found dead. A jittery and bruised young whore had been happy to part with information regarding the tracker and Tate, all he asked for in return was a few meagre coins and assurances that Tate would not be harmed. 

"I hasten to question my princes sources but I have no property in this household that isn't rightfully mine." His smile was relentless as he sat down, unbidden before his prince. "Perhaps if you tell me what you lost I might be able to help retrieve it for you." 

"I've very little patience for this Ralan." Tanis said, too weary for courtly drivel. "You have the half-breed. He was stolen from me and I want him back."

"My my Tanis," The smile on the others man's face was hideous. "If I didn't know any better I would have thought I was talking to your brother." His smile widened. "If I did have Hasin's bastard I would hardly feel obliged to just hand him over to you. As far as I'm aware our people do not tolerate slavery and the boy has yet to be accused of any crime. If he was here, and you understand that I'm not saying he is of course, then I would not have do anything, especially give him to you."

"You're playing a very dangerous game Ralan."

The other man shrugged and stood up. "That's the difference between us my prince, I'm not playing." He gestured towards the door. "If there isn't anything else?" 

"No," Tanis said stiffly. "Thank you for your time, my lord."

"My pleasure, Prince Tanis."

***********

Tate said quietly in the lavish carriage and forced himself to release the death hold on his brightly coloured trousers. Ralan stepped in a moment later, dressed impeccably in a dark grey tunic and trousers. His warrior knot was tied tightly as the base of his neck and he held a solid oak cane in his hand that had the head of a roaring lion.

Tate's hand went subconsciously to his own hair. It fell loose and straight to his shoulders, so dark and blatantly foreign. It had grown so long and he had never once thought to cut it. How must he look, dressed as a tinker and wearing his hair free and wild. He wanted to braid it but the smug look the lord gave him made his cheeks burn and he let his hand drop onto his lap 

Ralan tapped the carriage roof and it began to move immediately. After a moment Tate pulled aside the small red curtain that blacked the window and peered outside. He tried to make it look casual but he wasn't fooling anyone. "You see my guards don't you?" Ralan asked good naturedly. Four warriors, all of them in their thirties and all of them were staring fiercely back at him. How could he not see them? "Don't try anything foolish half-breed." 

Tate let the curtain fall back into place and sat back. How long would it take to reach the city of kings? One day, two perhaps. He wanted to know but he couldn't bear to ask Ralan. His entire body twitched with the need to run, to keep moving. He wondered if he could overpower the lord. He had been trained after all, even if he had never accomplished much on the training fields.

"I wonder what he'll say when he first see's you." Ralan said suddenly and Tate's head whipped up in alarm. "What do you suppose he'll do to you?"

He stared expectantly at Tate, he actually wanted an answer. "I suppose you'll find out." Tate said at last. He lifted his chin and met the other mans gaze steadily. "I won't let him destroy me."

"Ah, I knew the meekness was all an act. You're quite the hellcat. Perhaps you might survive Tanis, though I very much doubt it." 

"What do you know of survival?" Tate hissed, "You fought a battle perhaps, managed to earn your first blood? Well doesn't that make you quite the man! A snobbish lord who has so many servants that he doesn't even know how to scratch his own wrinkled arse!" 

He had a moment to curse himself and his flapping tongue before the cane caught him squarely in the stomach. He pitched forward and felt a firm hand on the back on his neck. His legs were kicked out beneath him and he fell onto his backside. "Why don't you spend the rest of the trip on the floor?" Tate flinched as a soft hand patted his head. "There's a good slave."

He pressed his fist into his mouth and willed himself not to speak. Stupid bravado only caused pain. He knew that now and he thought he might need all of his limbs and strength if he was going to survive.

**********

Lukas kept his head high and his expression stern as they walked the length of the city, but it wasn't long before somebody recognised him and his brother for what they really were. He felt a firm hand on his arm and was pulled into an alley before he had time to protest. He was knocked up against a wall and a moment later his brother was pushed up beside him. They both tensed, positive that they were about to join the others in the cadges when they noticed the smiles the men around them were sporting. Lukas looked more closely, he imagines hair braided and decorated with charms, darkened eyes and tinker bracelets. "Thank the gods," He gasped, sagging back in relief.

"The gods haven't been kind of late but thanking them can't exactly hurt can it." The older man was tall and thin, with ash coloured hair and light grey eyes. He smiled tiredly as he offered Lukas his hand. They shook, clasping one another's hand firmly. It had been too long since Lukas had clapped eyes on a potential friend and he was relieved beyond words. Robert stepped forward then. He offered his own hand but he didn't smile or speak to the older man. He stepped back quickly, fidgety and agitated as he looked back towards the city streets. "You and your friend should be more careful."

"Don't we know it?" Lukas said with a tired smile. "My name is Lukas; this is my younger brother Robert. Our family were brought in today with Prince Tanis's train."

"I am called Adam," he gestured towards his four comrades. "This is Mikard, Stephen, Joseph, and Rowan. There are more of us hiding in the sewers, all of us from different tribes. I saw your people come in. How many are in your tribe?"

"Some twenty of us. The others were picked up before and after ours. We haven't been able to get close enough to count how many he's captured all together."

The other man growled low in his throat. "We've managed to count over sixty. Many of them are women and children. We expect they've killed off most of the men and elderly. The young men and women are not in a good way. The soldier's have-" He stopped for a moment, his face draining of colour. "They've violated many of our youths and girls." 

"Bastards!" Robert snarled, causing all of them to turn to look at him. He lashed out and punched the nearest wall. Blood began dripping down his hands as he lifted his finger and jabbed Lukas in the chest. "I told you! I told you what they were doing to them, to our sisters, to our brother! Damn it you stupid fool, this is your fault, all of it is your fault!" He drew back his fist again but this time he wasn't aiming for the wall. Lukas knocked his younger brother's hand away at the last possible moment and then weeks of anger and frustration and fear overwhelmed him and he balled up his own fist and struck his brother across the face. Robert fell back, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed. 

He looked back at his shocked new comrades faces and raised his hands beseechingly. "It is a very long story." 

"Well then pick up your brother and tell us of it." Said Adam.

Lukas did as he was bid but he had a feeling that after he was done with his story the others wouldn't be so keen to keep company with Lukas. 

**********

They had made a decision but it lay heavily with Tanis. How many more lives was he going to sacrifice to save his own? It should not have mattered to him that gypsies' were being rounded up and disposed of, everyone knew that they were vermin, and it should not bother him that he was about to kill Lord Ralan, the man was bringing it down on himself, but like so many things in Tanis's life he couldn't help but wonder if he was making the right choice. Why did his life matter more than theirs?

He saw Ralen's carriage riding towards them, guarded by two men, both of them young, robust and armed. They would not be easily taken down but Tanis was willing to bet that he and Kenner's had the greater skill. They stayed in the middle of the road, waiting as the coach pulled up before them. Lord Ralan was already leaning out, scowling at the delay. He saw Tanis and shook his head irritably. "By what right do you halt us?" He asked furiously. 

"As I said before my lord, you have something that belongs to me."

"And as I said before I assure you that I do not."

Tanis smiled at him. "Then open the carriage and allow me to look inside."

The lords' own cocky grin was beginning to slip away. "You do not have the right." He said, sounding confident.

"I am your prince and I am commanding you to open the carriage!" He had not meant to shout but his temper was quickly fraying. He did not wish to kill Ralan, nor his unfortunate guards and driver but if the other man didn't relent soon he was going to do just that, because what other choice did he have? He was beginning to realise that self preservation could do a lot to twist a man's conscious.

"If I don't?" Ralan asked contemptuously.

"Do you really want to find out?" Kener asked, smiling lazily, looking as if he was about to doze off. 

Ralan looked between them for a moment and then back at his own guards. He smiled suddenly and shrugged. "Very well then Tanis, it appears that I am beaten." He sighed dramatically. "You take away all the fun in life lad."

He moved back inside his carriage and Tanis and Kener both tensed, expecting him to attack. But then he flung a brightly coloured figure out of the carriage and onto the dirt floor. The half-blood let out a quiet grunt as he hit the ground. Ralan looked down at him and shook his head resignedly. "How close I was to such acclaim." He smiled abruptly. "Ah well, I shall carry on ahead as planned. I wish to see the outcome of this little play. Farewell Lord Tate and may the gods have mercy on you." He turned back to Tanis and bowed. "And to you my prince, good luck buying your life with my party favour."

"Be gone." Kener growled at him, fingering his blade carefully as Ralan disappeared inside his carriage with a flourished wave. 

He jumped off his horse and sheathed his blade when the carriage was a safe distance away. "Lord Tate," He began tentatively as he stepped up to the other man's hunched over form. Tate was smaller than he expected him to be. Barron Hasan was a great bear of a man and so were his other sons. Tanis could only presume that Tate had taken after his mother for his slightness and height. The half-blood soft brown hair lay loose and free down his back and shoulders, covering his face like a veil as he stared down at the ground. His shoulders were a comely bronze colour, unlike anything Tanis had ever seen before. He stepped closer and eased down onto his knees beside the elder man. He noticed that the half-blood was cradling his left arm. "Are you hurt?" He asked awkwardly.

He was shocked by the bitter laughter he heard but he pushed his surprised away quickly and reached towards the other man. He caught a glimpse of his Tate's face when the other man flinched away from him. "Don't!" He said, not a command but a plea. "Please, just allow me a moment."

Tanis leaned back on his haunches and waited. He resisted the urge to push Tate's hair back from his face and study the exquisite features he had momentarily glimpsed. He reasoned that he was about to destroy the other man's life. The least he could do was offer him a few moments to collect himself.

"All right." Tate said suddenly and he rose so quickly that Tanis was left scrambling up after him. "I'm ready."

Tanis took in the hollow eyes, the broken arm and the willowy frame and it struck him suddenly how very little Tate was ready for what was about to happen to him. But what is one more soul compared to the dozens I've already sacrificed for my own? He thought miserably as he shepherded the elder man up onto his horse. He climbed up behind Tate's slight frame and tried not to think about how good it felt to have the other man in his arms. Dangerous thoughts, he decided as he spurred the horse forward, dangerous and incredibly stupid. The important thing now was getting him to the palace and handing him over to Christian. Then his own life was be secured and he could finally rid himself of the death threat lingering over his head. 

He just hoped he would be able to live with himself when it was all over.

***********

He had surrounded himself with beautiful, exotic men, each one of them more pleasing to the eye than the last. They catered to his every whim, they offered him everything he desired and they did it gladly. They adored him, they respected and wanted him. So then why did the great open void in his chest refuse to close? Why couldn't he allow himself the contentment he so badly yearned for? For the god's sake, he was going to be king one day! Why did one man affect him so much?

It all came back to the bastard, that small, unimportant creature that should not have mattered. Christian had had many lovers in his young life and none of them had held his interest for long. Did he want Tate so badly just because he couldn't have him or was there more to it? Surely lust couldn't invoke such torment in any man? There had to be more.

His current favourite entered the room then. His dark golden hair and midnight blue eyes set him apart from the rest of their race. He denied any corruption in his family's bloodline, shrugging off his odd colouring without explanation. He did not look like Tate, no man in the kingdom did, but he was beautiful, perhaps as beautiful as Tate was in his own right. He smiled at Christian, a soft, innocent smile that set Christian's heart racing.

"I've brought wine my lord, if you so desire?" His voice was soft and sensuous. Whatever his fate might have been within his family before he had caught Christian's eyes would have been wasted on him. The older man oozed sex. Christian believed he had found his newest lovers true calling in life and was quite proud of himself for taking his newest pet for himself. There had been the initial resistance of course. The other man's mother had made a terrible racket, as had the young woman clawing to reach the then startled young man. Alec had adapted quickly though. He actually seemed quite grateful to be taken away from his old life. 

"Wine would be welcomed Alec," He gestured to the empty goblet beside him and the other man immediately knelt before him and poured a cup of blood red wine. Alec kept his eyes lowered as Christian took a sip. He reached out casually and stroked the other mans cheek and he was more than a little surprised when he felt Alec flinch away from him touch. Tate's old words suddenly shook him "Has anyone ever denied you before?" and the answer was no, because who would dare deny him anything? He reached out and brutally caught the base of Alec's skull. He forced the startled young man to look up at him and he could almost feel the terror radiating from him. "Why do you recoil?" He demanded, almost shouting in his anger. "Have I ever hurt you? Having I given you reason to fear me? Why do you flinch away?"

Alec's dark eyes were as wide as two sovereign coins. He started babbling an apology, his entire body shaking as Christian stared at him. Christian didn't think of himself as a cruel person. He understood that there were certain necessities in life and that sometimes hurting other people was part of his duty as heir to the throne. But sometimes a terrible anger overtook his good sense and that made him do terrible things. It was not his fault; he only acted that way when he was provoked. 

Abruptly he pushed Alec onto his back and stepped over him. The other man was cowering on the floor, his whole body curled up into a tight knot. Christian wanted to hurt him, he honestly and truly did, he wanted to kick and punch until his own anger abated and he could think clearly again. But no, he wasn't a monster. He wouldn't kill the little craven whore, at least not this time. 

He didn't bother with niceties. He didn't want any of the whores gentle coaxing this time. He had a need which needed to relieved and he intended to use whatever he had at hand to do so. He ripped the other man's shirt clean in two and then his hands were encircling the craven things waist. He fumbled with the trousers, his anger growing tenfold when they refused to undo. "My lord, please," The whore's voice was still soft but it was chocked with fear. "Please my lord, allow me." He looked up, his dark eyes filled with open worry. When Christian didn't react he reached out with shaking hands and undid his belt buckle and then the trousers. He wiggled out of them, his eyes fixated on Christian's the whole time. He let out a shaky breath and crawled towards the prince on his hands and knees. The longer Christian watched him the more his anger was replaced with need. He smiled slightly as the lithe young man gently parted Christian's legs and crawled between them. He undid Christian's trousers and gently pulled out the prince's cock. He smiled sweetly at Christian before taking the thing in his mouth and applying a warm sucking motion. 

Christian allowed his head to fall back, his anger trickling away with satisfaction as he allowed his newest pet to please him. The other man really was beautiful and clearly he did want Christian. His eagerness was proof enough of that. He must have imagined him flinching before. After all, why in the world would he want to flinch away from him? Who wouldn't want him?

He pulled him off and forced him on the floor. He pressed his weight down on the other man and pressed a kiss on his sweet lips. Alec kissed him back, his eyes closed and his face smooth as Christian pressed against his tight hole with his finger. The other man gasped in pain as Christian pressed it deeper within him. He wasn't using any sort of lubrication. It must have hurt. "Tell me you love me," he said abruptly, the sudden words bursting unbidden from his swollen lips. 




Defiance Ch. 09



Tate could feel them staring at him. He looked out across the village square and ignored their mocking grins and gloating eyes. They knew who he was and they knew what he was wanted for and for all that they might hate the city gentry that bled them dry every year with taxes that they couldn't afford it was obvious that there was not one among them that cared a damn for his plight. They saw a half-blood bastard who had lived too long as an over indulged lord. None of them knew more about him beyond the rumours and gossip but he knew that they all believed we was getting exactly what he deserved. They were happy he was being forced to his doom; it made their lives seem a little easier in comparison. There was a time, not so long ago, when he would have hated them all for looking at him that way. He would have raged and struggled. But he knew better now, they couldn't help the way they were. They had probably never been given the opportunity to be anything else.  

In front of him the young prince spoke solemnly to his guardian. The two men had an odd relationship, one that was uncommon between a noble and his captain. Certainly there was normally respect between the two parties but Tate had never known his father or any of his brothers to confide in a commoner the way the prince did with his liege man. 

"What do you suppose he'll do with them?" Tanis asked, for what must have been the tenth time in the few days that Tate had travelled with them. Despite his impressive build and strong presence Tate had to remind himself that the prince was still only a boy, close to manhood but not quite there yet. Of course he would ask foolish, childish questions. 

"We'll find out soon enough." The old one answered, the same answer he always gave. Perhaps despite his gruffness he only wished to save the boys feelings. A strange way for the northern people to treat one another. They were hardly known for their gentle and nurturing natures.

They stopped at an inn, the only one the small village had to offer. Tanis had wanted to travel through the night into the city but the old one had convinced him that they should go back in the morning when everyone was up and about to see what Tanis had brought back for his brother. 

The young prince slid easily off the horse. He looked up at Tate questioningly, as if to imply that he would drag him down if Tate didn't follow willingly. The half-blood dropped down beside Tanis and was instantly seized from behind. The old man gripped Tate's right bicep painfully and pulled him close. He didn't say anything to Tate, he never did.

He was dragged inside the inn and stared at some more; the innkeeper turned an interesting shade of purple from exhilaration that he had a prince in his midst and the old man spent most of his time grinding Tate's arm bones to dust. 

"We have a private room my prince," The fat innkeeper blubbered, practically falling over himself to impress the boy. "No one will see you dine, you'll have complete use of my staff."

Tanis smiled at him, the open emotion of amusement an odd addition to his usually solemn face. "That would be welcome my good man, thank you."

The innkeeper bobbed his head and ushered them into a small compact room that had already been made up with what must have been the innkeeper's best plates and cutlery. Tate felt his arm released and he walked numbly to one of the empty chairs. He all but fell into it, his body suddenly weak and unsteady as he realised that soon he would be in the palace. He had no idea what would happen to him when he reached that dreaded place. He doubted Christian would be overly keen to woo him again. Likely he was going to hurt Tate a great deal before he finally killed him. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere terror began to gnaw at him, buzzing in his ear, constricting his chest. It was all he could do to stop himself from standing up and running for his life. He was afraid, damn it to hell but he was morbidly frightened. Shame began to mix with his fear and with it came the familiar, bitter taste of guilt. All of those people dead because of me, he thought shamefully. He wondered suddenly if perhaps he wasn't getting exactly what he deserved.

"Remember before, when you asked what would happen to the tinkers," The words burst unbidden from Tate's lips. He realised it was the first time he had spoken since they had taken him. Both men looked up at him in surprise but he was ignoring the old one for the moment. "They're going to die Tanis, all of them are going to die, or they're going to be sold into the southern slave galleries. They're going to be raped and then tossed aside, or they'll be broken so terribly that even if they do mange to survive they'll have nothing left to come back to. So now you don't need to keep asking." He smiled wanly. "I thought you might want to know." 

He expected anger and violence but neither man moved towards him. The princling stared back at him, his wide blue eyes filled with pity, and perhaps regret. "Whatever happens to you after tomorrow, I want you to know that I am sorry, for everything."

A part of Tate acknowledged the deep sorrow he heard in the young man's words. He could easily relate with it when his own regret left a constant and painful ache in his chest. For a heartbeat he considered forgiving the boy, but it was a fleeting fancy that was quickly pushed aside in favour of the overwhelming anger he harboured deep within himself. He refused to allow himself to be governed by regret or sorrow, not when one of the reasons for all his strife was sitting comfortably opposite him. He may have considered himself an envoy of his elder brother but Tanis was as guilty as Christian.

_______

They were up early the next morning. The old one insisted that they all bathe and Tanis was quick to agree. Tate cleaned himself half-heartedly as the old man loomed broodingly over him. He grumbled something about Tate's worn tinker garments but decided against wasting time trying to find him something more presentable. Tate dressed slowly, going through the motions as his mind and instincts screamed for flight. Too late, he thought hopelessly, I can feel Christian practically breathing down my neck. It's too late.

He climbed his horse woodenly, barely hearing the old ones rough threat should Tate try to run. It took a distressingly short amount of time to reach the city gates. It loomed over them, iron and cream spirals rising like great pinnacles into the heavens. The place buzzed with people and animals. Children ran amid the city traffic, shrieking and laughing as they engaged one another with their tiny wooden swords. All around him the people possessed skin as white as milk, hair as fair as the sun or as fiery as the heart of a forge. Those that possessed some wealth stood in jumbled clusters, easily noticed by their drab yet fine grey or black clothing. They didn't smile, even their children seemed sombre, and though Tate noticed that occasionally their pale eyes would align almost imploringly on the shrieking peasant children.  

He felt like he was drowning in a sea of grey as they broke through the gates and were ushered into the city courtyard. Why did the northern race detest colour so desperately? They were a beautiful race. With their sapphire and emerald eyes they should have been able to embrace colour and beauty. What in the name of the lady made them detest it so?

So vast, he thought with growing awe as Tanis led them up the winding white cobbled streets of the city platforms. High above them the palace loomed, a great monstrous structure that seemed to have been carved from the very ice that made their lands so inhospitable in the winter. Tate felt very small as he peered down at the surrounding masses. What hope did the tinkers have against such power? What hope did he have?

A commotion nearby brought Tate out of his revere with a start. He noticed a small cloister of men desperately trying to hold back a young man whose fevered eyes were fixed on Tate's. The half-blood shied away, convinced the other man was trying to attack him because of his tinker garments. It took him a moment more to see, really see the person fighting so desperately to reach him. "Lukas?" He whispered. Unthinkingly he tried to turn his mount. Tanis was instantly before him; his bulk blocking Tate's view of Lukas's bucking form.

The prince frowned at him, a question forming on his lips when they both heard Lukas scream Tate's name. The half blood inwardly cursed the tinker. He was going to get himself killed! Tanis began to turn and Tate reacted without thinking. He flung himself at the prince and they both fell. Tate landed on top, which was fortunate because it gave him the time he needed to scramble to his feet and bolt away from Lukas. He didn't get far but then he never really expected he would. The important thing was giving Lukas the opportunity to escape with his friends. That thought comforted him as he was knocked flat by the heeled boot in his back. He must have fallen badly because when he hit the ground his world turned black. 

___________

There were certain things that passed beneath his notice. The arrogance and coldness that was associated with his kind has lessened with each passing year he remained trapped within the weak and flimsy confines of his own flesh, but for the most part he was still predominantly emotionless. He supposed he would have gone mad years before has he possessed the wild mannerisms of most men. 

He was therefore shocked at the guilt he felt for the half-blood current misgivings. The youth was not his concern, he was man, he was the same as any of the others. They had taken his life, they had taken his freedom. What did he care for the life of one that was deemed so insignificant within his own race that he was allowed to be used so wrongly.

He looked within himself, past the darkness that confined his sight, past the walls that only existed to encase him further. He saw the half-bloods face, his eyes so full of obvious and desperate despair. There was something about those eyes, something about the way they caught the light. It was unusual for a man to have eyes of gold. Despite himself he was curious. What manner of woman has birthed such an unusual child. She must have been truly unique to have passed on such odd eyes.

His shackled hand rose slowly to his own face. His slender hand brushed over his own closed eyes. Unusual indeed. 

_________________________

He awoke with a silent scream, his entire being aching with animal fear. Though it took a moment for his slumbering mind to catch up with his instincts he realised instantly that he was in danger. He rolled out of bed, a whimper bursting from his lips as he realised where he was. He felt thudding pain in his forehead and he traced his finger over the bandage that had been wrapped tightly around his head. He tried the door and unsurprisingly it was locked. So were the windows, though it seemed unlikely that they would leave them open considering his actions the last time he had been trapped alone in a room.

"No, no, no." The words kept leaping from his mouth, even though he desperately tried to hold them in they refused to stop. "Please no, please!" He couldn't control his fear; he couldn't stop the feeling of being trapped. Christian was obviously insane! What was he going to do to him?

He paced around the ridiculous sweet, so rich and decedent it could only belong to Christian. The huge four poster bed took dominion of the room though the tapestries and pictures lent it an almost stifling appearance despite its size. There were numerous portraits of Christian. Him as a baby, a child, a man. Tate looked up into those cruel crystallised eyes and wondered what had happened to make him so deranged. His eyes when he was a boy were far softer, almost like Tanis's.

The outer door closed with a tremendous bang. Tate resisted the urge to scream as he retreated back against the far wall and pressed his back against the cool stone. If he was going to die he would do it with at least a little dignity, not screaming like a woman. He watched the door to the sweet open with growing dread. His breath came quickly and shallowly as a shadowy figure emerged. She noticed Tate in the far corner with a look of obvious surprise.

"His highness would like to know if you are hungry my lord?" She said, dropping into a slight curtsy though her distaste was obvious when her eyes travelled over Tate's gypsy garb. She looked at him expectedly, her revulsion dissolving into confusion when Tate's legs collapsed beneath him and tears started washing down his cheeks.

"Sir?" She said uncertainly.

"Nothing." Tate managed to squeeze out. "Please, get out."

So she did, and Tate was left alone with his dread.

____________________ 

Christian nodded his head listlessly as his father droned on, laughing at his own pathetic jests and drooling over the skinny serving maids that fawned all over him. Christian yeaned to be away from the old man and the rest of his grasping brothers but appearances needed to be maintained and he couldn't afford to openly insult any of them. His eyes aligned on Tanis and he felt a wave of revulsion as he watched his brother trying to melt into the background. The younger man looked up suddenly, his eyes wide as realised that Christian was watching him. The heir apparent felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn't help but feel a certain amount in power in knowing how much his brother feared him. The little maggot had his uses at least; he had brought Christian the half-blood. 

Just thinking of Tate made a delicious shiver run down Christian's spine. Seeing him the previous night, unconscious and so terribly vulnerable invoked an odd feeling in him. Anger at his defiance had clouded Christian's mind from Tate's true beauty. He had realised the previous night that he didn't want to hurt Tate, he simply wanted to possess him.

He worried what he might do if Tate spoke back at him when they next met. He knew his temper could be sporadic, that sometimes he let his fury control his actions. He didn't want that to happen with the half-blood. The idea of damaging something so perfect gnawed at him. 

He smiled at Tanis, still watching him, his expression that of a startled rabbit. The younger man dropped his eyes as the colour drained from his face. Christian's smile widened. He was the perfect man installed to be next in line for the throne after Christian. After all, he was too much of a coward to ever pose a threat to anyone, especially him. 

_________

Lukas bit back a flip reply and bowed his head slightly. A half score of soldiers trouped past them, their eyes watchful as they patrolled the busy city streets. 

"Perhaps you'll be able to find your precious slut if you ask to join the army Lukas." Robert hissed, his hand casually gripping the pommel at his waist.

Lukas gritted his teeth and closed his eyes briefly. He constantly had to endure Roberts acid jibes but they were beginning to grate heavily on his nerves. The past few days he had been hard pressed not to strike out at his brother. In a time when they really needed to rely on one another they were drifting further and further apart. Adam and the other renegade tinkers were beginning to notice and Lukas could tell it made them uneasy. He wanted to make things right between him and Robert but with every day that passed without them finding a solution Robert was getting worse and Lukas knew that soon he would be inconsolable and would end up doing something very stupid. 

"Another group were loaded onto the ships today." Adam said solemnly. "It was women and children this time."

"How many?" Lukas asked, fighting back the urge to be sick.

"At least twenty, maybe more. They were being herded into the ship's bowls like cattle." He reached out and laid his hand on Lukas's shoulder. "It doesn't look good my friend." 

"They're all gone." Robert said quietly, his eyes wild as he looked at Lukas. "Our mother and father, our sisters and brothers. They're on their way to the southern slave galleries as we speak."

"There is one thing." Adam said, though it was clear by his expression that he was unsure if he should go on.

Robert reached out and violently grabbed his arm. "What other thing? What is it?"

Adam's pale eyes looked pointedly down at Roberts hand until the younger man released him. "I saw one of the kings men prowling around the cages. He stopped before one that housed your girls. I remember you pointing out your little sister. The baby, you called her Rose I think?"

"What of her?" Lukas asked warily.

"She was taken by the soldiers. She's to be their new whipping girl."

"Whipping girl?" Lukas asked frantically.

"Calm down my friend, it's not as bad as all that. The highborn usually hire young peasants as a substitute for when their own children misbehave. They get whipped a little and that's all there is to it. From what I hear the children are actually treated quite well. Better there than the slave galleries."

"Better they were all home with us!" Robert yelled. "I can't believe they're all just gone! How in the name of the gods did you let this happen?"

Lukas didn't have time to block the blow to his face. A moment of white pain and then he was being pulled back to his feet. 

"You'll get us all killed!" Lukas heard Adam hiss. "Get away from us Robert. I've had enough of you! Get away!" 

"Wait," Lukas slurred, but he was having difficulty collecting his thoughts and no one was paying attention to him. Suddenly he was being ushered down a back alley. He shook his head and looked for Robert. "Where is my brother?" He asked.

"I don't know and after the stunt he just pulled I don't care. We need to get out of here. Your brother can find us later when he's cooled down."

Lukas thought he should argue but the truth was that the loss of his family was just beginning to dawn on him. He couldn't deal with Robert's temper.

"I want my sister back." He said quietly. "If the rest are lost to me I want to save her." 

_____

Tate thought he had mustered his courage and was ready to face Christian. He took a deep breath and waited. The door opened, the princling shouted a jest to whatever follower was close by and then shut it with a loud thud. A moment passed and then another. The inner doors didn't open. Tate felt his courage draining away. Why didn't he just come, why was he torturing him?

He drew in another shaky breath. He felt suddenly that he might be ill. He fell against the wall at his back and felt tears threatening the corner of his eyes. His breathing grew more laboured. He realised he was panicking and fought to control himself. He almost succeeded when the door opened gently and Christian's looming form walked casually into the room. His eyes travelled the length of Tate, his expression was cold, almost disinterested as he turned his back and began to pull off his cloak and boots. 

Tate hadn't moved. Now that the time had finally come he felt utterly numb. Perhaps it was terror or confusion but he couldn't seem to make himself react as he knew he should. Before him stood the murderer of hundreds of good men, women and innocent children. Those that he had not killed he had equally ruined with slavery. He was a monster, a stupid, spoiled monster and Tate should have done everything in his power to slay him as he deserved. But he didn't, he didn't even move.

"I've imagined this moment a thousand times." Christian said suddenly, his back to the half-blood as he poured himself a drink from the goblet the serving woman had left for Tate. "I've imagined all the things I would do to you for making me look like a damned fool before the court." 

"I doubt you'd need my help for that." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and they were said with enough venom to choke a horse. He saw Christian's back stiffen and the numbness left him to be replaced with a sharp tang of fear. Gods above would he ever learn to shut his stupid mouth!




Defiance Ch. 09



He expected fury but Christian lifted his hand and extended his finger. "That is one, pretty one. Shall we see if we can make it two?"

His comment very nearly brought on another gibe but Tate managed to swallow his outrage in time to save his own neck, for the moment at least. A painfully long time passed before Christian spoke again.

"I was going to ruin you." He said softly. "Not that your reputation isn't already in tangles. You've become a scandal, you're family are in hiding." He paused a moment, to let the last part sink in. "I was going to use you, break a few things then give you to Richard. He has quite a thing for you." Tate didn't comment. He had no idea who Richard was. "When Richard grew bored with you I intended to share you among my men and then throw you onto the streets. You'd be so disfigured and ruined that no one would want you then. You'd die, alone and in utter disgrace. I thought it was a fitting punishment."

Tate couldn't help himself. Outrage sapped away his fear and left him seething. "Punishment, punishment for what? What did I do to you that was worthy of all the terrible things that you've done, the things that you're doing? I did not want you Christian; it is as simple then as it is now. No man or woman is compelled to want you despite whatever you may think. You tried to force me and I fought, then you tried to have me taken away from everything I knew so you had something to play with so I ran, I ran because I do not want you Christian! For the love of the lady, why can't you just leave me be?"

Christian was fast and Tate was exhausted. All he managed was to throw his hands up over his face as Christian caught hold of him. He was lifted bodily and dragged towards the huge bed. The air was momentarily knocked out of him as he landed forcefully on the thick mattress. "No!" He yelled as Christian began pawing at him. Tate bellowed as his body twisted and strained to be free of Christian's tight hold. One large hand caught both of his and lifted them high above him head. He remembered that night so long ago when Christian had done the same thing to him. Tate fought hard but he wasn't strong enough to dislodge Christian. 

A heavy weight settled on his legs and he was completely pinned down. Panic, fear and shame whirled within him. "Stop it!" He yelled hoarsely as Christian ripped the gypsy garbs from his flesh. He heard Christian mumbling as he fingered the material like it was little better than filth. He threw it away until Tate lay naked and trembling beneath him. "Stop!" He screamed, the sound piercingly loud enough to momentarily gain Christian's attention. His crazed crystallised eyes settled haltingly on Tate. "You wear their clothes well, half-blood. What did you do I wonder to earn them?"

Tate spat at him and a moment later a great crack exploded against the side of his face. He blinked stupidly but he couldn't make his body do what he wanted. He dimly realised that Christian had finally released his hands. Tate let out a whimpered cry when he felt Christian roll him onto his stomach. He had known it was coming. One way or another he had expected that Christian's revenge would involve what was happening to him now. Nor did he expect Christian to be gentle. A moments prodding, a little spit and then his entire weight settled on Tate's back.

The half-blood closed his eyes tightly and reminded himself of one very important thing. Lukas was alive; he had escaped Tanis and was wondering free in the city. Perhaps he meant to buy some of his family at auction. He had looked so different in the northern garb. Tate had barely recognised him.

He let out a muffled cry when Christian forced himself into Tate. The prince was not gentle and didn't intend to give him time to adjust. His violent thrusts hurt more keenly than anything Tate had ever felt. He pushed his face into a soft pillow and tried to contain his cries. He could not contain the tears. 

It doesn't mean anything, Tate told himself repeatedly, it not my fault, he was being forced. It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my...

He felt Christian stiffen and then his pounding became more urgent. Tate tensed, willing the entire ordeal to be over as quickly as possible. A few more strokes and Christian came within him. A moment later he let out an almost drunken laugh as he pulled out and got unsteadily to his feet. "A pity you were soiled when you whored yourself out to the gypsies Tate," He said conversationally, as though they were friends. "It doesn't really matter though, a few more tumbles and you'll be free of their rotten taint. Luckily their interference did little to your performance. It's a disappointment though, I would have enjoyed hearing your delightful scream the first time I tore into you." Tate sensed Christian's shadow pass over him and felt wine soaked breath on his cheek. "So much could have been avoided if you had just stayed in your place. Never fear though beautiful one, I intend to make sure you're never given the opportunity to step out of line again."

Tate didn't move. Eventually Christian grew bored of mocking him and fell into a loud drunken sleep. Tate still didn't move. He feared he might wake him if he moved. Lying there as the pillow became wet with his tears Tate began to consider his options and realised with a pang that they were looking dismally meagre. 

_________________

Christian rolled over, expecting to find Tate's warm body pressed against him. He sat bolt upright when he realized the half-blood was gone. He rolled out of bed, preparing to yell bloody murder when he noticed Tate's still figure in the furthest corner of the room. Christian was irritated to see that he had changed back into what remained of the garish gypsy clothes. He would have to send someone out to fetch the half-blood something more appropriate to wear later in the morning. 

Tate looked achingly small curled up in a ball with his face buried in his knees. Christian felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. The satisfaction he felt was without equal. He had known he would win in the end, he always won. He marched up to the half-blood, purposefully stepping heavily so Tate knew he was coming, reached down under the smaller mans arm and hoisted him to his feet. Tate refused to look at him so Christian dragged him back towards the bed and threw him down on top of it. He straddled the older man's hips and lent over him until there was barely a finger's length between their faces. "Open your eyes." Christian ordered quietly. If anything Tate only closed them more tightly. Christian wondered what he could do to force Tate to obey without having to hurt him physically. The other man was already bruised and swollen and anything that took away from his beauty was a hindrance. He had a brilliant idea then. He sat forward and pressed his lips against Tate's ear. "Open your eyes and look at me Tate, else I'll lend you out to Richard. You remember I told you about him? " Tate jerked beneath him and Christian allowed himself a satisfied smile. He lent back until he was sat up straight and stared back down at Tate's trembling body. "Open your eyes!" he snapped.

Tate flinched and looked up at him. His amber colored eyes were wide and frozen with fear. Christian's satisfaction grew tenfold as he watched the tears form in the other mans pretty eyes. Odd how they didn't actually fall. He reached out and cupped Tate's cheek in his right hand. "Do not leave my side again unless I give you leave." He said very quietly. When the half-blood didn't respond he moved his hand, forcing Tate to nod his head. "Say yes, Tate."

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a quiet shudder.

Christian climbed off of him and smoothed down his hair. He let out a loud snort, causing the half-blood to tense visibly. "By the god's Tate, stop sniveling." He saw a quick glimmer of anger pass over the smaller man's face before he smothered it and looked away. Christian considered taking him to task for it but then he decided he had a life time to teach the bastard how to behave, there was no need to do everything at once. He got changed, occasionally watching the half-blood to see what he was doing. The other man met his gaze once but he had an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm going out; when I come back we'll have something more appropriate for you to wear. Those colors are making me sick. Then we can introduce you to court. I'm sure you'd like that wouldn't you? " When Tate just gaped at him Christian smiled. "There now, I knew you'd be happy."

____________ 

Christian really was a cruel bastard. He paraded the half blood around the court, ignoring him for the most part, though occasionally he would reach out in the middle of a conversation with a guest and find some reason to touch him. Tate moved languidly after Christian, looking up occasionally to stare at the exits and windows. His right eye was slightly swollen and bruised but he looked otherwise unhurt. A few of the other guests approached him, speaking to him with great mocking smiles on their faces. Tanis was surprised when Tate lifted his head and answered them. He seemed confident, brave even. It was all a show of course; every time Christian touched him the other man shuddered or flinched. 

Abruptly the lord chandler approached Christian. He spoke quietly to the prince, who nodded his head and turned to the half-blood. He grabbed the smaller mans arm and lent his head down to Tate's ear. A few words were spoken between them and then Christian turned on his heels and followed after the lord chandler. Tate stayed where he was, his arms crossed protectively over his chest.

Tanis could see that some of the other courtiers were preparing to approach the half-blood. Despite himself he was reluctant to leave him alone with them. He stepped past them and stood directly in-front of Tate. The elder man looked up at him briefly. A look of distaste turned down the corner of his generous mouth. "Your highness." He said softly, acknowledging Tanis's title with a slight and obviously reluctant bow.

Standing so close to him, Tanis was once again struck by how small Tate actually was. He suddenly remembered seeing the bandage wrapped around his brothers hand all those months ago and wondered how anyone so slight could be so incredibly brave and so terribly foolish. 

"Are you well?" He asked stupidly. The half-blood looked back up at him, his bronze eyes narrowed suspiciously. Tanis fidgeted slightly beneath his harrowing gaze, suddenly very much aware that Tate probably hated every fiber of his being. He lifted a glass from a passing servant and took a deep drink. He was surprised when he noticed Tate was smiling at him. It wasn't the mocking or forced smile he had seen earlier. It was one of genuine amusement. Tanis was surprised by how much a smile could transform a person's face. Tate truly was devastatingly beautiful. "What?" he asked before thinking.

Tate bit his lip, as though he was unsure if he should answer. Eventually he forced a more sober expression and looked away. "The wine you just drank from was taken from a tray of used drinks."

Tanis felt his cheeks flush. He put down the used glass, hoping no one else had noticed his mistake and coughed quietly. "You could have warned me." He said, smiling despite himself.

The half-blood looked surprised. He shrugged slightly but didn't answer. Tanis's couldn't blame him for being suspicious of him. After dragging him to his doom he was hardly going to suddenly forgive him. And he was Christian's brother after all and brothers were quite often alike. "I am sorry." He said honestly. He shrugged, mirroring Tate's earlier movements. "I realize you probably don't believe me but I want you to know that."

Christian stepped up behind Tate, laying one hand possessively over his shoulder. Tate flinched slightly, clearly struggling with the need to push Christian's hand off him. "Little brother, I see you've reintroduced yourself to my new squire." Christian voice boomed with false levity but his ice blue eyes were as hard as steel as he glared at Tanis. "Taken your fancy has he?" he asked in a much quieter tone. Tanis didn't answer, but then Christian had not expected him to. "It's just like you Tanis, to want something I have."

Tanis bowed slightly. "You have such exquisite taste, my lord, how could I not admire what is yours? Truthfully though, your new squire seemed uneasy. It is his first time at court after all, so I sought to show him a familiar face." He bowed again, lower than before. "I hope you'll forgive my forwardness?"

"How familiar are the two of you exactly?" Christina growled, his eyes intense as he looked at Tanis. His hand clenched around Tate's shoulder and the smaller man visibly winced. Tanis opened his mouth to defend himself but Christian waved his hand dismissively, clearly already rejecting him from his presence. Tanis left quickly but now without one last look at Tate's beautiful face. 

****

Tate stood behind Christian seat, trying very hard not to notice all the people that were staring at him. He had met some of them before, when they had visited his father's holding. A number of them had propositioned him in the past and he remembered having rebuked some of them quite vehemently when they grew too forward. They were all older now, and had come into their positions. And here I stand, he thought with a sickening feeling of dread, and I've never been so vulnerable in my life.

Christian lifted his glass as he spoke animatedly to the young woman sitting at his left. Tate stepped forward and filled it with wine, wanting very badly to smash the glass tumbler over the prince's bloated royal head. Their eyes met briefly and Tate had a sudden flash back to the previous night. He pushed the image away angrily and stepped back, as far from the prince as protocol would allow.

He looked up on a whim and felt a moment of complete panic. The king was staring at him, directly at him, and he was frowning. Tate was incapable of looking away. He remembered watching a snake corner a rabbit when he was a child, and how the rabbit had sat frozen with fear, awaiting its own death.

Fingers snapped directly in front of his face. He flinched and nearly dropped the tumbler he was holding. A few people laughed at him but Christian looked anything but amused. Tate met the princes smoldering gaze as evenly as possible, unsure what he wanted. "Fill the ladies drink." He growled at last, his expression darkening by the moment.

Tate muttered an apology and poured the lady a large glass of wine. She glared up at him and pressed her hand demurely over Christian's. Tate stared back at her. Was it possible that the stupid, foolish girl was actually jealous of him? He wanted to tell her that she was welcome to her precious prince. Tate wanted no part of him. 

********

Tate tried not to sneer when Christian introduced him to Richard. It wasn't just the things Christian had told him about the vile captain. It was the way his disturbingly pale green eyes lingered on his face, the way he smirked when he thought Christian wasn't watching. "Your majesty has been rather more forgiving than I would have thought possible." Richard said softly, his eyes pinned predatorily on Tate's face. 

"No point in damaging him." Christian said airily as he placed his hand firmly on Tate's shoulder. "He'll behave now, no more running, no more fighting." His handsome face twisted into a cruel smile. "He understands now."

"Is that so?" Richard's drawled, his tone condescending and smug as he stared down at Tate. "And if you don't mind my asking my lord how exactly do you suppose to keep him? Last time he bolted it took more than a season to track him down." 

Christian's brows knotted slightly as he regarded his captain. Tate backed away slightly, suddenly unsure if the prince intended to pounce on the older man. He got quite a shock when a rough hand clouted him across the ear. "Do not move unless I tell you to!" Christian hissed before turning back to Richard. "What do you suggest then? I can hardly just lock him up when I haven't need of him." 

Tate wondered if Christian could see the faint smile on the older man's face. "I would suggest my prince that you put someone in charge of the boy. Perhaps someone you can trust. Someone who has your highness's best interests at heart."

"Someone like you then?" Tate asked, not bothering to disguise the distaste in his voice. Both men turned back to him. Christian looked calculating and Richard looked amused. Tate expected another clout or perhaps something worse but Christian didn't raise his hand. Instead he turned back to Richard and arched one eyebrow. 

"Very well Richard." He said slolwy. "You can watch him, providing you do nothing more than that."

"My lord has nothing to fear, I would never betray him."

"You are right Richard, I don't have anything to fear, especially not from you." Christian's hand latched tightly around Tate's arm. "When I don't require him anymore I'll let you know. Unit then-" he gestured towards the door. "You may leave."

The captain bowed respectfully but his eyes remained on Tate the whole time. The half-blood released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the other man left the room. He tugged slightly against Christian's hold and the prince surprisingly released him. "You won't try to run again, will you Tate?" He asked, his tone soft and almost childlike. "Surely you wouldn't, not after what happened last time. Just think, all of those tinkers dead or sold into slavery because of you." Their eyes clashed. "If you leave again you'll just be putting more people in danger."

"You're mad." Tate whispered, putting some distance between them.

"Mad?" Christian laughed in general amusement. "You think me mad Tate? How odd, I had thought the same of you. "

"Me, why?"

Christian stepped towards him. "You fight so hard to deny me, yet all you need to do is submit to me and I will improve every aspect of your life. I saw the way the courtiers were staring at you Tate. Half of them think you're the newest accessory and they want to bed you, the other half think you're a weak abomination and they want to be rid of you. What sort of future do you suppose you'll have?"

Tate couldn't help himself, he started laughing. "You think I care what they think? You're a murderer Christian! You've ruined my life and countless others. I'll rot in hell long before I ever willingly submit to you!"

"Why do you constantly defy me?" He suddenly boomed, the volume of his voice momentarily shocking Tate into silence. In three long strides he caught hold of Tate's collar and dragged him up until his feet were dangling in the air. "I am tired of making allowances for you. Either you show me the respect I deserve or else I'll have you flogged and thrown to the guards! This is your last chance Half-blood! I make no idle threats, I promise you that! Do you understand me?" He began shaking the smaller man so hard that Tate convinced himself he heard something snap. "Answer me!" Christian screamed. "Answer me damn you!"

"Yes!" Tate gasped! He struggled to break away from Christian but the other man just kept violently shaking him. He'll break my neck! Tate realized with growing panic. "I understand!" He said, more loudly this time. Still the shaking continued. "Please, Christian! I understand! Stop!" He bellowed the latter. A moment more and then Christian dropped him. Tate crumpled to the ground. He felt sick and weak as he stared up at the prince. Hatred flared through him but with it was also a sense of resignation. He could not carry on as he was. 

Christian bent down on one knee and reached for the half-blood. Tate silently cursed himself for flinching when the prince's hand wrapped gently around his chin. "No more chances," he said softly before standing back up and heading towards his inner chambers. 




Defiance Ch. 09



Damn him! Tate thought as tears began to slide down his cheeks. He hated it, hated feeling so weak and vulnerable. He punched the marble floor beneath him until his knuckles became bloody and sore. How has any of this happened? He wondered despairingly. I was happy once, I was safe!

What was worse was that he couldn't see a way out. He was trapped and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. 



Defiance Ch. 10



He tried to avoid thinking too much about his present circumstances. Simply trying to survive sometimes offered a slight means of distraction. Try as he might though Lukas's thoughts inevitably reverted back to his family. He sorely missed his father's guidance, especially at a time when he needed it the most. He had been there his entire life, helping and teaching him the way of their people. He had accepted every aspect of Lukas life without judgement or regret. He had never challenged Lukas's decision not to take a wife, or the consequences that accompanied a childless male. He had, when everything was said and done, been the best father a child could ask for.

Now in a world where all he had known was family and companionship Lukas was suddenly very much alone. He pulled his knees into his chest and looked slowly around the small room he shared with the other tinkers. He missed his wagon and the array of colours that used to fill his world. It was so drab within the high city walls. Even the colours of his clothes were grey and black.

Despite himself Lukas wondered where his father was now. He hoped the old man had managed to keep his mother safe. Somehow thinking they might still be together made things a little easier. Since he had learned of their fate he had concentrated wholly on Rose. To think of what his brother and other sisters might be enduring hurt too much for his already broken heart. 

And then there was Robert, wondering alone in a hostile city without any money or friends. Lukas dreaded to think what would become of his brother. Despite frantically searching for him he had found no sign of his sibling. Robert had been so angry for so long that Lukas was terrified of what he might do in order to gain the revenge he so desperately sought. 

Home sickness swept through him so suddenly that it took his breath away. Vivid images of his life, things that seemed so long ago now that they might have happened to someone else, flashed before his eyes. He recalled the way the children laughed and shrieked amid the glowing campfire light. He remembered the way their brilliant clothing flowed in a whirlwind of colour and vitality before the fire, how trinkets and scarves and jewellery shimmered at every earring and throat and wrist. He pictured his people as they sang and played instruments, as they laughed and told the stories of their past. 

All Lukas could hear now was the yells and bellows that always seemed to accompany the peasant quarter. Though he had visited cities before he had never spent a long time within their walls. He longed for fresh air, sunlight and colour.

The door to the room opened suddenly. It was another of the renegade tinkers but even so Lukas found it difficult to release the tight hold he had on his dagger. "Any news?" He asked, easing back so the elder man could take his place beside the small heath that was all they had to keep them warm.

"Nothing really. A few more were taken in but there are less with each passing day. My guess is that the others have either already turned south or there aren't any of us left." He groaned softly as he warmed his hands beside the fire. "There was a little boy, he looked just like my lad."

Lukas met the other man's sorrowful eyes but what could he say to ease such pain. He turned back to the hearth and thought of life as it should have been. He thought of golden eyes and sun kissed skin. Not for the first time he felt anger and betrayal as the image of Tate lingered in his mind. And though a part of him hated the half-blood he could not banish the hollow feeling of loss in his chest when he thought of him. 

"I've lost them all." He groaned suddenly with such anguish and pain he was sure his heart was about to burst. Tears washed unbidden down his cheeks. "I'm alone."

"We all are." The old man said gruffly beside the fire. "And we've got but one man to blame for that."

***************

Christian glared at their father with seething hatred. "You can't be serious?" He sputtered, leaning forward with his eating knife clenched tightly in his right hand. "I will not marry that, that cow!"

"Lady Phatilia is hardly a cow." The old man said good naturedly, totally oblivious to Christian's glaring distain. "By all accounts she is devastatingly lovely. She's said to have a sharp and cunning wit."

"A crone who thinks beyond her sex more like." Christian spat. His furious gaze settled cunningly on Tanis. "Why not marry her to the boy. I'm sure he'd appreciate the crone far more than I."

Their father turned to Tanis and with a dreamy smile. "Lady Phatilia has been bred to marry a king, not a prince. She is to be yours Christian's. You should be happy with the match."

"But-"

"It has already been decided!" The old man suddenly boomed, the iron in his voice reminding everyone of the man he used to be before old age robbed him of so much of his fierceness. His normally watery eyes shone with malignance. "She is awaiting your arrival within the southern province. You are to meet the princess and her entourage and you are to escort her back here for your wedding. You are not to delay; you are not to mistreat her. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Fine!" The prince literally screamed. He punched the table beneath him, embedding the knife in the aged wood. "I know my duty father! I'll marry the cow if you wish it."

"Christian?" The king rose slowly to his feet. "One more thing. You are not to make this trip within the company of your squire. He will remain here until you return. "

Tanis literally leaned back from him when Christian's gaze swept over him. A look of barely contained fury was trapped within his gaze and it was directed almost solely on their father. "Your pardon my king but why is the company I keep any concern of yours."

"I will be blunt, as we are within the company of family. I do not wish for your new wife to be immediately confronted with your squire. I do not think it is necessary for me to say why. You need not worry; he will be kept under careful watch whilst you're away."

"No." Christian said between clenched teeth.

"Yes," The king corrected. "And if need be I will have him taken away against your wishes. The mongrel's father has been asking for him, you know this."

Tanis had seen his brother angry before but he had never seen the mad look of fury that seemed to physically radiate from him. He started sputtering, his fists sporadically clenching and unclenching as he took a faltering step forward. He stopped abruptly, turned on his heels and thundered from the hall.

************

Tate was sat quietly within the prince's parlour, his legs crossed upon the luxurious scarlet rug as he leafed leisurely through a book from the palace library. He looked up sleepily when he heard the outer doors open. Immediate weariness washed through him, banishing away the brief feeling of calm he had been enjoying. 

It was Christian of course. "What are you reading?" He inquired softly. To Tate's surprise the young man settled down beside him and gently plucked the book from Tate's fingers. "The history of Acranim." He mused. "Where did you get this?" 

"The library." Tate said slowly as he took the book back. He looked over his shoulder but he couldn't quite read the look on Christian's face. He resisted the urge to ease away from the prince and tried to concentrate on what he was reading. He gave up eventually though. The feel of Christian's breath on the back of his neck was impossible to ignore. 

He put the book down and got quickly to his feet. Christian stared at him with narrowed eyes and Tate felt a mounting feeling of panic. "Can I get you anything?" He asked as he stepped back a few steps. 

Christian got smoothly to his feet and frowned thoughtfully at the smaller man. "Tell me something Tate, do you enjoy living here with me?"

No! 

Tate swallowed his initial response and took a moment to think. Of course he didn't enjoy living with the prince! He hated him and everything he stood for. Had he the courage he would have gladly thrust a knife through Christian's black heart. Of course there was only one response that Christian expected and that wasn't the truth. "It's an honour my lord." He said, not quite mumbling.

Christian smiled very slightly and shook his head. "Of course it is." He said wryly. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a quiet sigh. "We had an interesting dinner tonight."

"That's – that's good my lord." Tate stuttered, confused by Christian's odd mood.

"Oh yes, you're right. It was good, wonderful in fact."

He looked expectantly at Tate. "May I ask?" Tate said eventually when he realised Christian was waiting for him to do just that. 

"Of course you may, In fact I was hoping you might. The king has happily found me a bride. A princess that's rumoured to be a ravishing beauty." His smile looked more like a grimace. "He's been trying to marry me off for years and now he's finally put his wizened old foot down. I'm to go and fetch her in no less than one score days. " Tate hadn't noticed that Christian had picked up his book until the young man flung it across the room with frightening force. His aim was true and it struck the great gilded mirror above the fire place. The glass shattered and carpeted the floor with hundreds of glittering tiny shards. 

Tate didn't move. He let out a sharp breath when the prince's outer doors slammed open. Christian didn't seem to notice. He was screeching wordlessly and his hands were destroying everything that got in his way. He only stopped when the inner doors burst open and Richard, with half a dozen guards, piled into the room with their swords drawn.   

Richard eyes flickered briefly over Tate, measuring the danger he presented and instantly dismissing him. "Your highness," Richard said softly as he sheathed his blade. The other soldiers followed suit. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Christian screeched madly. "Wrong! What in the name of the gods could possibly be wrong?"

"My prince," Richard said very quietly and calmly. "People can hear you. They think you're being attacked."

Christian's mad eyes seemed to calm very slightly. However insane he was he did seem to be able to hide it rather well. His eyes seemed a little clearer as he straightened his clothes. "I'm going out," He hissed, the words almost a threat. 

Tate hurried to get out of his way as Christian rushed past him. His eyes meet briefly with Richards before the other man hurried after the prince. 

Tate took a deep breath and felt a moment of giddy relief. He had gotten through the entire ordeal without a single scratch. 

****************

Lamidor closed his eyes briefly and tried to banish the image of the Tanis's smug face. He had been so close to obtaining the title and money he had always deserved. He had personally caught and tracked down the mongrel. He had been so close.

"Your ale Tracker." The bar keeps said disinterestedly as he plonked a tankard down in front of the woodsman. Lamidor barely even noticed.

If only that old hag had not double crossed him! If only that little coward Tanis had not involved himself. So many things had been stacked against him. 

He took a long drink of his cheap ale and thought about his choices. He was too far from the country to make any real money as a tracker, but for the time being he couldn't bear to leave the city. Around him in the huge spiralling towers and beautifully cobbled streets was the life he wanted. It was the life had had so desperately sought since childhood.

His mother, he had learned, had not been some common farmer his father had ploughed in some nameless barn. She had been lady, a governess in fact. She had taken a liking to his father and together they had made him. She had given him up, something that still made him furious, and his father had claimed him. It wasn't until he was older that his father had told him the truth. He was the son of a gentlewoman, meant for better things than the life he had always known.

Since that day he had done everything to become a gentleman. He spoke in the high tongue and he knew his numbers perfectly. True he wasn't a dandy and he had never learned to read but he figured that when the time came he could simply hire a scribe. And who wanted to be a dandy! 

A huge commotion caught his attention as the door to the whore house was flung open. A band of finely dressed young men pilled in. Guards followed them, keeping a careful eye on the other patrons. Whispers quickly spread and the word Christian and prince were said frequently. 

Lamidor gaped. Was it not a sign from the gods? The answer to all of his prayers and wishes stood not a few feet away from him. He stood up slowly and approached the fine looking group. The guards pressed him back but he kept a pleasant smile on his face and bowed very slightly. "My prince," He called over them.

The young man was very tall and handsome. His younger brother certainly favoured him in looks. His clear blue eyes assessed Lamidor for a moment before his upper lip curled in distaste. "What?" He demanded, making no attempt to be polite.

"Forgive my forwardness my prince but you and I have a common acquaintance. Two in fact." He eased cautiously forward. "Your brother employed my services not too long ago."

"For what?" Christian asked, wrinkling his nose as the tracker came closer.

"To acquire– something you lost my prince. A young man that had all but disappeared."

Christian's eyes widened slightly in interest. "Is that so? He did not mention having had help."

Lamidor smiled slightly and the prince seemed to ease back a little. "I was the one that found him my prince; I was the one that personally delivered him to the city."

"You must have some skill as a tracker. Tell me something, when you found my half-blood whose company was he in?"

The tracker thought back to the day he had first found Tate. "He was travelling with two gypsies my prince. Young men, brothers I think."

"And what did you do to these young men in order to obtain my new squire?"

The trackers eyebrows rose slightly at the title. "Nothing my lord, your, err, squire left them. They had an argument I believe."

"Really?" Christian asked, smiling sweetly. He gestured Lamidor closer. "Tell me more."

***************    

The world fell away beneath him, melting into nothingness as the clouds rushed down to embrace him. Cool tendrils of air caressed his skin, soothing and urging him closer towards the stars. A sense of freedom filled him unlike any he had ever known. Up among the heavens in a realm where mortals were forbade from entering he felt at peace for the first time in his young life. 

But he was also a trespasser, a man spying on things he had no right to see. A part of him rebelled at what he was doing. It demanded he leave this unique world behind and return to the place of his birth. He stretched his arms above his head, increasing the speed of his fall as he swept back down towards the earth.

"Why so eager to return among the mortals?" a silvery voice asked beside him, startling him so violently that he lost control of the fall. "Pull up," The voice commanded sternly; coming from all directions though there was no one near him. "Pull up child," The voice said, gentler this time as he felt an invisible hold on his wrists. He took control of the fall.

"Who are you?" The invisible one asked in awe, the voice more controlled than before. "Are you one of the fallen?"

Who were the fallen? He wanted to ask but as he touched the earth instant chains rose up from the ground to seize him. They wrapped around his shins and snaked their way up his thighs and waist. He choked of a scream of terror as the chains twisted around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. It was only a dream, he told himself desperately. If he concentrated he would wake. But as the chains wrapped over his mouth and nose, cutting of the last of his air, he gave way to his terror and began to thrash and struggle. It crept further over him, over his eyes and head until he was cocooned within.    

**********  

"Tate?" A familiar voice said softly in his ear. The half- blood turned reluctantly from his supper and met Tanis's uncertain expression. "Are you alright?"

Tate resisted the urge to laugh in the young man's face. He was hardly alright. As if his waking hours weren't filled with enough misery now his nights were being plagued with nightmares. He noticed the prince's expression was resting on his bruised wrists and felt a flush of heat suffuse his face. He quickly hid his hands beneath the table and pulled his sleeves forward. A part of him reasoned that there was nothing to be ashamed of. There was little he could do about Christian's rough handling. Yet the part of him that was still his father's son rallied at the idea that he was allowing another man to so publicly hurt him. "I'm fine." He said, knowing his tone was blunt and unkind and not caring. "What do you want?"

"In truth I'm unsure how to begin." He sat down without invitation, the naked sword at his waist reflecting the warm hearth fire. "I do want something from you but I doubt you'll grant it me."

"What in the world could I give you that you do not already have?" Tate demanded quietly, carefully keeping his eyes firmly on his stew.

"Forgiveness?" The young man whispered, his tone so sincere and vulnerable that for the first time in months Tate could feel a wall breaking down. He dared to meet the other man's gaze and a feeling other than anger, fear and humiliation filled him. 

"You brought me here." Tate said quietly. "Though I fail to understand why? You and your brother do not strike me as particularly close."

Tanis's eyes casually searched the surrounding hall before he lowered his head. "He would have killed me. He said so himself. Brining you back brought me a little more time. Do you think me very cowardly?"

"I think I may be the wrong person to ask about cowardice." Tate said bitterly. He meet the prince's gaze straight on. "For all the hurt I've caused I suppose I deserve this place. Regardless of your involvement I would have been brought back here anyway." Tate took a deep breath and dared to smile. "You are forgiven prince." 

Tanis smiled back at him, a huge beaming smile that made him look totally unlike Christian in every way. He stood up abruptly, the smile still firmly in place. "I should go before people start talking."

Tate acknowledged him with a slight bob of his head and turned back to his meal. Despite himself it felt good to forgive someone. Maybe, someday if he ever saw Lukas again, the other man might find it in his heart to forgive Tate for harm he had caused. 

*********  

"Something wrong?" Christian asked, falling into step beside Tate and draping his arm over the half-blood's shoulders. "You haven't spoken to me for days you know. When I said I wanted respect I didn't mean I wanted you to turn into a mindless drone."

"I didn't realise I was." Tate said, struggling to keep his tone neutral. "What would you like to talk about?"

"You were speaking to Tanis earlier. Why don't you tell me about that?"

Tate shrugged his shoulders slightly. "There isn't much to tell. We were just exchanging pleasantries."

"How lovely for you." Christian drawled tartly. "Tell me Tate, what you think of my little brother?"

"I know very little of him." Tate said truthfully. An uncomfortable silence passed between them. "He seems decent enough I suppose."

Christian's sudden roar of laughter startled a good deal of people around them but none more so than Tate. "Decent, decent he says! By the god's Tate, you're a forgiving little fool aren't you? He's the reason you're here after all."

"I would have been here regardless of Tanis's involvement." Tate said, growing increasingly uncomfortable as a dozen pair of eyes watched them. 




Defiance Ch. 10



"Really?" Christian asked, his grip slightly more firm. "How so?" 

"I-" Tate faltered, feeling he was wandering into dangerous territory. "I suppose it was just inevitable in the end."

"Tate, Tate, Tate," Christian chanted mockingly. "You're lying to me." His hand latched onto the half-blood's arm and applied gentle pressure. "Do not try to fool me!" He hissed quietly, but very dangerously. "What aren't you telling me?"

Tate thought quickly. With everything else that had happened he had almost forgotten the encounter with Lord Ralan. He had noticed the great fop watching him now and again but he had not tried to approach the half-blood since Tate had entered the palace. A part of him reasoned there was no danger admitting what had happened. Despite himself he was worried about the consequences. Christian wasn't just mad, he was also dangerously cunning. He seemed capable of using the most mundane things against a person.

"Tate?" Christian said warningly. "I won't ask again."

"There was a man," Tate said quietly. "A tracker. He was common born though he tried to talk like a nobleman. He found me in the Casiam woods some time ago. He was the one that-" He paused for a moment, looking at the cast that still encased his arm. "He was the one that broke my arm." 

Christian's hold lessened slightly. "How then did you come to be with Tanis?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"There was a fight." Tate shrugged causally though his insides were boiling. He hoped the prince didn't question his brother before Tate had a chance to talk to him. "Tanis won."

"And this tracker?" Christian asked.

"Dead I suppose." Tate lied, shuddering slightly as he thought of the wolfish man. 

"Did he touch you?" Christian demanded with sudden urgency.

"No," He said truthfully, wishing he could get away from Christian's closeness. 

Christian nodded his head thoughtfully. "You were afraid of him?"

Tate couldn't help the sharp look he gave Christian. "Not particularly."

He nodded his head again in thoughtful consideration. "Good."

******** 

Christian's room was filled with servants and guards as he and Tate stepped inside. They were preparing the prince for travel. He would be leaving on the morrow to fetch his betrothed. By some stroke of luck Tate was forbidden to travel with him. He tried not to let his eagerness for Christian's departure show.

He wriggled out of the princes lose grip on his elbow and moved swiftly to an abandoned corner of the room. He saw that a few of the guards were looking at him and he couldn't help but notice the scorn he saw in their heated eyes. He glared back at them, unprepared to be cowed by the mindless brutes. One of them whispered something and the whole group began to laugh. It was their laughter that caught Christian's attention. He looked over at them, taking in the developing scene with evident interest. A cruel smile twisted his full lips as he walked among his men. Tate watched them warily, slowly edging as far away from them as he could.

He felt like a fox that was about to be ran down by a pack of hounds as they suddenly swarmed. He was boxed in within a tight circle of bodies, suddenly and painfully aware of how vulnerable he was. He tried to force his way past them but they just pushed him back, laughing as he stumbled and letting out a booming cheer when he finally fell. 

One of them, a young man clearly quite new to his sword, laughed and nudged Tate's leg with his boot. When the half-blood failed to move quickly enough he lashed out and kicked Tate's shin with frightening force. Despite himself he cried out, falling forwards as his leg collapsed beneath him. He heard laughter above him and then a gurgled scream. Tate looked up just as the boy's body crashed down beside him, his blood spurting over Tate's bowed frame. Christian stood above them, his sword out and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "No one touches him." He snarled. "Not unless I say so, you hear me?"

The soldier's dead gaze was fixed on Tate, his eyes dead and accusing as they stared back at him. He swallowed down a groan and shuffled away from the body and the slowly expanding pool of blood that was trickling towards him. No one tried to impede him this time.

"Out!" Christian suddenly boomed. "Get out all of you! And take this abomination with you!"

Tate pressed his back against a wall and slowly stood up. He watched the fleeing servants and soldiers enviously, unsure if he was supposed to leave the prince as well. He took a few halting steps towards the door. "Tate!" Christian yelled. "By the gods man you had better not take another step if you want to retain the use of your legs!"

Tate froze. "Apologies my lord, I thought you wanted me gone." He swallowed quietly. "Would you like me to fetch someone to clean the floor?"

"The floor?" Christian looked at the spreading blood with some surprise. "Oh yes, the floor. Go on then, but don't be gone long."

"Yes your highness." He said quickly before bolting from the room into the hallway. He noticed the guards carrying the dead solider between them and caught a glimpse of their retreating back as they disappeared around a corner. His gaze suddenly aligned on the dark path of blood that followed them and suddenly he began to retch. It was absurd. He had been brought up among a military family that had seen more than their fair share of bloodshed. Yet he felt such an overwhelming sense of disgust that his body could not contain it. Tears streamed down his face as he collapsed forward, unable to support himself as he tried not to be ill all over the bloodied floor.

He didn't hear anyone approach and in truth he was beyond caring when a strong grasp caught the back of his shirt and dragged him upright. Tate could barely see him among his tears but he recognised the grizzled old voice.

"What are you doing out here?" Kener asked, his tone less harsh than Tate remembered from the time they travelled together.

"I have to find someone to clean the floor." He sputtered out. He could feel the beginnings of shame flicker at the edge of his consciousness but he pushed it firmly away. "He killed a soldier, in his chambers because he-"

The old man marched him swiftly up the hallway and thrust him through another set of doors. Tate was hauled into a bathroom and abruptly swung around and forced to the floor. A moment later a ceramic bowl was forced under his nose. "Go on then." The old one said simply. 

Tate was violently ill as he finally released the terrible bile in his belly. He leaned forward, his chest heaving as his heart thumped painfully quick in his chest. When he was finally finished he felt completely spent. He looked up reluctantly and unsurprisingly found the old man looking down at him. He met his grey eyes defiantly as he steadied himself for the old ones distain. 

"You finished?" He asked casually.

"I think so," He pushed himself warily to his feet. "I had better go; he'll get angry if I'm gone too long."

"He'll be even less pleased should you be violently ill upon his floor boy. Take a moment, it seems you need it."   

Tate glared at the old man and wondered into the next room. It was a lot like Christian's outer chambers, though on a lesser scale. "Is this Tanis's room?" He asked curiously as he stepped slowly around the room. He noticed the portrait above the grand fireplace and walked beneath it to better study the painted young woman smiling serenely back at him.

"Yes, this is his highness's room." Kener said, pointedly emphasising Tanis's title. He stepped beside the half-blood, keeping a comfortable distance between them. "And that is a portrait of his highness's mother, queen Violet."

"He looks like her." Tate commented. He took a deep breath. "I really should go. I need to find someone to clean Christian's floor." He turned to the old man and felt a wave of irritation. "I'll not thank you."He said quietly. 

"Thank me for what?" The old one asked. He walked Tate to the door. "I'll see that the floor is taken care of. You had better get back to him." 

"Yes," Tate said tiredly. "I suppose I'd better." 

******

He woke with a stifled scream. Christian stirred restlessly beside him, groaning and mumbling quietly in his sleep. Tate's heart lodged in his throat as he waited to see if the prince would wake. He let out a tortured groan, unaware that he had been holding his breath as Christian started snoring again, softly but steadily. It seemed that the previous night festivities had taken a heavy toll on the prince. He would not wake any time soon.

The half-blood sat up and wiped away the sheen of sweat off his brow. He tried to calm his tortured nerves as the lingering images of his dream pushed away all other thoughts. How vividly he remembered the view of the clouds as he soured majestically above them. How small the world seemed from so high up, where the skies shone bluer than sapphire and the sun burned with an easy abandon.

The dreams were his only release from the world he knew, and he welcomed them gladly. Each night real life seemed to grow even less substantial. A part of him knew that he was giving up by throwing himself into a world of make believe but that part was very small. It had beaten down by Christian and the constant barrage of humiliation and pain he endured every day. And what of the pain you've caused, a tiny voice demanded in the recesses of his mind. An image of Lukas cut through the vision of the dream, shredding his moment of blissful peace. Pain laced through him, a different yet equally devastating agony. 

Quickly he thought of the invisible one, watching him, guiding him, demanding that Tate make himself known. Tate had almost convinced himself that the invisible one existed, that he waited eagerly for Tate somewhere in his world above the clouds. The half-blood snorted quietly and without humour. He really was going quite mad, though it was a madness that he openly welcomed. 

If not for the chains that constantly sought to pull him back to the world of mortals he might not have ever woken. What was it about him that made the skies reject his presence? Why was he allowed into such an amazing world and then so carelessly ripped out of it. It was so unfair, so unjust. 

His eyes sought Christian's long form in the dark and the familiar feeling of venomous hatred flared through him. He would be gone on the morrow, for the gods only knew how long. For the first time in what suddenly felt like an eternity Tate would sleep alone and untouched. Richard would be close by of course, watching him with his lecherous eyes. He would not touch him though, Tate was fairly sure of that. Even Richard was not that stupid. Tate debated lying to Christian when he returned. What would the prince do to the captain if he was made to believe that he had touched Tate? What would Christian do to him if he found out he was lying? Tate shuddered.

He was very young, Tate mused, which was something he often forgot when he was looking at the prince. Christian was no more than a boy really, a child. Tate thought back to the previous two nights when the prince had literally been carried into his chambers by Richard and a handful of other guards. He had been dead drunk and was covered in a disturbing amount of blood. Tate had listened to the guards laughing about the prince's temper and the fate of the poor boy that had weathered that anger in the whore house. Tate didn't need to ask if the boy was dead. The look on the soldiers mocking faces was answer enough. How much longer until they were laughing about him?

He had considered running of course but the idea was as stupid as it was pointless. The palace was far better guarded than his father's holdings. Besides, they would be watching him like a hawk whilst the prince was gone. No one would want to be responsible for Tate's disappearance. 

Perhaps the gods would smile upon him and Christian would take to his new wife. True he had done nothing but fight his father's command since the words had been spoken but perhaps, somehow he might come to love her. Tate wondered if the king was hoping the same thing. Was that why he was keeping them separated, to give his son and his new wife a chance? One could hope he supposed. 

Though somehow he doubted that life could ever be that kind to him.

**********

Lukas watched the prince's procession pass by from a narrow and dirty alleyway. His hungry eyes followed the line with burning desperation. Where was he? 

The prince passed him, his face drawn and haggard as he stared imperiously ahead. The surrounding crowd cheered Christian's name as adoring women and small children threw petals in the prince's path. The bastard didn't even bother to acknowledge them. More surprisingly his stupid followers didn't seem to care. Such an odd people, he thought as his gaze locked on each passing horseman, that they should be treated so poorly by their own leader and yet love him for it.

"He isn't here." He mumbled, his voice less than a whisper. A part of him was almost thankful, seeing him again would only rip open the already gaping hole in his heart. Yet he feared for Tate. The rumours had not failed to reach him. All knew of the prince's new squire. They were said to never be a part. Was it possible that he had hurt Tate so badly that he was unable to accompany him? Could he be dead? 

"Who isn't here?" A small voice squeaked behind him. Lukas turned around and suppressed a groan as two bright green eyes stared happily up at him. "What?" The little urchin demanded defensively.

"I told you to stop following me." Lukas hissed. He purposefully turned his back on the boy. "Go back to the inn."

"I don't feel like it." He said, not the least bit concerned by Lukas's obvious annoyance. "Who are you looking for that'd be in the princes company." He paused for a moment. "Can we throw a rock at him?"

"No," Lukas said, though he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Throwing a rock at the heir apparent would certainly lighten his mood. "I'm being serious Falliath, go back to the inn."

"No." He said, mimicking Lukas's tone.

They had almost all passed now and he was certain that Tate had not been among them. His odd colouring would have made him almost impossible to miss. He sighed softly and turned around. "Come on." He said resignedly. "Let's find something to eat."

The boys eyes widened in pleasure as he trailed happily after Lukas. The tinker wondered what it was about him that made the boy want to stay so close. Most of the other remaining gypsies had departed a short time before, hoping to make it the border and into the southern lands. So many of them had lost their children that there had been numerous offers to adopt Falliath. He rejected them all and insisted on staying in the city. He claimed he was waiting for his mother. Many had tried to gently explain to him that he would most likely never see his mother again. The little urchin had shook off their words and remained stubbornly insistent. No one would take him against his will, it was not their way. So he remained with Lukas and the few remaining gypsies that stayed in the city, hoping to save the people they had lost.  

A foolish existence, but what more did they have to sustain them? Lukas especially could not leave. Robert, Rose and Tate. They all remained within the city walls, or at least he thought they did. How could he abandon them if there was even a change they might still live. 

*****

Warm hand ran over his chest and nipples, playing with the sensitive nubs before moving sinuously down to his waist. Hot wet suction took his breath away. A torrent of pleasure flowed through him, shutting of all other senses until nothing existed beyond the pure ecstasy of his touch.

His back arched as more waves of dazzling pleasure assailed him. "I've missed you." Tate whispered, running his hands over the tiny braids and charm in Lukas's hair. "Where have you been?"

"Where have you been Shantran?" He husked. His hands ran down Tate's flanks with delicious slowness. "I've searched the world for you."

"Sorry," Tate's voice cracked. "So sorry – for everything."

Lukas's soft lips silenced him. "Hush. We're together now."

He pushed himself into Tate, moving slowly back and forth as the smaller man writhed in delicious longing. How long had it been since he had felt such wonder and contentment? He had sorely missed Lukas's delectable touch. The gypsy's warm and gentle hands brought him to a shuddering climax that was quickly followed by the tinker's own joyous release.

He woke almost instantly. The cool spring breeze from the open window filtered across his face, cooling his heated skin and waking him completely. He looked slowly around the small room that lay adjacent to the prince's chambers and got slowly to his feet. 

Another dream, different from the others, less real though it hadn't felt like it at the time. He was surprised at himself that he could still feel passion considering the disgust he felt every time Christian laid his hands on him. 

He wished he hadn't dreamed of Lukas though because remembering his touch made his absence all the more devastating. "I was a fool to leave him." He whispered into the darkness.   



Defiance Ch. 11



"No!" Tate screamed raggedly, crying out as the persistent image of the dream tore through his mind. He struggled to pull the heavy quilt from around his slender waist and tipped himself out of his small sleeping cot in the process. He fought wildly for a moment as he tried to ward away the invisible hands clawing at him, eventually realising that he was battling against the confines of his own blanket. "Mercy," he whispered softly, running a shaking hand through his sweat drenched hair, only beginning to grasp that he was awake and alone. He strove for calm as his eyes searched the tiny room for any signs of an intruder. "Just a nightmare." He assured himself. "Not back, not yet." 

He realised with a start that he had been crying. He hastily scrubbed at his swollen eyes and shuddered as residual image of the dream tore through his mind. He was going mad, he was sure of it. 

The door to his tiny chamber burst opened, causing him to flinch badly. Tate resisted the urge to sneer as the young guard usually posted outside his room shot him an accusing glare. "Why are you on the floor?" He demanded stupidly, stepping inside and presumably looking for anything out of the ordinary. "Why were you yelling?" 

"A bad dream if you must know." Tate said haughtily, which was no easy thing considering he was lying flat on his back. The guard continued to watch him, a smirk turning up the corners of his thin lips as his small eyes focused on Tate's bare chest. For a moment Tate couldn't breathe. Fear flared through him, hard and unyielding. Not Christian, he told himself, he can't hurt me "If there isn't anything else?" He asked, his voice sickeningly sweet as he got slowly to his feet, allowing the quilt to drop, less he look like a coward clawing at it for comfort. He smiled demurely at the young man who grinned stupidly back at him. The guard was an idiot. "Why don't you go away?"

The smile slipped quite suddenly and those piggy little eyes turned hard and malicious. "What's wrong little whore, are you afraid of me? Frightened that I might take that which you so gladly give our prince?"

Tate's own smile barely twitched. "What a silly solider you are, to think that something as utterly pointless and useless as yourself could ever possibly frighten me. I might as well claim fear for the dirt or the scuffs beneath my souls."

"So high and mighty." The solider sneered, his eyes darkening further as he took another step into the tiny room. "The bastard lordling that will gladly open his legs to all, even dirty tinkers."

"I wonder what that makes you then," Tate said easily, refusing to allow the soldiers crude accusations to hurt him. "As I'd never allow one such as you to touch me, though I'd gladly give myself to a dirty and disease ridden tinker." 

"Whore," He hissed. "Dirty, weakling trollope. Shut your filth begotten mouth before I shove a gag down your throat." 

Tate registered danger, registered it and pushed it aside as his own temper began to flare. "Perhaps you might blind me as well, then I won't have to look at your ghastly pox marked face."

The solider lost all pretences of discipline and lunged for Tate's throat. The half-blood barely avoided a fist to the face as he ducked beneath the soldiers grasping hands and bolted through the narrow chamber door.

He passed through Christian's chambers, opened the prince's door and almost ran full force into Richard. Tate managed to avoid the captain grasp but as he retreated back the young solider came up behind him and took a painful hold on his upper arms.

"What in the name of the gods is going on?" The captain asked in tightly controlled sneer. He chanced a quick look behind him, confirming there was no one present before ushering them inside and firmly closing the door behind him. 

"Sir, he was trying to escape." 

"Trying to escape?" Richards gaze travelled up and down the length of Tate. "In his nightclothes, without any shoes or a shirt?"

"He provoked me." The solider growled, his temper slowly seeping away as sense began to return. 

Richard sighed and pulled Tate from the soldiers grasp. "Of course he was provoking you fool, he's a weakling. He has naught else to cut with beside his tongue. Get out, I'll watch him now." 

The solider clipped a crisp salute and quickly retreated from the room. Richard's grasp became tighter as he strong armed the half-blood back to his tiny chambers. "What exactly were you hoping to achieve?" He asked, his tone angry and irritable. 

"It was really more a case of what I was trying to avoid." Tate answered casually. He received a quick and sudden push in the back and barely caught himself before he fell facedown on his small cot. He spun around and glared at the captain. "I'm here now, you can leave." 

"When I'm ready." The captain said, circling Tate thoughtfully. "You look better." He observed after a moment. "No bruises, you've put on a little weight. It appears the princes absence agrees with you."

"Not being beaten senseless does wonders for a man." Tate agreed acidly. He carefully expanded the distance between them, keeping a watchful eye on the captain. "What do you want Richard?"

The captains light grey eyes turned troubled as he continued to circle the smaller man. "Baron Hasan is at court. Were you aware?"

At the mention of his father's name Tate felt his skin begin to heat. Fury and shame overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling thoroughly sickened and suddenly very tired. "What is he doing here?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

Richard smirked at him. He wasn't fooled. "He's come to take you home, or so I've heard. He's even petitioned the king." 

"And the outcome?" Tate asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

"Come now mongrel, do you honestly think the king would ever give away Christian's favourite pet?" He walked boldly towards Tate, forcing the smaller man back until his back was flush against a wall. His hand reached out and hovered over Tate's face before abruptly dropping it. "However, his majesty has allowed the baron the opportunity to visit with his illegitimate bastard. I'm to take you to him for breakfast this morning. You're expected to be on your best behaviour. Do not think to run away again."

"No!" Tate took an unsteady step to his right. "I won't see him. I've no wish to face him."

Richard's hand reached for him again but like before he seemed reluctant to touch the half-blood. "As if you have a choice! Get changed and make yourself presentable. You'll see the baron, even if I have to drag you there."

The intense look in the captain's eyes caused Tate to falter. Of late Richard had become increasingly skittish, especially on the rare occasions when they were alone. His hand remained poised before Tate's face, his hand almost cupping the half-blood's cheek. Tate had enough experience to know where the half crazed look in the captain's eyes would eventually lead. The younger man suspected the only thing stopping Richard from tackling him to the bed was his fear of the prince's wrath.

Richard remained where he was for a long time. He seemed unable to move and Tate had enough sense not to push the situation.

"Change." The captain eventually said, his voice raw and hard as he finally allowed his hand to drop. The sudden look of hatred on his face knocked the breath out of Tate. "Change!" He roared. "Get changed, now!"

Thankfully he did not stay and watch. 

***************** 

Over a year had passed since Tate had fled Hasan holdings. The baron had expected his son to be picked up within the day but Tate had surprised them all by disappearing without a trace. He should have known that someone had helped him.

The shame he'd endured over the past year had been fierce. Everyone had inevitably found out about that fateful night the prince had attacked Tate in Hassan's own courtyard. The rumours had run riot and had only increased tenfold with the knowledge that the boy was now acting like the whore within the kings own court. 

And then there were the tinkers. Hassan could understand the princes desire to be rid of the gypsies, they were filthy and cowardly vagabonds one and all, but what really disturbed the baron was the realisation that the prince's onslaught against the tinkers came hand in hand with his pursuit of Tate. Officially the gypsies had been rounded up and eliminated or sold to the southlands because they had grown too densely populated. The truth however was much more disturbing. Tate had been travelling in tinker company during the initial onslaught against the travellers. Outrageous rumours had run riot among the court ever since. Everyone claimed the prince had not cared one whim about the travellers. His quarry had been a far prettier package. 

It hadn't taken too long for those rumours to reach one of Hasan's son's. What worried him was the realisation that the prince had only destroyed the tinkers in order to obtain his son. It unnerved him that his child could invoke such feelings in their future king.

As a child Tate had attracted all of the wrong sort of attention. He was extraordinarily exotic looking, even Hasan was aware of that. The boy's mother had possessed features that could only be described as breathtaking. Hasan had quickly become besotted with her and when she fell pregnant and begged him to take their child he had relented and agreed. And now he had a boy who possessed all the beauty of his mother and none of the power or presence of his father. 

Hasan shot a sidelong glance at his eldest son Minick. The baron wasn't the only one who had suffered during the past year. 

Of all of his sons Minick was especially resentful. He cursed his younger brother venomously and had even approached Hassan about hiring an assassin to rid them of any further embarrassment. Hassan had resolutely refused his request but he feared for his youngest boy's life.

"They're coming." Menick said, his light blue eyes as hard as stone as he stared at the door with chilling hatred.

"Let them come then." He answered, meeting the boy's hard gaze with one of his own. "And listen to me well boy; if you harm your brother the consequences will be fierce. Do you understand me?"

"Don't threat father." The boy said, snapping off each word. "I won't do anything to endanger your favourite."

Hassan frowned at the boys tone but he didn't have time to scold him before his servant appeared, requesting admission for his son and the captain of the prince's guard. Hassan inclined his head and sat back as he waited to see his boy. 

**************  

His father was quiet for a long time, simply watching Tate as he slowly sipped from the flagon of ale in his hand. Beside him Tate's brother Minick glared at him, his expression drawn in one of utter distaste.

It was so difficult being with them. Bad enough that every man and woman in the court knew of his disgrace but to have his father and elder brother not only aware but involved made their presence almost unbearable.

"You can leave Captain." Hasan said eventually, his eyes finally moving from Tate as he addressed Richard who stood closely behind the half-blood.

The captain offered him a cool smile. "I will be outside. Please call me when you are finished."

"Is my son incapable of finding his way back to his own chambers?" The baron asked coldly.

"His highness would have me keep a close eye on his page. He has been known for his skittishness in the past." 

"I'll see to it that he returns safely." Hasan said tightly, his eyes hard as he watched the captain, daring him to question his word.

"I'm afraid the prince's word rules all of my actions my lord. I will be waiting outside the door." He bowed, a shallow nod of his head before turning neatly on his heels and walking quickly from the room without another word. 

Stony silence followed. His father kept his eyes averted for a while but his brother's glare was sharp and constant. Tate made himself not look at either of them but kept his gaze firmly on his boots.

"You've lost weight." Hasan said suddenly, the words starling him for they were the last things he had expected to come out of his father's mouth. "Have you been ill of late?"

He couldn't find his voice for a moment. Gods, Tate was so angry with him. Everything that had happened to him after the prince had tried to rape him was entirely his father's fault. He gave me to him, he thought furiously, gave me away as if I meant less than one of his hounds.

And the shame, it burned at him, sickened him.

"I was not – ill my lord." He said slowly, wondering how he could phrase the words without informing his father that the future king liked to be rough and Tate often wore the proof of that fetish.

"Well, you seem sound enough. You were never much of an eater I suppose."

Such meaningless words, so stupid and pointless when they all knew the truth.

"What marvellous clothes you wear little brother." Menick sneered, his fist clenched tightly around the goblet of wine in his hand. "One would not expect such finery in a squire."

Tate looked away, his face hot and his tongue heavy.

"Menick." Their father said warningly.

"What services must you offer to be rewarded so richly I wonder?"

"Menick!" Their father yelled. "You will mind your tongue."

"Why father, are you afraid of upsetting the prince's catamite? "

"Enough!" The baron roared. He rose to his feet and pointed a meaty hand towards the door. "Get out boy, least I give you a kick out of the door!" 

Menick must have realised he had pushed their father too far. He snarled at the half-blood and left the room with an enraged curse. Though Tate tried to move from his path his elder brother made a point of shouldering into the smaller man. Tate stumbled into the wall behind him, barely letting out a hiss of pain as his shoulder knocked into the hard rock.

"For god's sake child sit down." His father gestured to the seat that Menick had just vacated with an imperial wave of his hand. 

Tate took the offered seat without comment. He kept his eyes on his knees as his father's eyes roamed over him. 

"You break my heart." The old man said suddenly, quietly and un-expectantly. Tate looked up at him in utter surprise. The baron was a hard man and considered words of affection an act of weakness. "So small." He said quietly, more to himself that to Tate. "I promised her I would care for you. I gave her my word."

Tate dared to meet his eyes. "You promised who father?"

"Your mother of course. A pity she could not stay with us longer. Do you remember her at all?"

Tate could remember small aspects of her. Hair like spun copper and eyes the shade of honey. An odd tongue and a few words picked up when she cursed or cried. She had cried often. "No my lord." He said quietly. "I don't remember her. Not really."

"You look so much like her, did you know that?"

Despite himself a small smile curled up the corner of Tate's lips. "I had assumed as much my lord, considering our apparent differences. You used to get so angry if I asked about her." He bit his lip, daring. "You never said much about her before?"

"Ah, well that is because she broke my heart as well." The baron hefted a large sigh. "I knew nothing of her parentage, nor even her race. She refused to tell me and she was so beautiful that it started not to matter. I would have married her, had she seen fit to take me as husband."

"Did she say why she left us, me?" He asked softly, amazed that his father was speaking of her at all and deathly frightened that he might break the spell by asking the wrong question. 

"She told me once not long before she left that she couldn't bare the cold any longer. She said she longed for hot sand and the blaring sun. She said she was made for the sky and the clouds and that our little kingdom in the northern hills was killing her. She used to cry a lot."

"And she just left one day?"

"Left and never returned." The baron's gaze met his mournfully. "She left me you though, a constant reminder of the love I once felt for her. I thought I might have hated you for that but I realised early on that I could never hate anything that had been a part of her." He took a shuddering breath. "I never meant for any of this to happen to you. That night during the feast I was beside myself. I feared for your life. Your brothers-" He waved his hands, seemingly in distress. "I thought sending you with him was the only alternative. It was all very rushed. I was so unsure. And then you ran away."

Pity, anger and shame raged within him. "Can't you do anything?" He asked, hating how his voice cracked. "Please father. Can't you take me home?"

"I want to but the king won't allow it. The damned chancellor has spoken against me. It's been decided that whatever claim I had no longer holds sway after I-" He faltered for a moment. "After I gave you to them." To Tate's horror the old man's eyes grew red and tearful. Never in his entire life has he seen his father weep. "I'm sorry boy, truly I am."

Tate knew he should have felt something but in honesty he was numb. He never really expected his father to save him but the small spark of hope had done little to improve his already floundering resolve. "He'll kill me." Tate whispered hoarsely.

The old man didn't hear him. He was too busy wallowing in his own guilt. 

************* 

"Interesting," Richard remarked casually as they made their way back towards the prince's chambers. Tate had made a point of walking slightly ahead of the older man but now the captain closed the short distance between them and laid a heavy hand on Tate's upper arm. It was an effort not to pull free from the loathsome touch, but with a force of will he made himself remain impassive. "I thought I might have to wrestle your father off you but instead I find the old man blubbering like a woman." He kept his voice pitched low so only Tate was able to hear him. "It seems to me that the men of your line are simply inclined to mimic the ways of women."

Tate knew what Richard was doing. He wanted to push him temper so he did something stupid in-front of people. The many servants and soldiers posted around the castle would make an ideal audience. The half-blood was unsure what Richard hoped to achieve by making him lose his temper but he was certain he didn't want to find out. He pressed his lips into a thin line and continued on without comment. 

"Of course you're far better playing the wilting flower than your father. Perhaps I just caught him in a moment of weakness. What say you Tate?"

The captain increased his hold on Tate's arm until it hurt. Unthinkingly the smaller man wretched free and despite his better judgement he answered. "What do you want Richard?" His voice sounded tired and resigned to his own ears.

"I was simply making conversation." His hand moved from Tate's arm and reached out to brush his hair. He began to stroke it as he pressed hip subtly against the half-bloods. "I can see why he coverts you so. Such a pretty, pretty boy." 

Tate bared his teeth and knocked the captain's hand away with a curse. He spared a moment considering his own stupidity before he was abruptly pressed flat against a wall with a hand wrapped tightly against his throat. His felt his eyes bulge as he clawed at Richard's hands. "Stop!" He tried to choke out. He pushed and struggled but the other man didn't budge. 

"Don't raise your hands to me again." He said, loud enough that anyone close by would be able to hear him. "I won't allow disobedience Halfling."

The captain released him suddenly and Tate spent a moment trying to suck in breath before he drew back his fist and lashed out at the captain's jaw. It connected, causing a burst of pain to spread through Tate's knuckles as the older man's head snapped back.

"Bastard!" He spat, which was stupid of him because he should have been running.




Defiance Ch. 11



Richard took a distressingly short amount of time to regain his composure. Eyes wide with anger he lashed out again, his fist drawn back...

"What in the name of the god's are you doing?" The voice didn't really register with the captain but Tate recognised it. With a destination in mind he ducked beneath the captain's fist and scrambled towards his potential saviour. He didn't quite make it though as Richards hands snagged his hair and jerked him backwards.

The captain caught his wrist and twisted it tightly behind his back. Tate began struggling again, no longer aware or caring that the young prince was coming towards them. He couldn't fathom what Richard was doing. Why cause such a spectacle now, in front of so many people?

Richard raised his hand again but before the blow landed a strong hand caught the captain's wrist. Richard finally took notice of his surroundings. He looked up, confusion and then anger written on his face. "What are you doing?" He barked. He met the other mans hot gaze with open hostility. After a long time he blatantly added. "My prince."

************** 

Lukas couldn't help but admire the lad's skill as his hands snaked out and deftly plucked the apple from the market stall without being seen. He made his was casually towards Lukas, looking for all the world like he was exactly where he belonged.

"Who taught you how to do that?" Lukas asked as the boy sliced into the apple and offered half to the elder tinker.

"My big brother Rilliath. We used to steal all the time, before Rilliath got caught and had his hands chopped off. Normally they would just take a finger for a first time offence but seeing as how we were tinkers they decided to take the whole thing. It festered real bad and Rilliath ended up dying not longer after." He took a big bite out of the apple, seemingly unmoved by his own harrying story.

Lukas felt vaguely sick. "You can't keep stealing Falliath. It will only lead to trouble."

"Most likely." The child agreed, entirely unconcerned. "So how shall we support ourselves then? There isn't much money in begging and I don't have many other skills suited to obtaining coin. What about you?"

"Nothing that the northerners would value." Lukas said miserably. There was no worse feeling that knowing that you were relying on a child for food, especially if it meant that child could be seriously harmed in the process. 

"Short on coin are you?" A high voice asked behind them, making them both jump. A young woman flashed them her perfectly even white teeth as she stepped towards them. Her hips swayed seductively and Lukas realised almost instantly what she was about. 

"If you overheard that we have little money why are you bothering us? I can't afford you." He made a shooing gesture with his hands, silently kicking himself for allowing anyone to overhear their conversation.

"I guessed as much." She said a little peevishly. "I was actually considering making you an offer. You're a young man, strong and handsome. We've need of such men at the inn where I work."

Lukas almost started laughing. "I'm not much of a fighter lady."

"I did not mean as a doorman." She gave him a very frank look that explained exactly what she had meant.

He felt himself blush crimson. His hand caught Falliath's bony shoulder and strong armed him past her. "The sleek otter." She called after them. "In case you change your mind."

Falliath was falling about himself laughing as they hurried down the street. He knew far too much for a boy his age. "Perhaps you should take her up on her offer." He giggled. "I can see you now, your face painted will little flowers in your hair."

Lukas made a swipe at him, though it did little more than make the boy laugh harder as he dodged it. "Shut up you little urchin."

"Ha, I don't think I've ever seen anyone blush so red before!"

Despite himself Lukas began to smile. The boy's constant good humour could sometimes be infectious. It soon faded though as his stomach began to growl. Half an apple was hardly enough to curb the appetite of a grown man. 

This can't go on, he thought worridly. They were both so thin and winter was coming in. How long would they be able to stay in the city without shelter or food? All of the other tinkers had fled, having given up on the chance of ever saving their loved ones. He and Falliath were the last. 

And even he was beginning to give up.

******* 

Tanis grinned enthusiastically at his friend as the smaller youth mockingly scowled at him. They had just had a marvellous sparring session and Tanis was very pleased with the way he'd managed not only thrash Lennin but also best a number of the palace guards, despite some of them being venerates that were ten years his seignior. 

Despite the coming chill of winter he was sweating heavily beneath his light woollen tunic. He wiped his hands through his damp hair and patted the sword at his side. "You think father will allow me to participate in the competitions this year?"

Lennin was idly rubbing his elbow. His arms were as skinny as twigs and he didn't have a great deal of stamina. A couple of blocks to Tanis's sword strokes had obviously jarred the smaller boys arm. "He might. You've nearly reached your majority after all."

"That's what I thought. It would be a marvellous thing."

"You'd certainly be the centre of attention for a change."

Which is exactly why I shouldn't ask father to allow me to participate, Tanis thought irritably. It wouldn't do to gain too much attention, especially if it was because he was doing something worthy of praise.

"Here, look!" Lennin hissed at him, his amusement clear as he pulled on Tanis sleeve "It's your brother's pretty whore. By the gods, look at the hold Richard has on him. He looks like he never wants to let go. Think he's been having a go whilst your brother is away?"

Tanis gave his friend a fierce glare. "Shut up you fool. Do you want someone to hear you?" As they watched Tate, clearly unaware he was being watched, twisted violently in Richards grasp as the captain pulled back his fist, seemingly preparing to strike the half-blood. "He's hurting him." Tanis said, surprised by the anger he could hear in his own words.

"So what if he is?" Lennin said, looking at him worriedly. "He isn't yours after all?"

"There isn't any reason to hurt him." Tanis was marching towards the captain and his charge without really knowing why. Tate looked better than he had in months, physically at least, but there was such fear in his movements. It was wrong that he should have to endure such fear, especially from a mere captain of the guard. ""What in the name of the god's are you doing?" He demanded. Tate looked up at him and Tanis was touched by the relief he saw in the older man's eyes. The halfling ducked beneath the captains first with surprising skill and made his way towards Tanis. He didn't get far before the captain caught him by his beautiful hair and pulled him back. 

Tanis hurried forward, grabbed Richards's wrist and gave it a hard shake. The surprised captain released his hold on Tate and looked down at Tanis in utter astonishment. "What are you doing?" He snapped, adding a reluctant. "My prince."

"I'm borrowing the squire Captain."

To give him credit Richards's expression smoothed almost instantly. "I'm sorry my lord but I've been instructed to stay with him at all times." Richard reached out and tried to regain his hold on Tanis but the small man jumped away. "Your brother was quite insistent on the matter."

"Nonsense!" Tanis boomed, doing a remarkably good imitation of his elder brother. He noticed the way Tate cringed and felt a moment of remorse for frightened him. "I'm perfectly capable of keeping an eye on my brothers squire captain. Now please, step aside." When he still hesitated Tanis's temper snapped. "I'm giving you an order captain. Step aside! No need to fret, I won't lose him. If anything I'm probably better equip to keep an eye on the boy." He grinned nastily. "We were the ones who found him after all." 

Cleary Richard was unhappy but without Christian present he had very little power. He bowed stiffly and reluctantly stepped back. 

Tate turned to Richard and waited until the older man looked at him. When their eyes met a huge and dazzling smile lit up the half-blood's face. He bowed at the waist and flourished his hat. "Until later Richard." He drawled mockingly, seemingly trying to squeeze every ounce of flippancy possible into those few words. 

The captain's nostrils flared and for a moment Tanis thought he might attack the half-blood. He tensed, preparing to interfere if necessary. 

Tanis squeezed Tate's arm slightly and pulled him away from the captain. The smaller man allowed himself to be led until they were out of Richard's sight and then pulled himself free of the young prince's grasp. "You don't need to drag me after you Tanis. I'm perfectly capable of walking without being led."

Tanis imagined he looked as confused as he felt. "I'm sorry, I suppose I didn't notice." Tate continued to rub his arm where Tanis had touched him. "Truly Tate I'm sorry. I didn't think I was holding on that hard."

Tate dropped his hand abruptly and pressed his arm behind his back. "Not that I'm not grateful but what do you want Tanis?"

The prince found himself blinking at Tate's harsh tone. "You looked so miserable and I thought he was hurting you." He felt like such a fool as the small man continued to stare at him. "Should I have just left him with you?" He suddenly snapped, hating the way his tone made him sound like he was sulking. 

Tate's expression actually softened fractionally. He smiled warily and shook his head. "I'm sorry Tanis. It's been a difficult day." His ran his delicate hand through his uncommonly long hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to loan me a horse and a pass out of the city?"

Tanis felt sick. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of a suitable response. 

"Relax Tanis." Tate laughed abruptly. "I was merely jesting." His expressive eyes roamed thoughtfully over the prince. "You've been sparring?"

"Yes, in the churchyard."

"Did you win?" 

"Of course." Tanis said, instinctively puffing out his chest and standing at his full height.

The indulgent smile Tate gave him made him feel like a child. "You look like you were thrown to the dirt a few times."

"Less than some." He answered indignantly.

Tate through his hands up in mock appeasement. "No doubt my prince. I wonder though, would it be possible for us to go out for a span? It's been an age since I breathed fresh air."

"You'll not try to runaway will you?" Tanis asked, only half joking.

The smile Tate flashed him was breathtaking. 

*************

Richard struggled to breathe normally as the fury warring within him refused to calm. What was wrong with him? It seemed every day he spent in the mongrels presence left him increasingly frustrated.

I want him, he thought, his loins stirring at mere thought of the other mans unnaturally beautiful face. There had been so many opportunities, so many times when he could have just taken what he wanted. It was making him stupid. Accosting the smaller man in the hall with so many witnesses had been beyond foolish.

A part of him had reasoned that if someone saw him strike the Halfling they would not question any bruises that happened to appear later, should he wish to give in to his cravings. 

He sighed tiredly. What in the name of the gods was wrong with him? If he took the mongrel Christian was inevitably going to find out and the consequences would be dire. Richard did not want to die because he was incapable of controlling his urges. 

In the past Christian had taken many men and women to his bed and though Richard had been tempted he had never felt such an overwhelming need to have any of them for himself, at least not until the prince was finished with them. It was different now. The urges he felt were overpowering, they were controlling his common sense. By the gods, when would Christian finally bore of the mongrel so Richard might relieve himself of the terrible burden placed on him? 

It had surprised him that Tanis would interfere as he had. Christian would find out about it from any number of people and the prince would no doubt be crazed with jealousy. He disliked anyone touching his squire and had only entrusted him in Richards care because he'd had to.

Richard heaved another sigh. He really needed to control himself. The last thing in the world he wanted was to become as obsessed with the half-blood as the prince. Richard ran through the numerous things he disliked about the little bastard. His too sharp tongue, his imperious attitude and foreign blood. The fact that he had laid with the filthy tinkers in order to save his own skin. These were all things he deplored; things that should have made him want to keep the mongrel at arms-length. 

At least if the little shit managed to run away at least it would be Tanis's head on the line instead of his.

*******   

Tanis began to collect Tate for a walk almost every day. They would prowl the place gardens together, barely talking as Tate revelled in the relative peace afforded him. 

Being with Tanis was a far cry from freedom but at least it lacked the captain's alarming company. Tate repressed a shudder and tried to block out any thoughts of the Richard. The half-blood didn't understand the other man's sudden and dangerous interest in him. It seemed to him that the longer they spent in one another's company the more intense Richard became. 

Tate spared a glance at his young companion. He was aware of the princes growing attachment to him as well and it worried him. If they spent too much time together would Tanis turn cruel and controlling as well? If he did what did that say about Tate?

Lukas had not been that way, Tate thought, feeling the same bone numbing sorrow he felt whenever he thought of the lost tinker. Lukas had been a gentle man whose compassion and tenderness had only grown stronger during the time they spent together. Perhaps it was the men themselves that were to blame. After all, how could Tate possibly be the cause for the poison that seemed to flow through them? He was a man only and had no power over anyone. 

_______

Christian smiled charmingly at his betrothed. She really was very pretty. Large midnight blue eyes and skin as flawless and pale as marble. Her honey blond hair lay in long waves down her slender back, which he noticed she played with whenever she was nervous or distracted. She was thin and without much curve, just as Christian liked his women. His only disagreement with her was that she was far too tall for a woman. The girl could actually look him in the eyes. 

She noticed him looking at her and offered him a slight smile. She was frightened of him, of that much we was sure. It wasn't necessary. As long as she obeyed him and gave him the heirs his father so desperately wanted she would be treated well enough.

He continued to watch her, so pretty. A pity he didn't feel much at the sight of her. He would get an heir on her certainly but it would not be from desire. There was only one creature that made him ache and it waited for him. "Home within the day." He said happily.

She dimpled a delicate smile at him. "I can hardly wait my prince." 

**********

Tate never looked at himself in the mirror. There were so many things he hated about himself that the idea of confronting his own image terrified him.

The fact that he was now looking back at his own reflection was something of a challenge for him. He longed to look away and forget how different he was. He couldn't though, at least not that day. He needed to know, to understand what it is was they saw when they looked at him.

His first thought was that he was too skinny. The sharp angles of his face and the deep purple circles around his eyes made him look sickly and gaunt. His skin was too dark, making him look dirty and unwashed. His long brown hair was pleasant enough he supposed, though he didn't think it really compared to the spun gold and fire red of the northern people. 

He wasn't beautiful or handsome, he wasn't pretty or exotic. In truth his features were just too alien to be any of those things. He was so obviously not a pure northerner that it was impossible to compare himself to them.

"Enjoying yourself?" A hated voiced enquired behind him. Tate turned around reluctantly as Richard stepped into his tiny room. Since Tanis had been sent out on an errand by his father the halfling had not been permitted to leave his chambers. Two days had passed and Tate had quickly realised that Richard was punishing him. The truth however was that he had enjoyed the solitude. "Admiring the god's work?" He asked as he reached out and gripped Tate's jaw tightly. He turned it to the left and right in mock thoughtfulness. "I can understand why you might take the time to preen, pretty whore."

Tate gritted his teeth but didn't say anything. He was wary of the captain and was beginning to think the threat of Christian's wrath would not be enough to stop him from attempting rape. He'd learned that the more hostile he became the more forward Richard would become so he made himself remain passive as the captain ran his hand up and down the length of Tate's arm.

"I have a secrete I wish to share." He whispered, leaning into Tate and pressing his lips against the half-blood's ear. Despite himself Tate began to shake. He flinched and tried to pull away as Richard's caressing hand wormed its way beneath his shirt.

"Don't," He choked, his voice breaking as panic set in.

"You don't wish to know my secrete little whore?"

Tate grabbed hold of the only life-line he had left to him. "Christain-"

"Is approaching the palace as we speak." Richard laughed softly. "He'll be here within the hour."

Tate's entire body locked in shock. Christian was back? Surely it was too soon! He was supposed to have more time!

He was barely aware of Richard until the captain knocked him flat on his back against the bed and landed solidly on top of him. Before Tate had time to cry out a hard mouth pressed down on his, forcing open his mouth and pressing a probing tongue inside. Tate struggled and bucked but Richard took no heed. The half-blood could feel the other man's thick tool pressing against his thigh and was horrified that Richard actually meant to rape him. His body began to shake uncontrollably as tears streaked his face. He felt sick and hot and thought he might black out from the intensity of it all. It took him a moment before he realised that Richard had stopped kissing him. He forced open his eyes and saw the captain was smiling smugly down at him. "When he bores of you, and I'm certain he will I am going to make you pay dearly for every crossed word or look you've ever given me boy."

He got up and off Tate, leaving the room with a mirthless laugh as he closed the door behind him. 

****

They welcomed his wife with the full vigour of the northern people. A great parade surrounded them as children and women threw petals and flowers at their feet. They cried his name, trying to gain his attention as he rode imperiously past them.

Christian couldn't quite muster more than a sneer for the peasants lining his streets. They were in his way! The urge to run them down was strong but Christian quelled the notion. He did not think his father would approve.

"What do you think of your new home Phatilia?" He asked, trying to sound pleasant even though he was finding it hard to concentrate. He wanted to get back to the palace damn it!

"Your city is as beautiful as promised my lord." She said sweetly, her eyes lingering on the high buildings they passed. "Such prosperity." She breathed.




Defiance Ch. 11



"And it will all be yours soon." He told her, soothing her obvious nerves by employing the considerable charm he knew he possessed. "Are you excited?"

"Very much so." She exclaimed.

Christian noticed her gaze caught on a small girl and the princess smiled and waved at the brat. The peasants went wild, crying and singing her name. "They seem to love you already." He commented.

Her smile was dazzling. "I am very glad to hear it my prince." 

They eventually found their way to the front of the palace gates. His father awaited him in the court yard, flanked by the majority of Christian's brothers and sisters. His eyes locked onto Lauria and he decided his sister would be given the task of watching after his bride to be. He would arrange something just as soon as finished dealing with the old man.

Pleasantries were exchanged. They seemed to go for ever. Christian contained him temper, managing to say the correct words expected of him. After what felt like an eternity they were allowed to depart to their chamber to refresh themselves for the banquet that was to be held that night in their honour. 

Christian did not run, even though he desperately wanted to. He walked purposefully to his room, waving away anyone that tried to hinder is speed.

He found him in the tiny room that had been set aside for him in Christian's absence. Richard had been kind enough to lock his squire inside, allowing Christian easy access to him. He was surprised when the half-blood didn't look up and acknowledge him. The small man sat still on the floor in one corner of the room, his legs wrapped tightly around his legs as his hair fell forward to obscure him face.

"I've missed you." He said, speaking his heart because he truly had missed the other mans presence. Tate flinched but still didn't look at him. Christian went to him, hoisting the older man up by his arms and pulling him close. He slowly undressed the half-blood, barely containing the need to throw him on the tiny bunk and have his way.

With unprecedented control he pulled his lover into his own chambers and pressed him down lightly on the bed. The half-blood still didn't look at him. His eyes were open but they seemed lost, staring upwards but unseeing. He looks like a broken doll, the prince thought sombrely.

Christian unchanged quickly and felt a thrill of pleasure. The half-blood wasn't fighting him, or crying or struggling like he normally did. Christian quite enjoyed his sudden submission. A part of him reasoned that something was not right but he would need to satisfy his overwhelming desires before he could fully address anything else.

He laid his body over Tate's, luxuriating in the soft, pliable flesh that trembled lightly beneath him. His hands explored the rakish contours of the half-blood's sinewy body, the velvety smooth skin and sinfully beautiful face. He kissed him with abandon, rediscovering every inch of him with hands, tongue and mouth.

He turned him onto his belly and moaned with wanting as he started to grope the smaller man's full and shapely buttocks. His member throbbed painfully with need and he debated just slamming himself within the hot confines of Tate's quivering flesh with only his spit to ease the way. Sense won out, he did not want to damage his squire, especially when doing so could hinder any further pleasure he might partake in later.

He found the scented oil he always kept at his beside and lubricated his member generously. Coating one finger he circled Tate's tight hole, oiling him up before forcing his finger inside to the knuckle. This at last incited a response. The half-blood bucked forward, moaning into the pillow as Christian twisted and loosened his tight hole. He added a second finger, scissoring in and out as the half-blood remained passive beneath him. 

He couldn't stand any more preparation. He lined himself up and pressed into the hole, forcing his way within and overcoming any resistance. Tate moaned and tried to crawl away, reacting no doubt to the pain of being filled so suddenly.

Christian wrapped one hand around the smaller mans waist and the other at his delicate throat. He didn't apply much pressure but pulled back enough to let the half-blood know that any resistance would be quickly dealt with. Christian drank in the sight of the beautiful man and groaned in appreciation as his eyes raked up and down the delicate bow of his frame. The contours of his lower back were beautiful and graceful and Christian couldn't resist groping one of the tight and sensual globes the smaller man presented him. 

He moved in and out slowly, wanting to make his pleasure last. He released the half-blood's throat and allowed his hands to roam freely over the tiny, quacking body. Too long, he thought, too long without him.

The tight hole surrounded his flesh, clinging to his shaft as he pulled out and then squeezing him delightfully as he pushed back in. Unable to hold off any longer he began to pound into the half-blood in earnest, feeling a thrill of power as the small man began to whimper and writhe beneath him. He increased his speed, coming close as he slammed in and out.

The orgasm took his breath away. He began to shake, unable to hold himself up any longer as collapsing on top of his pretty bed mate. It was a moment before he registered the frantic struggling beneath him and he moved his weight off the small man with a little shame for having smothered him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, still covering the half-blood's body with his own, though he was mindful to keep the majority of his weight off his lover. He ran a hand over the shaking back and wondered at his lover's silence. "Tate, are you well?"

"I'm fine my lord." Came the quiet reply.

Christian momentarily lifted the weight off the smaller man and rolled Tate onto his back. The huge golden eyes stared up at him momentarily before dropping beneath lowered lashes. Christian barely resisted a moan as he bent down and captured the half-bloods lips in a satisfying kiss.

Gods he had missed him. He silently vowed he would never allow anyone to part them again.

*********** 

Tate avoided the girl's curious gaze. The princess stared at him with thinly veiled hostility and Tate wondered when the whisper's had first reached her. It was obvious she knew who he was. It was also fairly obvious that she felt a good deal of animosity towards him. Perfect, he thought irritably, another enemy. A potentially dangerous one too if she decided Tate was a threat to her position. 

Richard stood at the prince's right side, making a great show of not looking at Tate. The captain hadn't as much as sneered at him since Christian's return, for which Tate was thankful, if not a little stumped. Perhaps the captain was trying to show indifference before the prince.

Tanis watched him, trying to look discreet and failing miserably. His big puppy dog eyes spoke volumes. Tate sighed very quietly. Perhaps it was a good thing that he and Tanis would no longer be taking their walks together. He was worried over his sudden influence on the young prince.

His elder brother occasionally reached out and stroked Tate's arm or hand. Everyone in the hall politely ignored the slight contact but Tate could feel his face burning and realised that Christian was doing nothing to him improve his relationship with his soon to be bride.

God's, when would the feast end? He had no wish to be the object of so many people's interest, especially when they were all so much more powerful than he was. He closed his eyes firmly and tried to block them out. He thought of himself in another place, among people that knew nothing of politics or violence. It seemed like a different world to him. A make believe fantasy that he had destroyed through his own selfishness. 

"Tate!" 

The piercing scream tore through the great hall like a beacon, bringing the music and the loud buzz of conversation to a deal halt. All around him people sneered in distaste, looking back at the retched servant bawling her eyes out and trying desperately to escape the arms of the struggling stew art trying to restrain her. The half-blood looked up at the struggling child and felt a moment of stark disbelief. She was thrashing wildly with her arms held out towards him, begging him to take her. "Rose?" He whispered.

The steward had apparently had enough; he drew back his hand and slapped her hard across her tender cheek. The little girl crumpled like a rag doll.

Tate didn't remember standing, or crossing the distance between himself and the steward. Fury unlike anything he had ever known poured through him, tinting everything within his sight a deep crimson red. He reached the other man within seconds and lashed out without thought. The much larger man grunted as Tate's fist caught him cleanly in the gut. As he fell forward with a groan Tate drew back his foot and kicked the disbelieving young man squarely in the jaw. Then he too crumpled.

He wanted to kill him, and the gods help him but he might have tried had Rose not suddenly flung herself towards him. The little one clung to him desperately, sobbing and asking pitifully for her momma. He scooped her up and pulled her close as his heart hammered painfully in his chest. He tried to calm her frantic sobs but the little one was inconsolable. "I want to go home!" She wailed, pulling tightly at Tate's jacked lapels. "Take me home Tate, please take me home!"

Her tear swollen eyes looked past him for a moment before she let out a quiet whimper and buried her head in his shoulder. A moment later a strong hand grabbed Tate's shoulder. He was spun around as long fingers snaked through his hair and pulled back his head. He found himself looking up into Richard's smug green eyes as the older man bent his lips to Tate's ear. "You've really fucked up this time you little shit, Christians going to skin you alive."

*******

He was unsure if he should release her or not. A large part of him reasoned that the little girl was no guarantee that Christian wouldn't attack him. Unfortunately Rose seemed determined not to release him. Her little body shook violently against his as sobs of pure misery raked her willowy frame. Guilt threatened to overwhelm Tate as he pulled her close. Everything that had happened to her was his fault. 

The outer doors banged close with a resounding thud. Tate squared his shoulders and tried to strengthen his wavering resolve. The prince stepped carelessly into the room with Richard barely a step behind him. His face was expressionless as he surveyed Tate and Rose. "You," He said, his worlds slightly slurred as he pointed a goblet of what appeared to be wine at Tate. "Truly astound me."

The elder man literally felt his heart drop at the sight of the wine. In his experience Christian rarely drank copious amounts of alcohol, but when he did the margin of self restraint he usually contained became nonexistent.

"Honestly, as if you don't have enough of a reputation already! Now you're flinging yourself at servants in order to associate yourself with this-" His eyes drew slowly over Rose. "This filth." He downed the goblet and flung it down beside him. A sour taste filled the half-blood mouth as he watched the emptied goblet roll towards him. "What have you to say for yourself this time, hmmm? Come on, out with it! I'm just dying to know."

"I know her," Tate said, stepping back swiftly and prying her hands from around his neck. She moaned his name but he was fairly certain that Christian was about to attack him and he didn't want her between them when that happened. "I'm sorry about what happened before, but he hit her and I just..." He stopped, unable to express what he had been thinking at the time. Christian stepped towards him with murder in his eyes. "Christian, please." The desperation he could hear in his own voice was hardly comforting. He pressed his hand back and gave Rose a little shove. Her hands were wrapped around his leg almost instantly. "He was only a servant," He said, trying to think as Christian might. "I didn't think disciplining him would anger you."

There wasn't much space between them when Christian finally stopped. He looked down and frowned thoughtfully, his eyes staring slightly past the half-blood. Tate didn't dare move but he felt a sudden tension drain from the room. "How do you know it then?" He asked, putting special emphasis on the word "it". 

"She was part of the group I stayed with. Her parents...helped me." Tate noticed with growing unease that Christian was still staring at Rose. He was afraid that he may have just put the little one in very real danger.

"Do you wish to keep it?" He asked suddenly. His gazed moved slowly from Rose to Tate. Thankfully he kept his eyes on the half-blood.

He didn't answer immediately because he felt that anything he did would surely seal the little ones fate. Christian was watching him carefully. "If you prefer I can have her taken away." He said as he looked back at Richard and motioned him forward.

"No," Tate said quickly. "If you'll allow it my lord I'll keep her here. Thank you." He added after a moment when the prince continued to stare at him. 

"You're welcome." He said, still looking at him thoughtfully. He smiled widely. "Put your pet to bed Tate and come to my chambers. I'll have a proper thank you from you this night."

Tate nodded and quickly scoped Rose into his arms. She clung to him desperately, crying again though she sounded almost exhausted. He didn't quite run to his room and he frankly didn't care when he heard Christian and Richard laughing at his back. He shut the door resolutely behind him and put the little one on the bed. He had to practically pry her off his neck and when he settled her on the floor she just stared at him.

"You're safe now." He lied, trying to reassure her. "Are you hurt?" He asked, seeing the bright purple bruise already flaring on her hollow cheeks. She nodded, crying again as she hugged herself firmly. "Where are you hurt Rose?" He asked her as gently as he could.

"My back," She sniffed. "When they're bad they beat me." She shuddered. "They're always bad, always."

Tate realised instantly. She was a whipping girl, a servant brought to take the place of one of the princess's if they misbehaved. It made him sick. Perhaps if they carried out the punishments on those that deserved it the royal family wouldn't grow up to be so self indulgent. He fetched his salve pot, kept to soothe some of his own slowly healing bruises and welts. When he pushed up the back of her shirt he had to keep from screaming. Her little back was crossed with cuts and bruises. She would scar, there was no doubt of that. Some of the wounds looked infected and left untreated they would kill her. He could not believe that any of the children had behaved so terribly that they had deserved such a severe punishment. Whoever had meted out her punishment had taken some enjoyment in it. 

They would have to be looked at, which meant he would have to beg the prince for a surgeon. The idea worried him a great deal. He suspected the prince had given him care of Rose in an attempt to further imprison him. It was a good tactic because there was no way he would be able to leave her. Not after everything else he had inflicted on her.

"Is Lukas with you?" She asked softly, sleepily as Tate applied more solve. His name, spoken aloud from someone else's tongue momentarily took his breath away.

"No Rose, Lukas isn't with me."

"Was he taken away from you too?" She whispered.



Defiance Ch. 12



Clawing at his face, Tanis let out a frustrated groan. "Do you think the rumours are true Kener? Is there magic in his blood? Has he cast some sort of spell on me?" He looked beseechingly at his old mentor. "I never wanted a man before I knew him. A wife and children would have made me happy. But then I see him and it's as if I'm a man possessed. I know Christian will kill me for it but still I approach him. To touch him, to see that small, sad smile of his. The only genuine one he has. What wouldn't I give to make that mine?" 

"Perhaps you are bewitched." Kener mused. "He affects almost everyone he comes in contact with one way or another. I've even seen the king watch him from afar. And just think of the tinkers. An entire race destroyed. No man warrants such passion." 

"Do you feel nothing when you look at him?" Tanis asked miserably.

"He is a pretty half-breed my lord, that's true. But I don't think there's much left to him beside that, if perhaps there ever was. His heart is as empty as his tongue is sharp. He does not feel for you."

"He thinks I am a child."

"You've barely reached maturity. He isn't wrong."  

"He thinks I am the same as Christian."

The old man clapped Tanis on the shoulder with enough force to knock lesser men to their knees. "In that, my lord, he could not be more wrong."

"By the gods Kener, what should I do?"

The hand on his shoulder squeezed encouragingly. "For the sake of your future my lord you should let him go. He will never make you happy."

"And yet still I think I love him."

*** 

Christian was dangerously close to igniting and was positive he would not be able to contain his temper a moment more if his father said one more word.

"You cannot neglect your fiancé!" the old man bellowed. He pointed a shaking finger at his eldest son. "I will not allow it." 

Christian thundered to his feet and slammed his fist down in front of him. A shock of pain ran up his arm as his hand connected with the hardened oak tabletop but he barely noticed it. He felt his teeth pull back as he screamed back at the old dithering fool. "He is mine! Mine I say! If you try to take him away from me I'll leave here and you can give your damned crown to that snivelling poxy Tanis!"

The old man looked startled for a moment. He leaned forward in his chair and regarded his son thoughtfully. "Christian, listen to me." His voice was softer now, more reasonable. "You must realise how this is making us look? I understand you enjoy him and I'll not begrudge you your fun but I cannot allow you to show preference for him over your intended wife. It is not acceptable."

"Am I the one spreading my legs?" He thundered. "I use him, not the other way around. He is mine" 

"Yet it is becoming blaringly obvious to me that you're becoming obsessed."

The comment threw the young prince for a moment before anger replaced his surprise. "You think I'm unable to control myself?" He hissed through gritted teeth.

"It respect to Hassan's bastard? Yes, I don't think you truly can truly control yourself."

A sudden and dangerous calm settled over Christian as he considered the old man. "What are you saying father?"

"For the time being all I am asking is that you treat your intended wife accordingly. If you do I'll not interfere, however if I think that you are not fulfilling your duties I will take him away. I make no idle threats Christian."

The prince pinned his father in his stare and realised he saw fear in his father's eyes. The old man was frightened him, and with good reason. Christian was beginning to bore of the old man's meddling. 

He performed a stiff bow and left the hall without waiting to be dismissed. 

*** 

"I don't want to!" Rose wailed, her little voice piercingly loud in the early hours of the morning. Tate lent over her and in a panic placed his hand over her tiny mouth. She screamed at him but the noise was thankfully muffled. 

"Calm down." He pleaded, staring in horror at the door to his tiny room. He expected Christian to burst in at any second. He held his breath but eventually the moment passed. Tate realised that the prince was probably still sloshed from his evening out. Thankfully he probably wouldn't wake for a while yet. "Please be quiet." He asked, nodding towards the door. "He might hear and come in."

That at least calmed her down enough to make talking possible. Tate released his hold and let her shuffle away from him. There was hurt in his gaze and also a look of betrayal. If only she knew. "You promised I wouldn't have to go back there Tate."

He felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. "I know Rose but you can't stay in this room all the time. He won't allow it."

"Why can't I go back to the gardens?" She asked, tears welling up in her pretty blue eyes. He felt a pang of longing looking at them. They reminded him so much of her brother.

How could he explain that the other children were offended by her? That her mere presence was an insult to them? He repressed a curse and pulled her close for a hug. She was tense for a moment but eventually melted into his embrace. He gently stroked her hair as he tried to find the least hurtful words to help her understand. "I would love for you to be able to stay in the gardens Rose but you know as well as I that the only ones allowed to play there are the young ladies and lords. Everyone else must work."

"You're a lord aren't you?" She asked him abruptly.

Tate felt his entire body tense. "Who told you that?"

She was oblivious as she snuggled closer to him. "People talk about you in kitchens all the time." She leant back and looked keenly into his eyes. "If you're a lord Tate, why do you work as a squire? Can't you stay in the gardens all day long? I would if I was a lord."

Tate cleared his throat softly. Part of him wanted to know what the servants said about him but he didn't think he could bear to hear it from Rose's lips. He only hoped their words didn't make her think less of him. "I'm not a proper lord Rose. Not like the ones you see in the gardens."

"How's that?" She asked him curiously.

"Well, my blood isn't as pure as theirs. My mother came from another place."

"Where?" She asked him as she yawned sleepily.

"I'm not really sure." He admitted. "But when they had me my parents were not married. That means that I'm not considered pure."

"Do you believe that?" She asked, and it seemed that his answer was incredibly important to her.

"I believe that the great lords and ladies in the gardens are some of the most impure monsters in the world. I'm glad they don't count me as one of them."

"They make fun of me in the kitchens." She admitted. A brief pause. "Sometimes they hit me. They're so strong Tate."

"Who hits you?" He demanded, more fiercely that he intended because he made her flinch.

"The kitchen master." She whispered, shuddering. "And some of the others. They say I'm dirty and clumsy. Sometimes they push me just so I break things and they can hit me." Her little mouth started to tremble as she chocked back a sob.

"I'll take care of it." He promised, hating his father's race more thoroughly than ever. "Now get some sleep Rose. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

She settled against him, falling asleep in his pallet instead of her own makeshift bed on the floor. He left her alone, knowing that having him close would chase away some of the awful nightmares that seemed to plague her nights. 

He closed his eyes and willed the darkness to take him away.

***

The dream had been intense, the meaning clear. The prophet Miliananious wished to see him. He thought quickly, wondering what it could mean? It had been well over a year since the blind prophet had last spoken to him.

Tanis rarely even thought of the seer anymore, which suddenly left him with an odd sense of guilt, though if he was honest with himself he could admit that of late his thoughts resolved one being only. A pity that the person he so desperately longed for barely saw him at all.

He sat up in his bed and looked out of his chamber window. It was light out but the sky was still red and gold with the early morning sun. There would be few about so soon in the day to watch him climb the long steps to the prophet's tower.

He changed, catching his sword and strapping it to his belt before striding quickly from his room. His movements were swift and urgent. Though he tried to tell himself that it was curiosity only that hastened his pace he knew it to be a lie. Something else drove him, something alien and thoroughly compelling.

He was almost running by the time he reached the bottom steps of the tower. The guards posted outside the prophets door looked at him suspiciously but neither one tried to deny him passage. Once they were out of sight Tanis took the stairs two at a time, racing up them with a speed that surprised even him. He reached the top and all but kicked the door down in his haste to be inside.'

Two milky white eyes greeted him as he fell gracelessly into the room. He should not have cared about his clumsiness, the prophet could not even see him after all. Despite all of that though he had the distinct impression that the ancient one knew exactly why he was blushing. "You called me?" He asked breathlessly. 

The seer shifted slightly and the sound of his heavy chains was deafening in the absolute quiet. "You do not delay, do you?" He asked, smiling in a way that made him appear shockingly frail. His long silver hair glimmered in the early morning light, bringing to life the hard contrast as of his sallow face. By the gods, how had he deteriorated so much in such a short amount of time?

"What happened to you?" Tanis gasped.

"Why, am I no longer as pretty as I was?" He pressed a shaking hand over his hollow face and shuddered slightly. "Your brother visits me often. He tries to make me see beyond my reckoning."

"Is that why you called me?" Tanis asked gently. "You must realise there isn't anything I can do to help you. I have no power over him."

The ancient one laughed, and the rusty unused sound hit a painful chord within Tanis. "That it is not the reason I have asked you here. I would have you do something for me." 

"What is that?" Tanis asked uneasily.

"The halfling, the one Christian had me track down for him. It is important that I see him princling. I need you to bring him to me."

Of all the things he might have expected that was the last. "Surely you jest? I can't bring him here. Christian would kill me."

"I need you to try princling. It is so important."

Tanis shook his head but couldn't make himself deny the prophet. Not after seeing what his own kin was doing to him. He reached for the door but stopped on the freshhold. "Seer, tell me. What is Christian trying to make you see?"

The prophet's smile was dazzling, momentarily transforming him back into the beautiful creature he once was. "He seeks a gypsy."

"I thought he sought them all?" Tanis asked in confusion.

"Once perhaps, but only so he could find his halfling."

"Then why does he search for a specific one now?"

The prophet grinned at him and it was anything but beautiful. "Because this one is destined to kill him."

Insane laughter followed Tanis as he rushed down the tower steps. The prince blocked it out as best he could as went to bribe the tower guards. Christian could never know what he had just found out.  

*****

Christian stared into the swirling masses of his city, situated so very far beneath him in so many ways. He's down there somewhere, he thought hatefully as he looked into the faraway crowd in an attempt to spot his would be assassin. He felt a cold stab of dread unfurl in his stomach as he chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Tate sitting quietly on a lounger with a book in his lap. The older man must have sensed that he was being watched. He looked up and his tawny eyes stared unblinkingly back at Christian. In that instant the prince experienced an unusual moment of stark clarity.

He hates you, a small voice warned, worming its way into the joy he felt whenever he looked at his squire. He hates and despises you. You revolt him. He wants the tinker, the one sent to kill you. 

He turned away and stared back at his city. "Where are you?" He whispered, staring with such intensity that he almost felt that his assassin would jump up and declare himself for Christian to see.

The prophet refused to tell him the exact date but he had promised that his death would be soon. He said it would sudden and he would die alone. It seemed inconceivable that he, a prince, could die without at least someone there who loved him. It seemed even more impossible that his murderer was to be a tinker.

More impossible still to think that the tinker that would kill him was the same gypsie that had stolen Tate's heart. The prophet had released this small snippet of information with infinite joy. 

No, he had said, Tate is not hollow or unfeeling. He can love, he does love. But not you. Never you.

He had hurt the prophet fiercely for that. He almost killed him for it.

He hit the balcony ledge with enough force to cause a shock of pain to shoot up his arm. He would not die, not by the hand of some sickening and weak gypsy! The tracker had seen him once, he had even admitted as much. He swore he could find him again. The prophet had admitted that the gypsy was somewhere in the city after all. The wolf had vowed to track the vermin down and dispose of him.

All he needed was to wait and once the tinker was dead his world would be good again and he could take the time to teach Tate to love him.

*** 

You're limping well." Richard remarked brightly as he fell into step beside Tate. The younger man shot him a sour look as he made his way slowly down towards toward the main kitchens. Normally he might have tried to act the disdainful upstart but Richard could tell the lad was in no condition to play his snobbish roll today. "What did you do this time?" he asked, grinning widely when the half-blood refused to answer. "Was it your mouth?" he asked, laughing loudly. "You do have an awful habit of speaking out of turn."

The boy pursed his lips and with an obvious show of will didn't say anything. Richard had recently noticed the change in the lad. He watched Tate act the dutiful servant. He played at being meek and cowed but Richard wasn't fooled. The half-blood was up to something. 

Of course the lad still made a few mistakes now and again, occasionally speaking flippantly or out of turn, sometimes even letting the mask of contempt slip a little when Christian touched him, but it was a rare thing now to see Tate walking with a limp. Consequently the brat prince was beginning to drop his guard around his reluctant companion and Richard would have bet his entire fortune that the half-blood was working his way towards an escape attempt. 

A gaggle of women, laughing and talking up ahead caught Richard's ear. He looked sideways at the half-blood and was pleased to see the hesitancy in the other mans eyes. Their gazes briefly met before Tate could properly school his features. The poor boy looked sick. Richard didn't try masking his delight as Tate stepped back against a far wall, pressing himself tightly against it and lowering his head into a respectful bow. Richard mimicked the position, hiding his smile in his shirt as he stepped beside the younger man. 

They didn't notice him at first but then Phatilia said quite loudly. "Oh look, if it isn't my husband's whore."

For a moment no one spoke and Richard didn't really blame them. Despite himself he was shocked. One did not expect the princess to possess such a foul or forward tongue. 

He was further surprised when Tate stepped forward and tried to rush past them without being dismissed. It appeared Phatilia wasn't finished with him though. She reached out and caught his arm, pulling his back until they were face to face. Tate stared back at her, his unusual eyes filled with a dangerous sort of fury as he allowed himself to be held. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She said in a high and totally insincere tone. "Have I offended you, my lord? I would hate to impede on your honor."

Richard was suddenly very worried. Tate's free hand was balled up into a fist and shaking. He stepped forward swiftly and laid a firm hand on the lads shoulder. The half-blood shot him a murderous glance before turning his attention back to Phatilia. 

"Nothing to say to me, little whore?" she snapped, her eyes wide and furious as she lashed out and slapped Tate across the cheek. His head turned slightly but he barely even blinked. Amazingly he smiled.

"Believe me my lady, if I could trade places with you and make it so you were his alone I promise you I would." His eyes hardened again and Phatilia actually stepped back. "Infact." He whispered, pressing his lips against her ear. "I would give almost anything to make it so." 

She jerked back from him, watched him thoughtfully for a moment and then gestured her women onwards. They walked around Tate and Richard, none of them breathing a word until they were almost out of earshot. 

Richard dealt the half-blood a solid cuff about the head that sent the other man staggering. "You're lucky she didn't have you whipped." He hissed. "She was in her rights to. She's to be queen one day my boy, you should try to get on her good side."

Tate gave the captain the sort of look usually reserved for the worse kind of idiots. He tried to walk around Richard but the older man wasn't about to let the insult lie. He stepped into Tate's path, daring him to try and force his way past. It appeared Tate was beginning to learn his lessons though. He stopped very still and simply looked at him. "The prince is waiting for his lunch, captain."

Richard allowed his eyebrows to rise. "You playing at being his servant today?"

The lad shrugged. "It's no worse than anything else I do. May I pass?"

"Such lovely manners." Richard drawled as he reached out and caught a lock of Tate's hair. He had seen Christian do it on many occasions and knew how much the half-blood hated it. As predicted Tate reacted, slapping away Richards hand and stepping back. Their eyes locked and Richard smiled as he saw the panic in the other mans eyes. He reached for him but unsurprisingly Tate dropped below his grasp and darted back towards the kitchens. Richard watched him run and couldn't help the smile that turned up the corner of his lips.

***

Tate tried to act causal as he entered the kitchens. The prince's other servants would normally fetch his meals for him and Tate was unaccustomed to the busy chaos that seemed to dominate the main palace kitchens. He had carefully asked the prince if he could fetch the food to check on Rose. Christian had smiled indulgently and sent him on his way with a leisurely wave of his hand. The gods only knew why he was being so accommodating. Perhaps he felt guilty for having hit him the night before when Tate's only fault had been getting in the princes way. He pressed his hand to his face and ran his fingers over the tender flesh beneath. When he'd woken that morning the pain in his cheek had quietened to a dull throb. Now thanks to Phatilia's gentle handling he was in quite a bit of discomfort again. He permitted himself a small sign and dropped his hand. 

He found Rose hunched over a large pot of hot water. Her little hands were red raw as she worked through a huge pile of dirty dishes. He felt a lump in his throat as he watcher her. He barely recognised the angelic little girl he known during his time with the tinkers. Because of him she was little better than a slave now.

He blatantly noticed that a number of serving men and women were watching him. He did his best to ignore them as he watched Rose. Perhaps the cook knew why he was there and that was why he didn't bother her. Tate decided a more direct approach was in order and he draw near to the head cook, discernable by his bulging stomach and white apron.




Defiance Ch. 12



"Sir?" He said, trying to gain the other mans attention. The cook turned to him and snarled nastily. His eyes raked over Tate as he leaned back against a large tabletop. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

"The prince need something?" He asked, obviously thinking that Tate was there on some errand for the Christian.

"His lunch, however I wanted to speak to you regarding Rose."

"Who?" He grunted. Tate gestured towards the little girl. "Oh yeah, I forgot the little disease carrier belonged to you. You've got a think for filthy tinkers don't you boy?"

Tate smirked at him. "You don't the half of it."

"You really are a whore aren't you?" he snarled.

Tate shrugged. Frankly the gravity of the many names thrown at him were beginning to lose their effect. "I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from touching her again."

"Such fine manners." He jeered. "I'll tell you what whore, come into the pantry with me and show me just why Christian keeps you around and perhaps I'll do as you ask." 

Tate smiled at him. In one smooth motion he reached out and caught a large butcher knife from the block at his elbow. He pressed the blade firmly against the kitchen master's fat neck. "You may call me whore, servant, but I'm still the son of a baron and have I all of the training due to a man of my station. Touch the child again and I'll do more than threaten you with a knife. Do you understand me?"

The big man spluttered. His eyes rolled as he looked to his staff for help. No one approached. Tate pressed the blade closer. "Do you understand me fat man?"

"Yes," He quailed. "All right, all right. I won't touch her, now get back!"

Tate kept his position for a moment more before dropping the knife and purposefully turning his back on the other man. He went to Rose, who was staring at him with huge, wide eyes. "If he touches you, or anyone else for that matter, you tell me. Understand?" 

She nodded her head numbly. Tate reached out and hugged her gently. "I'll see you tonight little one."

He remembered to fetch Christian's supper and as he walked back to the princes suite he reflected upon how good it felt to be a man again, even if only for a few moments.

***

Rose shrieked in delight as she dodged Tate's outstretched hands and sprinted to the far side of the balcony. "You're far too quick for me." Tate laughed, bending over and breathing heavily. "How do you have so much energy?" 

"You're old." Rose giggled and pulled a face at him. "Shall I fetch you a cane?"

Tate straightened his back and mock glared at her. "I am not old!" he said indignantly. He shot towards her and in her surprise she merely shrieked. He caught her up in his arms and raised her high above his head. "Who's old now?" He demanded. His arms began to shake and he let out a loud huff. "Dear lord child, how much to you weigh?"

She giggled loudly and Tate began to tickle her mercifully. "Old am I?" He asked, dropping her to the floor and pocking her ribs. "Take it back."

She managed to squirm out of his hold. She spun away from him and in an instant the smile died on her lips. Tate turned quickly and felt the familiar swell of fear he experienced whenever he saw the prince. He stood up and stepped infront of Rose as he offered the princling an unfelt smile. "You're back early my lord."

Christian had a strange look on his face, one that Tate had no way of interpreting. "Get out." He said abruptly.

Tate blinked at him for a moment before he caught Rose by the hand and hurried her towards the tiny room they shared.

***

Not once in all the time they had spent together had Christian ever seen Tate laugh. Thinking back on it Christian could hardly recall ever seeing Tate smile. Occasionally he offered the tiniest upturn of his lips but there was nothing to the movement that suggested any sort of joy.

And he looked so beautiful when he laughed. There was a glow about him, a happiness that he'd never imagined existed. He had always seemed so sad that Christian had assumed that he was a naturally sombre man. The fact that he could laugh and do so with such abandon made Christian realise just how little he knew about the half-blood. 

It hurt, knowing that he could laugh like that with a tinker. What was it about them that attracted him so? In a fit of jealousy Christian debated getting rid of the child. The impulse died rather quickly though. Tate was much easier to control with the girl about. He wouldn't run as long as she was around and if that meant having to share him with her he supposed he could allow it, at least until Tate came to love him.

He went back into the main room and called Tate's name. The slight man came to him almost immediately. Christian looked at him, willing him to smile. Moments passed and he realised he was waiting in vain. "I need you to fetch someone for me. Go to the servant's quarters and ask for a tracker named Lamidor."

"A tracker?" Tate asked with a noticeable frown. 

"Yes, ask for him by name and bring him back here." When the small man hesitated Christian clapped his hands loudly in the halfling's face. "Hurry then." He ordered impatiently.

Tate sketched a slight bow and hurried away. Christian couldn't quite hide his own smile as he imagined the meeting that was about to take place.

***

"Have you any news of him?" Richard asked, looking bored as he sat back in Lamidor's only chair, causing the tracker to have to sit on his bed.

"The tinkers are keeping themselves well hidden." He admitted begrudgingly. "Obviously he's changed himself quite dramatically if he's avoided detection for as long as he has."

"Can you find him or not?" The captain asked, looking bored and impatient to be gone. 

"if he's still in the city i'll find him." Lamidor growled, trying to resist the urge to snap.

"Good, I'll report your progress, or lack thereof, to our prince." He stood up and was about to leave when there was a soft knock on the opposite side of the door. The captain crossed the rest of the short distance to the door and pulled it open. He laughed aloud abruptly and brought a shocked Tate staggering into the room. "Look what I found!" He declared, pushing the boy towards the tracker.   

Lamidor wasn't surprised to see the halfling. Christian had told him to expect his page to summon him. Obviously that was why the boy had come to him. "Hello Tate," he said quietly, revelling in the comical way the small man's eyes bulged in shock. Tate stammered something intelligible and scampered back from the trackers reach. "I didn't think we'd meet again." Lamidor continued as Tate clearly struggled to grasp what was going on. "The fate's work in mysterious ways it seems." His eyes ran up and down the length of Tate's lean form, noticing how fine he looked beneath the few bruises that marred his otherwise sickeningly beautiful face. "How fortuitous you look." He mocked "Fine new clothes and boots. Whoring has its advantages it would seem."

A spark of anger passed swiftly over the half-blood face. His golden skin flushed slightly before he managed to visibly compose his expression. "You're looking remarkably fine yourself." He smirked, his imperious accent even thicker as his eyes ran over the elder man. "Of course a pig dressed as a wolf is still just a pig."

Richard snickered as he caught the half-blood's shoulder and hauled him to his side. A good thing he had because Lamidor was about to break the little shits wrist all over again. "Don't listen to him Tracker." Richard laughed. "He's just in a sour mood because the reason for his existence has found fault with him recently." 

Tate's twisted out of Richards grasp and bared his teeth. The captain stepped forward, a bright smile on his face as his hand began to reach for him –

"The prince is waiting." He said, backing up towards Lamidor of all people.

"He can wait a moment more, it won't hurt him."

Lamidor was beyond shocked when the halfling stepped behind him. Did he actually think that Lamidor would protect him from the captain? He looked back at Richard and was surprised by the vicious look on the other man's face. "I for one am not prepared to make his highness wait." He said, which was the truth as he had no interest in protecting the halfling from the captain.

Richard's light eyes darkened considerably as he met the mongrel's. "Very well then. I'll leave you alone." He smirked at Tate and then left without acknowledging Lamidor.

They were quiet for a few moments before Tate stepped around him and made his way to the door. "I thought you were dead." He said, making it sound like he wished it were so.

Lamidor shrugged and followed him out. "It takes more than an old crone to kill me boy. I have to say though that I'm surprised you're still here. The prince hasn't tired of you yet?" 

"Apparently not." The mongrel answered softly. 

***

Lukas cast a weary look around the inn as he searched for his evasive companion. He spotted him at last within a shadowed alcove in the furthest corner from the bar. The other man was hunched tensely over his beer. When Lukas sat down opposite him the young man's head shot up with a fierce expression on his once handsome face. 

"By the gods," Lukas gasped, staring at him. "Adam, what happened to you?"

A diagonal scar ran from the other mans cheek down past his nose and upper lip. His mouth seemed drawn back in a constant grimace of distaste that destroyed whatever beauty he'd once possessed. He looked like a man Lukas would normally avoid at any cost. "I got uglied up by some mercenaries looking to send us stragglers down south to the slave galleries. I was the only one that escaped."

"How?" Lukas whispered.

"Well, I stuck my sword into the ones that were chasing me. Unfortunately I wasn't quite fast enough to avoid this little beauty." He tapped his finger just beneath his right eye. "All of the others are gone. Either caught or killed trying to run. It wasn't pretty." 

"I'm so sorry." Lukas said softly, leaning forward to take the other man's hand momentarily. "But what would make you come back here?"

"Well here's the fun bit." He grinned, causing the scar to further twist his already ruined face. "I got picked up by some soldiers, northern ones this time. They asked me what happened and I told them I'd been attacked. They found the slavers I killed and they took me for some sort of mercenary. The fools couldn't even comprehend that a gypsy might fight with a sword. An idea popped into my head and I asked what it would take for a man to join them."

"You didn't!" Lukas hissed, leaning forward. "They'd eat you alive."

"Granted it wasn't easy winning my place among them but eventually they thought me fit enough to take a post as a palace guard. Seems my ugly face is exactly the sort of thing they want visiting dignitaries to see."

"But why?" Lukas asked. "Surely the last thing you want is to be apart of those monsters."

A dark and dangerous look passed over the other man's face and Lukas lent back despite himself. He was about to stand and leave when Adam reached out and caught his hand. "I don't think you understand lad. I need to make someone pay for everything they took from me. My whole family is either dead or sold to the south. I can't go on knowing that that little bastard Christian is living on after everything he did. What happens when he becomes king? Do you suppose he'll find another race to destroy? Could you live with that?"

Lukas pulled free. What they were saying was bordering on insane and if anyone overheard them it would an immediate hanging. "Revenge isn't important to me." He replied, softly and calmly.

"No, then why are you still here when everyone else gave up long ago?"

"Because there are people within the palace that I care for, people that I want back."

"Aye, and I know only too well who they are. I've seen them both by the way, your sister and your Shantran. They've passed close enough for me to touch on more than one occasion."

"Truly, you've seen them, both of them?"

"Aye, it's rare to see one without the other. As I understand it your Shantran was gifted with the girl when he nearly murdered a servant for hitting her. It was quite a show, though I wasn't there to see it myself."

"Tate is looking after her?" He nearly fell over with relief. "Are they well?"

"Depends on what you would consider well. They're both alive if that counts for anything."

"Are they being mistreated?" he asked, barely able to mutter the words. 

"Your little Rose was before the half-blood got to her. Now she spends most of her time in the kitchens. She's a sad little creature but no one raises a hand to her anymore."

"Anymore?" He groaned. He cupped his face in his hands as he tried to regain his composure. "And Tate?"

"I tell you about him and you might change your mind about revenge."

"Why?" Lukas asked, almost begging. "What has he done?"

"I think saying he's been beaten is an understatement in the extreme. The boy receives a constant stream of abuse from just about anyone he comes in contact with. It's not all physical of course, though believe me when I say he gets enough of that, it's the mental abuse. Day in and day out that boy is made to feel like one of the lowliest creatures that ever walked this world. He's done well to survive so long but I think he'll give up soon. Maybe now he has Rose he'll try to hang on but it seems impossible to me that such a fae creature can endure so much." 

Lukas clasped a hand over his face. "You haven't heard anything of Robert have you?"

"Your brother? Not since the day he ran off."

Lukas nodded slowly. He had expected nothing less. "What is your plan?" He asked at length.

Adam smiled widely as he leaned forward. It was a frightening sight. "The wedding my friend, that's our best opportunity to get what we want."

"Which is what?" Lukas whispered.

Adam pulled out his dagger and caressed the blade lovingly. "You get your family back and I get to slit the demon processed bastards throat."



Defiance Ch. 13



The world swirled around him in a wash of dazzling colours and bright lights. It was beautiful and intoxicating and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the stars that danced like a halo around his bed. 

He stepped quietly out of the bedroom and made his way out towards gilded balcony doors. A young lord, Tate didn't even know his name, lay sleeping in the far corner of the room, passed out and snoring with a goblet of spilled wine in his open hand.

He eased the doors open and stepped outside, both relieved and shocked by the sudden cold that tore into his flesh. Howling wind and rain soaked him in moments, leaving his shivering and numb as he stepped out towards the balcony edge.

The lights created a gilded path and bid him to follow. He peered out over the top and felt a wave of sudden terror. Heights never used to frighten him, in fact the feeling of freedom he experienced when he was up high used to be exhilarating. It will be fast, he thought sombrely and suddenly, the thought cutting through his fear, leaving him drained and weary as he gripped the railing and stared down into the flickering lights of the city. 

He climbed over the edge, shaking and sickened by the terrible act he was about to commit. Lukas once told him that there was no greater sin among their people than suicide. He wondered if the gods would accept him in the afterlife. 

He leaned forward and paused, letting the rain and wind pummel him. This is it, he thought as he pitched forward and let his arms go wide. Finally, he would be free.

"So eager to die?" The familiar voice that so often followed his dreams asked softly beside him. They fell together but as always Tate couldn't see the other creatures face. "You have to come and see me first little brother."

"I'm not your brother." Tate said angrily. "Why do you never show yourself? Are you ashamed?"

"Perhaps, though pride means little to me now."

"It can seem like that when people strip it to shreds." Tate observed breathlessly. 

Though he couldn't see it he sensed his companion smiled. "Do you wish to fall or fly little brother?"

Tate looked hard to his right and the shade of a man came into view. The half-blood almost caught a glimpse of his features, he saw a shock of silver hair and pale skin before the ground rushed up to meet him and he woke screaming in Christian's arms.

***********

"So," Falliath said, drawing the word out as he grinned at Lukas. "You've finally snapped?"

"I'm not insane you little urchin." Lukas said fondly as he reached out and ruffled the boy's unruly locks. "This could work."

"You really think so?" He asked dubiously.

Lukas flashed him a tired smile, ignoring his question as he turned around to show the lad his borrowed armour. The unfamiliar weight felt strange and constricting but the chainmail certainly protected the vital parts of his body. He wondered how much good it would do him when he was discovered and some mad northerner decided to stick a sword through him. . "What do you think?" He asked

"I think you're probably going to die." The boy said softly. "And I'll be all alone again." 

Lukas took a deep breath and placed his hand firmly on the lad's bony shoulder. He realised the importance of what he was about to say and almost faltered before he wrapped the lad in a tight embrace. "When I get them back I'll return for you Falliath. You have my word on that. You're a brother to me now. I'll see to it that you're never alone again."

"And my Mama?" He asked, and for once all the swagger was gone from his voice and he sounded like the child he really was. He clutched Lukas's shoulders with a sad sort of desperation and Lukas wondered if the boy had been held since the day he lost his mother. 

"I don't think she's coming back Falliath." He whispered, pulling the boy closer against his chest. "I'm truly so sorry." 

The boy took a deep breath, wiped hastily as his eyes and nodded his head once. Surprisingly he grinned. "Well seeing as you've given your word that you won't die or abandon me I can't possibly imagine how anything could go wrong."

Despite himself Lukas laughed. "You've got a sharp tongue boyo, anyone ever tell you that?"

Two sparkling green eyes smiled up at him. "We've all got our weapons Lukas." 

****

"Tate?" The tracker chased after the Halfling, coming to an abrupt stop as the small man turned around and glared at him. "A moment of your time if you please?" 

It wasn't really a request and the mongrel knew it. He stared expectantly at the tracker with a look of boredom and disdain. 

"I thought you might help me with something." He continued, ignoring the snotty bastard's imperious attitude.

"I doubt it." Tate said stiffly. His eyes settled somewhere above Lamidor eyes as he waited with barely concealed annoyance. 

Damn mongrel thought he was too good to even look at him. "You might be surprised." The tracker said, grinding his teeth just a little as he leaned forward and grabbed the small mans arm. 

Tate's eyes snapped down in obvious distress. "Get off." He growled.

"I will." Lamidor promised. "But I want to be sure you're paying attention before I do. Now, about my favour? I'm looking for someone, a young man that you were once quite intimate with." 

"Burn in bloodied ashes." He spat, tugging uselessly at his trapped arm. 

"Such a temper does not befit such a fine and dandy lordling as you young Tate." He gave the mongrel a fierce shake. "Be still and answer my questions and I'll let you go in just a moment."

The damnable little bastard lashed out with his foot and dealt Lamidor a solid blow to his kneecap. The tracker gasped in pain as his leg collapsed beneath him but to both of their surprise he did not let go of the mongrel's wrist. "Little shit, my damned knee!"

"Consider it a return for having stuck a knife through my leg!" The mongrel thrashed to be free but Lamidor refused to release him. "Get off!" He shouted, his voice high and more than a little panicky as the tracker mustered the strength to lever himself to his feet, dragging the struggling lordling with him. "Release me!" He bellowed, moving so violently that Lamidor was hard pressed to keep hold of him.

He'd had enough! He caught the small mans shirtfront and pushed him hard into the wall at his back. The half-blood let out a gasped groan and fell abruptly still. His eyes locked onto Lamidor and he drew a snarled smile. "I hope I broke your knee." He hissed.

Lamidor smiled nastily back at him but to his credit the halfling didn't flinch. "Not even nearly. Are you ready to answer my very simple question now or would you like to try this again?" Before the other man could answer the tracker drew Tate forward and slammed him into the wall at his back. "I could do this all day." He sang.

A slightly dazed look passed fleetingly over Tate's face before he pulled himself together and met the trackers intense gaze. "What do you want?"

"Just a little information. It should be easy for you as I'm told you spent some time with the man I'm looking for."

Tate's unusual eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"He's a tinker, a young man that has perhaps a few years on you. Shall we say around thirty? He's tall and thin with dark blonde hair and blue eyes."

Tate laughed at him, but not before Lamidor detected the quick look of panic on his face. "That could be anyone in this city. You've described about every inhabitant here."

"I think we both know that the young man I'm looking for is a little more distinct. Tell me his name and anything else you can think of and I'll let you go on your merry way."

"I have no idea who you're talking about!" Tate let out a frustrated growl as he tried to break free.

"I'm talking about the tinker, the one you were with before I caught up to you. There were two, brothers no doubt? I remember their eyes and their colouring and the nonsense they had braided in their ridiculous hair. I remember their speech and their build." He slapped the small man's face lightly when he opened his mouth to answer. "Do not think to lie to me and pretend you hardly knew them. I heard enough from both tinkers to realize one of them was utterly besotted with you. Feelings like that take time to develop." He caught the Halflings chin in a bruising grasp. "Tell me his name."

Tate stared back at him before abruptly spitting in Lamidor's face. The tracker snarled in fury and brought back his fist when sense prevailed. He looked closely and saw the sheer panic in the lordling's alien eyes. Now that he thought about it that desperate look had been there since they had begun their little chat. He did not think it was purely because the half-blood feared him. There was something else. Something to do with his quarry perhaps? "Have you seen him?" He asked abruptly, almost idly. When the look of panic flared into terror Lamidor realised that he had stumbled upon a gem. "You have haven't you? He's in the city even now isn't he?" 

The blood drained from the Halflings face as Lamidor leaned into him. He pursed his lips and looked away but the tracker refused to allow him the escape. "Where did you see him last?"

"I've not seen him, either of them since before you and I met." He said, trying to pull free though the gesture seemed to lack any real strength. "I have no idea where he is!"

"Where did you see him?" Lamidor persisted.

Tate sighed and looked past him again. "I tell you I haven't!"

Lamidor looked at him carefully. The young man was clearly lying. The tinker had been in the city and if he had any hope of fulfilling the prophesy to kill the prince he would need to stay close to the city.

Lamidor had the tinkers scent. 

The hunt had begun.

**** 

"Remember," Adam warned him, leaning close so that no one could overhear. "You're a fighter now and as far as the other guards are concerned you always have been. Being one of them means you don't back down to anyone and you don't apologise for anything." He leaned in a little closer and gripped the back of Lukas's neck. "Respect these people, especially your superiors. Being bold doesn't mean you need to be stupid. If you show them respect without fear they'll offer you the same in return." He bumped their foreheads together briefly before straightening his back. "Come on, let's get this over with."

Lukas swallowed the lump in his throat and followed his friend without trying to look too reluctant or nervous, both of which he was feeling in abundance. The noise that exploded around him as they entered the guard tower was deafening and Lukas had to resist the urge to block his ears as he was led past group after group of grizzled soldiers, all of whom seemed to stare at him with open hostility. 

Adam stopped before a curtained alcove and spoke quietly to the imposing guard posted outside. They exchanged a few words of greeting; laughing quietly together before the guard bid them wait and disappeared through the alcove. The two tinkers stood facing each other for a moment before they were ushered inside.

The room was surprisingly large but sparse and cold. Five men sat together before the fire playing a game of dice. They looked up as the tinkers entered and the eldest of the group waved his arm in idle greeting. "Ah, Adam. You'll have to forgive me but the game has lasted longer than I anticipated. Sit and join us." 

There was only one spare chair and Adam took it. Lukas was left standing behind him. He made a show of looking stiff and fierce as he had seen the other guards do outside. He locked his eyes on the mantelpiece in front of him and tried not to give into the temptation to wipe his sweaty palms against his trouser legs.

The game wore on and as time passed Lukas was feeling more and more panicked. Since as long as he could remember his first reaction when faced with a soldier was to either run or make himself as invisible and harmless as possible. By the gods, how had he let Adam talk him into such a stupid idea? He couldn't pass himself off as a soldier. He had no training and about as much instinct to kill as a squirrel.

"So this is the boy you were raving about?" Lukas had heard the others call him Kerious. "He doesn't look like much. Big enough I suppose but he's a bit of a pretty boy."

Mindful of what Adam had told him earlier Lukas straightened up a little and met the other mans gaze evenly. "My pretty face is the last thing many men have gazed upon before my sword severed their heads from their shoulders. I'm no poxy sir."

A young man with shockingly white hair and creamy skin sniffed loudly. "You've a mouth on you boy."

"I'm no boy." He said evenly.

"Alright then, man. What are you know as?"

"Alec." He answered, using the false name Adam had insisted upon. 

"Adam tells me you've a way with a bow." Kerious said neutrally. "I've need of some good archers. The fact that you can use a sword is all the better. Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

"Of course." Lukas said, smiling so tightly he was sure his teeth were about to crack.

Kerious grinned at him with some small malice. "Then I suppose now is as good a time as any."

*****

"Tate?" A voice boomed from behind him, causing the half-blood to start and falterer momentarily with the heavy stack of books in his arms. They would have fallen if a strong hand didn't catch his shoulder and help steady his load. He looked up into Tanis's smiling face, momentarily relieved that it wasn't the tracker following him again and offered the young prince a sour look. 

Tanis laughed deeply, clearly amused though he seemed to try for an apologetic expression that was entirely insincere. "I'm sorry I startled you." He said, taking a pile of the books from Tate's arms. "I need to talk to you."

"Why?" Tate asked, knowing he sounded blunt but not particularly caring as blood rushed frantically into his ears and his heart beat rabbit quick in his chest. With the increasing number of enemies he had wondering around the palace he did not react kindly to being startled. 

The boy's good cheer noticeably vanished. His shoulders sagged and his face took on a sorrowful expression. It occurred to the half-blood that with very little effort he could probably crush the young prince as brutally as his brother had destroyed Tate. He toyed with the idea for a while, imagining playing the two princes off against one another, leading Tanis on and then ignoring him completely. 

"By the gods will you stop looking at me like that?" He demanded at last in exasperation. He smiled, banishing any cruelty from his eyes as he let the image of hurting the young man go. Tanis was not the same as his brother and it would be unfair to pretend otherwise. "Was did you want your highness?"

Tanis chewed his lip, his eyes suddenly spanning the length of the hall. "It's somewhat private in nature. Would you be able to get away for a while without anyone missing you?"

Uncertainty filled him, tinged with just a little fear. He remembered all too well the night he was coerced into a shadowed corner by Tanis's older brother Christian, all under the pretence of a simple conversation. It would be foolish to overly trust the young man, not to mention dangerous for them both, should Christian discover what they were about. "I very much doubt it Tanis." He said, opening his palms. "Could you give me back my books?"

"Are these all for you?" Tanis asked in surprise, ignoring Tate's request. "By the god's, your head must be close to popping with so many words."

"I'm teaching Rose how to read." Tate murmured.

"Oh, the tinker girl. Of course." He hovered close by, clearly uncomfortable. "I really do need to speak to you." He blurted as he placed the books carefully into Tate's arm. "Won't you meet me?"

The half-blood turned his back on the young prince. "It's a bad idea Tanis. Christian would kill us both."

Tate could feel the other man's on him until he turned a sudden corner. He couldn't help but shudder. 

******

Milianious had come to his dreams again that night and Tanis knew what he had to do now. He didn't relish the idea but he could think of nothing else.

Tanis had taken his betrothed to dinner. Richard was with them and that meant that Tate was relatively free to go where he pleased within the palace walls. He wouldn't find a better opportunity to take the halfling without his absence being noticed. 

He watched Tate head down the corridor towards the library, which would no doubt be empty as such a late time in the day. The hallway was deserted and dark enough that the halfling didn't notice Tanis's approach. The prince spent a moment regretting what he was about to do before he pounced. He slapped his hand over the small man's mouth, stifling Tate's panicked cry. His other arm wrapped around the half-blood's heaving chest, pinning Tate's arms against his sides. The prince took a deep breath as he lifted Tate off his feet but the half-blood was even lighter than he imagined and easy to carry.

"Shush," Tanis hissed as the small man's legs began kicking at him. "Tate, calm down!" At the sound of his voice the half-blood went into a full pitched fit. "Damn it Tate." Tanis groaned. He let out a pained sigh, knowing what he was about to do would likely terrify the halfling. He shook the small man in a cruelly tight grip, spun him around and pushed him against a wall with just enough force to scare more than hurt. He forced his voice to turn cold and unyielding. "You will stop struggling, do you understand me?"

Tate's eyes began tearing up. It surprised Tanis so much that he almost released his hold. The small man felt the momentarily lapse and tried to escape again but he didn't get very far before Tanis had him firmly pinned again.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Tanis began, more gently than before. A kick very nearly caught him in the groin. "Damn." He repeated. He pulled a length of rope from his belt and knocked Tate's feet out beneath him. "I really didn't want to have to do it this way." 

****

Lukas grasped his bow, welcoming the familiar weight and feel of it even as his palms became sleek with sweat. He was only too aware of what it would mean if he missed the shot they had set him. He eyed the target, over fifty paces away. The shot would not have been difficult, had the wind not been so fierce, the snow so thick or his own fear so potent.

Adam stood just to his left; his presence a balm to Lukas's strung nerves. Lukas's spared him a passing glance and the scarred man raised his fist encouragingly.

"Come then pup." Kerious boomed, his face intent as he watched Lukas's stance. "I have no wish to spend the night in the snow. Let us see this supposed skill Adam has been boasting about." 

Lukas took a calming breath as his eyes locked onto the circular target in the distance. It really wasn't that far away. Had he been at home practicing with his father and brothers he would have made it with ease. He took the stance his father had taught him, drew back the string and let the arrow lose. 

He knew the moment the arrow took flight that it had been a good shot. He watched it sail through the air and hit the target dead centre.

"A lucky shot!" Kerious boomed above the cheering soldiers. "Let us see if he can do it twice."

Bets were taken up then as the mood became considerably friendlier. Lukas made the shot twice more before he was formally invited into the king's royal guard. He was given into the care of a young man who smiled brightly at Lukas's and clapped him jovially on the solider. Lukas could hardly believe it. His entire life had been spent with the northern soldiers hating him. He had never seen one smile with such open mirth. "Come," He commanded. "Let's get you settled my friend."

Lukas followed him, sparing a flashed smile at Adam as he was lead away.




Defiance Ch. 13



**** 

Tate couldn't breathe. He lay across Tanis's broad shoulder, tied up and gagged and utterly helpless. He had been so stupid. He'd seen the signs, noticed the look of want in the boys eyes. Tanis had acted so naive but a part of Tate had known that the young prince possessed some of the madness that gleamed in his brother's eyes. 

God's, he couldn't bear being raped again, not by Christian's baby brother. "Tate, please stop trembling." Tanis's voice almost sounded sane. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."

Tate moaned into his gag. 

He was taken to a part of the palace he had never visited before. It was dark and unkempt and utterly abandoned. Tate felt the blood rush in his ears. He screamed into the gag.

"Who goes there?" A grizzly voice called out. Two men stepped into a pool of light; both of them heavily armed guards. 

"Prince Tanis." The big scarred one said with some surprise. Tate spent a moment thinking his accent sounded familiar but he couldn't place it "Have you come to see the prophet again?" 

"Yes, and this time I have a visitor." He hefted Tate on his shoulder. "How much to keep this quiet?" 

"Is that the half-blood?" The grizzly voice one asked in disbelief. Both men were suddenly looking at him.

"How much?" Tanis repeated stonily.

"What are you planning on doing to him?" the scarred one asked quietly. 

"Nothing that will harm him, you have my word. Do you plan on moving?"

"My lord, if Prince Christian learns what you're doing it will mean all of our heads." The scarred one said, very softly as his eyes lingered on Tate. "Perhaps you should rethink whatever it is you have planned?"

Hope ignited in Tate and for a moment he thought someone might dissuade whatever madness had possessed the young prince. His hopes were quickly squashed though when the other guard slapped the scarred ones chest and let out a booming laugh. "Come now Adam, the prince isn't going to hurt the half-blood and if he wishes passage who are we to stop him?" He looked back at Tanis with greed stricken eyes. "Adam had a point though milord, for such passage it seems nothing less than twenty gold's would suffice."

"Fine," Tanis said as he fished out a bulging purse. "There are thirty in here, see to it that you keep quite."

The guard's opened the door for them and Tate was taken into the dark again. He moaned into his gag and heard Tanis sigh beneath him.

"I'm going to put you down now Tate. Bear in mind that even if you run off you won't have anywhere to go. These stairs lead to a tower with only one room. The only way down is past the guards. You won't get away

He dropped Tate to his feet and pulled out a wicked looking dagger. The half-blood recoiled. Tanis sighed again and started sawing through the ropes securing Tate's hands. As he was working on the smaller man's legs Tate reached up and pulled away the gag. "What now?" He asked, his voice so small he barely recognised it as his own.

Tanis straightened up and looked thoughtfully at the halfling. "I'm sorry I frightened you by bringing you here in this manner but I had no choice. You wouldn't come willingly."

"Do you plan on raping me?" He asked; with so little emotion that he felt another piece of what was once himself break away. He slowly rubbed the feeling back into his wrists as the prince pulled an aghast expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you Tate, I already told you that. I've brought you here because there is someone you need to meet." He gave the smaller man a slight push up the stairs. "Go on." He urged. 

Tate took the first few stairs docilely enough but stopped suddenly, unable to move. He turned to Tanis with a pleading expression. He couldn't help himself. Despite Tanis's word that he meant no harm Tate could not shake the feeling that he was willingly walking to his own grave.

"Tanis, I want to leave." He tried to keep his expression calm but his heart was beating so wildly he could barely contain his fear.

There were only a few steps separating them. Tanis closed the slight distance between them so quickly Tate instinctively stumbled back. "We don't have time for this!" He said, clearly frustrated as he took another step forward, effectively herding Tate up the stairs as the smaller man continued to give ground to him. "I really don't want to Tate but I will drag you up there myself if you don't start moving. I swear I will."

Anger began to beat away at him, pushing away fear and dread. It seemed Christian and Tanis were not so different after all and though Tate was loath to test the other man's temper too thoroughly he could not help but react.

"I hate you." He heard himself say, quite unintentionally though he meant every word of it. "You're even worse than your brother, for at least he's honest about what he is. You're a monster Tanis. You claimed to have captured the gypsies out of necessity for your own life but the truth is that they meant nothing to you. You claim to have stolen me for your brother but any fool can see you're as obsessed with me as he is. What sickness afflicts your family so that you cannot find love willingly? Is it madness or are you just so unlovable that no woman or man would ever choose to offer their affections to you freely?"

The hurt of the young man's face almost made Tate falter but his heart had hardened over the past few years. Uncaring of the consequences, he allowed his hatred to swell as he pulled back his hand and slapped his tormentor with every ounce of his strength he possessed. The prince's head snapped back as he let out a small hiss of pain. He looked back at Tate, not with anger as he expected, but with sparkling tears at his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, advancing again though this time Tate refused to give ground. "You're right about me, I am a monster. All of those poor people were killed because I was too weak to defy my brother. I soothed my conscious knowing that you were headed here anyway, that Lord Ralan already had you. The truth is that it's my fault you have been so badly treated, not just by my brother, but by your own countrymen as well. You're right, I'm every bit the monster Christian is, a weak creature incapable of defying a mad man." He let out a shuddering sob. "Though perhaps I am mad as well for I am obsessed with you Tate. I want you so fiercely that it keeps me up at night. It terrifies me how much I want you. And yet I don't touch you as I yearn to because I know you would hate me for it. Does that not make me any less of a beast?"

The prince's chest heaved as fat tears rolled feely down his cheeks. He looked for a moment like little more than an overgrown child. Despite his anger and fear Tate could not help but wonder at the torment the boy had been enduring. He seemed so vulnerable. Tate felt his heart soften slightly in face of such obvious anguish.

"Tanis, if you're honest and you have no desire to harm me why did you bring me here? You must know how it looks?"

"I thought you would calm down when you realised we were entering the prophets tower? I'm hardly going to take the time to bring you here only to ravish you before a blind soothsayer!"

"Prophet?" Tate echoed. "What prophet?"

The boy stopped, staring at him curiously. "Tate, do you ever dream?"

It was an absurd question and so totally out of context that Tate blurted an answer. "Of course." 

"What do you dream about?" He asked.

The halfling laughed a little hysterically at that. He had not expected to be asked about his dreams after being kidnapped and dragged to a forbidden tower. He sat down suddenly, his legs no longer able to support him. "It's not something I care to talk about." He said, thinking of the nightmares that filled his nights.

Tanis's expression altered into something unreadable. He sank down beside Tate suddenly, though he was careful to keep some distance between them. "I dream often." He confessed. "Sometimes it's wonderful. Everything I ever wished for is mine." His eyes lingered on Tate's face, the need there so open that Tate flinched away from it. Tanis looked away quickly, staring at his feet. "I also dream of things that are bigger than anything I've ever experienced. I see a world quite unlike my own. It's huge and powerful and far beyond my reckoning. The prophet shows me these things from time to time. He said he saw goodness in me that he hoped he could nourish" He laughed self mockingly at that. "Sometimes he can compel me to act for him, though I've never begrudged him the need. He's the one that wanted to see you. He said that there was something about you that sang to him. He knows you well." 

"Do you-do you ever dream of flying?" Tate whispered, quite unbelieving that the words were escaping his lips.

"No," Tanis said, watching him with something akin to amazement. "But I've seen creatures of unimaginable size take to the heavens. They sore high above me, dancing and weaving among the clouds. I tried to reach out to them once but the prophet forbid it."

"Come," Tate said, standing up and offering his hand to the young prince. Tanis gaped at him for a moment before taking Tate's hand and allowing himself to be helped to his feet. "Let us meet this prophet of yours before Christian discovers my absence." 

"You forgive me then?" Tanis asked, still holding Tate's hand.

The halfling flashed a quick smile. "It seems all I ever do is forgive you Tanis. Let us hope you're worthy of it."

*****

They took the stairs quickly with Tate's hand urging him on. Tanis relished the feel of the delicate hand in his own. How often had he dreamed of Tate touching him willingly? He tried not to bring attention to it, knowing that Tate was not knowingly holding onto him for any other purpose than hurrying him on. Still, it felt wonderful just being able to touch him.

They reached the top door and the halfling stopped, touching the wood for a moment in seeming wonder. "How could I not know he was here?" He whispered in awe. His hand's caressed the aged wood tenderly. "The wood is silencing his cries." He declared mournfully.

Tanis reached past him and opened the aged wood. He felt nothing special about the door. It was oak, same as always. He gave Tate's hand a little pull as the small man remained where he was. "He's waiting." Tanis reminded him. 

They stepped in together and Tanis felt a familiar wash of shame when his eyes aligned on the bent over figure huddled in the furthest corner of the room. "Go on." He urged the halfling.

Tate seemed frozen in place. "W-what is he?" He whispered.

"His name is Milianious's." The seer looked up at the sound of his own name. The past weeks had taken a terrible toll on the already floundering ageless one. His slight frame had practically caved in on its self. The unseeing eyes were distant and lost, mindless even. "I've told you already Tate, he's a prophet."

"No," Tate whispered, and Tanis was shocked to see the tears streaming down the other man's face. "He's so much more than that. By the gods, what have you kept hidden up here Tanis?"

For reasons unbeknownst to him Tanis cringed away from the half-blood's accusations. "It wasn't me Tate; I never wanted to keep him here. Christian-"

But Tate wasn't even listening to him anymore. He approached Milianious almost reverently, dropping to his knees at the creature's feet and resting his forehead against the prophet's knees. "I'm sorry." Tate whisper over and over again. The small mans back began to shake as sobs wracked his slight frame. "Please, I don't know what to do. They're dead, all of them dead because of me!" 

Tanis held his breath as he watched one of Milianious's trembling hands reach out and gently stroke the top of Tat's head. "You must have courage little brother." The prophet said, his voice raw and cracked. "They would break you and me and turn us into what they believe we should be. Take heart in your lineage little brother. It will sustain you."

"Lineage," Tate spit out bitterly. "You mean as a half breed bastard." 

"You never knew your mother." He said almost absently, as if he was talking through his sleep." She named you know. You wear part of that name; your father permitted you to keep at least a part of it." He looked up sharply, his face upturned towards the door. He let out a strangled moan. "Get out now, both of you, you have to get out! Run, run! He's coming! Run!"

Tanis was moving before Tate had a chance to question the prophet further. He caught the smaller mans arm and dragged him out of the room. Tate looked deathly pale beside him. They both knew who was coming for them. They ran down the stairs, heedless of the fact that one misstep could break both of their necks. "If he's coming up we'll run straight into him!" Tate gasped as he stretched his shorter legs to try and keep up with the younger man. Tanis didn't answer. They would just have to have to have faith that Milianious's had given them enough warning. They burst out of the bottom stairwell and separated without a word. Tanis made it back to his chambers without meeting his elder brother. He could only hope that Tate had fared as well.

****

Tate's lungs burned as he sprinted through the castle corridors. He tried not to dwell on the almost unbearable need to turn back around and return to the prophet. Something in the creature called out to him, something that Tate had never felt before. It enraged him to think that they kept such a majestic creature chained and locked down. The prophet was not meant to stay on the ground with mortals. Tate didn't know how to explain it but something within him pictured Milianious's up in the heavens, souring above the mortals he felt such little regard for. It should have frightened him, he was mortal after all, he was one of those creatures that the prophet held in disdain, and yet- 

He actually ran into them, careening so hard into Christian that he managed to knock the taller man off balance. Tate went down with a solid thump, but he was back up in less than a moment and ready to turn tail if he needed to. He noticed Christian's betrothed was smiling at him. Her first smile for him, and only because she quite obviously expected him to be quite thoroughly thrashed for almost knocking over their future king. 

He could barely catch his breath. He had spent too much time locked up in the castle. He realised that he needed to work out a way of persuading Christian to let him out to run occasionally. Providing he didn't kill him first of course. 

"Watch where you're going you clumsy fool!" Richard bellowed, lashing out at Tate though the bastard was probably thrilled by the whole thing. Tate managed to dodge below the other mans fist by dropping into a deep bow.

"Please forgive me your highness." He said with as much composure as he could manage, it was difficult when he couldn't breathe though. "I didn't see you."

"Where have you been?" Christian demanded his voice tight and controlled. For a moment Tate wanted to roll in on himself. He recognised that tone and knew it would mean bruises for him on the morrow. "I've had people looking for you Tate. You left without telling me where you were going, without asking for permission to leave."

"I'm sorry highness; I was visiting the library. I didn't think --" the slap came out of nowhere and almost knocked him off his feet. Christian had never hit him in public before. Servants looked up, the sudden glee, curiosity or fear clear on all of their faces. Even Phatilia looked alarmed. 

"Don't you dare lie to me you little bastard." Christian hissed as he caught Tate's arm and propelled him up the corridor. "Get back to your room and wait for me there. You and I are going to speak of this later."

Tate stumbled but managed to right himself without falling. He looked back at them but they were already moving on. Only Phatilia looked back at him but Tate noticed with some surprise that she wasn't smiling anymore. Poor girls probably seeing her own future, he thought solemnly. Despite himself he felt a moment of pity for her, after what he had experienced with Christian he couldn't force himself to wish it on anyone else. 

The acid sting in his cheek lessened to a dull throb by the time he reached Christian's chambers. He rubbed at it absently as he dwelled on the prophet's words. Why had he mentioned Tate's mother? She was a commoner woman of no concern or station who had died kinless and friendless in a foreign country. Tate had never even known her name. 

He shook his head sadly as he stood up and made him way to the large bay window leading out onto the outer patio. Tate forced the doors open and stepped out into the cool evening breeze. He looked down at the city streaming with life beneath him and for a brief and solitary moment he had to fight the compulsion to fling himself off the balcony edge. 

He let out a shaky breathe and stepped hastily back. "Not yet." He mumbled softly. "By the gods I'm not yet that desperate." He crumpled then, curling in on himself as he wrapped his hands firmly over his head. 

"Tate?" Roses little voice filtered through him misery as she laid a soft hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" 

He turned and caught her up in a fierce hug. "Hello darling," He said, forcing some cheer into his voice. "How was your day?

She settled in his lap and caught a lock of his hair in her hand. "Good enough," She said, which was her usual answer. "Is something wrong Tate?"

He debated lying to her but in the end it would make little difference. She would hear Christian no matter what he did. "I have angered the prince. He'll come back soon so I need you to go hide in your room. You're not to come out, no matter what you hear. Understand?"

She would have cried once. Now she stood up and brushed down her skirts. Her little hand lingered on Tate's hair for a moment before she gave a fierce nod of her head and ran off to their room. Tate watched her until she was in the relative safety of their chambers and settled down to await the prince.

******

Lukas took the stairs slowly, feeling an increasing bout of vertigo with each new step. He couldn't figure out if it was the mounting heights he was reaching or the pounding fear he felt at the prospect of the role he was about to play.

He supposed it made sense that he was to be placed high on the castle walls. As an archer he would hardly be stationed as a guard at Christian's door. It worried him though that despite the fact he was finally within the same walls as Tate there was still a great distance separating them. What chance did he have of meeting him when he was so far away from the royal chambers?

He reached the top step, wishing he could relay time, or perhaps even hide on the staircase. He snorted softly at the image, knowing that no true northern solider would be so nervous. He plastered on an impassive expression and walked the short distance to the archway where two other guards were standing at their posts.

Upon seeing him the younger of the two scowled and Lukas was hard pressed not to flinch away. Instead, as instructed by Adam he scowled right back.

"Took your time friend." The elder one said, though he didn't look nearly as hostile as his comrade.

"I'm here now." Lukas growled, surprised by their sudden smiles.

"Aye, and we'll return the favour when it's our turn to relive you." The young one clapped his companion jovially on the solider, all malice now mysteriously gone. "Come Manus; let's leave our friends to their posts. Dinner calls."

It was then that Lukas spotted his new comrade, already taking up position in the archway as other guards made their way past Lukas and down the spiralling staircase beyond. 

A great many things ran through Lukas's mind as he took up his post beside the impassive and hulking solider, all of which lead to a screaming desire to runaway as fast as his legs could carry him. He was mad, utterly and completely insane to think he could fool anyone into believing he was a soldier.




Defiance Ch. 13



What if someone wanted to spar with him? Lukas was as likely to cut his own foot off as he was to fool anyone into thinking he could fight with a blade. What if he was called upon to fight, what if he was actually expected to kill someone!

"You alright?" The solider beside him asked, looking down at him from a dizzying height. "You look about ready to fall over."

"I'm fine." Lukas said tightly. He cleared his throat and tried a smile instead. "My name is Alec."

"Kathilias." The solider replied. "You're new." It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact.

"Yes, I was recommended for this post a few days ago."

"You must be good with a bow to have so quickly earned the commission." The solider hoisted his own weapon, a huge long bow which was easily as tall as its wielder. "You ever used one of these?"

Lukas looked at the weapon with a causal air, though inside he was shocked by the sheer brutality of it. He was unsure if he could even draw it himself and inwardly shook at the thought of what might happen to a man that was struck with such a forceful construction. 

"No," He said at last. He hefted his Recurve bow and presented it with a slight smile. "This may not be so large but I'd wager it has more accuracy than yours."

"Perhaps," The solider agreed, eyeing the graceful curve of the bow doubtfully. "It wouldn't reach as far though, that's for certain."

"You might be surprised." Lukas said confidentially, forgetting for the moment who he was speaking to. "She's small but she reaches considerable distances when drawn, though I'll admit she might not down a man as easily as yours."

"Aye, we'll see." The soldier said, though there was a slight smile on his lips. "We'll be put in practice together no doubt. You can prove your little bow then."

Lukas grinned at him suddenly feeling much more at ease. Perhaps he wouldn't be cut to pieces on his first day at post after all. 

**********

Tate's limp was noticeable and people were staring. No doubt the whole castle now knew about his very public beating. He felt his cheeks flame and struggled with the need to just drop into a ball. It had been bad, worse than any other time Christian had attacked him.

The prince had worked himself into a fit, believing that Tate had tried to escape again. No amount of pleading would convince him otherwise and Tate had taken the brunt of Christian's fury in the way of fist and foot.

He had been forced to his bed for almost four days to recover. Rose had been beside herself trying to care for him and was now utterly petrified of the prince. He tried to comfort her but he had been too far gone in his own pain at first to do much to help her. Even though he was better she was still quiet. Her eyes glazed when he spoke to her and he could not get her to smile no matter how hard he tried. 

The prince had not touched his face again after the initial slap so Tate's bruises were well hidden beneath flowing silk clothing. The one bruise that adorned his face was an angry purple and yellow that Tate had only briefly observed in a mirror. He could not bear to look at himself for any amount of time anymore but he had been aware that it had looked bad during his brief inspection. He was surprised that Christian insisted upon his presence in court when he looked so ghastly.

Still, his time abed had given him ample opportunity to contemplate his too brief encounter with the prophet. He recognised something in the haggard creature that spoke of power and light, of a potential to be something that was beyond reckoning, and to his amazement Tate recognised something of himself in the fabled thing. For he was a creature and no mere man, though Tate could not begin to comprehend the soothsayers true form. They had bound him somehow, not with the chains they used to drape him but with a magic that soaked the doors and rock of his cell. 

He could not puzzle it out alone. He needed to see Tanis and speak to him but Christian would not allow Tate out of his sight. The halfling wondered how long it would take the prince to trust him again. God's he hoped it was not too long. There were things he needed to do that did not include soothing the insanity of a mad man. 

Christian stepped beside him, not quite touching as they made their way towards the great hall. "Why are you walking so slowly?" He demanded. "Hurry up!"

"I'm walking as fast as I can." Tate answered stiffly. 

He almost thought Christian would hit him again before the prince stormed ahead in a fit of irritation. Tate watched him go, wishing for very bad things to happen to the loathsome prince.

****** 

Lukas tried not to hold his breath as Tate walked past him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as the other man walked almost close enough for him to reach out and touch. Look at me, he silently willed, please just look at me.

He couldn't believe it. Tate, his Tate! Lukas thanked all the god's that he had swapped posts with Kathilias earlier than morning. The big solider had arranged to see a woman in town and had begged Lukas's help. The tinker never dreamed it would result in seeing his beloved, who was said to rarely visit the great hall.

Tate looked thinner than Lukas remembered. His clothes were fine and clearly tailored for him but Lukas thought he looked lost in the grand and gloomy fabric. He'd let his hair grow, he noticed with some surprise. Tate wore it unbound around his shoulders with one braid tied off at the front in an unusually long style. 

The prince stood close beside him, almost radiating an aura of supposed ownership. He towered above Tate despite their difference in age and seemed inclined to make it clear to the diminutive half-blood that he was the more dominate of the two of them.

Tate's expression was unreadable. His eyes looked vacant, his body tense. A great bruise covered his left cheek, marring the golden hue a deep purple.

"I wouldn't stare." A voice said close to him. Lukas jumped and felt a wave of dread as he found himself looking into the eyes of the prince's captain. "His highness doesn't like it."

"No sir, of course not." Lukas willed himself not to sneer. There was something about the captain that he disliked immensely. It wasn't just his imperious attitude or the way he seemingly enjoyed berating his men, there was something else, something cruel and cold, something to be feared. He was the sort of man that had no doubt spent his childhood hurting small defenceless animals and Lukas's survival instincts were warning him to be wary. 

"Like the look of the half-blood do you?" His eyes swept up and down the length of Lukas so intimately that had he been among his own people he would have considered it a proposition. "What was your name again?"

"Arden sir." He said quietly.

"Are you married Arden?"

"No sir." He said, realising now that the captain had stepped closer to him.

The northerner's mouth turned up into a cruel smile. He was about to say something more when Christian suddenly bellowed the captains name. Both men straightened as the prince strode towards them. Lukas dared to glance up and saw that Tate had remained behind, waiting with the rest of the prince's retinue. He seemed entirely uninterested in anything that was happening around him despite Lukas's need for him to look up and see him. 

"What are you doing?" the prince demanded as he glared daggers at his captain. "I told you to come with me."

"Apologies my prince." He bowed low but there wasn't a hint of remorse in his voice. "I was reprimanding one of the guards."

The prince's eyes swept over him curiously, lingering for just a moment. "Are you done?"

Lukas looked back at Tate, willing him with his entire heart to look up. See me, he silently begged, please see me!

"Yes my lord."

Please Tate, after everything that has happened all I ask is that you see me. 

"Then hurry up. I haven't the patients to be kept waiting by you Richard."

Tate's elegantly tapered hand reached up to push a stray lock of hair from his eyes. His expression was unreadable as he idly looked back at them.

Their eyes locked and in that instant Lukas felt a torrent of need flow through him. To have him so close but not able to touch him was one of the worse tortures he had ever experienced. He took a halting step forward-

A chocked cry caught in the half-blood's throat as he knees folded beneath him. He hit the floor with a quiet thud and remained kneeling, staring at Lukas with huge golden eyes.

"Tate?" Christian asked, his tone a mixture of worry and impatience as he stepped in front of Lukas. The eye contact between them broke but Lukas was no less overwhelmed because of it. 

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to go to his Shantran.

Christian knelt beside the slight man and pulled him to his feet. Tate hung in his grasp like a ragdoll until Christian shook him violently. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded irritably. "Are you well?"

"I-I-" he couldn't make himself speak. His eyes went back to Lukas for a mere instant before he looked back at the prince. "I'm sorry, I haven't eaten-" His voice trailed off as a chorus of laughter boomed around him.

"Poor delicate soul." Christian laughed, hooking an arm around the half-blood's waist as his hand playfully ruffled Tate's tawny hair. "It's the weak foreign blood that runs through his veins." He said in a mock whisper to his followers. They all laughed again, louder this time. "Come then Tate; let us find you something to eat. I'd not have people claim that I'm starving you."

He was led off with Christian's arm still hooked possessively around his waist. Lukas stared after them sorrowfully, sick with need and frustration.

Tate looked back at him once and then he was gone.



Defiance Ch. 14



Tate realised that his hands were shaking as he struggled to eat the small portion of the food Christian had forced on him. He noticed that the prince was watching him and was suddenly and irrationally convinced that Christian knew the truth about Lukas.

His breath hitched and the food dropped from his nerveless fingers.       

"Is the meal not to your liking?" Christian asked, frowning at him suspiciously. "You're not sick are you?"

"I- I think I might be my lord. Perhaps a little." He tried to make himself look as pathetic as possible, which probably wasn't too difficult considering how wretched he felt. "Could I be excused? I think I need to lie down." 

He didn't really expect the prince to comply and was relieved beyond words when Christian captured the arm of a passing servant woman. "I want you to see to it that Lord Tate makes it safely to his room. Attend him. His lordship is not feeling well." He looked back at Tate and smiled softly. "I'll be back soon. Will you be alright?"

Bizarrely Tate almost gave into a sudden urge to spit in the prince's face. He forced the impulse down and stood with a weak smile. "I'll be fine my lord. I just need to sleep."

He performed a jerky bow as he walked slowly out of the hall, wanting to appear as sickly as possible. When he was a safe distance away he hurried his pace until he reached the relative safety of his chambers. He curtly dismissed the serving girl when she went to follow him inside. She mumbled some insult before telling him she would be waiting in the prince's outer chambers if he needed anything.

He didn't bother answering as he shut the door. He wasn't really thinking too well and he needed some time alone to reason out what he should do about Lukas.

"Lukas." He whispered, feeling an odd onslaught of confusion, elation and fear. What in the name of the gods was Lukas doing in the palace dressed as a guard? It seemed impossible that he had been in the city for such a long time. At least a year must have passed since they had last seen one another.

He swallowed dryly as he slowly tried to work through his options. He could stay in his room, quietly panicking and fretting, or he could gather whatever courage he still possessed and go in search of his old friend. 

Just go, he told himself, don't think about it, and just go.

He pulled on a cloak and slipped past the bored maid. He kept his head down and resolutely made his way towards the guard station. He pulled the hood up and hoped to the gods that Christian would not journey back to their rooms and find him gone.

The guard station loomed ahead, a huge and grim stain across the blazing sunset sky. The heads of the men, and even some women, who had been deemed to have sinned against the northern kingdom adorned the tower walls. Tate usually avoided the structure at all costs. As an unbloodied male, one that was so publicly being used in a way that was supposed to sin against the gods, he did not fool himself into thinking that many of the kings soldiers would hesitate to put a blade through his back. 

"Tate?" The voice was soft and familiar and utterly compelling. 

He hadn't notice anyone approach at his back, but then his dread filled mind was not working very well. He could feel sweat trickle down his forehead as he forced himself to turn around. 

Almost, he couldn't raise his eyes, almost, he ran. Shame filled him, more blazing than any he had endured before. Not for his own shame, which was a sickening thing to be sure, but for the misery he had caused countless others. For the hurt he had caused a man who had once claimed to love him.

He had changed, Tate noticed, cringingly inwardly when he saw the tired worry lines that marred Lukas's eyes and mouth. How much of his suffering is my fault? He wondered regretfully. What has loving me cost him?

Tate tried to speak but his throat was raw and refused to work. He swallowed in quick recession. "What are you doing here?" He eventually managed to whisper. He wrapped his arms firmly around his waist, instinctively protecting himself. He thought of Rose and felt a surge of hope. "Have you come to rescue the little one?"

"Yes, I'm here for Rose." He took a small step towards Tate but halted as the other man stumbled back. "I've come for you too." He said harshly.

Despite himself Tate laughed. The sound was cold and dismissive and it caused Lukas obvious harm to hear it. "You're utterly insane to think you could take me anywhere. Look what happened last time I defied him. Who will die next because of me? Take Rose and runaway as fast as you possibly can."

"I can't leave you." Lukas whispered fiercely. "And if you think staying here and suffering will change anything that happened in the past you're wrong! It wasn't your fault that they came after us Tate. The prince gave the orders, not you."

"I could have left-

"What difference would it have made? They were looking for a reason to be rid of us. The outcome would have eventually been the same no matter what you might think." His face softened suddenly. "I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I am."

Tate shook his head in astonishment. "What possible thing could have done that could warrant an apology Lukas?"

"Your name," He said. "I broke your trust and I told Robert your true name. I'm so sorry Tate. I hope you can believe me."

Tate eyes burned as he felt a sudden and almost violent need to cry. "Gods Lukas, please don't apologise for that. Not after everything I've done to you."

"You didn't-"

"But I did!" Tate cried, cutting him off with a quiet wail that caused the older man to stumble back in alarm. "You gave me everything and all I did was take and take. I left you because you made a small mistake when I've made so many. For what it's worth I'm truly and wholly sorry for leaving you as I did. The only thing I can be thankful for is that by doing so the tracker left you and Robert alone." The thought of the tracker made him almost choke. "Oh gods, he knows! Lukas he knows!"

The tinker stepped towards him with outstretched arms. Tate shrank away. He could not bear to be touched, not even by Lukas. He was about to apologise when he raised his eyes and saw Richard striding quickly towards them. Shock filled him, and though a part of him was thankful it wasn't Christian his relief quickly faded when he saw the satisfied look on the captain's repugnant face. 

"I have to go." He said, turning around. He realised abruptly that his only path lay facing Richard. He froze in indecision, stepping back towards the guard tower. 

"Don't you dare move." Though Richard didn't yell the words but they were spoken loudly enough to be easily heard. He strolled towards them, affecting an overly nonchalant stride. 

Tate turned to Lukas and they exchanged grim expressions. He put some more distance between them and stood facing Richard as innocently as he could. The captain halted a short distance away from him. "I thought you were sick. What are you doing out here?" 

Tate tried to affect a sickly expression. "I felt like I needed some air. The walk has helped." 

"So it would seem." Richard remarked dryly as he gazed wondered over Lukas. "Is there a reason you're following Lord Tate?"

Lukas's mouth opened but no words escaped.

"I fainted again." Tate said hurriedly. "This kind guard was good enough to offer me his assistance." 

Richard's lips curled as he continued to watch Lukas. He looked back at Tate and smiled knowingly. "I had better see to it that you arrive safely back to your chambers then my lord. I wouldn't want you to faint again." He reached out and caught Tate's arm. He looked Lukas over slowly and with lecherous interest. "And you solider, haven't you anything better to do than gawk?" 

Lukas watched Tate with poorly veiled wanting. Tate inwardly cringed, silently willing him to pretend disinterest. Richard was an observant man but even a child would have been able to see the need in his eyes.

He pretended to trip and Richard instinctively caught him. Tate forced himself not to look at Lukas and could only hope his old friend would not intervene. Richard released an irritated huff as he wrapped an arm around Tate's waist and pulled him flush against his side. "What's the matter boy, the prince been riding you too hard?"

Tate dropped his head and pretended not to hear. Richard laughter tickled his ear as the hand wrapped around his waist wormed beneath his shirt. "Come now halfling, don't be shy."

"I think I might be sick." Tate groaned. He heard the captain curse before he was all but picked up and hurried back towards his room.

Tate began to smile before he caught a glimpse of Lukas from behind the curtain of his hair. The tinker was staring at him and didn't move from his spot until Tate entered the castle and lost sight of him.  

****

"He came." Milianious said, smiling weakly at Tanis as the young prince handed him the small basket of food he'd smuggled up to try and fatten up the emancipated prophet. The ancient one took it wordlessly and placed it carelessly beside him. "You did well princling."

"He seemed so sad." Tanis said, remembering the look of sorrow on Tate's ethereal face. "He said, he said you were more than a prophet. He seemed to know you."

"He would know his own kin." Milianious mused softly. "His blood has been soiled with the seed of a human, and in my weakened state I did not know him for one of my own, but it is as I suspected. Ah, to have him call to me. To feel the sweetness of his purity." The creature's sightless eyes turned slowly to Tanis. "I know now why you love him so thoroughly, young prince. I know why his presence calls to you; I know why you lay awake night and day and think of him." The soothsayer smiled with no small hint of cruelty. "You're as obsessed with him as his brother, are you not?"

"I have never tried to force him." Tanis snapped indignantly.

"Of course you have not." The prophet soothed. "I accused you of being as obsessed with him as Christian, I did not say you were sadistic, did I?"

"What have my feelings to do with your race?" Tanis snapped, no longer willing to speak of the similarities between himself and his brother. "Are you saying Tate is a prophet?"

The old one snorted. "He is a child still. Of course he isn't. Tell me though Tanis, what did you grandfather tell you of my capture when you were a child and he still lived?"

It was Tanis's time to snort. "He tried to fill my head with all sorts of nonsense when I was small"

"But what of me specifically young prince?"

The prince barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "He called you a dragon Milianious." He spat out, feeling ridiculous for voicing the old king's stories out lout. "He said he watched you for years, flying high over his kingdom, killing his livestock and burning his city. He told me that you were huge and beautiful and the colour of polished sliver." Tanis faltered, overcome by loss in the ancient ones face. His voice turned softer, gentler. "He said he envied you and hated you equally, for you made him look a fool before his people. He claimed to have decided upon a quest to capture you. He planned to keep you chained beneath the tunnels beneath the castle. When he approached a southern necromancer the man told him that dragons could only be captured when they took human form. He ensured my grandfather that almost all dragons walked as humans throughout their lives, and that only the most feral stayed as lizards. My grandfather sent many men to track you; southern men that were known to have dealt with dragons, which he said were much more common in the south. They watched you turn into a man and when you approached the city my grandfather had them drug the ale you brought in an inn. He said he had you brought to this room, where the necromancer had laid spells that would not allow you to transform." Tanis's voice caught then. "He said he took your eyes when he discovered you were a prophet, after you foretold his death."

Silence stretched out between them.

"Well there is your answer." The ancient one said at last.

Tanis wanted to laugh, to snort of sneer. He could not quite make himself perform the motions. "You're telling me Tate is a dragon?"

"Of course not." The prophet scoffed. "His father is human."

"So what does that make him?" Tanis asked, a little hysterically.

The prophet's lips turned up into a winsome smile. "He's a drakling, young prince, which makes him very rare and incredibly valuable."

"You can't be serious?" 

"Of course I'm serious." Milianious snapped, anger showing clearly on his normally dreamy face. "His aura sings so loudly it seems inconceivable that I never felt it when Christian first had me track him." His sightless eyes turned fiercely on Tanis. "Bring him back here, immediately. I need to talk to him."

"But Christian-"

"Christian is too busy scheming and plotting to notice the drakling's absence. Bring him to me tomorrow morning, after the prince has gone to practice with his sword. Send him to me alone this time."

Almost, Tanis denied him, but how could one ever deny a dragon?

********* 



"Shush," He urged, cradling the child in the arch of his arms. "You need to calm down."

Roses wide blue eyes stared up at him with shining hope. "But he's here Tate, he's truly and honestly here?"

"He's pretending to be a guard." Tate whispered. He could not help but smile when her eyes widened in amazement. "He means to smuggle you out, though I'm not sure when he intends to do it. I didn't get the chance to speak to him for very long."

She laughed in delight and pressed her face against him arm. "He's going to save us Tate, he'll take us back to my ma and pa."

Tate held his tongue. He couldn't find it within himself to tell her that he would not be accompanying them on their escape. How could he when it would undoubtedly hurt her? He was even more determined to keep silent on the subject of the child's lost family. 

The door swung open suddenly and they both jumped in fright. Normally they could hear Christian long before he reached their chambers but the prince must have come in alone that night. He watched them from the doorway for a moment before entering the room and sitting silently on the edge of Tate's bed. Tate wondered if the prince had overheard them. They had been quiet but if Christian had been outside their door the entire time-

The prince reached out his hand. Tate jerked back, dragging Rose close against his side. It was unnecessary. Christian's hand settled lightly on Tate's forehead. He rested in there for a moment before offering the halfling an unusually gentle smile. "You don't seem fevered. I've called for the healer to come and see you in the morning, just to be sure." He lent back, his eyes skimming dismissively over Rose before he captured Tate's arm and pulled him off the bed.

"You'll sleep with me tonight." He declared.

Tate barely resisted a scream as he was dragged into the prince's inner chamber. He waited until he was a safe distance from Rose before he voiced his refusal. "Christian please, I don't think I can tonight." He pressed his free arm across his chest. "I just want to sleep." 

"And so you shall." Christian responded, leaning down to catch Tate's buttons as he opened his shirt and pulled it from Tate's trousers. "Jump into bed, I'll join you shortly."

Tate didn't move for a moment, but when Christian showed little interest in joining him he climbed numbly into the bed and lay down. He pretended sleep and when at last Christian came to join him he lay down beside Tate, only touching him briefly across the forehead. "I feared for you." He whispered, clearly thinking Tate slept. "I could never bear to lose you my beloved."

He lay down then, entwining his hand in Tate's hair and quickly falling into a deep sleep.

The halfling stared up at the bed canopy long into the night. Images of Lukas and the short and happy times they spent together kept replaying through his mind. If only, he thought, drifting into sleep at last with the words echoing through his mind.

If only.

***  

"You think I care?" Christian demanded tightly. He stood up and began to pace. "The old man has served his purpose and I for one am bored of indulging him. His absence will be of no great loss. Indeed, it will be a boon to this great country of ours when he has gone and I have been appointed in his place."

"My prince, you speak of treason against the crown." Richard's voice was so low Christian could barely hear him. "Think of what it will mean if you are caught. You'll be executed for sure."

"Then we had better make sure I'm not caught." He realised he was gritting his teeth and loosened his jaw with some effort. "I am not willing to let that dithering fool control me anymore. He should have had the decency to die years ago. As it stands he has more than outlived his usefulness."

Richard's expression took on an odd light. He looked almost disapproving for a moment before he smothered the expression and gave the Christian an abrupt nod. "What do you suggest then my prince?"

Christian gripped his chin as he considered his next words. Despite his resolve he found it almost difficult to voice out loud what he wanted done. He had already given much thought on how he planned to accomplish the act and had decided on poison. He was no expert but he was sure an elixir existed that would make the old man's death look natural. He only hesitated because he had heard that poison, however quickly spread, could cause horrible pain. He still held just enough regard for his father that he did not want him to overly suffer. "Poison perhaps." He said at last, feeling a small swell of shame for a moment before pushing it roughly aside. "Surely there is a poison that can send the old man into a sleep he'll never wake from?" 

The abrupt sound of scuttled feet and indrawn breath caused both men to turn and draw their swords. Panic flared through Christian as realised that they had been discovered. He would be executed for sure, for clearly his father suspected Christian's betrayal and had sent spies to watch him.  

"It's the halfling." Richard said softly, his voice a dangerous hiss as he looked questioningly at Christian. When the prince continued to stare uncomprehendingly back at him Richard marched towards the small room that had been officially appointed to Tate and kicked the door open. "Spying were we?" He demanded as he stepped inside. A moment later he hauled a chalk white Tate out by the scruff of his shirt. He marched him before Christian and gave the small man a hard shake. "Tell us what you heard?" He commanded.

It had been a long time since Christian had seen Tate look so frightened. More often than not the half-blood was emotionless. He spoke only when it was required and he almost always did as he was told. Now however he looked terrified. He stared wordlessly at Christian with an expression the prince had only even seen on men with their necks on the chopping block. 

"My prince." Richard said, transferring his grip from Tate's shirt to his slender throat. "He heard us. You know what we have to do now don't you?"

Tate tried to scream and Richard slapped his free hand over the half-blood's mouth to cut off any more noise. The small man thrashed wildly, screaming into Richard's hand.

"He heard us?" Christian muttered and sudden relief flared through him. It seemed he would not be executed after all. He smiled brightly and pulled Tate from Richard's unresisting grasp. Tate's entire body stiffened when Christian touched him and the prince could feel violent tremors running through the small man's body. "Calm down." Christian said soothingly as he caressed Tate's arms slowly. "And tell me exactly what you heard?" 

"I didn't-" He began and then winced when Christian's hand's tightened on his biceps. 




Defiance Ch. 14



"Don't lie to me, else I'll hurt you. Understand?" When Tate gave a hesitant nod Christian pressed a slight kiss to the crown of Tate's golden head. "Good, now tell us what you heard."

Long moment's passed before Tate could force himself to speak. He let out a shuddering breath. "You plan to kill the king." He whispered.

"We'll have to kill him." Richard said immediately.

Tate tried to jerk free but Christian's hold tightened. "Don't be absurd." He said dismissively. "Tate isn't going to say anything because he's not that stupid. He knows that no one would believe him. They would think it a desperate attempt to leave me. Furthermore he understands that should anyone ever choose to question me over such a ridiculous allegation I would have prearrange to have his little pet eliminated in the cruellest manner possible." He spun the half-blood to face him and cupped his face tenderly. "Don't you understand all of that perfectly my love?"

Tate's unusual eyes were huge as he gave a trembling nod. 

"Good, now go back to you room and close the door." He watched the half-blood thoughtfully before calling out to him as he reached his room. "Oh, and Tate? If I ever catch you spying on me again I'll have that filthy dog you have hidden in there lashed until there's not a scrap of flesh left on its back, and I'll make you watch."

The small man stumbled forward with his hands outstretched. "Christian please, don't harm her!"

"Don't give me any reason to." Christian hissed. "Now get out of my sight."

Richard watched the half-blood with hooded eyes. "We need to get rid of him." He said as soon as Tate had retreated to his room. "He's too dangerous to keep alive now."

Christian felt a wave of irritation at Richard's blunt tone. "He'll not say an anything. He has few enough friends in the palace and no one respects him enough to give any credit to what he says. Besides, he fears risking his tinker."

"If you're wrong my prince," Richard said, staring at him frankly. "It will mean both our lives."

***

"I'm sorry!" Rose whimpered the moment Tate stepped back into the room. She inched around him, wringing her hands and clearly struggling not to cry. "You told me not to spy and I did anyway. He said such awful things, about his own Da!" She took a faltering step towards him. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Tate said softly, opening him arms to her. She leapt into his embrace and pressed her head against his chest with a small sniffle. "You need to listen to me though Rose. You can't ever spy on him again. I know you were just copying me but I was wrong to have done it myself."

"I won't, but we need to tell someone." She stepped back from him and wiped her eyes with a corner of her ragged grey dress. "You won't let him hurt his Da will you?"

Tate had never felt much love for his father's people, and since his forced servitude to the prince he didn't feel much loyalty to crown either. Despite that though, and despite the fact that the old king was far from a good man himself, he was undoubtedly preferable to Christian. 

Tate imagined what would happen if he approached someone with knowledge of Christian's treachery. It was as the prince had so neatly surmised. No one would believe him, and even if someone did they would not take the prince into immediate custardy when all they had to go on was Tate's word. Christian would have ample time to have Rose harmed.

"Rose, we can't get involved." Tate knew he sounded terribly callous to the little one but he refused endanger her to help Christian's father. The king has given his blessing to kill or sell all of Roses people. He was not nearly worth the sacrifice. 

There was a fierce pounding outside his door a moment before Christian bellowed his name. Tate flinched inwardly and raised his hand to the little girl to silence her next question. "Stay quiet." He warned before stepping back into Christian's chambers and faced the prince.

"You're accompanying me to dinner tonight." He declared airily. "You spend far too much time in the company of your pet. It will do you some good to be among your peers."

Tate wasn't sure which angered him more, that Christian was so openly mock him by calling them peers, or that he would think Tate might actually be complimented by such an insulting comparison? "I would prefer not to go-"

"And I would prefer for you to do as you're told." Christian said, interrupting him with slightly strained good cheer. "I've clearly been indulging you too much of late. You cannot avoid the court forever." He flashed a humourless smile at Tate. "Your father is there. Perchance you'll get the chance to reminisce."

"Christian, if you wish to punish me then do so but do not pretend that hurting me is anything other than cruelty on your behalf." The words left his mouth easily, as though they were two friends talking about a decent vintage of wine. It was surprising that such words could be spoken with so little emotion.

Christian stepped forward, using his greater height and bulk to intimidate. Tate knew he would fly into violence if he wasn't made to believe that he was the superior of the both of them so he fell back and bowed his head. "I have been kind to you of late." Christian whispered, reaching forward and curling his large hand around Tate's arm. "I have given you the girl and offered you the freedom to walk around unaccompanied, even though we both know you would bolt given half the chance. I have not taken offence when you have clearly tried to antagonise me, and yet despite all of this you still hate me." His grip tightened, causing a shock of pain to shoot up Tate's arm. He pulled the smaller man close suddenly and snagged his fingers through Tate's hair "What must I do to make you love me Tate?" He demanded, turning red and shaking. "What more can I do to make you feel for me as I feel for you?"

"Christian, you're hurting me." Tate strove to keep his voice neutral despite the terror coursing through him. The man was insane and clearly about to fly into a fit. "If you don't want me to hate you need to stop hurting me."

"And what must I do if I want you to love me?" He asked earnestly. Tate lowered his gaze as Christian's cold eyes bore into him. "Well?" He asked softly. "If you tell me Tate, perhaps I could do it for you. Perhaps I can give you what you need." His fingers caressed Tate's face, passing slowly over his bottom lip and lingering there for a time. "Tell me what I can do to make you mine."

He had softened somewhat as his hands caressed slowly over the halflings face and body. Tate was not fooled. He knew that a wrong word from him could push the prince into a rage.

He breathed deeply as he pushed away the revulsion that threatened to overcome him. Christian's hands began to worm their way beneath the fabric of his trousers. "Christian, please-"

"What can I do?" Christian whispered earnestly. "Anything."

Soft knocking at the prince's inner door thankfully interrupted them. Christian growled softly and placed a soft kiss on Tate's head. "Later my love. For now we need to change for dinner." His hand covered Tate's buttock and squeezed painfully hard. "I've chosen the perfect cloth to accentuate your loveliness." 

Tate swallowed his protest and stepped into a corner as two serving women hesitantly entered the room. The younger of the two noticed Tate and stared at him for a long moment before the elder gave her arm a fierce shake. She swallowed and approached Tate as one might a wolf. "My lord, I have your clothes here." She held out a pitch black woollen tunic and trousers, scrolled with a sparkling silver thread. They were undountably fine and more expensive than anything else he had ever worn. Tate wanted nothing more than to knock them into the prince's fiery hearth.

"Hurry up." Christian barked and Tate hastily caught the clothes as they were dumped into his arms by the nervous serving girl. Christian seemed to notice then the way she was staring at Tate because a black look crossed over his features. He approached them, his eyes intent on the unsuspecting girl. 

Tate threw himself into Christian's path, wrapping his arms around the prince's neck and pressing a hard kiss against the young man's mouth. Christian stiffened for a moment before he responded with vigour.

"What was that for?" Christian eventually asked, a happy smile on his face as he stared dreamily down at the halfling.

"A thank you my prince, for the finery you've offered."

Christian pressed a grinning lip against Tate's twitching lips. "Come beautiful one, it is time to eat."

**



Defiance Ch. 15



It had been a miserable morning that had steadily progressed into a wretched evening. Tate was already sporting a blooming bruise on his cheek where he had been violently struck down. He had since pressed himself in a far corner of the room and was desperately trying to remain unnoticed. He had hoped the princling would drink himself into unconsciousness, but the young man seemed to only grow angrier instead of tired. 

When the Lady Phatilia made an impromptu visit everyone in the prince's chambers fell deathly silent. The timing could not have been worse and Tate was not the only one cringing away from the prince's fiancé.

Christian took one look at the young woman and openly sneered. "How fortunate!" He boomed, his voice slurred and dripping with disdain. "My darling wife to be has graced us with her presence." He stood up and performed a sloppy bow. His eyes travelled up and down the length of her petite frame, taking in the skin-tight sapphire gown and towering snowy hair. "You look beautiful tonight Phatilia." He said, the tone turning the words into an insult.

She really did look startlingly beautiful and Tate felt a bizarre pang of sorrow when he saw the hurt and confusion cross her delicate features. "You're majesty had been absent from the court of late." She said smoothly, the pain skilfully hidden in her voice. "I had missed your presence." She took a short step forward but seemed to visibly stop herself from going to him. Her confusion bloomed. "Are you well Christian?" 

"I'm perfect Phatilia." Christian said nastily, taking an unsteady step and spilling his wine as he made a sweeping gesture towards Tate. "Just look what I have to amuse me in my rooms. With such a beauty why would I leave to spend time in the hall with you?" He crossed the distance to Tate and grabbed the smaller man around the waste. The halfling had a moment to think Christian couldn't possibly be doing something so incredibly foolish before he was being bent almost in half.

Tate struggled, he couldn't help himself. Christian had never even kissed him before his servants and now the damned fool was exhibiting himself before his betrothed. A tongue forced its way down his throat and the half-blood began to struggle in earnest. He heard a horrified cry and then he was released so suddenly that he fell hard to the ground. He had a moment to see the look of humiliation on Phatilia's face before the devastated woman fled from the room. Christian watched her go, the glee on his face slowly giving way to realisation of what he had just done before his staff and future wife. Items starting sailing through the air and Tate scuttled away from him on his back. At first the prince threw them at random but after a moment he began flinging his possessions directly at his startled staff. The poor fools were too well trained to run away. Tate watched in horror as a young page was struck in the temple by a glass vase. It shattered on impact and the boy crumpled without a sound. 

Silence reigned for a few breaths before Christian started screaming. "Out!" he cried, giving the unmoving boy a solid kick to the leg. "All of you get out!"

A few brave servants picked the lad up and dragged him out. A pool of blood followed and Tate was reminded of the soldier the prince had once killed for kicking him. There had been no enquiry into the soldier's death and as far as the halfling was aware he had never been mentioned again. He wondered if the same fate would befall the page boy.

Tate had wedged himself back into his corner during the princes fit. He crossed his arms and dropped his eyes and prayed that Christian would leave him alone. Though he dearly wished to depart with everyone else he knew the prince would not permit him to go. There were a few moment of heaved breath and then a hand slapped hard against the wall beside Tate's head. From below his lashes the halfling watched the prince's heaving chest rise and fall. 

"They all think they can judge me." He snarled, reaching out his free hand to fondle Tate's hair. "I can see the look in their eyes. They don't think I'm worthy of being their king. I hear their gossiping, they think I don't but hear them but I always do." His gentle caress became painfully tight "They'll regret their words soon enough. Soon they won't have any other choice but to accept me. Soon I'll be all they have."

"You'll make a good king Christian." Tate said, feeling sickened by his own simpering compliance. The hand in his hair loosened slightly. "Everyone worships you."

"They think me mad." Christian mumbled, leaning into Tate and forcing his leg between the Halfling's clenched thighs. "You do too."

"I live to serve you." He whispered as he coiled in on himself. He was about to be hurt, he was very sure of it, the only question was just how badly. He could see a dagger on the prince's belt and almost grabbed it in desperation when he heard a knock at the prince's inner doors. 

Christian pushed himself away from Tate and impatiently pulled open the door, clearly expecting some foolish guard or servant. Richard stood there, perhaps the only man that Christian would not rage against. The prince visibly calmed at the site of him and ushered the captain inside. "Is it done?" He asked immediately, with some nervousness. 

Richard didn't answer immediately. His eyes fixed on Tate and the suspicion there was obvious. "My prince-"

"I know of your mistrust of my squire Richard." Christian interrupted viciously. "You have spoken of it often enough that you should be equally aware how I tire of hearing it. Tate is mine and he will not speak out of term." When Christian turned to look at him the halfling instantly dropped his eyes. He felt the other mans gaze on his for a long moment. "Now tell me captain, is it done?"

"I have acquired a vile of foxbane my prince. The apothecary assured me that the content is tasteless and odourless and will be impossible to detect in food or drink." His eyes flickered momentarily over the half-blood before his face became blank of emotion "As you commanded my liege, the apothecary has been disposed of." 

Christian closed his eyes tightly for a moment before mouthing a single, undetectable work. "So be it." He eventually whispered aloud. He seemed to take stock of his ruined room then and looked surprised to find his belonging strewn around the floor. He looked at Tate and his expression softened. "Tate, fetch servants to clean this mess. We'll eat in the main hall today." He turned to Richard and clasped the older man on the shoulder. "You have done well my friend. You'll be well rewarded for your service to me."

"Thank you my prince." Richard said, bowing his head deeply. As he rose back up a huge grin spread across his poisonous face. "Or should I say, my king?"

Tate hadn't meant to, he had no idea what possessed him to react at all, but at the sound of Richards words he gagged. The prince and Richard looked up sharply at the sound of the noise and Tate flinched back in horror. 

"Have you something to say Tate?" Richard asked, his expression sly as his eyes latched onto the half-blood.

"No," Tate said quickly. "Nothing."

"The thought of me as your king makes you sick?" Christian asked, his tone absurdly hurt.

"Christian please, I swear it doesn't." The hurt was rapidly fading as the prince began to advance on him. The look on his face was clear, he was about to do Tate harm. He couldn't quite grasp his own idiocy as he started to backpedal and felt a sudden rush of anger. "What do you expect?" He cried. "In the name of the gods, you're plotting to murder your own father!" 

Christian's skin whitened as he drew himself to his full height. "You dare to talk to me this way?" He demanded, bearing down on Tate with clear fury.

"Do I dare?" Tate spat, edging away as the prince advanced. "You would kill your own father, Christian. Why? He will give you everything you want it time. You only need wait. Don't you see what you're doing is wrong?"

"He is a fool, too old to rule and too dim to realise It." the princes hand shot out and caught Tate by his shirtfront. His drunken eyes shone with self-importance. "The old man will die and by doing so I will make this country strong again. I am doing this for my people."

"You are doing this for yourself. You are insane." Tate whispered.

"I am doing what needs to be done to keep our people strong." Christian snarled as he twisted his hand in Tate's shirt. "Get out." He said, without bothering to check if Richard has done as commanded. His hand lashed out, striking Tate fiercely with a backhanded blow that sent the smaller man stumbling to his knees. The already prominent pain in the Halfling's cheek rose to a sickening intensity and Tate cursed himself and his treacherous mouth. "And you, beautiful one, should know better than to speak to me in this manner." He reached down towards the half-blood and caught a fist full of Tate's hair. He dragged the older man back to his feet and jerked his head back. Tate let out a quiet grunt of pain and repressed the urge to scream as the princes lips pressed against his neck. "You'll be punished for your disrespect." He whispered harshly. "But more than that, you'll be punished for your lack of belief in me. I will be king soon you silly little trinket, and as my first act as a king I'll see to it that you will learn to never question me again." 

*******

Lamidor paused as he spied a brawny young man staring heatedly at the group of solider stood opposite him on the street. Tall, broad shouldered with thick honey brown hair and skin that was just slightly too dark to be pure northern, the man's hair was cut in the short northern style and his clothes were as grey and nondescript as anyone else's on the street. He was different though and anyone who cared to study him closely enough would be able to see that. 

The tracker approached causally and lent against a wall beside the young man. Two sharp blue eyes looked hostilely back at him and Lamidor offered a casual smile. "You don't mind a bit of company do you my friend? I could do with a rest after the day I've had."

"There's room enough elsewhere." The man said, his tone as unfriendly as his eyes. His accent was clearly not local.

"True enough, but if I were to move on I wouldn't be in such pleasurable company." He turned around until he was fully looking at the other man. "You've a familiar face." He said conversationally as he thoughtfully studied his nails. "I wasn't sure it was you at first, I'd caught so little sight of you before and you've changed yourself much from that day." He looked up suddenly and stared hard into the young man's startled gaze. "I'm certain now though that you're the one I'm looking for. Tell me something tinker, have you heard of the kings half-blooded whore?"

A look of shock and then the tinker bolted. The tracker watched him impassively, knowing he wouldn't get far from before a number of the strategically placed soldiers caught him. The tinker put up a dismal fight against the soldiers, who quickly had him down and subdued. His hands were tied behind his back and he was dragged roughly to his feet.

"Come my friend." Lamidor said jovially, beyond pleased with his success as the tinker continued his fruitless struggles. "You've got an appointment with our future king." 

**** 

"You've been avoiding me." Tate mumbled as he fell into step beside Tanis. 

The young prince started violently and gave the halfling an incredulous stare. He quickly checked to make sure that no one else was watching them before his startled expression melted into a smile. "Those are not words I ever expected you to utter Tate."

"I need to talk with you." the small man said, his expression intent as he steered Tanis to an open archway that lead to a currently empty corridor. The spot where his hand rested on the small of Tanis's back tingled pleasantly, making it impossible the prince not to smile.

Tate ushered him inside a darkened room and closed the aged wooden door behind them. His amber eyes glowed eerily in the dim light streaming through dust laden windows. "The prophet was trying to tell me something before he caught whiff of Christian. I cannot stop thinking about it Tanis. I have to see him."

"And he you." Tanis said, keeping his voice pitched low. "He commanded that I take you to him over half a score of days ago. I wanted to Tate, I have tried to reach you but it had been impossible. With my lord father so ill and the upcoming wedding, coupled with Christian's growing-" He hesitated as he looked away from Tate's intense eyes. "With Christian's growing obsession it has been difficult to catch you alone. How have you escaped his notice?"

"He's busy, what with your father..." He trailed off wordlessly before abruptly giving his head a quick shake. "Never fear, he won't miss me for a while. Shall we go now then?"

Tanis raised his hands appealingly. "It is impossible, I need to ensure the correct guards are posted and then I need gold to bribe them, and I'm expected on the training field. These things take time to arrange."

"What do you suggest then?" Tate asked softly, his enthralling eyes intent as they peered up at the prince. "I never know when I'll be able to escape the prince's notice and you've no way to get word to me." He reached out suddenly and his elegant hands latched onto Tanis's much larger ones. "He calls to me Tanis; I need to go to him."

"I know that feeling well." Tanis said softly. "However, last time I gave into his compulsions I nearly got us both killed. I will not risk that again. This time we go when no one will miss us or we do not go at all." Tate released him and stepped back. "I grow tired of being dictated to by children and mad men." His voice, though more tired than venomous caused the prince to flinch. "Very well Tanis, I will leave you to plan and I will wait in the prince's chambers, hoping you find a way to reach me." His eyes rose slowly. "Until then, good day."

Tanis did not know what caused him to react. It was the thought of Tate leaving, or perhaps it was the knowledge that they were alone and away from unseeing eyes. He reached out and pressed his lips against the startled older mans in a passionate kiss.

It was everything he had hoped it would be. Tate was soft and sweet beneath him, trembling with desire. 

It wasn't until he felt a knee force its way into his balls that sense returned. He crumpled to the floor, gulping for air as he watched Tate's face turn cold and impassive. The small man spat at him, not even speaking before running from the room.

Tanis watched him go with such a feeling of loss that he could not catch his breath. He fell onto his back and wished to the gods that he had more sense. What had he been thinking, how could he have attacked Tate like that with no warning. It had all happened so quickly! He had not meant to, truly he had not.

Oh gods, could it be true, was he just like Christian?

*** It was an almost nightly event that had taken place for what felt like an eternity, yet the sensation of a heaving body smothering his own never failed to ruin the shredded remains of Tate's already broken pride. He bit his tongue to keep from calling out, clenching his hands into the silken sheets as animalistic grunts of pleasure sounded in his ear.

Cruel fingers dug painfully into the back of his neck, pinning him firmly to the mattress and further restricting his already limited freedom. Though it was case of simply gritting his teeth and bearing the feeling of the other man inside of him Tate was finding it agonisingly difficult that particular night. He had been on edge for the past few days, expecting the confirmation that the king had finally succumbed to his sickness and died. Knowing that the reason for the old man's reportedly agonising death was now rutting inside of him was more repulsive than anything else Tate could possibly imagine. 

It should have come as no surprise then when he heard the distinctive sound of men talking anxiously outside the prince's outer chambers. 

"Christian?" Tate grunted through gritted teeth. "Christian, can't you hear?"

"Shut up." The prince sneered beside his ear.

Though the prince seemed not to notice the noise outside he could not ignore the sudden and furious banging against his chamber door. He pulled away suddenly, snarling viciously as he climbed over Tate and let out a deafening roar. "What?"

The prince's inner doors flew open to admit the captain of the guard and the king's chancellor. Both men stopped short at the sight of the prince lying naked over Tate. "Dear God's." The chancellor boomed as his eyes fell on the halfling. "My prince, I have grave news. Please, if you could-" He gestured helplessly at Tate with flaming cheeks and abruptly looked away.

For his own part Tate was mortified. He tried to squirm out from beneath the prince's bulk but the other man's weight had him firmly pinned. He noticed Richard staring at him and the hunger he saw there caused his entire body to lock in revulsion. He closed his eyes abruptly and buried his face in his arms. 

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Christian said, very quietly and dangerously. "If you both value your lives I advise you to get out."

"My prince," Richard said in a strong and unafraid voice. "It's your father."

Christian stilled above him, tensing before abruptly and thankfully climbing off Tate and pulling on a loose pair of trousers. "Tell me." He commanded.

The chancellor looked up at last, though he kept his gaze resolutely away from Tate. "I am most sorry my prince but your most exalted father has grievously passed away. The sickness was too strong for him to fight off."

"Why was I not called?"

"My liege, his condition was stable and then, quite suddenly he could no longer take air. It happened so quickly that there was no time to call you."

Tate raised his eyes to watch Christian then, wondering if the mad prince felt any sorrow for what he had done to his sire. There was perhaps some sadness there but it was quickly diminished by greed and cunning. Christian hurried to his wardrobe and began to change in haste. He dressed himself in some of his best finery before rushing to his mirror and smoothing his unkempt hair. He spared Tate a quick glance before rushing past the chancellor, issuing orders the whole time. "Ring the bells and assemble the court, have my brothers assembled. All of them. Hurry up!" He snapped at the harried chancellor. Both men left the room so suddenly that Tate found himself staring stupidly after them.

So that is it, he thought with no small amount of self-loathing. You had the chance to save a man's life but instead you let him die a horrible death just to save your own.

And Rose's, his conscious reminded him. And after all, wasn't her life far more precious that an old tyrant that had killed countless innocents? But of course that meant that Christian would become king. How many lives would he destroy without the commanding presence of his father? 

"Interrupt your fuck did we?" A loathsome voice demanded, making Tate jump in fright. He had been so intent on his own thought he had failed to realise that Richard had not left with the prince. He looked up with a sickening feeling as he hastily pulled a sheet to cover his nakedness. "Look at you you depraved little slut. No wonder he takes you so often, you're all but begging for it aren't you?"

There was something terribly alarming about the expression on Richard's face. It almost didn't look human. Tate edged back in the bed, refusing to lower his gaze because he was quite certain than any show of weakness would make the captain attack. "Think of what you're about to do." The half-blood said steadily. "Here, in the princes...in the kings own chambers. Can you imagine what he would do to you?"




Defiance Ch. 15



"But you're all greased up, aren't you. I bet I could slip it straight in, fuck you bloody and be out of here long before the prince returned." His eyes travelled the length of Tate before coming to rest of his face. "You'd probably like it too, wouldn't you whore?"

Tate didn't allow his expression to change as he sat watching Richard. He got slowly to his feet and casually let the blanket drop. He didn't allow his nakedness to distract him as he reached under the prince's mattress and retrieved the blade the Christian kept there for what he claimed was his last line of protection. He raised it casually, all the while keeping his eyes on Richard. "I may not be a bloodied warrior captain, but if you so much as try to touch me I can assure you I'll cut off that repulsive bit of meat you have dangling between your legs. Now get out before I decide to tell Christian your words. You'll recall he killed a solider once for touching me?" 

The fanatic light left Richard's face and was replaced with absolute hatred. "You'll die, you know that don't you? Christian won't be permitted to keep you, not now he's to be king. Your death will be arranged and I can promise you this whore, when the time comes I'll be the one to do it, but not before I've fucked you so raw that you'll pray for death."

Tate smirked at the captain and felt a profound sense of pleasure when Richard turned a distinct shade of pink. "That's all well and good captain but until then why don't you get the fuck out?"

Richard took one faltering step forward before he physically shook himself and turned his back. He slammed the door closed behind him with an audible thud and Tate was finally left alone to absorb everything that had happened.

He heard the bells begin to chime signalling the kings passing. He only barely managed to reach the chamber pot in time before he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach.

** Tate faltered twice, unable to force himself to approach the soldiers in fear that they might refuse his bribe and betray him to Christian. He cursed himself for a coward but it didn't help his skittishness. Move, he told himself, go now before it's too late. He couldn't make himself do it though, even though he knew that he wasting valuable time, even though the burning need inside of him to see the prophet was so fierce it was almost painful. 

He was so intent on his own thoughts that he did not notice the approaching guard until an armoured hand landed on his shoulder. Tate gasped and instinctively pressed back as a scarred face lent close to his own.

"Hello my lord." The guard snickered, the scar across his lips causing his smile to look more like a grimace. "Did you intend to hide here all day, or is there something you wish to ask me?" Tate opened his mouth but struggled to find his voice, which made the guards smile widen. He pressed in even closer and his voice when he spoke was less than a whisper. "I wondered when I might be given the opportunity for us to chat. You and I have a common friend little lord."

"A guard should not consider a prince as a friend." Tate said softly, turning his head from the putrid breath that washed over him. "If you'll allow me to pass?" He made himself meet the other man's soft blue eyes and tried for a gentle push. "Excuse me." He said politely when the other man didn't move.

"I'm not talking about a prince; I'm talking about a common man. A man that as common as they get in fact. I'm told you and he are quite intimately known to one another."

"I know no common men." Tate ground out, desperate for the solider to move away from him.

The smile disappeared and was replaced with a calculating look. "Lies do not become you my lord, for all know you've spread your legs for a tinker, and according to your lot they're about as common as you can get."

"Get off me!" Tate snarled, pushing hard now against the soldier's chest. 

One hand wrapped around the Halfling's neck and the other caught his wrists. Tate was pushed hard against the wall at his back at the smiling guard leaned disturbingly close. "No need for hysterics little lord. It's true that I've probably got more reason to kill you than most but my people are still worthy enough not to blame a weak little man for the deeds of a spoiled, insane prince."

"What are you doing?" Tate demanded in horror. His eyes searched the area frantically. "You can't say such things. If someone were to hear-"

"No one will hear, not unless you start screaming."

"I do not scream." 

"No?" The guard asked with a smile. "You're not frightened of me then little lord?"

Tate stopped struggling and raised himself to his full height. He stared unblinkingly into the guards pale eyes as he abruptly realised something. "You've the accent of a tinker master guard." he said quietly. "And skin that's a shade too dark to be considered truly northern." 

"Well well well, aren't we the observant little lordling." He pressed in even closer until his lips were almost touching Tate's cheek. "Lukas is quite taken with you boyo, him, our new king, Tanis, the captain of the guard. Seems every powerful man in the country wants to dip his wick. Seems strange to me, given the fact that our northern lieges are as closed minded as any race I've ever known. They're not usually so open about plugging a man, nor so venomous in protecting and keeping him."

"You've a point have you?" Tate ground out angrily. 

"I'm just curious is all?" The tinker smiled, causing his scar to stretch and pull. "And now you keep coming here, to see the prophet. Seems to me that the fae are known to call to one another."

"You think me fae?" Tate asked, exasperated. He had been called some nonsense in his time but he believed this was the first time he had been compared to a mythical elf "Are you really so foolish to believe in such twaddle?"

"You really think it's so strange, with them eyes and that skin of yours. It ain't natural, I can tell you that now."

"They're darker in the south. All know that."

"Aye, they are darker. They're brown or black but there isn't a single soul I've ever seen that looked like you."

"I'm a half-blood." Tate said defensively.

"You're unnatural, that's what you are." His eyes travelled the length of Tate before he slowly stepped back and created some distance between them. "I promised Lukas I would give you a message next time I saw you. Every midnight he waits in the orchards for you. He'll keep waiting until you appear to him again."

"Why does he wait?" Tate asked, his heart hammering in his chest. "I can't go out at night."

"Why does he do any of the things he does?" The said softly. "Because he says he loves you."

Tate felt like he had been punched. He pushed the feeling aside, locking it away with every other raging emotion he had been forced to suppress. He had a purpose for coming to the tower and even as they spoke the need manifested inside of him. "I need to see the prophet."

"And you've a worthwhile bribe do you?"

"I -- I don't have any money, but-" Tate pulled out one of Christian's rings, fairly certain now that the tinker would not betray him but unsure if the man would want such a dangerous item. "He has so many that he will never miss this. It's a ruby." Tate held it up, tilting it in the light so the stone caught the light and sparkled like liquid fire. "It's very valuable."

"Give it here then." He said, reaching out and snatching the ring from Tate's hand. He inspected it for a moment before pocketing it. 

"Will you let me up?"

"The prince won't be missing you will he?"

"He is occupied dealing with the kings passing. He won't notice."

The tinker turned and walked away from him abruptly. After a moment's hesitation Tate followed. They stopped outside the prophet's cell door, where the other guard gave Tate a sly look. The scarred one unlocked the door and both men abruptly turned their backs.

Tate hesitated for a moment before rushing through. He took the stairs quickly, barely registering the sound of the door banging closed behind him. The compulsion the prophet had placed on him seemed to deepen with each step but Tate resisted the urge to throw himself into the room. He slowed his pace and collected himself before entering the prophet's tower.

The man was just as heavily chained as before. His silvery hair and milky white skin shone beautifully in the moonlight, but the rest of him looked withered and weak. His unseeing eyes turned eerily in Tate's direction and the old one gave an almost vindictive smile. "You made me wait drakling."

"I couldn't get away." Something in the man's tone made Tate apprehensive. "Are you well?"

A bark of laughter before a look of emptiness. "It will end soon."

A shiver ran up Tate's spine. "What will end?" he whispered. 

Those dead eyes met Tate's, seemingly staring directly at him. "The end of the beginning fair drakling."

"You speak in riddles." Tate said softly. 

"I speak the truth."

"Is that why you called me?" Tate asked without any real venom. "To tell me tales?"

"I called you to enlighten some of the lies you've been fed. You suspect what you are?"

"I am a half-blood, what else is there?"

The ancient one turned slowly away from him and stared intently out of his tiny barred window. "There is so much more, an eternity of more. You have dreamed them, or a part you might comprehend."

"What do you know of my dreams."

"I know of unimaginable power, of fire and flight and lust. I know of ancient knowledge and immeasurable arrogance. I know of freedom unlike you or any of your father's race could ever hope to comprehend." He shifted, causing the chains around him to rattle loudly. "I have dreamt with you little brother; I have seen the things you yearn for. Do not tell me that you know not what I speak of."

"Dragons?" Tate let out a laugh that sounded a little hysterical even to him. "I think my father might have noticed if he had lain down with a dragon."

"You mock me?" The ancient one asked, his voice no les terrifying despite the softly spoken tone. 

"No, of course not." Tate held his hands up pleadingly, despite the knowledge that the sightless one could not see him. "Please, forgive me."

"You think me insane." The prophet said, his tone accusing. "Were I not chained and cursed you would never dare to so slight me."

"Please, I do not think you mad. I know you are something more than a man, just as I know there is something in me that twists the lives of the people I come in contact with. Please, I have come for your help. I do not want you ire."

Moments passed in silence before the prophet raised one skeletal arm. "Grasp my hand Drakling, I wish to show you something."

Tate hesitated before forcing himself to step forward and take the ancients ones hand. He gasped momentarily when the deceivingly fragile hand clasped his own in a manacle like hold.

"I would show you our world precious one." The prophet hissed.

***

Lukas released a relieved breath when he saw Falliath waiting patiently for him in the main fountain square of the city. The boy was clean and smartly dressed in plain gray and black. He had been living well enough on the money Lukas had sent from his earnings in the guard.

The boy grinned when he saw him, his big green eyes sparkling mischievously. "Good to see you're not dead yet." He announced, mindful of anyone who might be listening to them. 

"You seem to be fairing well enough." Lukas said with a fond smile. He pushed a pastry he had purchased earlier into the boys bony hands. 

"Well enough. So, have you found your sister?"

"She's with Tate."

"Fortunate indeed." The boy said, his words muffled by a mouth full of food.

"The wedding will be soon. I plan for us to leave on that night."

A slight pause in the chewing. "Aye, so you've said before."

"You still want to come with me?" Lukas asked.

"Of course."

Lukas took a deep breath, feeling more than a little sick for what he was about to ask. "Would you be able to steal two horses and have them ready and waiting at the northern gates?"

The boy regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. "Only one way to know for certain." He grinned. "How hard could it be?"

****

They were as much men as dragons. They walked as men, eat and fucked and lived as a human would, yet they were so much more. 

They lived for countless, unimaginable years. Their bodies were strong, their features beautiful and alien. They had magic, which would allow them to transform into creatures of inconceivable power and size. 

They lived in solitude atop a great spiralling city in the sky, which sat atop a mountain that only those with wings could hope to reach. Beneath them lay a wide desert with the heat and solitude their kind so craved. It was beautiful, they were beautiful.

**** 

"We continue on with the wedding as planned then?" The chancellor asked, his expression grave. "What of your coronation?"

"My father's funeral is to take place within two days, is that correct?"

"Yes sire."

"The wedding is scheduled in ten days"

"Correct sire" The chancellor took a deep breath. "The mourning time in possibly too --"

"No, I want the wedding to take place as planned. I'll be king as soon as the mourning period is over and I want to make sure I have begun the process of obtaining an heir by that time." 

"As you command sire." The chancellor performed a low bow. "There is much to be done. If you will excuse me?"

Christian gestured him away with a small wave of his hand. A moment later a page boy hurried over to him and conveyed that a tracker known as Lamidor had apprehended a prisoner under Christian's orders and had him detained in the dungeons.

The price felt his heart leap up in his throat. If the tracker had made him way into Christian's own chambers there was only one possible person the prisoner could be. His hands began to shake and he felt sudden and intense anger that the thought of a mere tinker could cause him such panic.

The prophet had lied. It was the only possible outcome. They were known for their deceitfulness. There was no possible way a mere gypsy could bring about his downfall.

And now that he had the dog in his dungeons he was going to prove that fact once and for all.

***** 

Tate came back to his own body with a jarring impact. He looked up at the prophet from his crumpled position on the floor and felt a sense of wonderment.

"Do you still think me mad little darkling?"

"No," Tate whispered. He pressed his head down across his arms. "Please forgive me. I didn't know."

"Your mother did you a great injustice leaving you here unprotected and ignorant of the power you hold." He leant forward, his sightless eyes piercing Tate to his very soul. "Halflings are rare among our people. Most females cannot conceive a child of mixed blood and any mortal woman who bears a dragon's babe will not survive long before the drakling destroys her from within. It baffles me why she would have left such a treasure along and unguarded."

Tate considered what he had seen in the spiralling tower. The images had been sudden and piercing but he could not help but recall the image of those few souls that had lived among the dragons, noticeable by the gilded collars that had circled their slender throats. He had felt a kinship to them, but also a deep and resounding sense of horror.

"They are slaves." Tate whispered.

"Companions." The prophet corrected. "Their very purpose is to give pleasure."

Tate felt himself shiver at the thought. "You said our people have power and freedom. I saw none of that in the drakling's."

The prophet let out a tight smile. "Had you been trained you would realise what an honour being a companion conveys. You would never be harmed or ridiculed again. You would be cherished, as you were meant to be"

"I don't want to be cherished." Tate said, feeling sudden anger as he got quickly to his feet. "I want freedom. I want my life. Surely you can understand that?"

The prophet's expression turned to one of pity. "Had you been taught to harness your gifts instead of pouring energy out to anyone who comes in contact with you might stand a chance to gain your wish. As you are though Drakling, you will never gain acceptance among mortal men. Their minds are too weak and your pull is too strong."

Tate shook his head in silent denial. "What are you saying?"

"You're undeniably fair child but do you not question why so many are drawn to you? You cry out to them, you cry out to me. I can hear it. You entice them and entrap them and weave so many strings that it is impossible for them to ever untangle themselves. Their mortal minds fixate on you and they want to own, to possess and command."

"But," Tate gestured uselessly at himself. "I'm not doing anything."

"Its second nature to you so you don't even realise what you're doing, but I can assure you drakling that the pull is strong and enticing even to me. It is how I recognised you; it is how I know what you are."

The implications of what he was saying crashed down all at once at the half-blood fell heavily to his knees. "How do I stop it?"

"Years of training by those who have already mastered control."

"That is impossible." Tate whispered. "There must be another way?"

"None that I know of. Perhaps if you learn to recognise the gift in yourself you might learn how to control it." The prophet shifted slightly and seemed to almost collapse in on himself. "It is time for you to go Drakling. We will not meet again."

Tate couldn't leave, not now when he had so many questions. 

"Our new king will search for you soon. I regret that he intends to cause you great harm this night."

"It will be as any other night then." Tate laughed bitterly, disorientated and confused by all he had been told. He looked pleadingly back at the prophet as he got slowly to his feet. "Please, before I go just tell me. Is it my fault? All the death and heartache, did I cause it? Did I make Christian mad?"

"The madness always lurked, barely beneath the surface. The boy is weak willed and cruel, but I will not deny that your interference has brought out his madness far faster than it would have naturally occurred. I am sorry, I know it was not what you wished to hear but just remember, they are only mere mortals." 

"Thank you." Tate said woodenly as he got slowly to his feet. "Thank you for your knowledge."

***** This pathetic withered creature was what he had feared so completely. This broken, snivelling thing? Christian threw back his head and allowed his laughter to flow. The prophet had obviously been lying to him. Later, after he had fully enjoyed the feeling of relief in his heart he would pay the prophet a visit and show him the consequences of his misbegotten tongue.

In the meanwhile he would deal with his supposed slayer. He studied him for a time, smirking at the filth as his feet. The tinker stared resolutely at the floor. He was shaking softly, which caused the chains that encircled his wrists and ankles to clatter and clink. 

"Do you know who I am?" Christian finally asked. 

The gypsies wide blue eyes finally rose to meet his. This is the man, Christian suddenly thought, that stole Tate's heart. "Do I know you?" It spat at him, eyes flashing with hatred and anger. "Of course I know you child slayer, slaver, murderer. Your name is infamous." 

Christian closed the short distance between them and punched the older man in his filthy face. The tinker collapsed in on himself with a choked groan.

***

Tate walked slowly down the spiralling staircase as he tried to contain the almost overwhelming pain he could feel in his gut.

He had always considered himself partially responsible for the atrocities the tinkers had been forced to endure but he had consoled himself with the knowledge that Christian was the real villain. He was the one to blame for all that had happened because he was cruel and mad and utterly ruthless.




Defiance Ch. 15



Tate released a choked cry and pressed his hands firmly against his mouth. He felt tears stream down his cheeks as he pressed his back against a cold stone wall. He felt himself slide down the wall, crumpling into a heap at the bottom. "I made him this way." He gasped between his hands. 

Time passed, enough for him to notice that his skin had become chilled as he lay against the ice stone floor. His head pounded and his eyes stung from fallen tears but he knew he couldn't delay any longer. Christian would likely have already noticed his absence and Tate didn't want Rose left alone with the deranged prince.

He picked himself up and ran his hands irritably against his eyes. He tried the bottom door and found it locked. He banged it twice and after a short moment it was pulled open. The scarred tinker gave Tate a thoughtful look but thankfully stepped aside without comment. Tate ducked his head and hurried past him as he made his way towards the prince's chambers.

"Ah, here you are." A sly voice declared as a solid figure fell into step besides Tate. A tight hand griped the Halfling's upper arm and pulled him close. "The prince has been looking for you, bastard." Tate couldn't muster the energy to so much as sneer as the tracker marched him steadily back to the princes rooms, however this hardly fazed the wolf from reacting to him. "I brought a present for you. I've left it with the prince. He's playing with it now."

"What have you done?" Tate finally responded as he remembered the prophets warning that Christian planned to hurt him that night.

"That would ruin the surprise." Tate spared the tracker a brief glance and received the familiar wolf like grin. "Just wait and see."

***

He drew back his foot as he prepared to kick the wretch when a guard opened his door to announce the tracker and Tate.

They entered the room together, though Tate kept a weary distance between them as soon as the tracker released the tight hold on the smaller man's arm. The half-blood looked confused when he saw the tinker. Clearly he couldn't see the creatures face. "My prince?" He said questioningly, looking directly at Christian with reddened eyes.

The gypsies head shot up at the sound of the Halflings voice. Their eyes met and Tate gasped as both of hands rose to cover his mouth. He shook his head in denial as he stumbled back.

Christian felt sudden and searing jealousy at the dismay he saw in his beloveds face. The tinker, the dirty, filthy unworthy beast did not deserve Tate's love.

Christian grabbed the small man by his arm and dragged him towards his diseased gypsy lover. The Halfling tried to resist but he was pathetically weak in Christian grasp. The small mans legs kicked out in an attempt to find purchase. He stumbled once and lost his footing. Christian did not stop to wait for him. 

He caught the nape of Tate's neck and forced his head down until it was on a level with the tinkers. Instead of the adoration he expected to see in the gypsies eyes he saw only loathing. The older man actually tried to lash out at Tate and Christian was forced to haul his beloved back to avoid him being harmed. 

"This is your fault!" The tinker screamed, not at Christian but at Tate. "You did this, you and your lies. I knew, I always knew!"

Tate shook his head wordlessly as he struggled in Christian's arms. "What is he doing here?" he whispered as he turned to look up at the prince.

"I had him bought here of course." Christian answered, allowing the venom he could feel to be heard. "I thought I would reunite you. You have been parted so long."

Christian could not quite contain his shock as Tate fell heavily to his knees before him and grabbed the prince's trouser legs. "Please Christian, do not do this. This man has done nothing to you. He is innocent!"

It took a moment for Christian to overcome his shock before he lashed out and struck Tate a stunning blow. "Innocent?" He roared, bending down to his knees as he gripped the Halfling's hair and shook him violently. "None of them are innocent. They are parasites, one and all. None of them deserve to live." He gestured to the tinker with obvious disgust. "Least of all this disgusting piece of shit that YOU allowed to touch you." He gave one last shake before he rose to his feet and pulled out his dagger. He gestured to Richard and the Tracker, who pulled the battered tinker into a standing position between them.

"Christian, I'm begging you." Tate got slowly to his feet and had his arms risen in appeasement. "Please, if you care for me at all you will not hurt him."

"I do care for you Tate." Christian said as he allowed his eyes to glide over Tate's beautiful and stricken form. "And it's because I care for you that I am going to remove this piece of filth from our lives." He looked at the tinkers bowed form and spat at him. "He will no longer be capable to come between us. I will live; we will live together for always."

He noticed then the way the tinker was looking at Tate and felt a deep sense of hatred that the creature had dared to touch what was his.

"Christian, please!"

The screamed cry registered at the same moment Christian forced his dagger into the Tinker's heaving chest. The piece of filth gave one last shuddering breath before the light faded from his eyes and he finally, finally died.

**** 

Tate felt strangely numb as he watched Robert's lifeblood spill out over Christian's fine marble floor. The tinker's violent death was clear in his expression. There was no peace there, only anger and betrayal.

Tate lent down beside Robert and gently closed his unseeing eyes. He smoothed the tinkers sweat drenched hair and offered up a silent prayer up to the gods to ease the gypsies passing.

The blade Christian has used to slay Robert still lay within the thick pool of the tinker's blood. Tate reached for it unthinkingly as he straightened to his feet. He started towards Christian, raising the blade as the princes eyes widened in sudden understanding. He opened his mouth to call out a warning even as Tate thrust the blade towards the princes black heart.

It never struck. The tracker parried the blow and stepped protectively in front of Christian. Their eyes met for a moment before Tate abruptly threw the blade away in disgust. He stepped past the tracker and the shocked prince and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Christian asked in a small and unrecognisable voice.

"To collect Rose. I won't allow her to see this."

Tate hurried to the kitchens, barely aware of the glances he was receiving from the men and women that cluttered the hallways. He had only one thought in his mind and that was to prevent Rose from seeing her brother's dead body. She had already been through so much, far more than any child should endure. 

It's because of you, a softly insistent voice whispered in his mind. Your fault your family now live in disgrace, your fault the gypsies were killed and enslaved, your fault that Rose is scarred, that Robert is dead, that Lukas has sacrificed everything. It is your fault that Christian is insane.

Tate found her washing dishes in her usual spot. He noticed the kitchen master watching him intently as he went to collect the little girl.

"Tate!" She said excitedly before seemingly realising where she was standing. She dipped her head but continued to smile at him. "Are you here to collect the prince's supper?" Her eyes suddenly flickered to his wrist and widened in horror. "Tate, your hand. Are you hurt?"

The halfling looked at his hand and saw that it was covered with Robert's blood. He very slowly allowed a shudder to run through him before he plunged his hand in Roses steaming bowl. The water was almost unbearably warm and Tate wondered how the little ones tender hands could bear such heat. He snatched her up suddenly, pressing her head against his chest as he swept her away from the wretched place. No one tried to stop them, after Tate's last visit they probably didn't dare.

"Tate?" Rose's voice was smothered as she pressed her face firmly against his chest. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine." He said, aware that his lie did not sound terribly convincing. "I thought you might like to spend some time in the gardens with me."

"Wont the prince miss you?" She whispered.

"Not for a while. We can go to the library if you don't want to visit the gardens. I could read to you?"

"I've never been to the library." The little one said excitedly. 

"It will certainly be warmer there." Tate said absently.

They walked the rest of the way there in silence and Tate found a familiar corner of the library where he settled down in a comfortable chair. Rose settled on his lap and stared in amazement at the books stacked high in every direction. They were silent for a time before Tate spotted a harmless book of maps and pulled it down for Rose to inspect.

"Are there any story books?" She asked.

"No, my father's people do not read for pleasure." He smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. "They think such pastimes are frivolous."

"My ma told the best stories." Rose said wistfully. "Lukas was always really good too." She dipped her voice low. "When he's saved us I'll ask him to tell you the tale of the Otter and the sea serpent."

Tate pressed his head back against the chair and released a deep breath. "I have a story." He sighed. "It's about dragons. Would you like to hear it?"

***

It didn't take long to find the halfling. His presence was so well know within the castle that every servant recognised the man on sight. Richard spotted him in the library, curled up on a huge armchair with the little tinker brat asleep on his lap.

The man's golden eyes glowed eerily in the dimly lit library. He looked dispassionately at Richard.

"The prince has commanded your presence. You have been gone long enough."

The half-blood looked down at the sleeping girl. "Is the body gone?"

"Of course." Richard grinned at him. "The blood was a little harder to clean up. Christian's rug was positively ruined."

"A tragedy." The halfling said, his voice soft and wooden. He got to his feet, stumbling slightly under the girls weight. Richard instinctively reached out to steady him and the smaller man flinched back. "Don't" He snarled, voice still quiet. "Don't touch me."

"But you're so delightful to touch." Richard hissed back. "So pretty and decedent."

The halfling brushed past him, the girl held firmly in his grasp. The brat continued to sleep, not even stirring from the sudden movement of Tate's steps.

"The tracker told me who the tinker was." Richard said brightly as they left the library. "I can't even begin to imagine how you must have felt as you watched your beloved killed before your very eyes. It's all terribly tragic." Richard allowed himself to grin when he saw the halfling flinch. "I must say though that he wasn't terribly happy with you. He looked like he would have liked nothing more than to strangle the life out of your graceful little neck. What did you do I wonder, to make him hate you so much?"

More silence. The halfling didn't bother to acknowledge Richard except to increase his step. The captain kept pace with him, moving closer and noticing with some amusement the way the younger mans shoulder brushed the nearest wall in an attempt to create distance between them.

"There are whispers you know." Richard said, keeping his voice low as he leant towards the half-blood. "After the stunt Christian pulled in front of our intended queen it's been said that you will need to be disposed of." He watched the halfling for a response and to his chagrin he received none. "I told you, didn't I? Your time is coming to an end and I can promise you that I have an end planned for you that will make your dead lovers demise look peaceful in comparison. The things I will do to you..."

The halfling stopped abruptly and turned to face Richard. His expression was unreadable as he looked back at the taller man. "You think I fear you?" He asked, his tone as soft as ever and Richard realised the halfling was trying not to wake the tinker bitch. "What can you do to me that he has not already done?"

"I could kill you." Richard hissed as he found himself unintentionally leaning into the half-blood's space.

Tate looked up at his with his beautiful and sinful face and smiled back at him without even a hint of fear. "It would not be unkindness." He ducked away quickly and continued back to the prince's chambers. 

After a moment's pause Richard made himself follow. "And what of your tinker brat? Who would care for her with you gone?"

Tate did not respond and Richard could not provoke the smaller man any further as they had reached Christian's chambers. He bowed to the prince and watched in bemusement as the halfling stepped past Christian without acknowledging him. Tate disappeared into the small room he shared with the girl. 

He emerged moment later and approached the prince. Before anyone could raise a hand to prevent it the small man punched Christian squarely in the face. A loud crack sounded and blood began to flow down the prince's nose. He let out a pained howl, doubling in two from the pain 

Richard caught the halfling first and pinned the small man's arms firmly behind his back. "You've really done it now you stupid little slut." Richard whispered into Tate's ear as servants helped the already enraged prince to his feet. "He's going to crucify you."

*** Four days passed before Tate was able to undertake his regular duties as the prince's squire. He had missed the dead king's funeral but he heard the bells ring as he lay unmoving in his bed. He heard people enter in and out of Christian's inner chamber but aside from Rose and an occasional visit from the healer he was left alone. Notwithstanding the pain in his broken ribs it was a welcome respite.

"I'm going out." Christian suddenly announced, his eyes intent as he looked at Tate. "Phatilia's parents arrived earlier and I'm holding a banquet to welcome them." His eyes hardened. "You will remain unseen. I won't be back until late so you may spend the night in your room with your pet."

Since Robert's murder the already poisoned relationship between Tate and the prince had considerably soured. His hatred of the younger man had twisted into a feeling Tate had never known before. He wanted to kill him. He had imagined taking the dagger from the prince mattress and stabbing it through the bastards black heart. He thought about it as he watched the younger man sleep. He had found himself daydreaming about the act, imagining the satisfaction it would bring him.

He couldn't force himself to do it. He was not a murderer and although he could handle violence easily enough the act of killing another person was not something he was capable of. He mollified himself with the thought that he was cautious because he was protecting Rose. He dreaded to think that would happen to her if he was taken away for murdering the prince. He couldn't risk her life, not when Lukas was devising a plan to take her away.

"Very well." Tate said, finding it difficult not to spit at the larger man. He bowed his head and averted his eyes. "Do you require anything else?"

A few tense moments passed before Tate risked an upward glance. He was relieved to realise that he was alone. 

Alone for the whole evening. An interesting prospect, should he have the courage to venture out of his cell. He thought of Robert's unseeing and dead eyes. He thought of Rose and the very real danger she was in.

There wasn't really any choice. He needed to go.

*** "Tate?" Lukas's whispered, not daring to believe that the halfling had finally come to meet him. He felt his heart start hammering in his chest as his beloved crept from beneath a shadowed alcove within the confines of a low hanging willow tree. Tate's hair glistened with frost and water as he made his way cautiously to Lukas's side. When they came together he hesitated for a moment before resting his head on Lukas's shoulder. Lukas heard a tired sigh and felt Tate's entire body shudder. "How long have you been out here?" Lukas asked him, chaffing the slight man's arms to try and restore some heat to the chilled limbs. "God's, you're soaked through."

"I wasn't sure when you were likely to pass by next." He raised his head off Lukas's shoulder and looked up at him with weary eyes. "I needed to see you."

"Well here I am." He wrapped his arms around Tate, feeling a moment of dismay when his beloved stiffened. He stubbornly kept hold and eventually Tate's rattling frame relaxed against him. "But what of you? You're nothing but skin and bones." He pulled back slightly and caught Tate's chin in his hand. "And your face! So many bruises."

Lukas couldn't fathom it; he truly and honestly could not understand how anyone could hurt another person, especially when that person was practically defenceless. Tate was such a fae creature, so small and slight that hitting him seemed downright malicious. 

The half-blood wouldn't meet his eyes. That worried him considerably. Tate had never looked defeated, even when they had first met and he had been injured and surrounded by people he had then called his enemies, he had always seemed so terribly prideful. So prideful that Lukas had found him tiresome on more than one occasion. But the defeat and tiredness he saw now petrified him. 

"Have you seen Rose yet?" Tate asked, pointedly ignoring Lukas's questions as he slowly snaked his arms around the tinker's waist. He put his head back on Lukas's shoulder and seemed quite content to leave it there as the tinker reached up and slowly stroked the half-blood's saturated locks.

"From afar." The image of her pinched face and haunted eyes made him remember how much she had changed from the cherub faced little imp he had once cherished. "She was kept as a whipping girl wasn't she?"

"Yes, for a time." Tate let out a shuddering breath. "I put a stop to it."

"And in quite a spectacular manner if the rumours are true."

Tate leaned back to look at him and despite Lukas's playful tone his face was solemn. "They beat a little girl and somehow think they're the superior ones." He shook his head. "Christian doesn't even think of her as a person. She's a thing to him."

He didn't know how to react to such news. Did it make him angry that they considered his sister as something less than human, of course? Did it surprise him, no? He had grown up in a world where even the lowest peasant thought themselves better than a tinker. All they could do was endure. He would free his sister and he would take her away from the prince, but for all that they were he could not shield her from the ugliness of the word. "Where is Christian?" Lukas enquired and immediately regretted it when Tate broke violently from their embrace. His eyes widened dramatically as he twisted his head in every direction. He looked back at Lukas with an almost crazed expression.

"Do you see him?"

"Of course not." Lukas said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "I asked because I didn't want you to get in trouble if he's looking for you."

Tate let out a strangled laugh and collapsed onto his knees. "Never fear then. He's with his intended wife tonight. They're being chaperoned of course." He looked up at Lukas with a hateful expression that he dearly hoped was not meant for him. "As if they need one. Christian won't touch her until has to procure his precious heir."

"It's rumoured that he enjoys women and men." Lukas said gently. "He may yet become taken with her."

"He won't." Tate said with total confidence. He gave his head a rueful shake and whispered, "It's my fault."

Lukas blinked at him. "What do you mean your fault? How could you possibly be to blame?"

Tate covered his face with his hands. "I'm cursed." He whispered.