Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/454793.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki, Jensen_Ackles/Original_Male_Character(s),
      Jared_Padalecki/Original_Male_Character
  Series:
      Part 1 of Baiatul_Pierdut
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-01 Words: 47261
****** Baiatul Pierdut (The Lost Boy) ******
by minchout
Summary
     When the warrior king from the North decides to take Jared as his
     husband, Jared's world is upended. However, he quickly realizes that
     being captured by a handsome king is really the least of his
     problems.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
When word of the warrior king’s planned invasion reached his village, Jared
begged his father to let him go to battle with the other men. He was practiced
with a sword, and even better close range with the hunting knife he’d been
given when he’d come of age finally, after fifteen summers, just the year
before. But his father had said no, again and again.
“Your time will come, my boy. You have the spirit of a warrior, and your body
will surely grow strong. But you are too young yet.”
A week of hard battle changes things, however, and if the women and children of
Jared’s village are to survive, sacrifices must be made. The warrior king’s
tribute must be paid, and what the warrior king wanted was Jared, only son of
the highest village elder.
Jared knelt in the dirt, the chalk-white stone of the Southern dust fields
digging into the soft skin of his knees, his father’s hand pressed against the
nape of his neck, holding his head down, making a show of Jared’s submission.
Jared clenched his hand into a fist against his leg. Had his father’s grip on
his neck not been so tight, Jared would have had this warrior king’s entrails
in the dirt at his feet in the space of a breath.
At his approach, the king’s shadow stretched a black swathe in the dirt that
ended at Jared’s knee as if the two were already connected, as if Jared were
already leashed. Jared tried to stand; his father held him down.
“This is him?” the warrior king said, his voice graveled and worn. Jared wished
he could see the man.
“Yes,” Jared’s father said. “Take him and leave us in peace. You have what you
want.”
“You ask a lot of me, given your transgressions.”
“I’m giving you my only son.” Jared’s father squeezed his neck once, hard
enough to bruise.
The warrior king snorted at that, muttered something in the language of the
North. He stepped closer, his shadow obscuring Jared’s vision until all Jared
saw was the black dirt and two worn and laced leather boots almost close enough
to touch. The warrior king touched his fingers to Jared’s chin, and Jared drew
in a breath.
“Head up, boy,” the king said.
Jared felt his father loosen his hold. He tilted his head up and up to meet the
eyes of the king.
The man who stood above him had a grave face with eyes lined at the corners,
skin freckled by the sun, and a reddish growth of beard covering his cheeks. He
wore a circlet crown atop short hair which curled slightly at the temples, a
stark contrast to Jared’s, whose hair was grown almost to his shoulders, ragged
and dirty. The king had a presence about him. Everything seemed grand—the width
of his shoulders, his rough hands, the sword sheathed at his side.
The king looked down at Jared, brushed a thumb across the mark beside his nose.
Jared fought the blush he knew was rising in his cheeks at the thought of being
examined so closely and possibly found wanting, but the king seemed satisfied.
“You are untouched?” he asked Jared.
“No man has had him,” Jared’s father answered. “We don’t hold with that filth
here.”
The look the king gave him in return was one that threatened fields of blood
and flame, and Jared felt his father’s hand tighten. Jared took the men’s
distraction as the blessing it was and launched himself at the king. He hit him
squarely in the abdomen and took him to the ground. Just as he got hold of the
dagger on the king’s belt, he felt himself flipped onto his back in the dirt.
The king pinned his wrists above his head and laughed at Jared, their bodies
pressed together. Jared tried to squirm free but stilled as the pressure on his
wrists increased.
“There’s a good boy,” the king said. He pressed his face into Jared’s neck, as
if he were scenting him, rolled his hips so their crotches met. At the feel of
the hardness there, Jared tried to buck the king off and only succeeded in
making him laugh again. “Oh, you’re going to be fun,” he said.
“Piss off,” Jared said.
The king laughed and hauled a struggling Jared onto his feet. He had Jared
turned around and his hands bound with a leather strap behind his back before
he could protest, then he turned Jared until they were facing each other again.
Jared had grown some this year and was the same height as the man, though not
as broad. Big enough to look the king in the eye, though, so he did, and said,
“You take me to your bed, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
The king brushed Jared’s hair from his face, cradled the back of his skull in
one big hand, and pulled him in to whisper in his ear. “It wouldn’t be a bad
way to go, boy, after having fucked a pretty thing like you.”
Jared tried to pull away, but the king held him firm. He stepped toward Jared
once then twice, forcing Jared to move backwards with him toward the horse at
his back. The king grabbed Jared beneath the arms and lifted him with a grunt
to sit side saddle on the horse. Jared felt dizzy from the movement, an
alarming vertigo and moment of panic when he realized he couldn’t steady
himself with his bound hands, but then the king was on the horse behind him,
settling Jared against his chest and wrapping his arms around Jared to grab the
reins.
***
Jared counted seventeen days before the king and his men reached the citadel.
They’d battled and won another village in that time, lost men, gained slaves
and whores. But after that first day, that horse ride with Jared held firm
against the king’s chest and mourning the loss of his home and family, he
hadn’t again seen the king. He’d been handed over to the whores to be cared
for, and Jared may have never bedded a woman, but he knew what whores did, had
seen the painted women who lived on the edges of his village and who the elders
visited at night all the while telling their sons to stay away, and he thought
it couldn’t be a good sign that he was kept with them rather than with the
other slaves.
Jared watched the women as they gathered water from the river the men were
following toward the citadel. The women boiled it, bathed themselves, then
dabbed scented oils where the blood pulsed warm beneath their skin. The smells
in the women’s tent made him dizzy with want, rock hard beneath his tunic,
which was still dirty from being tumbled through the dirt by the king—and if
that didn’t remind him of the reason why he was here, why he was kept with the
whores…Jared tried not to imagine it, but with the constant ache for home and
family and for the women who surrounded him, he couldn’t help but wonder when
the king would come to him, use him the way the other men used the women, put
him on his knees for more than a show of submission.
The whores were enamored of Jared. They’d never seen hair the length of his on
a man, and they liked to brush it for him, braid it. They would touch his
cheeks and his lips, kiss him softly in ways that, for them, had nothing to do
with sex but made Jared blush and turn his face away. They talked to him in a
strange language that Jared knew was the warrior king’s native language, the
language of the North, but Jared couldn’t respond. He picked up a few words
though: the word for pretty, the word for fucking, the word for whore.
He thought of running. Though there were watchmen who guarded the men while at
rest, the nights this time of year were deep and black, the moon and stars
cloaked behind thick clouds that whited out the sky during the day. He could
slip out unnoticed. But there was nowhere to run. It was either the forest to
the East or a river to cross; to go South and home wasn’t an option.
When they reached the capital, Jared barely had time to glance at the city
around him before he was taken by guards to a cell deep within the citadel.
There was a bed, though, and a wash basin already filled with warm water as if
it’d been prepared for him, and Jared took off his tunic and scrubbed at his
face and neck and chest before collapsing onto the straw-stuffed mattress.
After a time, when it became obvious that sleep was still a far off thing,
Jared looked down at himself, examined his chest and arms. He wondered what the
king could possibly see in him, just a boy and thin like one of the pole beans
that grew on vines in his mother’s garden. He felt so foolish now for ever
thinking he could have fought when the men invaded his village. He wondered if
the king would keep him like this forever, thin and pretty. He was tan now from
the sun that blessed his section of the world, but he wondered if the king
would like that or if he’d want him changed, kept wan and pale. He’d heard
stories of worse. Of boys who lost parts of themselves, who were never truly
allowed to become men. He’d heard it was common for men in the North to keep
their slaves that way.
A guard came for Jared hours later, and Jared blinked into the light of the
guard’s torch. He moved to pull his tunic on, but the guard stopped him.
“You’ll have no need of that,” he said.
“Am I to walk through the castle half naked?” Jared said.
“Put it on, then, if it comforts you,” the guard said. “But I can promise you,
those of us who live in the castle will see more than your chest and skinny
legs if the king wishes it.”
Jared put the shirt on. He pushed his hair back from his face. “Well?” he said,
defiant.
“Come on, then, boy,” the guard said.
Jared watched the guard carefully as they walked the stone halls. He could just
barely make out his features—beard with more grey than black, deep lines around
his eyes that showed as shadows marring his sad face in the dim light of the
torch.
“I’m Jeffrey,” the guard said, when he caught Jared looking. “The King’s
advisor. If you need anything…” He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “You
shouldn’t want for anything here.”
“Except my freedom,” Jared said.
Jeffrey stopped at a door. “Yes,” he said. “Except for that, perhaps.” He
knocked twice on the door, then pushed it open. “Good luck, boy,” he said. He
pushed Jared gently through then closed the door behind him.
Jared didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt suddenly gangly and awkward,
too long limbs, and he folded his hands behind his back before peering about
the room. It was stuffed with rustic, comfortable looking furniture—a bed
bigger than Jared had ever seen covered with what looked like a bear’s pelt,
arm chairs next to a fire burning in a grate. It was, however, notably missing
one warrior king.
Jared walked to the bed and ran his hand through the fur covering. They didn’t
have such things in his village. They had no need of them. It was warm
constantly there, and Jared was reminded that this was one more thing he would
miss. It was winter here, and he had no one to help him weather it.
“That was my father’s kill.”
Jared turned toward the voice. The king was there, looking past Jared to the
bed.
“We had a particularly rough winter when I was a child,” he said. “The bears
are sacred here. We don’t kill them if we can avoid it, but that winter my
father had no choice. The bears provided meat and warmth for the people when we
had nothing else. It’s one more reason to worship them.”
“I’ve never seen a bear,” Jared said. “I’ve heard of them, but…”
He stopped himself before he began to ramble. He fidgeted next to the bed,
attempting to watch the king without seeming to do so. Here, in his bedroom,
the king didn’t seem so grand as he had when Jared had kneeled before him. He
wore a linen shirt, padded for warmth, and loose linen pants. There were wide
leather bands at his forearms where he sheathed knives. His feet were bare, and
Jared watched as the king curled his toes into the fur covering the stone
floor.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” the king said.
“What are you going to do to me?” Jared said.
The king approached slowly, as if Jared were an animal he was trying not to
spook. “Nothing you won’t enjoy,” he said.
“I find that hard to believe,” Jared said, his breath quickening as the king
drew near.
The king placed a hand on his face, warm palm on Jared’s cheek, rough thumb
tracing the skin beneath Jared’s eye. Jared’s eyes closed without his
permission.
“You’re very beautiful,” the king said. “Exotic.” His thumb touched Jared’s
eye, just at the corner where the line of it curved upwards. “No wonder the
girls liked you so much.”
“I’m not beautiful,” Jared said. “The girls in my village think me ungainly.”
The king chuckled, the sound soft in the quiet of the room, and Jared’s eyes
fluttered open. The king’s face was very close to his. He was handsome, Jared
couldn’t help but notice. There’d been stories of him in Jared’s village long
before the king invaded. The village girls had whispered of the cut of the
king’s muscles, of giant-like height, and of eyes the color of precious jewels.
With one look, it was said, the king could bring anyone to heel. But Jared saw
now that the king was just a man. A man with laughter lines at the corners of
eyes that were more the color of forest moss than emeralds. A man no more
muscled than the men of Jared’s village, and who was looking at Jared now as if
Jared were something precious.
“I did not mean the grasswalkers,” the king said. “It’s obvious they have no
knowledge of real beauty. I meant my whores. You are beautiful enough to be one
of them.”
Jared pulled his face away from the king’s hand.
“Ah,” the king said. He grabbed Jared before he could turn fully away, one hand
on his shoulder, the other in Jared’s hair, holding him still, his face tilted
upwards. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Is that what I am?” Jared whispered. “Am I to be a whore? Something exotic for
you to play with?”
The king arched an eyebrow. He stepped back and grabbed the hem of Jared’s
tunic, tugged until Jared lifted his arms so he could pull it over his head.
Jared felt shaky and exposed standing before the king, practically naked while
the king himself was still fully clothed. The king ran his finger along the
waist of Jared’s underclothes.
“Take this off,” the king said.
“If I say no?” Jared said.
The king gripped Jared’s upper arms and push-walked him to the bed until
Jared’s knees buckled and he was forced to sit.
“You’re mine now,” the king said, his face close enough to Jared’s that Jared
could feel the king’s breath against his lips. “You’ll do as I wish.”
He pulled Jared’s underclothes down just far enough to expose Jared’s cock and
balls, then he licked a stripe up his palm and dragged his hand down Jared’s
cock, which, despite Jared’s fear, was half hard already, curving slightly
toward his stomach. The king tugged on the foreskin in a way that made Jared
gasp and clench his hands into the fur blanket beneath him.
“Has anyone ever touched your pretty cock?” the king said.
Jared shook his head.
“No sweet little village girl’s ever taken you in hand? Made you feel good?”
“No, sire,” Jared said. He licked his lower lip, his breath coming in little
gasps he couldn’t control the longer the king touched him.
“Good,” the king said. He gripped Jared’s cock just a shade too hard and Jared
whimpered.
“Please,” Jared said.
“I like being the first,” the king said, stroking painfully slow. “I like
knowing I’m the only one who’ll ever have this. I like when you beg.”
The king pressed Jared’s cock against his belly, his hand flat against it.
“King,” Jared said. “Please.” He tried to move against the king’s hand.
“Do you want to come, boy?” the king said.
Jared nodded, his entire body trembling, the king supporting all of his weight.
Jared gripped the king’s forearm in both hands. He didn’t know if he was trying
to push him away or pull him closer.
“Use my hand,” the king said.
Jared flushed all over as he obeyed, too desperately hard to do anything else
but hump himself against the king’s hand like a needy dog. The king helped him
along some, pressing his cock against his belly. Just as Jared came, the king
pressed his lips to Jared’s, licking along the seam before forcing entrance and
swallowing Jared’s gasps. Jared had been kissed before, but never like this, as
if the king were trying to taste every inch of his mouth, make Jared’s very
breath the king’s own. Jared’s head was tilted back as far as possible, and he
felt boneless as the king kissed him and stroked him through the aftershocks of
his orgasm.
When the king stopped kissing him, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth
before pulling fully away, Jared realized he’d been laid back against the bed.
The king followed him down, lay down beside Jared and rolled him onto his
stomach. Jared went without much fuss.
He could feel that the king was hard, the bulge of his cock in his loose pants
pressed against Jared’s hip, and Jared began to tense. He’d heard stories of
what men did with other men, and he’d thought every story he’d ever been told,
every single one that had been whispered shamefully from boy to boy in his
village, seemed absolutely impossible. But in this moment, it seemed the king
could do anything to him.
“Shh,” the king said. He dragged his hand down Jared’s back, stroked the base
of Jared’s spine with his thumb. “Hush, boy,” the king said. “I’ll take care of
you.”
He knelt up behind Jared, spread Jared’s legs and dragged a thumb wet with oil
straight across Jared’s hole. Jared gasped and pressed his face into the bed as
the king’s thumb pressed inside of him, as he tugged gently against the muscle.
It burned, what the king was doing, and the burn grew worse as the king pushed
his other thumb in as well.
“Look at how pretty you open up for me,” the king said.
He rubbed at Jared’s entrance with his thumb until Jared’s toes were curling
and he was half hard again and the burn was almost gone, replaced by a strange
pressure. And when the king dragged his thumb across a spot inside of him,
Jared keened, his whole body arching until he was raising his ass in the air
like he was begging for it.
The king laughed. “You like that?” he said. He pressed the spot again.
“Please,” Jared said. He squirmed, wanting to get away, wanting the king to get
on with whatever he was doing.
“What do you want, Jared?”
“More,” Jared said.
He felt the king pull away. He heard a hush of cloth against cloth as the king
undressed, and Jared felt as if his body were nothing more than the strings of
an instrument, stretched tight and waiting for the king’s fingers. The king did
not disappoint.
When he settled on the bed behind Jared, Jared watched from the corner of his
eye, though it was difficult from his position—on his knees and forearms, legs
spread wide and wanton—to see exactly what the king was doing. He felt it,
though, when the king pressed slick fingers into his open hole and tugged,
stretching Jared until he moaned. When the king removed his fingers, he
replaced them with the head of his cock, and Jared understood what was coming.
He tried to scramble away, but the king grabbed his hips and pushed inside.
Jared cried out. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt, but the king went slowly and dragged
across that spot that Jared hadn’t even known existed, and Jared was coming
again before the king was even fully seated inside of him.
The king fucked into Jared—hard, steady thrusts that would have moved Jared up
the bed had the king not been holding him still—and when the king came, he
helped Jared fall to the bed and lay beside him until his cock was soft enough
to slip out. Jared felt dirty, weeks worth of travel and his and the king’s
sweat heavy on his skin. His hole felt loose and sloppy, and he could feel the
king’s come everywhere, in his bum and on his thighs, already cool and drying
against the burn he feared would only hurt worse in the morning. He was
exhausted.
The king brushed a hand through Jared’s hair. He moved him further up the bed.
He disappeared for a moment and returned. “Can you sit up?” he whispered.
Jared did, propping himself up on shaky arms and blinking at the king.
“It will get cold in the night,” the king said. “You’ll want these.” He set a
pile of clothes on the pillow beside Jared.
Jared nodded.
“Get some sleep, my boy,” the king said.
He moved from the bed and Jared dressed himself. Then he sunk into the
mattress, burrowed in the king’s blankets, and was asleep before the king
returned.
***
When Jared woke, he was alone. The sun was high and flooding through the
window, and he squinted into the light. He felt older, as if his body had grown
and stretched in the night. He felt as if he’d slept for months.
He’d never felt the king get back into bed, but Jared thought he must have
slept. He looked to the sheets beside him for some sign, but they looked
smooth, and Jared thought that if he ran his hand over the top of them, they’d
be warm only because of the sun.
The door swung open, and though he was fully dressed, Jared pulled the sheets
to his chest as he sat up; then, angry with himself for acting the virginal
maiden, he pushed the sheets back again.
“You’re awake,” the king said.
“Sire,” Jared said. He got up from the bed as quickly as possible when he saw
who it was, though he winced from the burn in his backside and had to stifle a
groan. He looked at his bare feet against the floor. He could still feel the
king’s come inside of him.
“I’m sorry,” he said once he’d composed himself. “It must be late. I did not
mean to sleep so long.”
The king shrugged. “You needed it,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
The king looked very young in the daylight, and Jared tried to let himself
relax a little.
“Yes, sire,” Jared said. He clasped his hands behind his back.
“When we’re around others, you should call me ‘sire,’ but here, please, just
Jensen.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I grow weary of never hearing my name.”
When Jared didn’t respond, the king nodded once. “Come,” he said. “You haven’t
bathed, and Sam will not let you into the kitchens if she thinks you dirty.”
Jared nodded and wondered if he was to be put to work in the kitchens. He
supposed that would be better than being left to lounge around the king’s bed
chamber like the king’s pet. He was hopeless in the kitchen, though. His mother
had always told him so. He stopped thoughts of his mother as soon as they rose.
He didn’t want to know what she would think of what he’d become.
It’s not that he’d been taught that sex was something to be ashamed of. The men
and women of his village embraced their bodies, but sex was supposed to be
something sacred, something done only with someone matched to you by the gods’
divine will. Jared’s people were laborers; they lived off the land, growing and
hunting what they could, and there was rarely leisure time. The women who made
money purely with their bodies, drawing men from their wives’ beds in the
night, were barely part of the village, almost exiles, allowed to live on the
edges of the village by the good grace of the elders. And the men who slept
with other men weren’t even allowed that kindness. They were driven from their
homes, their names forgotten, only to be heard again in the hush of the wind
through the grasses as Jared walked the plains helping his father work for
their dinner.
It was this that Jared thought of as he followed the king into a bathing
chamber as big as his family’s home. It was warmly lit with torches, and there
was a pool of water set into the stone, quietly steaming. Jared’s body ached
with the desire to sink into it, to let the warmth sooth the anxiety and leech
some of the dullness from his muscles, ease the burn that grew worse as he
walked.
“Strip,” the king said, interrupting Jared’s thoughts.
“What?” Jared said.
“You cannot bathe clothed, boy,” the king said.
“I didn’t intend to,” Jared said.
“Well, then,” the king said.
“Nor did I intend to bathe with you present,” Jared said.
The king smiled at that. “And I suppose you thought you had a choice in the
matter.”
Jared shifted and looked at the water warily. “Then I’d rather not bathe,” he
said.
“I see,” the king said. “I saw all of you last night, Jared. What are you
hiding?”
“That was different,” Jared said.
“Would you rather go back to your cell?” the king said. “Live in filth and eat
slop with your hands? Because you’ll share neither my bed nor my table in the
state you’re in.”
“I have no desire to share either,” Jared said. “If that means a cell, then so
be it.”
The king shook his head and walked toward Jared, who flinched away but didn’t
get far before the king was grabbing him by the nape of his neck like a
misbehaving dog and shoving him toward the water. He unceremoniously threw him
in, clothes and all.
Jared stood and shook the water from his hair. “Bastard,” he said.
The king merely laughed. “You have ten minutes,” he said. Then he turned and
left the room.
Jared removed himself from the bath, cursing the king and delighting in
trailing water across the stone floor. He removed his clothes and tossed them
in a corner before climbing back into the bath and sinking in all the way up to
his nose. For a while, he just soaked. He closed his eyes and breathed in the
steam. This was the first time he’d felt relaxed since he was taken. Despite
the king waiting on the other side of the door, he was warm and comfortable,
alone, and there was the promise of food in his future. Given the current state
of his life, those few things seemed like small miracles; he would take what he
could get.
After a time, there was a knock on the door, and Jared sat up and began
scrubbing himself, getting rid of dirt and sweat he hadn’t even realized he
carried. His quick wash in his cell had done very little, especially
considering what he’d done with the king immediately after. So Jared scrubbed
until he was pink. He ran the washcloth gently over his sore hole, wincing at
first, then sinking further into the water as the cloth began to soothe. He
very gently pressed a finger inside in an attempt to rid himself of the king’s
semen, but he flinched away and instead sunk back under the water and ran his
fingers over his scalp and through his tangled hair. When he surfaced, the king
was sitting cross-legged beside the bath, watching.
Jared sank back into the water until it was up to his ears. He then realized
that the water was quite clear and the king could most likely see everything
anyway. He felt his face, already warm from the bath, flush so quickly he began
to sweat, and he tried to cover himself with his hands. “What are you doing
here?” he asked.
“It’s my castle,” the king said.
“You know what I mean,” Jared said.
“Do I?” the king said.
“I would like some privacy.”
“And I would like little slave boys to realize they aren’t entitled to
everything they want.”
“Sire,” Jared said. He thought briefly of letting the water take him.
“Jensen,” the king said.
Jared looked away. “Yes,” he said. “Jensen. I apologize.”
Jensen sighed. “Jared,” he said. “Are you going to get out of the water or
aren’t you? I am hungry and you are keeping me from the kitchens.”
Jared pulled himself carefully from the water, trying to angle his body so that
the king, who stood and backed up a step, could not see all of him. Only
belatedly did he realize he had no clothes, nor anything with which to dry
himself.
“Sire,” Jared said. “Jensen—I have no clothes.”
“You presume I wish you to wear them,” Jensen said.
Jared was sure he looked dumb in that moment, mouth gaping open and wordless,
but the king only laughed before Jared could protest and said, “Relax, boy. I
have no intention of showing off what’s mine.” He tossed a towel into Jared’s
face and watched while Jared dried himself hurriedly. When he finished, Jensen
handed Jared a small pile of clothing.
“They’re mine,” Jensen said. “They should fit, though the shirt may be big in
the shoulders.”
“Thank you,” Jared said, quiet. He began to dress himself, conscious of the
king’s watchful eyes.
“I wonder how long that will last,” Jensen said. “You look like you still have
growing to do. By next winter you might surpass even my height.”
“I apologize?” Jared tried.
“I wasn’t chiding you for it, boy,” Jensen said. “You’ll be a beautiful man.”
Jared’s hands shook as he laced the trousers the king had given him. He pulled
the king’s shirt, padded and warm, over his head, and though it was a bit short
in the sleeves, it hung loose at his shoulders, revealing far too much skin as
far as Jared was concerned.
“It will have to do,” Jensen said. “Come, boy.” He turned and walked back into
his bedchamber. Jared followed.
Jared was cold now that they’d left the warmth of the bathing chamber, and he
stood shivering in the middle of the room. The king came toward him, then, with
a piece of clothing that was beautiful in a way none of Jared’s clothing had
ever been. It was made from some sort of hide, expertly tanned, and lined with
a short fur. The king held it open, and Jared saw that it was similar to the
doublet the king wore himself, sleeveless and short, though with none of the
fine embroidery of the kings. It had a hem that would flare over Jared’s hips.
When Jared didn’t immediately step into it, the king tutted and said, “arms.”
Jared moved forward and let the king put it on him. The king brushed a hand
down Jared’s shoulder and over the leather as he moved to stand in front of
him.
“I had it made for you during our journey,” Jensen said. “It is cold in the
castle, and I know you’re not used to being out of the warmth. This should
help.” He tugged at it a little to straighten it on Jared’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” Jared said. He ran his hand down the front of it, the leather soft
beneath his fingers.
“You deserve something nice,” Jensen said. He shrugged, then, “Come. Let’s
eat.”
***
Jared felt entirely lost, watching the king as they ate. They were at the same
table with the same food, and Jared may come from a small village, but he knew
how things worked; servants and kings did not eat as equals. His own father—the
highest elder in a poor village without the favor of the king—didn’t even allow
their one family servant the privilege of eating at the same table.
Jared wondered about this king, about the two separate sides of him that Jared
had seen. There was the king who’d taken him, the warrior who’d driven an army
across the country and humiliated Jared in front of his father, who treated
Jared like the slave Jared thought he was; then there was this king, who seemed
young and troubled and sat at the same table as Jared, and who laughed when
Jared was disobedient as if it were a great entertainment.
Still, Jared ate his fill of the wild boar and fresh bread and cheese, even
took seconds when they were offered. He’d never been one to turn down a meal,
and halfway through his second plate, he looked up to find the king staring at
him, an amused smirk on his face.
“What?” Jared said.
Jensen snorted. “Should I alert the people that the city’s food storage will be
emptied before the end of winter?”
Before Jared could apologize, the cook, Sam, smacked Jensen on the back of the
head. “Hush up, Jensen. You weren’t any better when you were his age.”
“Ow,” Jensen replied.
Jared pushed his plate away, suddenly exasperated. He put his clenched fists in
his lap. “Sire—” Jared said.
“Jensen,” the king corrected.
“Jensen,” Jared said. He took a breath. “Why am I here?”
“You don’t strike me as stupid,” Jensen said.
Jared pounded his fist on the table, then he remembered himself and looked up
guiltily at Jensen, who had only raised an eyebrow. Jared pressed his hand flat
against the solid wood in an effort to calm down. “I’m not stupid,” he said.
“But this…none of this makes sense.”
“And what would make sense?” Jensen said, his voice level.
“I expected to be your whore,” Jared blurted.
“Do you want to be my whore?” Jensen said, emphasizing the word strangely, as
if it amused him, as if he didn’t understand why it would be bad.
“Last night,” Jared said. He flicked his eyes to Sam who was busying herself
kneading bread dough and pretending not to listen. “You fucked me last night.”
“I was there,” Jensen said.
“Don’t do that,” Jared said. “Please don’t be so flippant.”
When he looked up, he saw the king didn’t look amused at all. He ran a hand
down his face, and Jared heard the king’s stubble rasp against his callused
hand.
“You took me into your bed last night,” Jared said, “but now I sit at your
table as if we are equals.”
“What a mess this is,” the king said. He pushed his own food away. “I didn’t
bring you here to be my whore, boy.”
“But in my village, after the battle, you said…” Jared turned his eyes away.
He’d spent many nights during their travel thinking about what the king had
said, about how he’d love to fuck a pretty thing like Jared. “You made it seem
as if that’s all it was. As if that’s all you want me for.”
“A show,” Jensen said. “To anger your father. I don’t like him much.”
“There’s a history between you,” Jared said.
He knew the stories: He knew about the man from his village who was once the
head elder of the Council of the South but had betrayed the Southern townships
by aligning himself with Jensen’s father. Jared had been just a baby, but it
was said his people would have been enslaved had it not been for Jared’s father
uniting them against the traitor from the South and the king from the North.
Jared was sure the North told its own version of that history, so the blood
between Jensen and Jared’s father was undoubtedly bad.
“Yes,” Jensen said, and he looked suddenly haunted. His eyes were pinned to the
table, and Jared could only see thick lashes lining delicate skin. He could
read no particular emotion there. “There is a history. And his selling you like
a piece of chattel did not do much to endear him to me.”
“Sell me?” Jared said, his anger returning. “You took me, you miserable
bastard! I would be home with my family if it weren’t for you.”
“Maybe,” Jensen said. “But you’re better off here.”
“Horse shit,” Jared said.
“Believe what you want.” Jensen stood.
“You’re a slaver,” Jared said, “and a piece of swine, sire.” He flattened both
hands on the table and stood, staring the king in the eye. “You’ll forgive me
if I don’t thank you for taking me from my home to be used as your bed toy.”
Jensen’s face was turned away, his jaw clenched tightly enough Jared could see
the muscle tick beneath the growth of hair. “Believe what you want,” Jensen
said again. “Jeffrey!” he called.
The king’s advisor stepped into the kitchens.
“Take Jared.”
Jeff nodded once. “Come, boy,” he said.
“I’m not a boy,” Jared said. He turned back to the king. “Nor am I a dog to be
ordered around.”
Jensen leaned across the table and grabbed Jared by the bicep. He half pulled
Jared across the tabletop and put his mouth very close to Jared’s ear. Jared
felt his cock stir at the sensation, and his entire body flushed. He swallowed
the gasp that wanted to escape.
“You are trying my patience, boy,” Jensen said. He shoved Jared away. “Go with
Jeff or I’ll have you sleeping in the stables where even that fine covering
I’ve given you won’t keep you warm.”
Jared trailed his fingers along his doublet. He felt the urge to apologize, but
shoved it far down deep to be buried by the anger. Even so, he didn’t feel it
smart to push his luck and turned without saying a word to follow Jeff out of
the kitchens.
“You’re playing with fire, kid,” Jeff said, once they were well out of earshot.
“I don’t particularly care,” Jared said.
“Is that right?” Jeff said. He looked at Jared sidelong and snorted when Jared
only glowered at him. “The king can be a mean son-of-a-bitch,” he said, “but he
can be good to you, too, if you let him be.”
“Why would I want that?” Jared said. He scuffed at the stone floor, and Jeff
stopped, turned to face Jared.
“Would you rather be treated like a slave?” he said. “Would you rather work the
fields? Eat grain mash and shiver with the cold in your bed at night? Maybe
wake up to find a loved one dead from the freeze? Or to find your master in
your bed?”
“I’d rather be home,” Jared said.
“This is your home now.” Jeff reached behind him into the shadows, levered
something upwards, and pushed. “In you go,” he said.
“What’s this?” Jared said.
“Your cell,” Jeff said, his voice disinterested. “You don’t want to be around
the king right now, so this is the alternative.”
Jared hesitated, peering into the shadows.
“I won’t ask again, Jared,” Jeff said.
Jared nodded and stepped inside. He heard the heavy door close behind him, and
his whole body shuddered at the sudden dark. He felt his way toward the straw
mattress and sat down, folding himself into the corner, letting the solidness
of the wall at his back steady him. His throat felt swollen and his eyes
burned, but he absolutely refused to cry.
 
Part II
Jared couldn’t say how long he was kept in his cell—long enough to have been
brought three tasteless meals of the grain mash Jeffery had threatened; long
enough to have fallen into a fitful sleep, then to have woken furious and
spiteful and screaming at the door to be let free; long enough to have fallen
asleep again, only to dream of the feel of Jensen’s hand at the nape of his
neck, Jensen’s lips against his ear, and to wake up hard and angry about it,
then to roughly pull at his cock until he came all over his own hand and who
knows where else. He stood then, wiped his hands against his shirtsleeves until
he thought they were clean, and—overheated from his exertions and suddenly
worried about soiling the fine leather—took off the vest Jensen had given him.
He folded it carefully and set it near the head of his mattress until he was
shivering and was forced to wear it again.
When the door opened for a final time, Jared expected to see the guard who’d
brought his food or perhaps Jeff; instead, Jensen stood in the doorway, backlit
with torchlight from the hallway. Jared was torn between wanting to kill the
man and wanting to hug him.
After a moment, stretched full like a bead of water before it dropped, the king
spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“My punishment was too harsh.”
“Is that what this was?” Jared said. “Punishment?”
“What did you think it was?”
“You hearing a truth you didn’t like and taking your anger out on whoever you
could.”
The king only sighed. “You don’t understand everything, Jared,” he said. “There
are many things at work here that aren’t what they seem.”
He stood and faced the king. “Then explain them to me,” he said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You are not in a state to hear them,” Jensen said.
Jared, suddenly furious, shoved the king, hitting him square in the chest and
startling him into taking a few steps backwards. In the light of the hallway,
Jared could see the king’s face clearly. He looked tired, dark circles beneath
his eyes, lips dry and harsh red, hair in unruly spikes as if he’d been running
his hands through it. The king looked tired, but not the least bit surprised by
Jared’s anger.
“If I had my blade,” Jared said, “I’d force you to explain.”
Jensen held his hands up then pulled a knife from the sheath at his forearm. He
held it out to Jared, handle first. “Take it, then,” Jensen said. “Let’s see
what you can do.”
When Jared didn’t move, Jensen grabbed Jared’s wrist and placed the weapon in
his hand.
“Take it,” he said again.
Jared saw nothing but sincerity in Jensen’s face. He took hold of the blade.
“Why are you giving me your weapon?” he said.
“You won’t kill me,” Jensen said. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”
“Watch me,” Jared said. He lunged toward the king, who grabbed his wrist and
twisted Jared around before he could do any harm. He forced Jared’s front
against the stone wall and pressed his arm upwards until Jared grunted and
dropped the blade.
Jared dropped his forehead against the wall. “Let go,” he murmured. He was so
cold, but he could feel the heat of the king at his back, the bulge of the
king’s cock against his ass, and he felt his own cock stirring again at the
feel of it.
“Stop baiting me, Jared,” the king said.
“Fuck off,” Jared said.
The king ground his cock against Jared and moaned, dropped his head until his
forehead was resting on the crown of Jared’s hair. Jared felt the king’s breath
against his scalp.
“Fuck,” Jensen said. “You make me crazy. How is that possible?” He kicked
Jared’s legs wider and, with his free hand, rubbed Jared’s cock through his
pants.
“I hate you,” Jared said, the words broken over a moan.
“But you’re hard for me,” Jensen said. “Did you miss me, Jared? While you were
in your cell? Did you think of me?”
“No,” Jared said.
“You smell like you thought of me,” Jensen said. “Smell like you did more than
think.”
He dragged his lips through Jared’s hair and tilted Jared’s head to the side,
licked his neck. When Jared began to pull away, Jensen bit down on the tendon
until Jared whimpered and went pliant. He unlaced Jared’s pants, pulled his
cock out and stroked it until it was slick with pre-come and so hard it was
painful. Jared knocked his forehead against the wall. The king must have
unlaced his own pants at some point because suddenly Jared could feel his bare
cock rubbing against the cleft of his ass.
The king lifted Jared’s hands until they were crossed at the wrists above his
head. He held them there as he thrust against Jared, using the space between
Jared’s cheeks to rub himself to completion. Jared held his hands as fists
while he felt the king’s come splatter against his bare skin. Then there was a
moment of near panic when Jared thought the king would leave him like
that—naked and dirty and wanting—but then the king was grabbing Jared’s cock
and tugging at it until Jared came all over the wall.
The king held him for a few moments after. When he released him, Jared stayed
slouched against the wall, not sure if he could move of his own volition. He
felt wrecked. He’d never had an orgasm like that from his own hand, not even
the day he’d come of age after his friend Gen had taken him out into the fields
of long grasses, removed her top and let him look and touch, drag his thumbs
across her brown, pebbled nipples.
He felt the king’s hand between his shoulder blades. “Take your time,” the king
said. “I have business to attend to today, but I will see you this evening.”
Jared took a deep breath, turned to face the king. The king stepped forward. He
righted Jared’s pants, tucked his cock away. Jared turned his face away,
embarrassed.
“What am I to do?” Jared said.
“Explore,” the king said. “Get to know the castle. If there is anywhere you
should not be, my guards will stop you. You are welcome to bathe; find clean
clothes. You’ll have your own clothes soon. My tailor will visit.”
The king touched Jared’s face, pressed his cheek lightly until Jared looked at
him. He dragged his thumb across Jared’s bottom lip, then he leaned in and
kissed Jared’s forehead.
***
Jared wandered around the castle’s halls, restless and filthy. After Jensen had
left him slouched against the wall, Jared tried to right himself then went in
search of a way to escape, or, barring that, a way to stave off the boredom and
low-grade anger—at Jensen, at his father, at the entire gods be damned
kingdom—that had risen as his embarrassment had waned. When each new hall he
turned down offered up only more stone walls and torches and grey daylight,
when everywhere he turned there was one of the king’s guard watching him,
stone-faced and silent, Jared found himself wanting to shout the castle down
until someone spoke to him or acknowledged him, and he was only a little
ashamed that it was Jensen who he hoped would come.
It had been morning when Jensen released him from his cell, and by day’s end,
when the muted tones of the sun through the castle’s heavy stained glass
windows grew even more listless and dull, Jared found himself in some sort of
library, slouched in an armchair and wishing someone would start a fire in the
grate. He felt chilled right down to his marrow. Even the company of the
mercurial king was better than this ache. Jared wondered where he was meant to
sleep tonight. The king had said Jared would see him, but it was late, and
Jared found himself doubting the king’s word.
He fell asleep in that chair—hungry, cold, alone.
He woke to someone poking him in the chest. For a moment he thought his little
sister had come to wake him, but only for a moment. Even before opening his
eyes, he remembered where he was and just how he felt about it. He squinted his
eyes open, then blinked at the unexpected torchlight falling across his face.
“What is the hour?” he said, his voice heavy with sleep.
Whoever poked him awake laughed above him. “It is early yet. Too early for
sleep. And this is not your bedchamber.”
Jared looked up and, for a moment, wasn’t sure if he was looking at a boy or a
girl. This person was Jared’s age, maybe a year or two older, and had Jared’s
same length of hair, which curled against a slender neck and sharp cheekbones
and fell into ice blue eyes lined with khol to match reddened lips.
“Oh, you’re very beautiful,” this creature said before reaching out to touch
Jared’s face.
Jared jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “I’m not a pet to be caressed at
whim.”
That earned him a laugh. “The king must like you.”
Now that Jared was more fully awake, he could tell he was talking to a man. His
voice was just this side of too deep to be a woman’s, and though his skin was
very smooth in the dim light, not a hint of facial hair, Jared could see the
gentle bob of an Adam’s apple at his throat. He sat up in his chair. “Who are
you?” he said.
The boy ignored him, brushed his fingers across the leather of Jared’s doublet.
“This is too fine to be slept in,” he said. He clucked his tongue a bit. “The
king has one like it. Did he give it to you?”
Jared nodded slowly.
The boy seemed to remember himself and straightened. “I am Max,” he said. “The
king’s servant.”
“If you’re the king’s servant, why have I not seen you before?” Jared said.
The boy smiled playfully. “The king’s been keeping you from me. Doesn’t want
his pretty toys played with.”
“The king seems quite possessive,” Jared said.
“Oh, that he is,” Max said. “Come. We have much work to do. I’ve been sent to
bathe you. You are very beautiful, but you are also very dirty and look as if
you were perhaps raised in the woods.”
“I was raised in the South,” Jared said.
“Yes, I know,” Max said, wrinkling his nose a bit. “Unfortunate.”
“Excuse me?”
“We shall have your eyebrows threaded, I think,” Max said, “and your hair needs
a trim. Come, Jared.”
“And if I don’t?” Jared said.
“The king will likely have your balls as punishment. And it would be a shame. I
imagine yours are quite nice.”
“He wouldn’t…” Jared cleared his throat. “He wouldn’t actually do something
like that, would he?”
Max simply raised one perfectly arched eyebrow in response, and Jared followed
him without much fuss after that.
Max stayed in the room while Jared bathed and seemed unbothered by the fact
that Jared knew how closely he was watched. Max sat on his knees beside the
pool of water and ran his hand over its surface.
“You’re lucky,” he said. “These are the king’s own chambers. I have been his
since I was a child, and even I’ve never been allowed the use of them.”
“You and the king,” Jared said. He thought for a moment about how best to ask
for what he wanted to know. “You’re close?”
“I am his servant.” Max shrugged as if that said it all.
“Yes,” Jared said, “but?”
“Are we intimate?” Max said.
Jared nodded.
“Are you jealous?”
“Of course not,” Jared said. “Why would I be?”
“The king is very handsome,” Max said. He cupped some water in his hands and
let it trickle through his fingers. “He has been courted by many Princes and
Princesses from all sides of the realm and from far away. And you are sharing
his bed. It would not be so unusual if you found yourself possessive of him as
he is of you.”
“I’m not possessive,” Jared said. “And you’ve not answered my question.”
Max sighed. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Jared,” he said. He sounded
suddenly serious, his voice lowering slightly, roughening. “The king will be
good to you.”
Jared’s mouth was dry, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain.
Max’s words felt weighted, but Jared didn’t know the meaning that made them so.
“Are you finished yet?” Max said. “The night grows long, and the king will have
need of you.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Jared said.
“The king fucks me, Jared. Not that it’s your business.” He bit his lip and
turned his head away. “I am his,” he said. He reached into the water and pulled
the stopper. As the water drained, he stood and threw a towel at Jared’s head.
“Come into the king’s chamber when you’ve finished.”
It was only after Jared had stepped out of the basin and dried himself that he
realized Max had taken his clothes and left him nothing new. He walked into the
king’s chamber, covering what he could with the drying-cloth.
“Jared,” Max tutted. “You won’t be needing that.”
He pulled Jared’s towel away and disappeared with it. When he returned, he
pointed to the end of the bed. “Sit,” he said.
Jared, trying to keep his mind off his embarrassment, watched as Max spread a
small cache of cosmetics on the bed beside him. He wore fitted, soft-looking
leather pants that laced at the crotch and a padded linen tunic much like
Jared’s but cut deep with nothing to lace it shut so that his chest peeked
through. He stood close to Jared as he brushed and tugged the tangles from his
hair before spreading Jared’s towel across his shoulders, and moving Jared’s
face this way and that as he trimmed his hair with a pair of sharp, silver
scissors. Jared had only ever had his hair cut by his mother, and she used a
sharpened blade. This felt different, intimate. He could feel the heat of Max
close to him, hear his breaths. When he moved, the slit of his tunic shifted to
reveal one pink nipple, pierced with a delicate silver ring.
“You’re staring,” Max said.
“You stared at me in the bath,” Jared said.
“Fair enough,” Max said. “But am I really that interesting?”
“I’ve never seen anything like you,” Jared said.
“Is that right?” Max said. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned a little at Jared,
like the comment pleased him.
When Max set the scissors down, Jared shook his head, the new lightness of his
hair unsettling. Then Max placed his palm on Jared’s forehead and pushed gently
until Jared’s head tilted backwards.
“What are you doing?” Jared said.
“Hold still,” Max said.
He held up a long piece of thread and wound it around his fingers. Jared tried
to watch him, but then Max was putting the thread to his eyebrow.
“Ow, fuck,” Jared said. He yanked his face away.
“Hold still,” Max said. “Or I’ll take your entire eyebrow.”
“That hurts,” Jared said.
“Beauty is supposed to hurt,” Max said.
He went back to work, Jared clenched his eyes shut and breathed through his
mouth.
When Max finished, Jared rubbed at his brows with his fingers.
“Stop it,” Max said. He dabbed a cream around Jared’s eyes and down his nose
and at the corners of his mouth. “This is for moisture,” Max said. “The cold
and wind is hard on a person’s skin. Peasants can afford to look old before
their time, but you can’t. You’ll apply this morning and night.”
“I’m not a girl,” Jared said.
“Who said anything about girls?” Max said. “You’re lucky you’re not a girl. If
you were, you’d have nothing to offer the king.”
“This is what he likes?” Jared said.
Max paused, then nodded slowly. “He likes his boys soft. Pretty.”
Jared flushed. “Will my clothes be like yours?” he said.
Max snorted. “Wouldn’t Jensen like that,” he said. “No. I imagine your clothes
will be presentable. You are not the king’s slave, Jared.”
“Then what am I?” Jared said.
“If the king hasn’t told you, then it is not my place to say.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Just tell me,” he said.
“No,” Max said. “I’m the king’s slave; not yours. You’d do well to think twice
before giving me orders. I have the king’s confidence, and I’m not going to
throw that away for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Jared said.
He watched as Max gathered his things. Before Jared could stop him, Max was
walking away, leaving Jared naked in the king’s chamber. Jared sighed in
frustration and wrapped himself in a fur blanket that had been left on the
king’s armchair. He wondered if it was the king’s own and imagined he smelled
the man in the furs, a hint of cold air and field grass and the same spiced
soaps Jared had used to bathe. Jared felt his cock begin to harden at the
thought and pressed at it with the heel of his palm. He folded himself into the
king’s armchair to wait.
The king found Jared like that not long after.
“Where are your clothes?” the king said. He looked confused, and not a little
amused by the situation.
“Your servant left me like this.” He tried not to sound sulky.
“Ah,” Jensen said. “He does things like that.”
He was smiling that smile that reached all the way up to his eyes and made the
delicate skin there crinkle.
“And you allow him to?” Jared said, when he found his voice.
“I don’t allow Max to do much of anything. Kid gets away with whatever he
wants.” Jensen sat in the other arm chair to face Jared. “I know this is all
confusing for you,” he said, and Jared stared very hard at his hands while
Jensen spoke, “but I want you to be comfortable here. I want this to be your
home.”
Jared grimaced, and it was obvious by the way the king shuffled that he
noticed. “I know that’s difficult to imagine,” the king said.
“My village is my home,” Jared said.
“Yes,” Jensen said. “But you can’t go back.”
“You mean you won’t let me go back.”
Jensen said nothing, but he was looking at Jared carefully as if he expected
something.
“What…” Jared paused, licked his lips. “What do you want?” he said.
“Come here,” Jensen said.
“Why?” Jared said.
“Jared,” Jensen said. “I would like you to come here and kneel in front of me.”
Jared nodded and folded slowly to his knees. The king pushed the blanket from
around his shoulders and Jared let it fall to the floor.
Jared had watched the whores carefully during the weeks of travel from the
South, had memorized the techniques they used to make the men believe they were
wanted. He thought maybe the king would want that, would want Jared to lick his
lips and look up at him from beneath his lashes, but with the stone floor cold
and unforgiving against his knobby knees, and the king’s scent and warmth so
very near, Jared forgot all about those women and what they had done. He didn’t
know at all what the king wanted.
The king touched his face and tilted Jared’s head up. He touched Jared’s bottom
lip with his thumb. “Open up,” he said.
Jared did as he was told, and the king pressed his thumb into Jared’s mouth,
rubbed the pad of it against Jared’s tongue.
“Suck,” the king whispered.
Jared shivered. He felt a flood in his belly as if he’d been suddenly dropped
from a great height. He thought of refusing, but in that moment, he was
absolutely incapable of listening to his brain, his body was so taken by fear
and arousal. He closed his lips gently around the king’s thumb, curled his
tongue, tried not to scrape with his teeth.
“Look at that,” Jensen said, his voice a rasp. “You’re beautiful when you’re
obedient.”
Jared finally met the king’s eyes. He was staring at Jared as if he’d never
seen anything like him. He was staring at Jared as if he would devour him
whole. His eyes were blown wide open, all pupil, and Jared felt suddenly
powerful; he moaned around the king’s thumb and bit down, hard.
Jensen hissed and pulled back. He gripped Jared by the nape of the neck and
pulled him up until he was kneeling at his full height. He grabbed Jared’s
lower lip with his teeth, tugged until Jared was whimpering. He pulled away,
whispered in Jared’s ear, “I feel your teeth again, you won’t walk for a week.
Understand?”
“Yes, sire,” Jared said.
Jensen bit his earlobe, then bit down the line of Jared’s jaw. He took Jared’s
face in his hands and pressed their lips together. He dug his thumbs into the
hinge of Jared’s jaw, forcing entrance. Jared gave. He gave in to the feeling
of the king’s tongue on his own, of the king’s tongue tasting his teeth, the
roof of his mouth, of the king breathing his breaths. The king didn’t pull away
until Jared felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
Jared started to loosen his grip on the king’s forearms, but Jensen said, “no,”
and Jared stayed where he was.
The king held him like that for a moment, and Jared kneeled, his face too close
to the king’s, his cock hard and wanting. Jared dropped his eyes, and the king
finally loosened his grip and allowed Jared to sit back on his heels.
Jared watched as the king unlaced his pants. He didn’t know what to do with his
hands. He tried to rest them on his thighs, but then the need became too great
and he stroked his dick, just once, just to take some of the edge off as he
watched the king undress.
The king gripped his chin. “No,” he said.
Jared stilled. His eyes tripped upwards, to the king’s mouth, to his cheeks
with their freckles that Jared found endearing no matter how hard he tried not
to, and finally his eyes. Jared expected anger; instead, the king looked
amused. Aroused.
“That’s mine,” Jensen said. “You don’t touch it unless I’ve given permission.”
Jared tried to nod, but the king’s grip was too strong. “Please,” he said,
instead. “I understand.”
Jensen turned Jared’s head and kissed his temple. “You’ll find release
tonight,” he said. “Have patience.”
“I’ve never been patient,” Jared said.
Jensen laughed, his breath puffing across Jared’s ear. “Now that I can
believe.”
Jensen let go of Jared, and Jared shivered with his entire body when he saw
that the king’s cock was free, rising red and fat from the opening of his
pants, a pearl of pre-come at the tip. He had no foreskin, and Jared had heard
of such a thing but had not seen it. His palms itched, and he found himself
wanting to touch the head of Jensen’s cock, to feel the difference between
Jensen’s cock and his own, wanting to slick the king’s juices down his shaft
for him.
The king touched Jared’s cheek, his thumb gentle on the corner of Jared’s
mouth, and Jared understood immediately what the king wanted of him.
He looked at the king, unable to keep the fear from his face. “Sire, please,”
he said. “I’ve never…”
“I know, boy,” Jensen said. “You’ll be fine.”
Jared nodded and swallowed, his throat and mouth too dry, his words completely
gone.
“Come closer,” Jensen said. He gripped Jared’s face just a bit harder. “And
remember what I said about teeth.”
The king led Jared toward his cock. He tried to mimic what he’d seen the whores
do during their travels to the citadel. He opened his mouth, curled his lips
around his teeth, and flicked his tongue out to touch the tip of the king. The
king tasted of sweat and bitter come, and Jared wanted to grimace and pull
away, but instead he moved more quickly forward and pulled the head of the
king’s cock into his mouth, flattened his tongue against the underside.
The king hissed above him. “Good,” he said.
Jared tried to breathe through his nose. He could tell he was beginning to
drool, and he started to pull away. But the king wrapped his hand around the
back of Jared’s head and held him close. He stroked his cock again, right in
front of Jared’s face, and Jared chased the king’s hand with his tongue,
flattening it against the underside and dragging it slow and wet up the shaft
until he reached the head. He took it into his mouth again and suckled, and the
king began to thrust shallowly. He held the base of his own shaft where Jared
couldn’t reach, his hand slicking through pre-come and Jared’s drool.
When Jensen came, Jared panicked and pulled away, the king’s come half on his
tongue and the rest across his lips and chin. He swallowed what he had, gulping
it down too quickly, then coughing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his
arm.
The king grabbed him by the biceps and pulled him up practically into his lap.
He licked Jared’s chin and the corners of his mouth, cleaning him, then kissed
Jared as both of them gasped for breath. When he pulled away, he wiped a tear
from Jared’s face that Jared hadn’t even felt fall.
“Good boy,” the king said. “That’s my good boy.”
The king put Jared on his feet and tugged him toward the bed. Jared collapsed
on top of the fur. When he caught his breath, he propped himself up on his
elbows to watch the king undress.
It’s not as if Jared had never seen another man’s naked form before. The men in
his village worked wrapped from head to toe to protect themselves from the sun,
but when the work was through, they wore little, lounging in the shade all but
bare while the wives cooked and washed the dust and sweat from their work
clothes. Jared had seen naked men before, had even, to his great shame, lusted
after a few. But not one of them had looked like Jensen, had looked like this
king. Tall and lean, muscled, yes, but not overly so. His body gave the
impression of strength held in check, and Jared knew from intimate experience
that the king was quite strong despite his leanness, able to lift and move even
Jared’s long, lanky frame.
Jensen smiled when he noticed Jared was watching. “Like what you see?” he said.
“Yes,” Jared said, feeling quite bold for having admitted it.
The king’s smile softened. “I’m glad,” he said. He crawled, naked, on top of
Jared, pressed him back against the bed, tilted Jared’s head backwards and
kissed his neck. He ground his cock against Jared’s erection.
Jared groaned and grabbed the king’s shoulders. He humped against Jensen’s leg
as Jensen dipped his head, sucked and bit a bruise into Jared’s chest, and let
Jared find his pleasure against the king’s body.
When Jared finally came, he felt the king smile against his skin. “Stay here
for a minute,” the king whispered.
Jared could only nod. He threw his arm over his eyes while he waited for the
king to return.
“Let’s clean you up,” the king said. He had a warm, wet rag, and he cleaned
first Jared’s face, then his crotch and legs.
“Thank you,” Jared said.
The king shrugged and tossed the rag to the floor. “Make room for me,” the king
said.
Jared did, and the king held the covers back so Jared could get under. The king
slid into the bed beside him and pulled Jared close, arranging him so that he
was against the king’s side, his head on the king’s arm for support.
“Shouldn’t I get dressed?” Jared said.
“You’ll have no need of clothes tonight.”
“But if the fire gets too low…”
“A servant will enter later to take care of it, Jared,” the king said. “You
don’t need to worry.”
“Oh,” Jared said. “I’m not used to the cold,” he said quietly.
The king brushed Jared’s hair back from his head.
“Will you stay here tonight?” Jared said.
“Do you want me to?” the king said.
“It’s your bed,” Jared said.
The king snorted a laugh. “That’s not what I asked.”
Jared thought for a moment. “If you stay,” he said. “It will be warmer.”
“That’s true,” the king said.
“I want you to say,” Jared said then, his voice barely a whisper. He was
surprised to find that the words were almost as true as not.
He felt the king’s lips at the top of his head, and Jared felt torn between the
desire to press into it and the desire to pull away. He closed his eyes,
praying he would dream of the South, of soft grasses against the palms of his
hands, of the chalk-white dust he’d played in as a child and that covered his
skin like war paint after a days hunting and labor. He prayed he would dream of
the sun, and he let himself fall asleep in the King’s arms.
 
Part III
When Jared woke, it was to the sounds of hushed conversation. He stilled his
body and listened.
“This is not prudent.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Jeff,” Jensen said.
“I’m your advisor. It’s my job to give you counsel, whether you wish to hear it
or not.”
“Not about this.”
“The boy is a political matter.”
There was a lull of silence, and Jared thought to make himself known, but then
Jensen spoke again.
“I want him,” he said. “He belongs to me.”
Jared hitched a breath, and his entire body trilled, though he did not quite
understand why.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Jeff said.
No, it isn’t, Jared thought.
“It shouldn’t need to be,” Jensen said.
“Maybe not,” Jeff said. “But it is.”
There was a hush of cloth rubbing against cloth as one of the men shifted.
“He’s young,” Jeff said.
“By the time I was sixteen winters, I’d fought my first battle and bedded men
and women both.”
“But you did not grow up in a township removed from the kingdom and kept
purposefully isolated by your elders.”
Jared stilled even more at that, as motionless as a hunter-spotted deer.
“He’s been sheltered; that doesn’t mean he’s immature.”
“Don’t be willfully ignorant, Jensen,” Jeff said, his voice rough with anger.
“You are king. You cannot afford such luxuries.”
When Jensen didn’t answer, Jeff sighed. Jared thought he caught the sound of
stubble dragged across the palm of a hand.
“Does he even want you in return?” Jeff said.
Jensen didn’t reply.
“This,” Jeff said. “Whatever this was that I walked in on…if it’s a
manipulation—”
“He’s impetuous, Jeff. He’s not manipulative.”
Silence.
“Jeff, you yourself just called him sheltered.”
“But not innocent. He was raised by Jed Ackles, of all people.”
And that gave Jared pause. He’d not heard that name before.
Jeff continued. “Raised to believe you’re a barbarian. That you plunder
villages like his for sport. Whoever he once might have been, the boy lying in
that bed right now is not your ally.”
“He could be,” Jensen said.
“Have you even told him yet?” Jeff said.
“You counseled me not to.”
“And on this you listen to me.”
“You were right,” Jensen said. “He’s not ready to hear it.”
“The truth could make him loyal to you.”
“Or it could make him hate me. He won’t believe it for truth. No one wants to
learn that sort of thing about their parents, and I’m not ready to have my
throat slit in my sleep for being the bearer of bad news.”
Jared’s entire body ached to shout that he was awake, to force them to tell him
what they were talking about, but he kept quiet. He didn’t know if it was fear
or intelligence that kept him so.
“Majesty,” Jeff said. “He’ll find out, one way or the other. It should come
from you.”
Jared again heard a rustle of cloth, a throat clearing, then Jensen’s low,
“yeah,” whispered into the room. And when Jeff quietly left, Jared shut his
eyes tight and pretended to sleep again.
The pretense didn’t last long. He felt the bed dip as Jensen sat beside him.
“How much did you hear?” Jensen said.
Jared cracked one eye open to look at the king. His eyes were intent on Jared’s
face.
“Enough,” Jared said.
“Of course,” Jensen said. He rubbed a hand down his face, hard enough to tug
his lips, the perfect bow of them, out of shape.
“You do not sleep enough,” Jared said. “Have you been up all night?”
“Do you really care how much sleep I get?” Jensen asked.
“Yes,” Jared said. “It mars your handsome face when you’re so tired. There are
smudges under your eyes.” Jared reached to touch the king’s face, but the king
pulled away.
“I did not give you permission to touch me,” he said. His voice sounded angry,
but his face looked slightly pained. His hand twitched in his lap.
“Max said I am not your slave,” Jared said.
“That does not mean you can touch me as you please.”
Jared sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and thought for a moment. He wanted
to berate the king for the fairness of that, but he didn’t think that would get
him anywhere. Instead, he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“There was no question to answer,” Jensen said.
“Am I your slave?” Jared asked. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his
knees, put himself at eye-level with the king. He shivered a bit in the cool
air, wished for the doublet the king had gifted him. The dim morning light was
not near enough to warm the room.
Jensen looked away from him. “No,” he said. “You are not my slave.”
“Then I could leave if I wanted?” Jared said.
“No,” Jensen said.
“Then I am your prisoner.”
“No,” Jensen said, more emphatically this time.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Jared said. “What were you talking about? What did
Jeff want you to tell me?”
Jensen shook his head.
“This. What we did…Jensen,” Jared said. He clenched his hands into fists. “I
want this. Gods help me, but I’m intrigued by you. I want to know you, but I
need you to give me a reason to believe that’s okay.”
At first, it didn’t seem as if the king would respond, and when he started
talking, his words were quiet enough Jared had to strain to hear them. “We were
meant to be married once, you and I,” Jensen said.
“What?” Jared asked, startled. “How can that be right?”
Men didn’t marry, he wanted to say. But according to his father, men also did
not fuck each other, and what he and Jensen had just done had gone a long way
toward disproving his father’s truth.
“You were born in this citadel,” Jensen went on. He still would not look at
Jared, and he clenched his jaw visibly, hard enough that Jared thought it must
hurt. “To a young princess and the head elder of the Council of the South. When
the Southern townships were still a part of my father’s kingdom.”
He looked at Jared then, eyes very wide and very green. “I was only taking what
was mine,” he said.
“Jensen—”
He shook his head. “Let me finish.” When Jared didn’t respond, he continued.
“The Southern townships have always been troubled. There had been three drought
years in a row. Your people and the people of the surrounding townships were
having trouble growing crops, and your livestock were dropping from the heat
and lack of water. There needed to be irrigation systems built to bring water
from the river to your lands. Filtration systems to make the water clean.”
“I know all of this, Jensen,” Jared said. “The king turned his back on us. Your
fatherturned his back on us.” It was why they lived the way they lived now,
hunting down every meal, using what water they could carry to coax crops from
the chalky soil.
Jensen snorted, the sound bitter, and the look Jensen gave Jared echoed the
look he’d seen on Jensen’s face only on the battlefield immediately before he’d
claimed Jared as his prize.
“The man who told you that is a goddamned liar,” Jensen said.
Jared began to kick his way out of the bed. Jensen stopped him and pushed him
back down. He stood over him, looked down at him. Jared had to tilt his head
back to see the king’s face.
“No, Jared,” Jensen said. “You asked to hear this. Please just listen to me.”
“That’s my father you’re calling a liar,” Jared said.
Jensen shook his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand heavy at the
join of Jared’s shoulder and neck. He squeezed once, then opened his eyes and
spoke again. “I won’t deny my father was neglectful,” he said. “He didn’t pay
enough attention to the outskirts of the kingdom. And not just in the South,
but to the East and West, as well. It’s an error I’ve been trying to correct.”
Jensen sat next to Jared when Jared finally stilled again; he left only a few
inches between them.
“But when there was talk of an uprising,” Jensen continued, “my father did not
ignore the needs of the people. He sent my uncle to meet with your father, to
offer aid, and to offer an alliance—a marriage that would tie the North and
South.”
“You and I,” Jared said.
Jensen nodded. “Your mother was pregnant. I was eight-winters-old. When you
were born, we were to be betrothed. Your father accepted the offer. Of course
he did. It made sense: They would receive the aid they needed and you would not
be forced to struggle for your existence. And as a Prince, you would bring
wealth to the Southern townships.”
“If all of that is true, then why are things as they are?” Jared asked. “Why
did your father banish our villages? Whatever struggles we faced doubled all
because the head elder of the Council betrayed our people; he sold us to your
father and when my father fought back…” Jared slowed. Something wasn’t right.
“Wait,” he said. “But you said my father was the head of the Council.”
“Yes, Jared,” the king said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But then you’ve got the wrong boy. I’m not who you were meant to marry. My
father was not the head of the council at the time. Not until after we were
banished. He led the revolt.”
Jensen shook his head. “The man who raised you was not the head of the Council.
Nor is he your father.”
“What?” Jared said. He felt light suddenly, as if he could float right up off
the bed. He blinked at Jensen, trying to make sense of what he’d said.
“I’m sorry, Jared,” Jensen said. He rested his hand on Jared’s shoulder.
Jared shook it off. “Explain,” he said.
“Your father was the head elder for the Council of the South. And my father
brought him and your mother here to the citadel while you were growing in her
womb. He wanted to make sure she had the best possible medical attention, and
he wanted your father near while treaties were written and signed.”
Jensen cleared his throat. “But they were away from the village too long. Your
people were already mistrustful of the king, and my uncle had long hated my
father for stealing what he saw as his throne. So, while your parents were
away, my uncle turned your people against my father and yours. He told them no
aid was coming. He told them that your father and mother were selling out their
own people in exchange for riches. That the only way the king would help is if
the people of your township were enslaved. He raised an army. And after you
were born, as your mother and father traveled with the king’s guard to bring
you back to your home, they met my uncle’s army. Your mother and father did not
survive.”
“And your uncle?” Jared said.
“Is the man who raised you,” Jensen said. “Jed Ackles, though I understand he
rid himself of that name a long time ago. He’s the man who sold you to me to
save his own life.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jared said.
“My uncle took you during the fight as a bargaining chip. You were just a baby,
Jared,” Jensen said. “But he never got the chance to use you. My father
banished the townships as punishment before Jed could even tell us you were
still alive. We thought you were dead.”
“And how do you know I’m that baby? How do you know your uncle didn’t have a
child and the child you think I am didn’t die on that battlefield?”
“The mole by your nose,” Jensen said. He brushed it with his thumb, and Jared
shivered at the touch. “You had it then, too.”
“Anyone could have a mole,” Jared whispered.
Jensen gripped Jared’s chin and tilted Jared’s head. He brushed Jared’s hair
behind his ear and touched a spot on the soft skin behind the lobe where Jared
knew there was a hook shaped scar that he’d never known the source of.
“And this,” Jensen said. “The first time I held you, I nicked you with my nail.
I was terrified to hold you after that. You were here for six months, you know,
and I watched over you even then. As if you were mine already. I had lessons in
sword fighting and lessons with Jeff—my tutor then,” Jensen shook his head a
little. “And your mom would indulge me by sitting in the same room, keeping you
near and caring for you while I studied. While I played at protecting you.” He
smiled, a straw smile—blow too hard and it would tumble away. “I couldn’t
protect you, though,” he said. “You were my first death. I’ve seen friends die
in battle; I’ve killed men myself. I watched my father and mother die of
disease. But yours is the death that stuck with me.”
“I’m alive, Jensen.” Jared’s fingers twitched and he wanted to reach out and
touch.
“My uncle let us believe you were dead,” Jensen said. “And then I saw you.”
“When you took me, you mean?”
Jensen nodded. “He’d gotten over his pride and finally reached out to Joshua
and I for aid.”
Jared swallowed. “My father’s arrogant, but not stupid. Our people were
starving. He had no choice. But he told us you were coming to harrow us. To
enslave the people. That’s why he rallied our army to attack.”
“I suppose he couldn’t get over his pride, after all.”
“You had no plans to harm our village?” Jared said.
“No. I came to help. I was going to kill my uncle for his betrayal—I’d waited
years to do so—but I did plan to help your people. But when your uncle
attacked, tried to steal the food we’d brought, kidnap our engineers and
soldiers, I had no choice but to fight. Stupid really. Your village was more
than outmatched. And when we were through, he practically threw you at me to
keep himself alive.”
“You didn’t have to take me,” Jared said.
“I know. But I wanted you,” Jensen said. “I’m sorry. I saw you and knew who you
were and I wanted you. You were mine to take. The treaties are still written.
They are law, and my uncle is a traitor.”
“But what I want doesn’t matter?” Jared said. “Because of some deal our parents
made years ago—parents whom I’ve never met—I’m supposed to accept that you took
me from my village. From my family.
“They aren’t your family, and they were keeping you ignorant of your heritage.
You were meant to be a prince, not a grasswalker.”
“You aren’t my family either. And if I was meant to be a prince, then this
attack you say happened never would have happened in the first place.”
“Jared—”
“It makes no sense,” Jared said. “Why would they have kept me ignorant if what
you’re saying is true?” Jared turned his face away from the king and willed his
eyes to stay dry.
“Can you really not understand it?” Jensen said. “Why they would keep you
ignorant? Yours has been a difficult life. Maybe a happy life, but not a
comfortable one. A village outside of the protection of the kingdom struggles
needlessly, and the man you call father forced that on you and your people when
he killed your parents. You could have had better here. You are a good man, and
I can see you are not the kind to choose comfort over happiness, but I’m sure
they were afraid you’d be angry if you knew the truth, and that you’d try to
leave to find what you’d been denied.”
“I wouldn’t have,” Jared whispered.
“They killed your parents,” Jensen said. “That has to anger you.”
“It should,” Jared agreed. “But it doesn’t. I didn’t know them. I know the
mother and father who raised me.”
Jensen looked upset when Jared looked back at him. Jared watched him swallow
before he spoke. “He was good to you?” he said.
No, he wasn’t. Jared loved his mother, his father, too, in a way; but his
father was a mean son-of-a-bitch who’d kept a willow branch close at hand to
use on Jared when he got out of line, which was often because Jared had always
had more energy than was good for him. And he’d sold Jared with barely a
moment’s thought.
Jared pulled his knees closer to his chest and stared down at the tops of them.
They were skinned sore and red from kneeling on the stone floor in front of the
king. “What am I supposed to do with all of this, Jensen?” He recognized the
pleading tone in his voice but could do nothing to change it.
“I don’t have any answers for you,” Jensen said. “I’m sorry.”
“But you’re the king,” Jared insisted. He wanted it to mean something. He felt
as if he were floating in very deep, very dark water, and his only way of
staying above the surface long enough to find his way out was this man sitting
beside him.
“I’m only a man,” Jensen said. “You’re smart enough to know king doesn’t mean
infallible. And maybe I made a mistake in taking you at all. The Northern
Council thinks so. And you certainly don’t seem happier for it.”
“I’m glad to know the truth,” Jared said. “If nothing else, I’m glad of that.”
“You believe me, then?” Jensen said. He arched one eyebrow at Jared.
Jared nodded slowly, not willing to fully commit.
There was a knock at the door, then, and Jensen stood.
“Come in,” Jensen said.
Jared scrambled behind the king to cover himself up.
“Privacy!” Jared said, but it was only Max, who’d already seen Jared naked, and
though that didn’t completely remove the embarrassment, it did soothe it some.
“The tailor has arrived, sire,” Max said. “To take Jared’s measurements.”
“Good,” Jensen said. “I’ll leave you to handle it.”
“Of course.” Max eyed Jared.
“You’re leaving?” Jared asked Jensen.
“You’ll see me this afternoon,” Jensen said.
Jared wanted to protest. He didn’t want to spend another day alone.
“I have duties to see to, Jared,” Jensen said. “You may attend me in the hall
this afternoon if you wish, but it will be boring.”
“I don’t mind,” Jared said.
The king nodded. “Then I will see you this afternoon.”
Jared watched Max warily after the king left. “You aren’t going to leave me
naked again, are you?” he said.
“I apologize for before,” Max said. Then he rolled his eyes. “Jensen says I can
be petulant, and I suppose he’s right.”
“That’s not a compliment, you know. Children are petulant,” Jared said.
“Then I supposed it’s a word more fitting for you.”
Jared felt surprisingly hurt by the words. “How old are you?” he said, to cover
it.
“Me?” Max looked surprised. “Why, I’m as old as the king.”
“You can’t be. You look…” Jared didn’t know how to finish the thought. Max
looked sexless and showed none of the signs of age the harsh winds off the
plains usually brought the people of this area.
Max sighed. “I am a gelding, Jared. It helps me look young. I am twenty-four
winters, like the king. We were born on the same evening, in fact.”
“The king gelded you?” Jared whispered.
“Gods, you’re curious. Please Jared, get up. I need to bring the tailor in or
the king will do worse to me.”
Jared didn’t move.
“You can ask as many questions as you like while he’s working. I promise.”
Jared slid out of the bed and wrapped the blanket around himself while Max
retrieved the tailor from the hall.
The tailor barely acknowledged Jared. He placed a short pedestal in the center
of the room, then grabbed Jared and pulled him toward it. Jared tried to pull
away, lost his hold on his blanket, and by the time the tailor stopped, was
standing naked in front of the man. He tried to cover himself.
The tailor shook his head. “Don’t be silly, boy. I have seen any number of
naked slaves in my time.”
“He is no slave, sir,” Max said, appearing back into the room, “and the king
would want you to be kind to him.”
“Would he now,” the tailor said, his voice flat.
“Jared is shy,” Max said. “Come, Jared. It’s fine. He just needs to take your
measure so he can find you something to wear this evening. Up on the pedestal
with you.”
Jared stood as still as possible while the man measured him in all sorts of
uncomfortable ways. He tried to ignore his embarrassment and focused on Max.
“You were going to tell me your story,” Jared said.
Max was lounging on the bed. He nodded as if it were no big deal the story he
was about to tell, but he refused to look at Jared, and his face went all tight
as if he were trying to hide some emotion.
“I was gelded by the former king,” he said. “I was meant to be a toy for
Jensen, and though Old King Ackles technically had no problems with a man
bedding a man, he was a traditionalist.”
“I don’t know much about Northern traditions,” Jared said.
“If it was to happen,” Max said, “it would happen in the traditional way: only
one set of cock and balls in the mix.”
Jared stood silent for a moment as he took Max’s words in. The tailor looked at
Max over his shoulder and shook his head before prompting Jared to lift his
arms.
“Max?” Jared said eventually. He looked at the top of the tailor’s head,
wondering if he should wait until they were in private, but he needed to know.
“If I had…If my parents hadn’t been killed?” Jared said.
“He told you about that, did he?” Max said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at
the tailor. “Are you through?”
“Patience,” the tailor said.
Max rolled his eyes. “I have seen you work before,” he said. “You’re finished.
You were not asked here to ogle the king’s boy.”
The tailor took a step back. He looked nervous, wringing his hands like a child
caught with his fingers in the honey pot. “You won’t tell him?” he said. “Will
you, Max?”
“Just do your job. Have his clothes ready by the evening.”
“Of course,” the tailor said. He backed away and left.
“I apologize for that,” Max said. “He’s a dirty old man and spends half his
time in the brothels. Ask your question, Jared.”
Jared stepped off the pedestal. “May I have clothes,” he said. He felt suddenly
dirty. He hoped he didn’t have to meet the tailor again any time soon.
Max handed him a shirt he’d had waiting. Another one of the king’s. Jared
pulled it over his head, then reached for the pants. As he was lacing them, he
tried again.
“So,” he said. “If Jensen and I had been betrothed, if things had gone as
planned, would the king have…” he trailed off. He didn’t really want to finish
the thought.
“Yes,” Max said. He was looking at Jared with a mixture of pity and amusement.
“Had you been raised as you were meant to be, you would have been gelded as a
boy.”
Jared felt sick. “Why would someone do something like that?” he asked.
Max’s grin crooked a bit as if he were thinking. “Power,” he said. “Ownership.”
He shrugged. “So the gods can’t punish you for marrying your son off to someone
of the same sex.”
“Marriage between two men is an abomination,” Jared said. He swallowed around
the tightness in his throat.
“Only stodgy old men think that anymore,” Max said. “Anyway. You have nothing
to worry about. Jensen has no plans to alter you. A beautiful cock like that?
He wouldn’t dare.”
Jared nodded, his eyes on Max’s face, searching for the lie, but he seemed
sincere despite the playful grin.
“Let’s get you some breakfast, huh?”
Jared nodded.
***
Jared had breakfast in the kitchens again at what Max told him was the king’s
table. Apparently, when Jensen’s meals did not involve official business, he
took his meals here, usually with Jeffrey and Prince Joshua, though the cook
Sam occasionally joined them if she was finished with her duties. Max was
allowed the use of the table, as well, as his meal times did not usually
coincide with the king’s or with the other slaves. He was the king’s body
slave, but that apparently required many more duties than Jared would have
expected. He seemed to be widely respected; if his interactions with the king’s
guards and other slaves was any indication, he all but ran the household. The
times the king did request his presence during meals, he knelt by the king’s
side. Max told Jared he knelt for the king happily.
Jared found himself watching Max carefully as they ate. And by the subtle
tension in Max’s shoulders, he was aware of Jared’s attention. Jared knew it
was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered if this was what Jensen
wanted, if he wanted Jared to look like Max—as much girl as boy. He wondered if
the king was still fucking Max even though he had Jared now. And Jared realized
the roiling in his belly that accompanied that thought was jealousy, plain and
simple. The king had called Jared his. He thought it was only fair if the king
was Jared’s as well.
“I’ve been stared at by men and women both,” Max said. “It’s sort of a perk of
my position. But you, Jared, are different. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “I don’t mean to.”
“Yes you do,” Max said. A wicked grin appeared on his face.
Jared looked away.
Max sighed. He pushed back from the table. “I have work to do,” he said.
He stood, finished his drink, and left.
Jared sat in silence and finished his food. He felt as if he couldn’t get a
hold on anything here. He wondered if what Jensen told him was true, and what
it would have been like to grow up in the citadel, or to grow up constantly
traveling between the two halves of the kingdom, always knowing that his life
was already planned out for him, that he would be married whether he wished it
or not. Married to the king. Married to Jensen.
Jared thought he liked Jensen, but it didn’t seem to be a question of like or
not. Jared had no choice. He could find Jensen reprehensible and he would still
be here, still be sharing his bed. And Jeff had said that Jared was a political
matter. He’d seemed to disapprove of Jensen fucking him. Jared felt weighed
down by the many things that were happening here that he didn’t understand.
He left the kitchens alone and wandered the halls of the castle. The castle
seemed busier today as if everyone were readying themselves for some big event.
There were slaves rushing about, carrying armloads of cloth, of food, of drink.
There were guards here and there, and more than once, Jared had a door closed
on him or was directed to go in another direction.
He found his way outside into a large courtyard. Though it was cold and he had
to wrap his arms about his chest to keep from freezing, there was sun here, and
Jared sat himself on one of the stone benches and tipped his face up, let
himself spend some time there, soaking in the sun’s meager warmth and listening
to calls in the distance of the king’s guard as they trained.
Just when Jared was cold enough he thought he would go inside, he heard someone
clear his throat from beside him. He opened his eyes, startled.
The man standing in front of him was tall and thin with heavy, greasy black
hair and a heavy brown fur cloak about his shoulders. His skin looked almost
sickly, yellow, and his nose hooked just at the tip.
“Should you be out here, boy?” the man said.
Jared stood. “I was just about to go back in,” he said.
“Were you now?” the man said. “Show some deference, boy. Haven’t you been
taught to call your betters ‘sir’?”
Jared was about to respond when he heard his name called from across the
courtyard. He looked, and Max was walking his way.
“I apologize, sir,” Max said as he stepped up to Jared’s side. “The boy is new
here. He meant no harm.”
Jared looked between the man and Max, confused. Max would not meet the man’s
eyes.
“You should keep better control of the house slaves, Max,” the man said.
“Yes, sir,” Max said. “I apologize, sir.”
“Come,” Max said, tugging Jared’s arm.
Jared followed.
Max did not speak again until they’d made their way through the halls and into
a side room that looked like nothing more than storage.
“You should not be outside alone,” Max said.
“Who was that man?” Jared said.
“No one good,” Max said. “A member of the Council. He thought you were a
slave.”
“Slaves aren’t allowed in the courtyard?”
“We aren’t allowed to idle,” Max said. “Unless that is one of the slave’s
duties, in which case he or she should be idling by his or her master’s side.”
The words sounded rote, a lesson Max had been taught. “Why are you so nervous,
Max?” Jared said. “There was no harm done.”
Max let out a breath. “If I’d found one of the king’s slaves idling and getting
in the way of a councilman, I’d have beaten him and sent him back to work. You,
though? I have no idea what to do with you.”
“Well I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” Jared said, the frustration
evident in his voice. “The king has given me no instruction. You’ve given me no
instruction. You both say I am not a slave, but the only time I’ve been of use
is when the king has fucked me.”
If possible, Max turned even more pale than he already was. “He’s fucked you?”
Max said.
“You didn’t know?” Jared said.
“I thought…” Max tugged at the ends of his hair and bit his lip. “I don’t know
what I thought.”
“You’re upset,” Jared said.
“No,” Max said. He blinked and fixed his eyes on Jared. Smiled. “No,” he said
again. “I’m just surprised. He should have waited. I thought he had more
patience than that.”
“What should he have waited for?”
“Nothing,” Max said. “It doesn’t matter. Come. The king wants to see you in his
study.”
***
When Jensen saw Jared, he smiled.
Jared smiled in return and felt truly calm for the first time that day.
“Sit,” Jensen said.
Jared sat in the chair Jensen had gestured toward and looked at the king across
a wide oak table. He recognized this as the room he’d fallen asleep in the day
before, the room he’d thought had been a library. It was thick with shelves
weighted down with rows of books that looked heavily worn, and there were plush
armchairs, even cozier than the ones in Jensen’s room, and fires burning in two
separate grates, plus an entire row of windows that looked out over the city.
They were high enough up that Jared could see the wall separating the city from
the flat fields beyond. Jared thought he could very happily spend most of his
days here in this room.
“The tailor has finished your clothes,” Jensen said. “They’ve been brought to
my chambers. Max will help you dress once we’re finished here.”
“Straight to business then?” Jared said. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
The king’s face fell a bit. “I’m sorry, Jared,” he said. “I am glad to see you.
But we have things to discuss.”
“It’s fine,” Jared said. “I was only teasing you.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow. “There are not many brave enough to tease their
king.”
“I guess I’m just special, then,” Jared said. He grinned.
“I guess you are.” The king’s answering smile looked reluctant at best.
Something was bothering the man.
“Very well,” Jared said. “For what is Max helping me dress?”
“There is an important dinner tonight,” the king said. “We are joined by
important people.”
“And I’m to attend?” Jared said.
“Yes.” Jensen sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
Jensen looked very tired, and Jared found himself wishing this day were over so
he could help the king rest.
“The Northern Council is not exactly happy that I’ve taken you,” Jensen went
on. He looked a bit embarrassed, and Jared wondered what he’d been dealing with
all morning, if he’d been in talks with council members trying to justify
Jared’s presence in the castle. “They think having you here is a risk. I’d like
to show them they’re wrong.”
“This is a Council dinner?” Jared said. He’d heard of such things. Though he’d
not known his father was an Ackles, he had known he was Northern. The man had
spoken of lavish meals in the Citadel’s great hall, had described foods Jared
had never seen, had told how the king had had a whore for every man, and as
Jared’s mind trailed to that thought, a nervous flip tickled his stomach.
“What is my purpose at this dinner?” he said.
“I plan to present you,” Jensen said.
“As what?” Jared said, his voice tight.
“As my husband,” Jensen said.
Jared clenched the arms of his chair hard enough his fingertips turned white.
“Your husband,” he said. He was barely able to force the words past the
tightness in his throat.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen said. “This is my fault. I was too quick to bring you here.
Jeff warned me and I didn’t listen.”
“What are you saying?”
“The Northern Council doesn’t trust you. They believe after growing up in the
South with my uncle, you’ve been poisoned against the kingdom. They want to
know you’re under my control.”
“And if I’m not?”
“They won’t let you live,” Jensen said.
“But you’re the king,” Jared said. “Why does it matter what they say?”
“Your people have been too long removed from the kingdom,” Jensen said. “Things
have changed. I’ve been working to unite the townships. I am king, Jared, but I
am also merely head of the Council for the realm.”
“You would let them put me to death,” Jared whispered. He felt ill, and he
wanted to lash out, but he only pressed himself further into his chair.
“No,” Jensen said. “No. I would die myself before that happened. I’ve only just
found you. I’m not letting you go again. But this is the only way I can keep
you safe. And I’m sorry, Jared, I am. Because you aren’t ready for marriage.
You don’t even trust me. But my only other option, your only other option, is
slavery. That’s certainly what the council would prefer.”
“It’s slavery either way, though, isn’t it?” Jared said. “Marriage is no less
permanent.”
Jensen grimaced. “As my husband, you’d have power,” he said, his words quiet.
“You’d have the freedom to do as you wish.”
“And as a slave?” Jared asked.
“You would live in the slave quarters. And you would come to me only when I
called for you.”
“As your whore.”
“I could put you to work in the kitchens. Or the fields. You are used to farm
work.” When Jared said nothing, Jensen sighed. “I suppose I’m selfish to want
to keep you,” he said. “Maybe you’d prefer death.”
Jared shook his head.
“You will have a good life. I’ll make sure of that. Whatever you want is
yours.”
“Except my freedom,” Jared said.
“You will be a prince,” Jensen said.
“A prince under your control,” Jared said.
“Jared—”
“If you want to please the Northern Council,” Jared said. “You’ll have to show
I’m controlled.”
“It would only be a show,” Jensen said.
“Would it?” Jared said. “Do you trust me enough to truly give me my freedom?”
“I would like to,” Jensen said.
“But you don’t.”
“I can’t afford to,” Jensen said. “But with time, that will change.”
“What do you need me to do?” Jared said.
Jensen examined Jared’s face for a minute that, to Jared, seemed endless. He
finally nodded. “There will be a ceremony,” he said. “I will present you to the
Council as my betrothed. I present you with a symbol that you are mine. There
is a ritual to complete, then the Council will acknowledge the union.”
“Then I am your husband?” Jared said.
“Then you are my husband,” Jensen agreed.
***
Jared stood in the hallway with Max by his side. He could hear the noise of the
hall before him—the dull roar of voices and laughter, of royalty greeting
royalty—and he felt light headed at the sound of it; he felt as if his knees
would buckle when he stepped forward to move into the din.
“You’ll be fine, Jared,” Max said. He touched Jared lightly on the shoulder.
“They will do nothing to you in the king’s presence. It is likely they’ve even
brought gifts.”
“But?” Jared said.
Max smiled sadly. “This is not a game. Every member of the Council of the North
will be present, as well as delegates from the East and West. If you are
disobedient, if you seem at all disloyal to your king, Jensen will have no
choice but to punish you publicly. He cannot show weakness in front of them. Do
you understand?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
“You are not of the court, so they will forgive errors of politeness. But not
disobedience.”
“Please,” Jared said, his heart fluttering. “I understand.”
Max had dressed him carefully that afternoon. He’d pulled Jared’s hair out of
the loose tie that’d had been keeping the mess of it from his face and smoothed
it with an oil that made it look soft and glossy. He was given a soft silk
shirt, much finer than anything he’d ever worn, fitted perfectly to his body
and open at the neck wide enough to show a hint of his collar bones and chest.
Over it he wore a new vest, lighter weight than the leather he’d already been
gifted, cut more for style than warmth. It was black embroidered with silver
and open at the front, giving anyone who was curious a view of the tight cut of
Jared’s trousers which left very little to the imagination. Jared had felt as
if he were on display as he walked the halls of the castle. Before they’d left
for the dinner, Max had traced kohl around Jared’s eyes and smudged it with his
thumbs before applying a rouge to Jared’s lips.
When Jared protested, Max shushed him. “It’s just to emphasize your pretty
features. You won’t look painted. A person would need to look very closely to
even notice.”
But Jared felt the makeup on his face as if he were wearing a mask.
Jeff stepped into the hallway. “The king is ready for you.”
“Good luck,” Max said in his ear.
Jeff led Jared into a hall that was every bit as lavish as his father’s stories
had indicated. There were rich tapestries on every wall, threaded through with
silver, and a chandelier as big as Jared’s room at home hung from the ceiling,
burning with torches. The noise was tremendous—the most powerful men in the
kingdom completely at ease—and Jared flushed as a few of them looked his way,
their eyes crawling over his body.
Jared was dimly aware of Jensen at the head of the hall sitting in a chair
carved of stone and ivory, an ornate, heavy-looking silver crown atop his head.
He wore all black, a thick fur cloak that dragged the floor when he stood at
Jared’s entrance. When they saw their king standing, the rest of the Council
stood as well, watching carefully as Jared was led to the throne.
When Jared reached him, Jensen took his hand. “Come, Jared,” he said, loud
enough only Jared could hear. “Stand beside me.”
Jared took the two steps upward until he was beside Jensen. He turned and
looked at the crowd of men.
The hall was silent.
“I’d like to present my husband,” Jensen said. “Jared Padalecki, Son of the
Council of the South. He will take the name Ackles, and he will be afforded all
the respect and protection that name commands.”
The words had the feel of ceremony about them, and he shivered at the weight of
the king’s hand against the nape of his neck.
The king turned toward Jared.
“Kneel,” he said.
Jared did as he was told, the weight of the king’s eyes and the eyes of the
council heavy upon him, he looked up at Jensen, hoping for some sign of
reassurance. Jensen smiled briefly, and Jared dragged in a shaky breath.
A man in pure white robes stepped in front of the king. Jared thought he must
be a priest of some sort. “Do you offer blood so that you might win the gods’
favor? So that this union might benefit the realm?” the priest said.
“I do,” Jensen said. He drew a dagger from the sheath at his wrist, gripped the
blade with his hand and sliced cleanly, barely wincing. He held his hand palm
up to show it to the room.
He sheathed his dagger, then knelt before Jared. He pressed his bloody palm to
Jared’s chest where the skin was bare. “This is my blood,” he said, his voice
loud enough to be heard by the room, but intimate just the same. “I offer it to
you as a symbol. You are mine to protect. I will always bleed before you. I
would lay down my life for yours. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
The king’s next words were spoken more clearly, part of the ceremony. “Will you
bleed for me as I have bled for you? Will you take my mark and become my
husband?”
Jared nodded.
“You must speak, boy,” the priest said.
Jensen shot him an unhappy look, then turned back to Jared. “It’s okay,” he
said. “Will you take my mark?”
“I—yes,” Jared said. “I will.”
Jensen nodded. The priest approached, and Jensen held Jared tightly by the
shoulders, and all Jared could think was how the king’s blood would ruin his
fine vest and tunic.
“This is going to hurt,” Jensen said.
“Sire?” Jared said, then the priest was behind him, tilting his head sideways,
pulling his hair back from his ear.
Max approached with a small tray of tools. He knelt beside Jared, and pulled a
needle from the tray. “Hold still,” he instructed.
Jared winced as the needle was run through the cartilage at the top of his ear.
Max used three separate needles for three separate holes, then he replaced the
needles with a small bronzed cuff.
“I want you to wear this,” Jensen said quietly. “Once set, it cannot be
removed. I want everyone who looks at you to know to whom you belong.”
Jared reached up to touch, but Jensen grabbed his hand to stop him. “Not yet,”
he said. “I have a gift for you.
Max handed the king another tray, and on this one were two small pieces of
jewelry. Finely made bronzed wings attached to delicate bronze bars curved in
“C”s.
“These were my mother’s,” Jensen said. “She wore these instead of a crown. I’d
like you to wear them now.”
Jared wasn’t sure what they were, but he nodded his head, and Jensen reached
out, tilted Jared’s head, slid one of the cuffs on so that it nestled behind
Jared’s ear. When Jensen moved to slide the other onto his pierced ear, Jared
flinched away.
“I will be gentle,” Jensen said. Jared calmed, tilted his head for the king.
When Jensen slid this one on, he slid the bar of it through the ring of Jared’s
piercing. “You will remove this only when you bathe,” Jensen said.
“Yes, sire,” Jared said.
“These are an Ackles heirloom,” Jensen told Jared. “I am giving them to you now
as a symbol. We’re together in this, Jared. I take the word husband seriously.”
“As do I,” Jared said.
He wanted the king to kiss him, but Jensen stood instead. He ran a hand through
Jared’s hair. “Rise,” he said.
Jared stood.
“This is him?” someone said.
“Yes,” Jensen said. He turned toward the gathered men, touched Jared’s chin
lightly, tilted his face up so the men could see.
Jared had a moment of shame, of heat and fear that coursed through his body at
the feel of so many eyes examining him and finding him wanting, but he made the
decision right then and there to not let those eyes break him. He was the
king’s husband now, carried his blood and his mark. He looked into the crowd,
met the Council’s many eyes.
“He is defiant,” a man said, and Jared recognized him as the hook-nosed man
he’d met earlier in the courtyard.
“You expected me to take someone weak as my husband?” Jensen said. “He is
proud, not defiant. And he is exactly as I wish him to be.”
“And you’re sure it’s him?” someone else asked. “The boy named in your father’s
treaties?”
“If it isn’t, then there’s even less for you to fear,” Jensen said.
“True enough.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s the same boy you were meant to marry years ago. He
was raised as Jed Ackles’s son, and that’s all that matters,” the hook-nosed
man said. “We’re supposed to accept a traitor’s son as our Prince?”
A murmur ran through the men as if they all agreed.
“It is done,” Jensen said.
“And Jed won’t come for him?”
“He sold him to me,” Jensen said, his voice dismissive. “He doesn’t care about
the boy.”
Jared had a moment to feel hurt by that, that the man he’d thought was his
father cared so little for him, and that that fact was now known to the entire
kingdom. But his thoughts were interrupted.
“C’mon, Jenny,” a man to Jared’s right said. He was round and bearded, and
close enough Jared could see the sweat on his brow and the flush on his cheek
from the wine he’d been drinking. “Don’t you have enough pretty places to stick
your cock? Why keep this one around? It’d be much safer to sell him to a slave
trader.”
Jared didn’t have a chance to be embarrassed. Jensen had his hand around the
man’s throat and his dagger pressed to the man’s heart before he’d even
finished his sentence. Jared scrambled back to keep from being trampled.
“You’ll address me as ‘sire,’” Jensen said, “or the next time you visit my
court, it will be as a corpse.”
“Yes, sire,” the man said.
Jensen backed away slowly. “I’ve had enough questioning of my motives,” he said
to the room. “I wanted the boy, so I took him. He is no danger; I will make
sure of it. Anyone who questions his validity as my husband will find their
answers when I put their heads on pikes.”
No one else spoke, and Jared tried to relax. When Jensen sat back in his chair
to watch the men of the council talk and eat, Jared didn’t even protest when he
was made to kneel at Jensen’s side.
“It is just for tonight, my husband,” Jensen said to him, calmer now. “I am
having a chair carved for you.”
“As you wish, sire,” Jared said.
“Jared,” Jensen said. “Look at me.”
Jared looked up.
Jensen didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked troubled. When he spoke, it
wasn’t what Jared expected. “Are you hungry?” he said.
Jared shook his head.
“You’ve not eaten since breakfast,” Jensen said, his brows furrowed.
“I’m too nervous,” Jared said.
“I’ll have Max bring you a plate,” Jensen said.
“No,” Jared said. He grabbed the king’s arm before he could raise it.
Jensen arched an eyebrow.
“Please, my king,” Jared said. “It’s a small freedom to afford me. I’d rather
eat later, when there are not so many eyes watching my every move.”
Jensen nodded, though he looked even more concerned.
“Would you like to go back to my chambers?”
Jared began to shake his head, but he was not needed here, and he could not
settle in front of the council. “I would like that very much, sire,” Jared
said.
“I’ll send for Max.”
“You can’t come?”
“I have duties here, my husband.” Jensen tilted Jared’s face up, kissed him
right out in the open where everyone could see, and Jared wanted to be
embarrassed, but he pressed into it, needing the contact.
When Jensen pulled away, he signaled for Max, and Max came. He accompanied
Jared out of the hall.
Max was silent until they reached the king’s chambers, though Jared could sense
he had something to say. At the king’s door, Jared sighed, exasperated.
“What is it, Max?” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Max said.
Jared was surprised at that. “For what?” he said.
“I didn’t tell you what the ceremony was,” Max said. “I hurt you,” he reached
up, touched Jared’s ear and the piercing there. The pain had dimmed to a dull
ache, and the weight of the cuff felt heavy, permanent.
“It’s fine,” Jared said.
“I will make sure you have a salve to keep it clean,” Max said.
“Thank you,” Jared said.
Max gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m happy you’re here, Jared,” he said. “You make
the king happy.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jared said.
“No,” Max said. “You do. But even if you didn’t…Well. I’d like to call you
friend,” he said.
“Oh,” Jared said. He felt oddly touched. “Yes. Of course.”
Max reached out and gripped Jared’s bicep for a moment before turning and
disappearing into the castle.
***
Jared waited in the king’s chambers unsure of what to do with himself. He was
brought a goblet of rich red wine and a plate of food—meat and bread, candied
fruit and nuts—by a servant he did not recognize. When he tried to engage the
girl in conversation, she blushed and ran out of the room. Jared set his plate
down on the bed and sat beside it. He ate through the food slowly and drank all
of the wine. Though it felt too heavy for his stomach, the alcohol warmed him
through, made him feel pleasantly fuzzy and loose. When everything was gone, he
stretched himself out over the king’s bed, his stomach full and his mind
whirling.
He was the king’s husband now. He was Jared Ackles now. He didn’t feel any
different, didn’t feel like a prince, like royalty. He felt like a kept boy.
Like the king’s favorite dog waiting on his master to appear and show him
affection. And he did want the king’s affection. As much as he wanted to deny
it, he couldn’t; the memory of the king’s hand on his skin was right there,
front and center in his thoughts, and he shivered thinking of it and wrapped
himself in the king’s blanket. He fingered the delicate cuffs at his ears,
tugged a bit at the sore one and winced at the ache. He thought he should be
ashamed of himself. His father would be sickened to know what he’d become; but
his father had given him over to this, so Jared wasn’t sure he cared what the
man’s opinion would be, anyway.
Jared thought of the girls back home in his village. They were tough little
things, skin tanned by the brutal Southern sun, hands and feet calloused from
their work, from walking through the endless grasses and chalk soil, carrying
water, food, and underneath their clothes, soft little breasts that Jared used
to fall asleep at night dreaming of.
Jensen was nothing like these girls, with his pale northern skin and rough
hands and broad chest, his voice rough like a sandal dragged through grit.
Jared squeezed his cock through his trousers. It seemed lately it hardened at
even the mildest thought of the king.
Jared glanced at the door. He didn’t know when the king would be finished for
the night. He slowly unlaced his trousers and freed himself from the leather.
He stroked a hand up the length of his cock, pressing his face into the king’s
blanket.
When he heard the door open, his hand froze. He sat up slowly to meet the
king’s gaze.
“What did I tell you about touching that?” the king said.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said.
“Sorry?” Jensen said. He removed his heavy fur cape and draped it over one of
the arm chairs. “It’s our wedding night. Surely you were planning to wait for
me.”
He stoked the fire in the grate. Jared watched him. He thought the sound of his
heart beating must be audible in the silent room.
The king approached. He stood above Jared, staring at his prone form. He
reached, stroked his hand down Jared’s exposed cock.
“So pretty,” he said. “I could stare at you for hours.”
Jared stretched a little, presenting his neck and spreading his legs, preening
at those words, wanting Jensen to stare at him. The longer Jensen stared, the
more Jared wanted. He felt suddenly as if he’d drank too much wine, drunk and
loose and flushed, please to be where he was.
“That’s my boy,” Jensen said.
He grabbed the hem of Jared’s shirt and tugged upwards, and Jared lifted,
helping the king remove his clothes. When his shirt was gone, Jared pulled his
own trousers free, lifting his hips and kicking his legs until they were gone
while the king pulled off his own clothes. When they were both bare, the king
moved onto the bed and between Jared’s legs. He pushed Jared’s legs up,
displaying everything, and Jared was still new enough to this to be
embarrassed. He hid his face in the king’s blanket, but the king coaxed him out
until he was looking up and meeting the king’s eyes.
“You’re perfect like this,” the king said. “So fucking perfect.”
He stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucked until they were dripping wet, and
Jared licked his lips wishing the king had let him do the job. The king went to
work opening Jared up, adding an oil to make sure Jared’s passage was slick,
and Jared keened, the burn almost too much.
“When I look at you,” the king said. “I want like I’ve never wanted. I don’t
care that I’m king.”
He pressed against that spot inside of Jared that made Jared’s fingers and toes
first go numb then shoot through with fire. His cock was so hard, Jared wanted
to cry from the ache of it.
“I don’t care that I’m king,” Jensen said again. “I look at you and I wish it
was just you and I. That we lived a small life somewhere. Just the two of us.”
He poured oil into his palm and slicked his cock then thrust home. Jared’s legs
were against the king’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the king’s
back, and their eyes were locked.
“More,” Jared said. “Please.”
The king pulled out and thrust back in hard enough to move Jared further up the
bed. He kept up with that pace until Jared let go completely, moaning and
crying into the room, so close to coming it would have only taken a touch to
his cock. He felt as if liquid were pooling at the base of his spine and low in
his belly. He wanted the king’s mouth on him when he came.
“Kiss me,” Jared said. “Please. Husband.”
Jensen obliged. The kiss was awkward and messy, too much teeth, as they fought
to meet and not lose their rhythm. When Jared came, his forehead was pressed to
Jensen’s, his eyes clenched tight. Jensen came only moments later.
They lay like that for a long time, against each other, sweat and come cooling
on their skin. They didn’t move until Jared began to shiver, then the king
wrapped them together in his blanket.
Jared couldn’t sleep, though. His body was tired, but his mind was a jumble of
loosely formed thoughts; he had so many he couldn’t complete one without
completing the other. Jared turned over, propped himself on his elbow and
looked at the king. He was unsurprised to find Jensen awake as well.
“What is it?” Jensen said. He reached up and brushed Jared’s hair from his
eyes, danced his fingertips across his mark on Jared’s ear.
“Did you mean what you said?” Jared said. “About us? About just wanting to live
a small life somewhere?”
Jensen nodded.
“I’m sorry you can’t have that,” Jared said. “Being king weighs on you.”
“There are many others who have it much worse.”
“Why is your brother not king?” Jared said. “Joshua? He is older than you, is
he not?”
“My father did not think him capable,” Jensen said.
“Would you have been happier had he been king?”
“There’s no way of knowing that,” Jensen said.
“You don’t strike me as a happy man, my husband,” Jared said. He touched
Jensen’s brows with his fingertips, gently, smoothing out the frown line
between his eyes, then touched the corners where his eyes crinkled when he
smiled.
The king’s eyes fluttered shut. “I’m happy now,” he said. “I’m happy here with
you.”
***
Jared woke to the press of the king’s lips against his forehead.
“Did you sleep?” Jared said. He sat up on his elbows and blinked into the room.
He smiled at his king.
“I slept,” Jensen said. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re dressed,” Jared said. He tugged at Jensen’s shirt with a slight frown.
“I have a meeting with the privy council,” Jensen said. “Stay in bed as long as
you want. There is breakfast for you in the grate, and Max will draw you a bath
when you’re through.”
“He doesn’t have to wait on me,” Jared said. “I’m more than capable of drawing
my own bath water.”
“It is his job, Jared,” Jensen said. “Let him do it.”
Jared nodded.
Jensen tugged on Jared’s hair with a fond look on his face. He kissed Jared on
the lips.
***
Jared let himself float in the bathwater. He’d already scrubbed completely
clean, taking care especially to get the makeup from his face and the king’s
come from his lower half. Max had taken his clothes and the ear cuffs from him
then left him to it, and as Jared washed he thought about touching himself,
images of the king’s hands and lips and face at the forefront of his mind, but
he was good and waited. He thought if he waited, it would be even better later
when he was with his husband.
He was startled from his musings when the bathroom door burst open. Two men
walked in. One was holding Max by the arm, his hand tight over Max’s mouth.
Both men were hooded, their faces cloaked in shadow.
Jared floundered in the bath, trying to find his feet, but before he could, one
of the men gripped him by his upper arm and pulled him out of the water. Jared
struggled, broke free of the man’s grasp, but slipped on the wet stone. He fell
and all the breath was knocked from his lungs.
The two hooded men dragged him to his feet. Max was lying unmoving in a corner
of the small room, and Jared tried to call for him, but he was gagged with a
ball of cloth before he could. The men pulled a rough tunic onto his still
dripping wet body then tied his hands behind his back. He struggled as he
regained his breath, but they were stronger than he, and when they pulled a
hood over his head, he panicked, kicking his legs and screaming into the gag.
“Fuck,” one of the men said. “He’s a determined little bastard.”
It was the last thing Jared heard before he was hit at the base of his skull
and everything went dark.
***
When Jared woke, he was cold, so cold it froze the air in his lungs so that he
had to fight for every breath. He woke gasping. He was chained to a wooden pole
by a wide metal collar around his neck, and his hands were tied in front of
him. He could barely feel his fingers; whether that was due to the cold or the
tightness of the rope, he wasn’t sure.
He moaned and blinked into the weak sunlight. He was in a roughly dug pit, deep
enough he didn’t think he could see over the top if he were to stand. There
were more men in the pit with him, some chained to poles, others wandering with
their hands tied in front of them. His head ached, and his stomach felt
miserably empty as if it had been a long time since the breakfast he’d eaten in
the king’s chamber. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious.
He was naked save for the rough tunic his captors had put him in, and he folded
his limbs into his body as close as possible. His piercing, the king’s mark,
was still there, and he found himself glad for that in a way he wouldn’t have
expected. He rubbed at his chest with his tied hands, trying to warm his core,
to get the blood circulating again. Some of the other men were looking at him,
but they didn’t look interested, which Jared was grateful for. He hoped the
king was looking for him. He wanted nothing more than to fold into the warmth
of the king’s body. He wondered what would happen if he announced himself
Prince and demanded to be released. He thought probably nothing good would come
of it.
Occasionally a guard would climb down the roughly built wooden steps leading
into the pit, a fierce looking whip coiled at his belt, and drag one of the men
out. Jared huddled in on himself, trying to look very small, which was quite a
task for someone of his height. He didn’t know what the men were being taken
for, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good.
The day turned into night, and Jared wouldn’t have thought it possible that it
could get much colder, but the night proved him wrong. He found it difficult to
stay awake. His toes were as numb as his hands now, and he flexed them
repeatedly, curling them into the frozen earth. The guard tossed him a cloak
from above. Jared, surprised, pulled it to his chest, covered as much of
himself as he could.
Nu valorezi nimic mort, the guard said. Then he spit over the edge, catching
Jared’s shoulder. Mai am un cadou pentru tine.
Jared shook. He slept with his face buried in the cloak.
In the morning, three of the men were dead. Their frozen bodies were dragged
from the pit. Jared felt hunger clawing at his insides. He slept again.
When he blinked awake, it was to the guard unchaining him from the pole. It
wasn’t the same guard as the night before.
Ridica-te! he said, tugging on the chain leading to Jared’s collar, but Jared’s
legs didn’t want to work, and the man had to drag him to standing. Gata!
Sprijina-te pe picioare, he said. He held Jared up by his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” Jared said. He was surprised at how weak his voice
sounded.
The man shook his legs one at a time in demonstration. “Okay?” he said. “Legs?”
Jared tried to nod, and the guard smiled at him. “Ridica-te,” he said again,
hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I take you up.”
The man tugged at Jared’s collar, and Jared followed, afraid to do otherwise,
but equally afraid of what was coming. There were two men talking in the
distance, and the guard led him toward them. Jared tried to place where he was,
but he knew almost nothing of the North. It looked like a small camp; grey,
damp tents pitched and staked into the frozen ground, a few men huddled around
small fires, eating a meat Jared didn’t recognize and drinking from clay cups.
Jared’s stomach ached at the sight of the food.
When the guard reached the two men, one of them grabbed Jared’s chin, tilted
his face up.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” the man said. “He’s young and healthy.”
“He’s very tan,” the other man said. He looked maybe forty summers old to
Jared’s eye, a thick beard speckled grey and black covering a handsome but sad
and lined face.
“Aye,” the first man said. “He was Southern born.”
“A grasswalker?”
“Raised on a farm. You won’t have to train him much at all.”
The other man moved toward Jared. He grabbed one of Jared’s biceps and
squeezed.
Jared pulled away on instinct. “Don’t touch me,” he said.
The guard acted immediately, tugging at Jared’s collar and knocking the back of
his legs so that he fell to the ground in a crude kneel. The guard held Jared’s
chin in one hand, the back of his head in the other, and Jared had the
impression the man could snap his neck without a thought. He went very still.
“He’s not very obedient.”
“We have not had time to train him, but I assure you, any slave can be broken.”
“And if this one proves otherwise?”
“Show me his body, and I’ll provide a refund.”
Jared’s heart quickened, and he struggled to breath through the guard’s hold on
his throat.
The man Jared could only guess was a slave trader turned to the guard. Tine-
l bine, sa poata fi inspectat.
The guard’s grip tightened, and the other man squatted before Jared. He felt
Jared’s biceps and chest, made the guard move his hand so that he could press
his fingers below Jared’s chin and ears, feel Jared’s pulse. He stretched
Jared’s bound arms before him and looked over his hands.
“He’ll be big,” the man murmured. “He has growing yet to do.”
“Yes,” the slave trader said. “He is worth the money. You will get many years
from him.”
Jared felt like a work horse. He didn’t want to cry in front of these men, so
he hardened his face and looked into the distance. He tried to put himself
somewhere else. He wanted to scream for Jensen.
The man dug his thumbs into the hinges of Jared’s jaw, and Jared cried out as
he opened his mouth and the man hooked a thumb over his bottom teeth so he
could look inside.
“He has good teeth.” The sad-faced man sounded surprised. “He has been well
cared for.”
“I would sell nothing less,” the trader said.
“You sure he doesn’t already have an owner?” the man said. He thumbed Jared’s
piercing, and Jared tried not to wince. “He is marked.”
“He is not owned,” the trader said. “He has papers. We couldn’t remove the
piercing. You could probably take his ear off if you’re worried about it.” He
grinned and cackled, and Jared pressed his eyes shut.
“Very well,” the man said, finally. “I’ll have his papers.”
Jared was put in the back of his new master’s cart, his collar bolted to a side
panel and his feet tied as tightly as his hands. His master wrapped him in a
cloak first, gave him gloves and booted his feet before tying him down, and he
left Jared with a hunk of bread and a pail of water, and Jared had never been
more grateful to see food.
As the cart pulled away from the camp, Jared held the bread in his hands and
wondered how far away he was from Jensen. He wondered how much further he would
have to go before he found him again.
 
Part IV
Jared washed the dirt from his hands. The basin of water had been set over a
fire, and the warmth of it against his cold skin made him shiver in pleasure.
He wished there were a basin large enough that he could submerge his entire
body and let the warmth sink into his bones. He tried not to think of the
king’s bathing chambers as he settled for splashing some of the water against
his face and holding his hands there until his breath against his damp palms
made him cold all over again.
“Avem ceai,” Katie said as she walked into the small kitchen. She had an empty
roasting pan in her hands, and the smell of meat and vegetables followed,
hanging in the air. She’d been serving the master his dinner. “Si terciul inca
este cald.”
“Mersi,” Jared said.
He’d been a slave for almost four moons now, and the language of the North was
coming to him a bit easier. Katie spoke Jared’s language, what the Northerners
called the common tongue, as well, but she’d taken to speaking the Northern
tongue as often as possible to help Jared learn. Though sometimes he wished he
didn’t know so much. It was easier when he went to market to sell his master’s
goods to not know what the old men who watched him, leering, said about him
when he passed. How they called him infidel, because of his Southern blood, and
curva frumusica, pretty whore. Boys his age were not usually bought only for
farm work, and bed slaves were not well-respected. So the village talked.
Jared ladled himself a bowl of oats from the stove, poured a cup of the bitter
ceai made from the leaves that grew wild all over the Northern forests, and
hunched over his dinner. The food was gone before he’d really filled his
stomach.
Katie grabbed his bowl and gave him another ladle full. She sat at the table
with her own.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Jared said.
She shrugged. “There is extra tonight.”
Jared ate this bowl more slowly. He ached from the cold and from the day’s work
and was reluctant to finish and rush to his final duties for the night when
he’d take the dogs out into the dark to do a final check of the wolf and fox
traps at the perimeter of his master’s land.
Jared was no stranger to hard work, and in the time he’d been a slave, it had
gotten a bit easier, his muscles filling out a little with every day that
passed. But the cold was still a burden. Night was the most difficult. During
the day, he had his work to keep him warm, planting in the master’s fields,
caring for his animals. But it took hours to walk the perimeter, and by the
time he made it back to his bed, he was usually so frozen through he could
barely sleep. On more than one occasion, he’d considered sleeping right up
against the stove that burned in the corner of the little room off the kitchen
he and the master’s other two slaves slept in, but the one time he’d tried
that, Chad had laughed and Katie had tutted and given Jared her extra blanket,
the one she’d earned through hard work. He wouldn’t let her do that again.
After he finished his meal, Jared dressed in the heavy woolen cape that had
once been his master’s and pulled the too-thin hood of his felted shirt up
around his ears. He retrieved the blade he was allowed use of for this job from
the weapons chest in his master’s sitting room. He felt his master’s eyes on
him as he sheathed the blade at his belt; it was long and curved, like a
scythe, and Jared had used it to cut more than one wolf’s throat since he’d
been here. He wondered if his master worried Jared would turn the blade on him.
Jared was taller than the man, and growing taller and stronger every day; it
was a brave man who gave a slave like Jared a blade. But Jared had no intention
to hurt him. He would not survive in the woods if he ran, and running would be
his only choice save execution if he killed his master.
“Jared,” his master said.
Jared turned to him, surprised. His master rarely spoke to him now that Jared
could perform his duties without instruction.
“Yes, master?” Jared said.
“The sky was heavy with clouds this afternoon,” he said. “If it rains, come
back to the house. I’d rather you not freeze to death at the edge of the
forest.”
“Yes, master,” Jared said.
It was not the first time the man had given Jared such instructions. He was
strict, Jared’s master—Jared had received three beatings for disobedience his
first week alone—but not unkind. He gave his slaves clothes, kept them fed
regularly, and they did not fear sleeping in their beds at night. Jared knew he
was lucky for a slave. But the man was still his master, and Jared had learned
to be wary of him. Thinking his master was kind was the first mistake he’d made
as a slave. He’d thought if he only reasoned with the man, he could be sent
back to Jensen. His first night in the house, he’d told his master who he was,
but his master had merely laughed, then he’d grown angry when Jared insisted
and punished Jared by keeping him gagged for all but meal times until he’d
learned not to tell lies. Jared still remembered the ache in his jaw, the
humiliation of working next to the slaves while muzzled. He never brought it up
again.
As Jared walked the fields to the perimeter, he looked toward the North. On
very clear nights, he could see the lights of the capital city and the citadel
above the forest’s trees. It was an hour’s ride by horse-drawn cart on the
little road that skirted the forest to make it into the village that thrived on
his master’s patronage, and Jared had heard it was half a day’s ride to the
capital. On his worst nights, he imagined the citadel watched over him, that
Jensen watched as he performed his duties. He imagined that when he finished up
for the night, he would go home to his husband, that he would feel Jensen’s
skin against his own, smell Jensen on his skin when he woke the next morning.
Jared knew Jensen was looking for him. He wondered how long he would look, what
it would take to make him give up. Jared had never learned who had taken him.
He imagined his abduction was arranged by the Northern Council, but he couldn’t
be sure. His master was an important man, and he’d had Councilmen visit. Jared
recognized them, and he was sure they must have recognized him in return. If it
had been the council who arranged his slavery, then they obviously had
influence in places the king didn’t, which meant Jensen was in danger, which
meant there was a chance Jared would never be found. Jared tried not to dwell
on that possibility, but his time in the North had made him nothing if not a
realist, and he knew that the chances he’d live out his life as a slave were
great.
Jared approached the first trap and drew his blade, but it was empty, its jaws
still open and waiting for the next wayward wolf’s paw. The meat was missing,
though—smart wolf—so Jared took a hunk of raw lamb from the pouch at his belt
and placed it gingerly in the center of the trap. He shivered as he walked to
the next and kept his eyes peeled for movement from the forest.
The next trap held a wolf, its eyes glinting like fairy lights in the dark, its
form a shadow against the tree line. It had been crying, licking at its trapped
leg, too absorbed by pain to notice Jared’s approach. But Jared sighed when he
saw it and cursed beneath his breath, and the animal stilled, a low growl
rumbling from its belly to its throat and into the night.
Jared ran the pad of his thumb from his forehead and down the bridge of his
nose in a sign to the gods. He knelt in the wet grass and said a quick prayer.
He hated this part of his duty. He knew it was necessary—the wolves snuck onto
his master’s land and stole from his flocks of chicken, pigs, and sheep—but
Jared hated feeling their warmth beneath his hands only to spill their blood at
his feet. Wolves were good, cunning creatures. Pack creatures that cared for
each other and that lived by the hunt. They were sacred in the South. The night
hunters tracked by the stars where they believed the great wolf lived, watching
over them.
Once Jared’s prayer was said, he stood and walked around and behind the animal.
He had to work quickly—even trapped and injured, it was still a threat. But he
got the wolf pinned, wrapping a hand beneath the its jaw, its growl a vibration
against his palm. Then, in one quick, clean movement, he slit the wolf’s
throat.
Jared made vague, soothing noises, as the wolf died in his hands, its blood
warm against his skin. Once it was gone, he removed it from the trap and
carried its carcass into the woods. He’d bury or burn it if he could, but he
didn’t have the right tools, so he nestled it in amongst the leaves. Before he
left, he removed one of its teeth, put it in the pouch at his belt.
By the time it began to rain, Jared was almost finished with his rounds, so he
checked the last trap before heading back. He’d not had to use his blade again,
and he was glad of it.
In the slave quarters, Katie was already asleep on her mattress, curled snug to
the stone wall, but Chad was awake and sitting next to the stove, smoking
tobacco rolled loosely in brown paper. He picked tobacco from the tip of his
tongue, watched Jared as he removed his cape and boots before sinking to his
own mattress.
“I could roll you some,” Chad offered.
Jared pulled his blanket around him and shivered. He held the wolf’s tooth in
the palm of his hand. He had many of them now. A record of his time here.
“The warmth of it would help,” Chad said.
“No,” Jared said. “Thank you. We have to be in town early tomorrow with the
hogs; I should sleep.”
Chad shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jared lay back and rolled to face the wall. He hoped that if he dreamt that
night, he’d dream of tired green eyes, of harsh commands softened with a kiss,
of being wrapped in a bear skin blanket warm enough to keep out the cold.
***
The morning saw Jared and Chad leading the hogs up a ramp onto the master’s
cart before the weak sun was even fully raised in the sky. Jared hooked the
horse to the cart while Chad leaned against its wooden side and squinted into
the sky.
“Looks like it’ll keep raining,” Chad said.
“I hate the rain,” Jared said. “To think I used to pray for it nightly.”
“It’s hard to imagine a place with such very little rain,” Chad said. “I’d like
to travel South to see it.”
“You’ll have no chance of that,” Jared said.
“Your problem, Jared,” Chad said. “Is that you have no imagination. The king
will make peace with the South and trade routes will open again some day.”
“And what then?” Jared said. “Your master has nothing to do with trade routes.”
He pushed his hair behind his ears. It had grown out now from the cut Max had
given him, and it was just long enough to be a hassle if not tied back. He
tried to ignore thoughts of Max because they only led to thoughts of the king,
which had no place for Jared in the light of day when he had nothing but his
work and his fellow slaves and his master.
Chad waved a hand blithely through the air.
“We have a long journey,” Jared said. “We should be off.”
Chad was right about the rain. It started up again before long, and by the time
the sun had risen fully, Jared was soaked and shivering hard enough he swore he
could hear his bones knocking against one another. Chad took the reins from him
and threw an extra horse blanket over his shoulders.
“Princess,” Chad said.
“I’m not built for this kind of weather,” Jared said.
“You’ll adapt soon enough, or you’ll not last.”
Jared agreed with him on that, and he was about to say so when the cart gave a
lurch and tilted to the side. The hogs squealed beneath their tarp, and Jared
just barely kept from falling to the ground.
“Damn mud,” Chad said. “Hop down and see if we’re stuck, huh?”
Jared did. They were. The left back wheel had sunk straight into the mud road.
They were lucky it was still in one piece.
Chad hopped down beside Jared. “Master will be pissed if we don’t get these
hogs to market.”
“He’ll be pissed if the cart is broken, as well.”
There was a spade in the cart, and Jared and Chad went to work taking turns
digging. But the more they dug, the more difficult it became. They needed to
dig a ditch around the wheel that sloped back up to the road so their horse
could pull it free, but the mud was growing steadily more frozen, and the rain
that pooled in the trench they dug froze as well. The exertion kept them warm
at first, but after a time, even that couldn’t keep the freeze from their skin.
Jared’s fingers were red and burned as if they’d been held too long over a
flame.
“Chad,” he said finally. He pressed the spade into the earth. “This isn’t
working. We’ll need to walk back. It’s worth a beating if it means we don’t
freeze to death.”
But Chad didn’t answer. He was looking up the road where a group of soldiers
were riding on horseback toward them. They carried banners high above with the
king’s coat of arms.
“The king’s guard,” Chad said.
“Why would they be here?” Jared tried not to let hope get the best of him. He
pushed his wet hood down and watched the distance.
The guard was growing nearer, and Chad dropped to his knees, tugging on Jared’s
arm until Jared dropped beside him. The cold seeped through the thin material
of his trousers. Rain soaked his hair until water trailed down his neck and
back. He shivered, but his only thought was of Jensen. If it was the king’s
guard, then at the very least Jeff would be with them.
The horses parted around them, the soldiers making their grim way through the
rain paying two slaves no mind. Jared watched the horses’ hooves tromp and sink
into the mud, the repetition of it calming him as he tried to find the courage
to announce himself. He was afraid a twitchy soldier might put a blade to his
throat if he went about it the wrong way.
When a “Halt!” was shouted, Jared felt Chad tense beside him, heard his
muttered, “Shit.” He watched as a man jumped down from one of the two horses,
watched as his booted feet came near.
“Trouble?” the man said.
“Yes, sir,” Chad said.
“To whom do you belong?” the man said.
Jared recognized that voice. He tilted his head up to get a glimpse.
“Duke Winchester, Sir,” Chad said.
Jared saw recognition in Jeff’s face as he looked down at Jared, a moment of
pause when the man didn’t know what to do. Then his face shuttered. He turned
away. Jared watched as he made a gesture, and suddenly the other six men were
jumping down from their horses, and Jared and Chad were ushered out of the way
to stand shivering at the side of the road as the soldiers lifted and pushed
the cart free of the mud.
“Thank you, sir,” Chad said. “Please, is there a way we can repay you?”
“That’s not necessary,” Jeff said. He was watching Jared, and Jared waited for
some sign of what he should do. “This is no day for travel,” Jeff said. “Your
master should not have sent you out.”
“They’ll be stuck again within moments, sir,” one of the soldiers said. “Our
route passes Winchester land. We should bring them to their master; they can
come for the cart later.”
Jeff nodded and began to turn away.
Jared broke. “Jeff!” he said.
Jeff turned to him, an eyebrow arched in surprise. He did not look on Jared
kindly.
“Sir,” Jared said. He lowered his voice and his eyes, trying for respectful
slave. “Please,” he said. “You know me.”
“Jared,” Chad hissed from beside him. “Forgive him, sir. He is newly a slave
and has not yet learned his place.”
“No. He hasn’t,” Jeff said. “That much is clear.”
Jared was looking for the double meaning, some sign that Jeff was playing a
role, that this was a show for his men.
“I…” Jared said. He wiped rain from his face. “I apologize. I thought you were
someone else.” He could hear the flat quality of his voice. There was a buzzing
in his ears. This was his chance to get back to Jensen, and it was being taken
from him.
“We’re headed South,” Jeff said. “We’ll take you back to your master.”
“We’ll be beaten for losing the hogs,” Jared said.
“It is not worth freezing to death, slave,” Jeff said.
Jared felt so hopeless in that moment, he thought he might almost prefer it. He
could just lie down in the mud, sink until he was part of the road, let the
frost take him.
He gave Jeff one last, pleading look. And Jeff almost looked sorry. When he
left Jared and Chad at their master’s gate, he looked at Jared one last time.
“You will be safe here,” he said.
Jared could only watch him ride away.
***
Jared and Chad’s incompetence had lost their master six hogs and a cart, which
someone had stolen from the road despite the rain. They were both beaten with a
leather strop that had seen the backs of many slaves in its time. The beating
was bad, but Jared thought the after was worse. Because he and Chad were the
only farm hands, they were made to work despite their wounds, pulling and
tugging at the bruises with each movement, sweat stinging the few stripes that
had opened and bled. While Chad complained of the pain, Jared stayed silent.
His father would be proud. He’d learned silence after all.
But Jared had also learned that silence was good for something. He could think
when he was silent, slow down and take everything in his head, all that jumbled
up mess, and sort through it, put each item into a neat little box so he could
study it, find meaning in it.
A week after he saw Jeff, Jared went to Katie.
“Slaves gossip, right?” he said.
Katie was hanging laundry. The rains had stopped for now, and the field behind
the kitchens was a small pool of sunlight. As Jared watched Katie work, he
wished he could stretch himself out in the sun and watch her as he had his
mother when he was a child too young to work with his father. But as it was,
he’d be in trouble if the master caught him talking rather than working.
“Gossip?” Katie said. “Of course they do.”
“So what they call me in the village,” Jared shuffled his feet a little and
looked out at the forest. Katie knew what he meant, but that didn’t stop the
embarrassment.
“Jared,” Katie said. “You’re not—”
“I know,” Jared said. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Bine,” she said, slowly. “What is this about, then?”
Katie looked at him curiously, those big hopeful blue eyes, the blonde hair and
pale skin, pointed nose, every bit of her Northern. She liked Jared—a lot—and
Jared wondered if maybe he could have liked her, too. If he’d never met Jensen,
maybe this life would have been enough. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t. He wanted
Jensen in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible until they’d been
separated.
“How far would that kind of gossip travel?” Jared said.
“Well,” Katie said carefully. “Certainly all of the village slaves would know.
Though they probably know the truth of you, too. That you’re more than a bed
slave. Chad is a bit protective.”
Jared laughed. “I know. I never would have thought it.”
“He thinks of you like a younger brother,” she said. “You should be glad of it.
He’s been a slave all his life. It is good to have someone like him on your
side.”
Jared nodded. “I know,” he said. “I am. I’m glad to have both of you.”
She pulled a linen bed sheet from her basket and handed an edge to Jared. He
helped her clip it to the line.
“So?” she said. “What is this about, then?”
“Slaves in the capital,” he said. “Would they hear the gossip?”
“Ours is a small village,” she said. “Master’s homestead is the only thing of
note. I doubt our news would reach the capital. Unless of course Master were to
take us there.”
“He goes into the capital?” Jared said.
“On Court duty, of course. He is a Duke.” She laughed and punched him lightly
on the arm. “Unde credeai ca se duce cand disparea mai multe zile la rand,
prostutule?”
 
“I thought he…you know…” Jared made a gesture with his hand, circling his thumb
and forefinger and poking a finger through the hole. “Sa ne futem.” Jared tried
his best lewd smile and was pleased when she laughed again.
“O iubit, you mean? That he was going to see a mistress?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
She shook her head, her face sad. “He does not fuck,” she said. “Not since
Mistress Winchester died.”
“He fucks us,” Jared said.
“When he is desperate,” she said. “You cannot blame a man for his loneliness.
And we, we are his.”
I am his, Max had said.
“It is not the same as fucking a free man or woman,” Katie continued.
“It should be,” Jared said. “Fucking is fucking.”
“No,” Katie said. “Cateodata este iubire.”
“A slave cannot be loved?” Jared said.
“Everyone can be loved,” Katie said. “But that is not why Master fucks you.”
“I have someone who loves me, you know,” Jared said, unable to stop the words.
He didn’t like the time he spent in his master’s bed. He’d felt as if he’d been
betraying Jensen, though he knew he’d had no choice. But Katie’s words made him
feel a bit better.
“Oare?” Katie said. “She is from the South?”
Jared shook his head.
Katie touched his arm, her grip light. She looked upwards, peering carefully at
his face. He let her. “Ce se intampla, frate?”
“This is not who I’m supposed to be,” Jared said.
“No one wants slavery.”
Jared shook his head, but he said nothing else.
Katie looked around her as if checking to make sure they were alone. She looked
at Jared again. “Chad told me something,” she said. “He told me when you
arrived…you told Master you were a Prince.”
Jared had felt silly calling himself that when he’d first been married. After
months of slavery, he felt even worse. He twisted his lips, wry, and cleared
his throat. “It was stupid of me,” he said. “I deserved to be muzzled.”
“Was it the truth?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
“Master takes me to Court with him sometimes,” she said. “As his handmaiden.
The slaves there tell stories.”
“What kind of stories?” Jared said.
Katie hesitated.
“I have to know,” he said. “Te implor.” He touched Katie’s arm, as if that
could somehow show her how much he needed this.
Katie relented. “Stories of the king,” she said. “They say there is a boy he
lost. They speak of him as if he is myth. Baiatul Pierdut, they call him. The
Lost Boy. They say the king found him for a brief time, but he let him slip
through his fingers again.”
Jared was shaking. “He is my husband,” Jared said. “He didn’t lose me. I was
taken from him.”
Katie’s eyes went very wide. She stepped back. “Este adevarat?”
Jared nodded. “Please believe me,” he said. “Yes. Este adevarat. I have nothing
else but that truth. “Nu am nimic altceva.”
“I believe you,” she said, her words slow, her eyes searching his face.
“You can help me,” he said.
“Jared…” She pulled her hood up around her head and shivered despite the sun.
“N-ar trebui sa vorbim unde ne aude oricine,” she murmured. She looked back at
him. “What is it you think I can do?”
“When do you go to Court again?”
“He doesn’t tell me in advance,” she said. “I am only told to ready his trunk
the night before.”
Jared nodded, frowning in thought. “Do you know…there is a body slave named
Max.”
“Oh, everyone knows Max,” she said.
“Could you get a message to him?”
She began to shake her head.
“He knows me,” Jared said. “And he can tell the king where I am.”
“It is a punishable offence,” Katie said.
“I know,” Jared said.
“No,” she shook her head. “You don’t know. I don’t mean a beating. I mean
punishment by the state. Slaves who betray their masters are rarely kept
alive.”
“But you’d be helping the king.”
“According to you.”
“You said you believed me,” Jared said, desperate now.
“Lower your voice,” she said. “I do believe you, Jared, but I don’t know the
king’s mind. I know nothing of politics. If he wanted you with him, then why
aren’t you there? What if your slavery was his doing?”
“No,” Jared said. “I am his.”
“Yes, Jared, but—”
“No,” he said. “I am not his slave; I am his. There is a difference. That means
something. It must.”
Katie looked like she wanted to cry. She was looking at him with pity.
“Just say you’ll consider it,” he said.
“I will,” she said. “I will.”
***
Three moons passed. Jared’s master was not called to court. Neither Katie nor
Jared brought up the subject again, though Jared caught Katie watching him more
closely than usual as if the secret they shared weighed on her.
The air finally began to warm a bit in the North’s version of a summer. Jared
could work in his shirt sleeves now, and the soil was easier to till. Crops
were growing in abundance, and Jared and Chad spent most of their days
harvesting the fields and putting the surplus in storage for the next winter.
Chad taught him how to shear sheep, and Katie began to make wool for new
blankets and cloaks to sell at market and to store as well.
Then Jared’s master called him to his bed chamber one night.
Duke Winchester sat in an arm chair next to an open window that looked out onto
the wheat fields. He was in his shirtsleeves smoking rolled tobacco and blowing
the smoke out into the night. Jared stood in the doorway, hands behind his
back, fighting to keep his eyes on the ground and loosing the battle. He’d
never been good at feigned respect, and though he tried harder now, it was
still a struggle.
“You sent for me, Master,” Jared said, when the silence grew too long for him
and his master’s eyes too heavy.
“Field work agrees with you, Jared,” his master said. “You’ve grown in the time
you’ve spent here.”
“Yes, sir,” Jared said.
“How old are you now?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, ran
a hand through his graying beard.
“Almost seventeen summers, sir,” Jared said.
“I’ve been pleased with your work.”
“Oh,” Jared said. “I mean…thank you, Master.”
The man sighed and sat back in his chair. He looked out across the fields. He
said nothing for a long time.
“I hear wolves at night,” the man said finally. “I can’t sleep for listening to
their howling.”
“Sir?”
“Come, boy,” his master said. “I want you to suck my cock. It might help me
sleep.”
Jared flushed and turned his eyes away, having no trouble with the task now. He
went to his knees and crawled toward his master. He knelt between the man’s
spread legs. As he closed his eyes and took his master’s cock into his mouth,
felt his master’s hand against his hair, he tried to pretend it was Jensen.
After his master had come, and Jared had swallowed his release as commanded,
Jared was dismissed. When he’d gotten far enough away from his master’s
chamber, he leaned against a wall, reached into his pants, and stroked himself
until he came, his teeth buried in his own palm to keep himself from calling
Jensen’s name.
***
His master was called to Court one week later. Jared hovered as Katie prepared
the master’s trunk for him. He should not be inside, but their master had gone
to the village, and Jared couldn’t help himself. Katie knew what he was after,
but she wouldn’t put him out of his misery. When she closed the lid on the
trunk, she turned to look at Jared, exasperated.
“You should be working,” she said. She blew hair from her face.
“I know,” Jared said. “What have you decided, Katie? I need to know.”
She gave him a hard look, then poked him hard in the chest before relenting.
“Come into the kitchen,” she said.
Jared followed her. His palms were sweaty from nerves. In the kitchen, Chad was
at the table, a hunk of bread hanging from his mouth, a cup of soup steaming in
front of him.
“I see you found the food,” Katie said.
He dropped the bread. “This was for us, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Though you’re lucky.”
Chad shrugged and dug back in.
“Sit, Jared,” Katie said. “Eat.”
“Katie…”
“Sit,” she said. “Chad knows.”
“You told him?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Chad said. He threw a hunk of bread at
Jared’s head. Jared caught it and took a bite. “Hey!” Chad said.
“Looks like I get two servings,” Jared said. He tossed Chad a grin. “I should
get yours too for telling him,” he said, turning back to Katie.
She rolled her eyes. “I needed an opinion,” she said. “And you know you can
trust him.”
Jared nodded. He looked down at his bread, his stomach squirming. “And?” he
said.
“I’ll bring him a message.”
He grinned so wide it hurt. He jumped from the table and pulled Katie into a
hug, burying her tiny form against his chest. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you
thank you thank you.” He lifted her and spun her once, and she let out a
shriek, giggled, then smacked his arm when he set her down. She was blushing.
“What should I do?” Jared said, practically bouncing in the middle of the
kitchen. “Should I write something?”
“No!” they both said at once.
Jared froze.
“No evidence,” Chad said. “You tell Katie what to say. If she can get him alone
and if she thinks it’s safe, she’ll tell him.”
“Good,” Jared said. He sat again, feeling breathless. “Good.”
“I mean that, Katie,” Chad said. “It doesn’t feel safe, you don’t do it.”
Katie nodded, twisting her shirt in her hands.
“What do I tell him?” Jared said.
Chad looked at Jared carefully, his whole face squinting as it did when he was
troubled. “What do you expect to gain from this?” he said, finally. “Do you
expect him to rescue you? Declare you as his husband again?”
“Yes,” Jared said. “That’s exactly what I expect.”
“Then you’re naive,” Chad said. “And you have too romantic a notion of the
world.”
“He loves me,” Jared said.
“Probably,” Chad said. “But this isn’t a summer tale, Jared. This is politics.
The Northern Council does not like you.”
“How do you know about that?” Jared said.
“Because I’m smart,” Chad said. “Because I’ve been a slave for a long time. I
listen when I’m in the village. I know how to separate the truth from the lies.
I believed you from the very moment you told Master who you are. And you
knowing the name of that guardsman only confirmed it for me.
“The king is struggling. He has adversaries from all sides. They say the
Northern Council has never thought him as strong as his father, and as far as
they’re concerned, you prove that. For now they are the king’s allies, but they
were teaching him a lesson in taking you. If he fights for you, they may openly
become adversaries of the king. And I’ll tell you something, frate,” Chad said.
“You got lucky they sold you into slavery. They could have killed you.”
“You act as if you agree with them,” Jared said.
“I don’t,” Chad said. “The king is doing good work, not that anyone would ask a
lowly slave’s opinion.” He sighed. “I truly hope he fights for you, Jared. But
it would smarter if he didn’t.”
“I have no power,” Jared said, “yet they act as if I’m out to take down the
kingdom.”
“Is there a reason for that?” Chad said. “I assumed their dislike is because
you are a grasswalker. A Southerner. Either that, or because you can produce no
heir.”
“I am Southern,” he admitted. “But I was raised by Jed Ackles. I knew him by a
different name, though.”
Both Katie and Chad looked suddenly uncomfortable. They both knew that name.
Jared had learned quickly that everyone in the North did, just as he’d learned
that grasswalker was meant as an insult, that Northerners saw Southerners as
savage, idiot tribesmen.
“Jared,” Chad said, looking at Katie briefly. “Then of course they want you out
of the way. If you’ve been poisoned by that man’s ideals, then you’re a threat
so close to the king.”
“I’m no threat,” Jared said.
“At the very least you’re a threat to the Northern Council,” Chad said. “They
gained power when the South was cut off from the kingdom. If the king unifies
North and South again, they lose that power. They were afraid of unification
long before your arrival, and you’ve brought all of that to their doorstep.” He
whistled, low. “No wonder they want you gone.”
“Thanks,” Jared murmured.
“I’m not saying I agree with them,” Chad said. “I’d be happy if there were a
pike at the citadel wall for the head of every single member of the Northern
Council. And after this, there may be.”
“Chad,” Katie said, her voice made harsh by shock.
“What?”
“That’s treason,” she said.
“It’s the damn truth. And you know every common person and slave wishes the
same.”
“None of the Council’s decisions affect us,” Katie said.
“They affect our masters, which means they affect slaves,” Jared said.
Chad slurped his soup, nodding.
“So what?” Jared said. “I just live out the rest of my life like this when I
could have something better?”
“It’s not a terrible life,” Chad said, defensive.
Jared nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m being insensitive. What the two of
you must think of me.”
“We don’t blame you,” Katie said, finally. “We have a good master, but neither
one of us would turn down a chance to be free.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Chad said.
“I will give the eunuc your message, Jared,” Katie said. “For now, that is all
we can do.”
***
“Tell me about him,” Chad said.
He and Jared had finished their day’s work, and there was no master to keep
them from being lazy. The sun was low in the sky, a purple splash of color
above the forest, and they were sitting in the grass sharing a roll of tobacco
between them.
“The king?” Jared said.
Chad threw a clump of dirt at him, laughed as Jared shook it from his long
hair. “Who else would I be asking about?”
Jared shrugged. “He is just…the king.”
“Insightful,” Chad said.
Jared tackled Chad to the ground in retaliation, rubbing dirt into the wayward
spikes of his straw colored hair. Chad was proud of that hair.
Chad pushed him off and sat up looking mussed and squinting in Jared’s
direction. “I’m blaming you when I use all of Master’s bath soaps.”
Jared snorted a laugh.
“I’m serious, though,” Chad said, when they’d settled. “I mean…the king, you
know?”
“I know,” Jared said. He thought for a moment, fiddling a piece of straw
between his fingers. Then, “He is confusing. Sad. He doesn’t sleep enough. He
cares too much about everything. Including me.”
“The girls say he is beautiful,” Chad said.
“And you suddenly care about that?” Jared said, grinning. “He looks nothing
like Katie.”
“Shut up,” Chad said.
Jared laughed. “The king is very handsome,” he said, finally. “He’s seen too
much to be beautiful, though.”
“He fucks you?”
“I am his husband.”
Chad looked confused by that. He looked up at the sun.
“It’s not like being fucked by Master,” Jared said. “The king cares about my
pleasure.”
“It is still fucking,” Chad said.
“It is love,” Jared said, echoing Katie’s words.
“And you see a difference?”
“Now I do,” Jared said. “I was confused at first. He’d taken me from my home,
and in the South it is not accepted, a man bedding another man. But I wanted
him from the beginning. I see that now. I wish I had told him that before I was
taken.”
“He didn’t know?” Chad said.
“Neither one of us did,” Jared said.
“And how you feel for him now, it’s not just…” Chad twisted his mouth in
thought. “Nostalgia?”
“Nostalgia?”
“Maybe that’s not correct…Saudade,” he said. “You yearn for a happier time.
Maybe even something that does not really exist.”
Jared thought about that for a moment, running his fingers through the dirt.
“Maybe,” he said, finally. “But there’s no way to know. Not unless I see him
again.”
“Well,” Chad said. “Perhaps you’ll have that chance.”
“Do you really believe that?” Jared said.
“I don’t know,” Chad said.
“I could leave,” Jared said. “Right now. I could walk away from all of this
while Master is away.”
“You could,” Chad said. “But how would you get to him? Walk? Anyone in the
village would know you, and the forest is not safe.”
“I can’t stand this.”
“Have patience,” Chad said. He rolled his eyes, grinned. “Gods. You’re like a
child.”
There was a sound in the forest then, and Jared and Chad both went still.
“A wolf?” Chad asked, his voice quiet.
“Maybe,” Jared murmured.
They both stood and began to back slowly from the tree line. The dogs were in
the house. So was their master’s blade, though Jared had a short handled
hatchet at his belt that he wasn’t sure would do him much good if it came to
that.
“It will be stopped by the traps,” Chad said.
“Should be,” Jared said.
They heard the noise again, the snap of a twig, the rustle of a leaf. It was
unusual for a wolf to come so close with the sun still so visible. Then Jared
heard a cough and became even more tense.
“Show yourself,” Jared said. “You’re trespassing on Winchester land.”
“Jared?”
Jared and Chad looked at each other. The voice sounded close, unsure.
“Is that you?”
A face peeked out from behind a tree. The man was thin, his skin grimed with
dirt and tree sap. His blonde hair was shorn almost to the scalp.
“Max?” Jared said. “Where did you come from?”
Max grinned. He began to walk toward them.
“Stop!” Chad said.
Max stopped instantly.
“The traps,” Chad said to Jared. “You know him?”
Jared nodded.
“Max,” Jared called. “Come to us slowly and watch your step. There are wolf
traps all along the tree line.”
Max nodded and tiptoed toward them, looking down at his feet. Jared took the
time to study him. He was not just thin, but boney, his collar bones jutting
from beneath the neckline of a rough brown tunic much like the one Jared
himself had been made to wear when he was kidnapped. The tunic was short,
barely covering Max’s shorn crotch, and his legs were skeletal with cuts, some
beginning to heal and some bleeding freely, dotting the skin. When Max made it
past the traps, he smiled at Jared, and his skin was too tight on his face, all
cheek bone and big blue eyes. Patches of his scalp were completely bare of hair
and scabbed over.
Jared stepped toward him. “What happened to you?” he said, his voice low.
Max flinched. He looked away from Jared and straightened his tunic, tried to
wipe a smear of dirt from his forearm with his thumb.
“Jared,” Chad said. “We should take him inside.”
“It’s okay, Max,” Jared said. “Come with us. Our master is not home.”
“I know,” Max said. “I’ve come from the capital.”
“There will be time for talk later,” Chad said. “Inside.”
***
Max was ravenous. He sat at the table and gnawed pheasant meat straight from
the bone, completely graceless, completely unlike the Max Jared remembered.
When Jared placed a mug of cool water on the table, Max drank it down in one
go, his gulps loud in the silent room. Jared had many questions, but from the
look of him, Max deserved to be let alone while he ate and rested. He kept
flicking furtive glances in Jared’s direction, and any time either Jared or
Chad came close, he flinched, just a little, but enough for Jared to notice.
Chad looked concerned, but he stayed as silent as Jared.
Finally, Max pushed his plate away, leaned back in his chair, and belched. Then
he covered his mouth with his hand and looked up at Jared and Chad,
embarrassed.
Max cleared his throat. “You look good, Jared,” he said, breaking the
uncomfortable silence. “You’ve grown.”
“And you look terrible,” Jared said.
Max touched a hand self-consciously to his scalp, his fingers spider-like
against the patchy mess of his hair. “I didn’t think how I must look to you,”
he said. “I’ve gotten used to it.”
“Max,” Jared said. “What happened? How did you get here? The king would not
have done this to you.”
“No,” Max said. “The king is no longer welcome in the capital.”
“What?” Jared said.
Beside him, Chad stood quickly enough he knocked his chair over. He pushed his
hands through his hair.
“He left. With an army,” Max said. He sipped his water. “He sent Jeffrey to the
South with his guard, and the king went west. When you were taken, he suspected
certain members of the Northern Council, but he couldn’t be certain it hadn’t
been your father. He did everything he could for information. When he heard
word you were being kept in the Western townships, he went after you. I reckon
he was misled, though, given you were apparently right under his nose. You’ve
been here the whole time?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
Max nodded. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, as soon as the king left, the
Northern Council took the citadel.”
“But the king has an army,” Chad said.
“The Northern Council has one, too,” Max said. “And they are aided by the
South. Jed Ackles is at the citadel. The king was almost right. They were
working together.”
“But they were afraid of my father,” Jared said. “That’s why they wanted me out
of the way.”
“Turns out, Jared,” Max said. “You were the answer to all the Northern
Council’s prayers. The perfect distraction for the king. None of this would
have happened had he never brought you home with him.”
“I didn’t ask for him to take me,” Jared said.
“I know,” Max said. He sighed, long and weary, and leaned against the table.
“I’m sorry. I don’t blame you. No more than I blame the king.”
“You should blame the king,” Chad said. “If he wasn’t being led by his dick, he
would have never left the citadel.”
Jared stood and shoved Chad across the kitchen. Chad looked back at him,
stunned.
“You know nothing about it,” Jared said.
“He is King, Jared,” Chad said. “He does not have the luxury of acting like
some love sick child. It’s all very romantic, you and him, but look where it
got the both of you. And now the entirety of the North will suffer because of
it. Do you think the Northern Council cares about the people? They care about
power. Nothing more. When the king left the capital, he left us all in his wake
and thought nothing of it.”
“No,” Max said. “Look. I’m furious with the king. You have no idea what my life
has been like since he left. But he thought he was doing the right thing. He
was trying to take out threats on all sides. He went West because of Jared,
sure, but this is not the first time he’s left the capital for battle. He had
no reason to believe the citadel would be in danger. He didn’t know how deep
the betrayal went.”
“How did you get here, Max?” Jared said.
“I ran,” Max said. “Your girl, Katie, she gave me your message. I left in the
night.”
“You walked? All the way through the forest?” Jared said.
Max nodded.
“You know what they do to runaway slaves,” Chad said.
“Those men are not my masters,” Max said, suddenly furious. “The king is.”
“Max,” Jared said. “I saw Jeff when he was traveling South with the guard. He
looked at me as if he didn’t know me.”
“Communication was difficult after you were taken,” Max said. “He would not
have been able to tell the king he’d found you.”
“He could have taken me with him.”
“No. He would not have taken you South and into battle,” Max said, slowly, as
if he were thinking it through. “It is likely he thought you were safe and
planned to tell the king upon his return.”
“Or he betrayed the king,” Chad said.
“No,” Max said. “He would not have done that.”
“So what now?” Jared said.
“I’ve heard rumor that Jeffrey’s camp is not far South of here,” Max said. “I
was planning to try to get to him even before I learned where you were.”
“Good,” Jared said. “Then we leave at first light.”
“No,” Max said. “Tonight. We need the moon’s cover.”
“Are you both insane?” Chad said. “We are slaves. If we’re caught—”
“If we’re caught, nothing,” Jared said. “I have no choice. I have to get back
to Jensen.”
“Jared…” Chad sighed. He slumped into a chair, and leveled a look at Jared that
Jared had a difficult time reading. “When Master comes home,” he said, “and
you’re not here? He will believe I helped you escape, whether I did or not.”
“Then come with us,” Max said.
“The two of you are fools,” Chad said.
“War is ravaging the land,” Max said. “You will need to pick a side. And
believe me—those who have taken power are not friendly to slaves. But the king
will take you in. He will be good to you.”
“If we can even find him,” Chad said.
“We will,” Jared said. And Jared felt a buzzing under his skin at that thought.
His heart was working double time in his chest.
“No,” Chad said. “I won’t come. I wish you well, Jared. I do. And I will not
tell Master of your plans. You have my word on that. I will tell him you ran in
the night while I was sleeping.”
“Why would you stay?” Max said. “Are you so loyal?”
“Katie,” Jared said. “You’re staying for Katie.”
Chad nodded. “I won’t leave her here.”
Jared gripped Chad’s shoulder.
“Jared,” Max said. “If you are coming with me, we should leave now. And we
should take whatever food and supplies we can. I was not able to take anything
when I left the citadel.”
“Yes,” Jared said. “Of course.”
“I’ll help you,” Chad said.
“You don’t have to,” Jared said.
“Nonsense.”
They worked quickly, packing a small amount food and bladders of water and tea.
Jared took his master’s blade as well as a dagger and a hunting bow. If they
ran out of bread and dried meat, Jared should be able to hunt a little. He also
gave Max a small blade, though Max looked nervous holding it, and Jared was
reminded that Max had been raised for the bedchamber; he was likely unfamiliar
with blades.
Jared found Max some clothes and boots so he’d be better prepared for travel.
Before Max dressed, Jared made him clean his legs and feet and rub ointment
into the lacerations he’d received from his trek through the woods. One cut on
the sole of his foot looked particularly bad, and Jared winced in sympathy
while he watched Max work.
“Will you be able to walk much further?” Jared said, watching Max press a clean
cloth to the wound.
“I don’t have much choice,” Max said.
Jared nodded, feeling grim. He wanted very badly to see his king again, and he
hadn’t let go of the hope he’d felt since sending Katie off with his message.
But the track ahead of him and Max would be difficult, and if the rumors Max
had heard about Jeff’s camp were wrong, then they’d be traveling with no end in
sight.
They set off when the moon was high.
Ai grija, frate,” Chad said.
Jared nodded. He smiled a little. “Si tu,” he said. Then, unable to help
himself, he pulled Chad into a hug. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything. I
would not have survived these last months if not for you.”
Chad pulled out of the hug and shrugged awkwardly, though he looked pleased.
“Just repay me by taking care of yourself.”
“I will,” Jared said.
 
Part V
They walked South-East, moving as quickly as possible across the Kingsroad and
into the prairielands. Max limped, but waved Jared off when he showed concern.
The air felt charged, as if the buzzing inside of Jared were seeping out and
affecting everything around him, as if the long grasses caught Jared’s thoughts
and whispered with them. He felt at home like this, the sky above him and only
the grass for cover, and were it not for the slight chill in the night air and
Max walking beside him, Jared could be South again, out with a hunting party in
search for food.
The two stayed silent for some time. Though Jared was dying to question Max
about everything that had happened in the more than six moons since they’d last
seen each other, his newly learned patience kept him silent. If Max wanted to
talk, he would talk.
And eventually he did talk, though the conversation was not what Jared
expected. When they rested the first day, Jared took first watch, and he pulled
out the necklace he’d been making the king, the wolves teeth he’d collected
woven together with a thin felt cording he’d scrounged from Katie. He felt Max
watching him work, and he thought, not for the first time, that his gift was
hardly fitting for a king. It was all he had to give, though, and he wanted to
give Jensen something to show him he’d never been far from Jared’s thoughts.
“You’re anxious to see the king, then?” Max finally said, as if picking up a
conversation that had already been started.
“Yes,” Jared said.
“I’m surprised,” Max said. “I did not have the impression you liked him
particularly.”
“He is my husband,” Jared explained for what felt to him like the millionth
time.
Max snorted, the expression that followed ugly on his too thin face. “Cut the
shit, Jared,” he said. “You weren’t exactly pleased to be marrying him.”
“No,” Jared said. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think since I’ve been made a
slave.”
“And being a prince is better than being a slave?” Max said. “Took you long
enough to figure it out.”
“It’s not that,” Jared said. He wrapped the necklace around his hand, closed
his fist around the sharp points of the wolves’ teeth. He tried to explain. “As
a slave,” he said, “my life is not much different than it was back home. In the
South, I mean. I do much of the same work, and my father—Jed Ackles, I guess—he
was not kind.”
Max nodded. “And your master?”
Jared shrugged. “I guess I could have had it worse.”
“Jensen will be happy to hear he was kind to you,” Max said. “When he didn’t
know where you were, he imagined the worst.”
“I fear the king will be displeased with me,” Jared said, his voice quiet.
Max said nothing, but when Jared glanced at him, he could see he was listening.
“My master…” Jared said. He swallowed, feeling sick suddenly. He’d not voiced
these fears before. He hadn’t even realized he had them until the prospect of
seeing the king again became real. “I have not been able to remain untouched,”
he said finally.
Max touched Jared lightly on the forearm. “Of course not,” he said. “It’s not
as if you had a choice.”
“I should have fought harder,” Jared said. “I should have done everything I
could. He is my husband. I should not have let someone else touch me.”
“You’d have been beaten or worse had you not given Winchester what he wanted,”
Max said. “Then he would have taken it anyway. The king is not naïve. He will
not blame you.”
Jared nodded.
“I love him,” he said after they’d both been silent for a time. “I don’t know
when that happened.”
“He was your first,” Max said. “We all love our firsts.”
“He was your first, too,” Jared said. “Was he not?”
Max merely looked at him, his face strangely blank.
Jared nodded and went back to working on his gift. He decided there were some
things it was better not to know.
***
For five nights, Jared and Max walked. During the day, they bedded down under
what little cover they could find in the prairie grass. One took watch; one
slept. They saw very few people. Each night, Max’s feet looked a little worse
for wear, and Jared began to worry about him. Some of the deepest lacerations
seemed infected, and though Max did not complain, he walked with a terrible
limp that slowed their travel more than either of them was comfortable with.
On the sixth night, Max became feverish. They stopped to rest before the sun
could show its face.
Jared used some of their dwindling water supply to clean the wounds on Max’s
feet. Max had not let him do much for the wounds before for fear of running out
of water, but now, with Max too sick with fever to protest, his face milk pale
but for the splotches of pink fever in his cheeks, Jared scrubbed Max’s feet
until they were clean and Max was moaning from the pain. There were two
lacerations that had yet to heal on Max’s left foot; they were an angry red,
the skin around them tight and shiny, and the red was spreading outwardly
across the sole. Jared had seen men die of infected blood from minor wounds.
Jared knew infection.
“Max,” he said. “Max…”
Max looked at him, sweat on his upper lip and his shorn scalp. His lips
twisted, pain and cynicism both, making him ugly, sad.
“Fuck,” Max said. “To die from a cut on the foot.” He laughed harshly.
“Hush,” Jared said. “You are not going to die.”
Max moaned and rolled over, pulling his foot from Jared’s grasp. “I feel like
I’m going to die.”
“There will be medicines at camp,” Jared said.
“That would be fine,” Max said, “if I could walk.”
“You just need a day’s rest,” Jared said. “We will try again when the sun
falls.”
“The infection will only spread.”
“No,” Jared said.
“Stop it,” Max said. “Jared, stop.”
Jared felt himself begin to cry, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his
eyes, hard, refusing to let it go.
Max slept fitfully, curled into a ball in the grass, and Jared sat watch over
him. Just as the sun rose, he woke, vomiting, complaining of chills, and
sweating straight through his clothes. His entire foot was an angry red, the
skin around the wound and up into his heel and ankle tight and swollen.
“Fucking gods,” he moaned. He tilted his head back and stared up at the sky.
“Tell me what to do,” Jared whispered.
“Nothing,” Max said. “You can do nothing. I’m going to die in this field and
the carrion birds are going to take my body.”
Jared stood and walked away. He pressed his hand to his mouth and screamed into
his palm. He screamed and screamed, then he went to his knees and prayed to
gods he’d stopped believing in the first time his father had beaten him bloody.
He was terrified. And he was selfish enough to admit to himself that he didn’t
want Max to die because the source of that terror was the thought of being
alone. But he’d come to care for Max, too, and it wasn’t fair that he had to
lose him so soon. Just like he’d lost his family. Like he’d lost Jensen. And it
wasn’t fair for Max to have to die here with no one there for him but Jared,
who’d never felt more like a child than he did in that moment.
When Jared had pulled himself together, he walked back to Max and sat down
beside him.
“I’m sorry,” Max said. “I should have left you there.”
“No,” Jared said. “I wouldn’t have let you. Besides, it is not too late. We
will find Jeffrey’s camp.”
“You will,” Max said. “You need to leave me. Keep going.”
“No,” Jared said.
Max sighed.
“No,” Jared said again. “It is not up for discussion.”
“All right,” Max said. Then quieter, “Thank you.”
***
It took three days for Max to die. Once, Jared believed he saw a horse on the
horizon, and he went toward it, willing to risk capture if it meant saving Max.
But there was no horse. And there was no saving his friend.
When Max finally let go, Jared screamed into his face—“It’s not fucking fair!”
he said, grabbing his body by the shoulders and shaking it. When there was no
response, he sat in the grass—cross-legged, his arms wrapped against his
stomach—and he sobbed. When he finished, he looked around him, his throat
hoarse, his face puffy, his entire body aching. He could keep going South, or
he could go back to his master and hope he would be merciful.
He had nothing with which to bury Max, and no means of starting a fire to burn
his body. He folded Max’s hands over his chest and straightened his feet; he
covered him with the little clothing he had packed and weighed the cloth down
with rocks. He hoped, if he found Jeffrey’s camp, he could come back to claim
Max’s body, but he doubted it. So he gave Max the only ceremony he could.
He sat next to Max’s body throughout the day watching a buzzard circle the sky;
when the moon rose again, he kept walking.
***
On his second night alone, Jared heard voices.
He crouched, hiding his too tall form in the long grass as best he could. It
was a dark night, but not dark enough. When the men came near, he could see
them too clearly. If he could see them, they would see him.
He went to his stomach, concentrating as hard as he could on staying still and
listening. If they were Jeffrey’s men, then he could be safe. But Jeffrey’s men
or no, this was a time of war, and he did not trust them to not kill him on
sight.
The men finally stopped, and Jared could smell the smoke of their tobacco.
Their talk seemed casual, from the little Jared could make out. He went slowly
to his hands and knees and peered at them. They were turned away, and Jared
silently thanked whoever might be listening for that small gift. He was tired
and hungry, and had they seen him, he wasn’t sure he would have had the
strength to run.
He could just barely make out the king’s coat of arms on one of the men’s
tunics, and Jared felt faint with relief. When the men finished their smoking,
they began to walk away, and Jared crept through the grass after them.
What he saw astonished him. He’d seen Jeffrey with the seven men that made up
the king’s guard, but what he saw ahead of him was the vast camp ground of an
army, the king’s banner flown high above many of the tents. There was quiet
talk and laughter, but it seemed many of the men were inside their tents,
asleep.
Jared felt that flutter of hope in his chest again. This was the king’s army.
This was Jensen’s army. Jensen could be here, and Jared could either skulk in
the grass, too afraid to move, or he could walk up to the camp and find his
husband. Despite the danger, he chose the latter.
He stood and walked toward the camp. He took a moment to be surprised at how
long it took the men to notice him, but when the few men around the campfires
turned to face him, Jared dropped to his knees, tried to show he wasn’t a
threat. He held his hands up to show they were empty.
The men stood and looked at him. There were about six or seven who had been
sitting watch around the fire, and they looked at him curiously, blades held at
their sides.
“And who do we have here?” one of the men said.
Jared cast his eyes toward the ground. “Please,” he said. “I am looking for the
king’s advisor. I am looking for Sir Jeffrey Morgan.”
One of the men laughed. “Are you now, little slave?” he said.
“Where did he come from?” another said.
“Pretty,” another said. “It’s not often something as pretty as this drops into
our laps.”
“I bet you’d love it if he dropped in your lap.”
The men laughed and Jared flinched. He was beginning to regret his bravery when
one of the men grabbed him by the chin and tilted his face up. The man did not
look amused.
“Te cunosc,” he said. With his other hand, he touched the piercing on Jared’s
ear, then he let go of Jared’s face as if he’d been burned. “Marcus,” he said,
“Aduceti-l pe rege.”
Jared stayed on his knees, very still. The men had fallen silent around him,
but he refused to look up. After a few moments, the men started to spread out,
making room.
“Jared?”
Jared looked up to where the king was standing, watching him as if unsure. When
the king saw his face, he rushed to Jared, grabbed him by the shoulders, and
hauled him upwards.
“It’s you,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded, staring at his king’s face. He looked too tired, and he wore a
full beard, his hair too long and just beginning to curl at the ears. But he
was grinning, a huge grin that Jared had never seen before, and Jared noted
absently that at some point, he’d grown taller than the king.
“Sire,” Jared said, an ache in his chest and throat.
Then he didn’t know what else to say, but it did not matter because the king
pulled him into his arms, his hand at the back of Jared’s head, pressing
Jared’s face into his neck.
“My boy,” he murmured. “Husband.”
Jared shivered all over, and let himself go lax in the king’s arms. “I thought
I would never see you again,” he said.
“I know,” the king said. “I know. It’s all right.”
Jared pulled away. “It’s not,” he said.
He was suddenly angry. The king’s eyes widened.
“Max is dead,” Jared said.
If possible, the king’s eyes widened further. He seemed to go pale in the
moonlight, his mouth tight.
“Come,” he said. “We should not do this in public.”
Jared nodded. He didn’t have the strength to argue, and he let the king take
his hand and pull him through the camp. He was aware of a very many eyes on
him, and he was aware that he was filthy and unkempt, but he didn’t have it in
him to care. He squeezed Jensen’s hand very tightly and let him lead.
There was a large tent at the center of the encampment, and Jensen pulled him
inside. Jeffrey and two other men from the king’s guard stood inside around a
large table with maps and plans spread out in front of them.
“Jared,” Jeff said, startled.
“Leave,” Jensen said. He looked at Jeff. “All of you.”
“Sire,” the men said. They stepped outside the tent, though Jeff hesitated,
sparing a lingering look for the king, trading words with a glance.
When Jeff finally left, Jensen turned to Jared then, searching his face.
“Come,” Jensen said. “You look exhausted.”
He led Jared to a rough camp bed stretched on a wooden frame.
“You’ve been here for some time,” Jared said, looking at the bed, at the open
trunks of clothing and weaponry, at the maps spread upon every available
surface. He sat on the camp bed. “Long enough to be settled.”
Jensen nodded and watched Jared. “What happened to you?” he said. “How did you
find me?”
“Please,” Jared said. “I will tell you everything, but not now.”
Jensen sat beside him. “Max?” he said.
“He escaped the citadel,” Jared said. “He found me and we set out to look for
you, but he’d been hurt during the escape. It was infection.”
Jensen jaw went tight as he swallowed.
“I stayed with him,” Jared said.
“He was mine to protect,” Jensen said. “As were you. I failed you both.”
“Jensen,” Jared said. “Can you just…can you lay with me? It has been too long
since I’ve seen you.”
“Of course,” Jensen said. He sounded surprised.
He lay back on the bed and pulled Jared toward him. Jared folded himself into
the king’s side, attempting to make himself as small as possible. He rested his
chin on the king’s chest and peered up at him. Jensen brushed Jared’s hair away
from his eyes.
“My husband,” Jensen said. “Your hair has grown long.”
“May I sleep?” Jared said. “Will you stay if I do?”
“Yes,” Jensen said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
When Jared woke again, it was still night, and the torches in the king’s tent
had been turned down low, and all Jared could see were shadows. The king was
sat on the edge of his bed so that Jared could see only the line of his back,
his shoulders hunched as if he held his head in his hands.
Jared sat up and slid behind the king. Kneeling behind him, he wrapped his arms
around his king’s torso, rested his chin on the king’s shoulder. Jensen gripped
Jared’s arm loosely, and they just breathed together.
“Is this okay?” Jared asked, his voice quiet.
“Of course,” Jensen said.
Jared pressed himself in closer, closed his eyes and breathed in Jensen’s
scent. He’d spent many nights trying to call to mind this exact scent, the
exact degree of warmth of Jensen’s skin, but he’d not even been close to the
real thing.
“You should be asleep,” Jensen said.
“I could say the same to you,” Jared said.
“I keep thinking I’ll lose you again,” Jensen said. “I close my eyes and fear
I’ll open them and be alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jared said. “They’d have to kill me this time. And
I’d make sure to take a few of them along.”
Jensen laughed a little then grew silent. “I should train you up a bit,” he
said, “so you can protect yourself if I’m not there.”
“I love you,” Jared said.
The king twisted in Jared’s arms to stare at him. The look on his face was
wary. “You don’t mean that, Jared,” he said. “You are just happy to be safe.”
“No,” Jared said. “I mean that. Eight moons have passed since I’ve seen you.
Plenty of time to work out how I feel.”
Jensen kissed him then, and Jared opened for the king, let their tongues meet
and breathed into the warmth of the king’s mouth. Jensen pressed him back
against the bed, and Jared went willingly, spreading his legs as Jensen came to
rest on top of him, as he explored Jared’s mouth as if memorizing the feel and
taste of it.
“My husband,” Jensen said when he pulled away. He traced the lines of Jared’s
face with his fingers, his thumb brushing along a cheekbone, his fingertips
gentle at Jared’s brow.
Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and licked a wet stripe across the palm, sucked two
of the fingers into his mouth a swirled his tongue around them. When Jensen
took his hand back, he smeared saliva across Jared’s lips and chin. He stared
at Jared, open-mouthed and wanting.
“I want you to fuck me,” Jared said. “Please. My king. It’s been too long.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said. “Yeah.”
He pulled the collar of Jared’s shirt aside, and Jared bared his neck as Jensen
licked across his throat, sucked hard enough to bruise a mark at his jaw line,
Jared’s hand loose on the back of his head. The king sat back on his knees then
and stared openly at Jared as he made quick work of opening first Jared’s pants
then his own, and Jared lifted his hips so the king could slide them down, then
laughed with Jensen for a moment when they both became tangled trying to get
Jared’s long legs in a position to remove his pants without removing Jensen
from the bed. Once Jared was bare, Jensen pulled Jared’s legs onto his
shoulders. He drizzled something cold and wet onto Jared’s hole that had Jared
gasping and twitching.
The king moved to open Jared on his fingers, but Jared stopped him. “Please,”
he said. “I’m not the virgin I was. Please just fuck me. I don’t need you to be
gentle.”
Jensen groaned and licked across his bottom lip. “So fucking beautiful,” he
said. “So goddamned beautiful for me.”
Jared felt the king’s cock slowly breach his entrance, and the king moved to
lay on top of Jared, practically folding Jared in half as he thrust home, and
Jared grabbed Jensen’s ass and helped him along, wanting to feel all of him and
reveling in the fact that he was choosing this, that for once he didn’t have to
lay passive and just take it like a good boy.
Jared groaned as the king thrust against that spot inside that made him see the
moon and the stars straight through the tent, and he ached suddenly to feel it
harder, for Jensen to make it hurt and for him to hurt Jensen in return. He
scratched down Jensen’s back, bit his lower lip and tugged until Jensen cried
out and yanked away. Jared could see he’d drawn blood. Jensen fucked into him
harder and grabbed Jared’s wrists, held them against the bed above his head.
One of Jared’s legs slipped from the king’s shoulder, and Jared strained to
reach the king to bite him again. His whole body felt tense, on the knife’s
edge of pleasure and pain, and his orgasm took him completely by surprise. The
king pressed against that spot once more, and Jared came, long and hard,
groaning and clenching his ass around the king’s cock so that he followed
quickly behind.
The king collapsed on top of him, his cock still inside Jared, and he kissed
his way up Jared’s neck and jaw until he pulled Jared’s panting mouth to his
own and they kissed, all teeth and need, and Jared could taste Jensen’s blood
in his mouth and that alone made his cock twitch again where it lay spent
between his and Jensen’s stomachs and in the mess they’d made.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” Jensen said, his face buried in Jared’s neck, his
softening cock in Jared’s ass.
“I won’t,” Jared promised. “Never again.”
***
Jared woke again in the day. Someone had put a folding screen up, blocking the
bed from view, and Jared could hear the murmur of voices on the other side. He
stood, picked his clothes from the ground, and dressed hurriedly, wrinkling his
nose a bit as the smell of them, stiff with dirt and sweat. He licked his palms
and tried to smooth his hair down. Then, having done the best he could to make
himself presentable, he poked his head around the screen. The king was there,
at the same table he’d been at the night before, though seated this time and
talking with Jeff and another man whom Jared didn’t recognize.
Jared stepped fully into the room. “My lord,” he said, looking at Jensen.
Jensen smiled up at him. “Jared,” he said. “Come here. There’s breakfast.”
Jared edged in, fought the urge to kneel beside Jensen and instead took the
chair by Jensen’s side. He didn’t know if that’s what Jensen wanted, but he
didn’t complain, so Jared, without a word, began serving himself from the
platters of food in the center of the table—simple fare, breads and salted
meat, the strange lumpy green fruit that Jared had seen growing from the trees
as he’d walked here. It was sweetly sour on his tongue, with small, black,
crunchy seeds, and Jared chewed loudly, much too hungry to be polite. He could
feel Jeff and the other soldier watching him as he ate. Jensen rested his hand
against the nape of Jared’s neck, and Jared relaxed into it, flicking his eyes
upwards.
“I hear you’ve come a long way, little one,” the nameless soldier said.
Jared paused in his eating, and looked up, his eyes drawn to Jeffrey. In the
daylight, now that he was as safe as possible, he was finding it hard to forget
that the king’s advisor had known exactly where Jared was. Had known for quite
some time.
“I did,” Jared said, his words slow. “From the Winchester farm.”
“Winchester?” Jensen said. He looked to Jeffrey.
The tension in Jared crept up his spine and into his shoulders, and he stilled,
waiting to see how this would play out.
“He would have known who Jared was,” the King continued. “He was present for
our union.”
“Yes, sire,” Jeff said, his eyes locked on Jared.
“Why were you with him, Jared?” the king said. His voice sounded controlled,
but Jared could see his anger, the tension in his jaw, the slight downward hook
of the corner of his mouth.
“He bought me from a slave market,” Jared said.
Jensen stood. “I will have him killed,” he said to Jeff. “I want him tied to
the back of my horse and dragged through the fucking capital.”
“Yes, sire,” Jeffrey said. “He will pay along with the rest of the council.”
“No,” Jensen said. “Now. Today. I’m bringing the guard with me, and I’m going
to kill the man myself.”
Jared stood and put his hand on Jensen’s arm, wanting to calm him. “He’s at the
citadel,” he said, trying to keep his voice soothing. “You will not find him on
his land. That’s how I was able to escape.”
Jensen dragged a breath in through his nose. Nodded once. “I want to end this,
Jeff,” he said. “I want these plans finished within the week.”
“Of course,” Jeff said.
Jared looked at Jeff. “My king,” he said. “May I speak with you alone?”
“Sire,” Jeff said. “We have too much work to do. We don’t have time for this.”
Jensen rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “We will speak later,” he said to
Jared. “There is a servant waiting just outside the tent. Go with her. She will
see you clothed and see that you know your way around camp.”
“No,” Jared said.
The king looked at him, startled.
“I need to speak with you,” Jared said.
“We’ll speak later,” Jensen said.
“Jensen—”
The king raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my command?”
“Yes,” Jared said. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
The silence that followed was one of the most uncomfortable silences Jared had
experienced, the three soldiers staring at him as if he’d suddenly performed
magic.
“Leave,” Jensen said, finally. It was clear he was speaking to the other two
men and not to Jared.
“Jared,” he said when they’d left. By the tone of his voice, he was just on the
edge of real anger, one more push from Jared and he might lash out.
Jared didn’t care.
“No,” he said. “I am your husband, not your slave. Do you understand the
difference?”
“Of course I do,” Jensen said.
“Then you will not treat me like a slave,” Jared said. “I will not take orders.
Not anymore.”
Jensen studied him carefully before speaking. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he
said. “I am in the middle of a war. I have work to do.”
“I understand that,” Jared said. He stepped up to Jensen, laid his hand on
Jensen’s face. “I would not interrupt you if it weren’t important.”
Jensen nodded, barely relaxing into Jared’s touch.
“You’ve been fighting for too long,” Jared said.
“I have no choice,” Jensen said.
“I know,” Jared said.
Jensen held Jared’s wrist, keeping Jared’s hand against his face. “Did
Winchester hurt you?”
Jared diverted his eyes. “Do you really want to know?”
Jensen’s grip on Jared’s wrist tightened until it was painful. “I want to kill
him.”
“Hush,” Jared said. “Later. I have something important to tell you.”
Jared guided the king into his chair. He knelt in front of him.
“What is this?” Jensen asked. “You’re right, you know. You aren’t my slave. You
don’t have to kneel.”
Jared shrugged. He wouldn’t tell the king that, when it was him, when it was
Jensen, he didn’t mind kneeling so much. After so long kneeling for someone he
hated, it was almost nice to do it by choice. He looked up at the king. “You
didn’t know where I was?” he said, hedging around his true worry, not wanting
to tell the king someone he trusted as thoroughly as Jeff could have betrayed
him.
“No,” Jensen said. “You haven’t gone all this time thinking that, have you?
That I left you to that?”
Jared shook his head. “No,” he said. “I hoped you were looking for me.”
“I was,” Jensen said.
Jared took a deep breath. “Jeffrey knew where I was.”
Jensen stilled for a moment, saying nothing, then he sat back in his chair,
pulling his hands away from Jared. When he spoke, he was all business.
“Explain,” he said.
“My master—” Jared paused. Took a breath. Started over. “Winchester—he would
send me to market sometimes with another slave. Our cart got stuck in the mud
on the Kingsroad one day when Jeffrey and your guard were travelling South.
They helped us out of the mud.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you,” Jensen said.
“He saw me,” Jared said. He put his hand on the king’s knee. Watched the flex
of his own fingers. Jensen put his hand on top of Jared’s. “I all but begged
him to help me,” Jared said.
“Fuck the gods,” Jensen said quietly.
“He didn’t tell you?” Jared said, though he already knew the answer.
Jensen said nothing.
“Perhaps there is a reason for it. Max thought…” Jared swallowed, the pain of
that loss reappearing. He tried again. “Max thought perhaps he was trying to
keep me safe. That I’d be safe with Winchester until…after.”
“Perhaps you would have been,” Jensen said. “But that does nothing to explain
why Jeff kept it from me.”
“I know,” Jared said.
“It fits,” Jensen said. “Whoever took you knew the citadel’s secret passages.
But more than that—they knew what you meant to me. They knew I would go after
you.”
“What are you going to do?” Jared asked.
The king stood, and Jared stood beside him.
“Kane!” the king called.
The soldier who’d been at the table that morning strode back into the tent.
“Sire?” he said. He looked from Jared back to the king.
“Where is Jeff?” the king said.
“Across camp,” Kane said. “Would you like me to fetch him?”
“No,” Jensen said. “I wish to speak with you.”
Kane nodded.
“We’ve fought beside each other for many years,” the King started. “You’ve
always been someone I could trust.”
“Of course, sire,” Kane said. “We grew up together. You will always have my
loyalty.”
“Yet you are part of Jeff’s guard?”
“I’m part of your guard, sire,” Kane said. “The King’s Guard.” Then he cracked
a smile. “Jensen,” he said, looking at Jared. “Sire. I’m sorry, but is this a
trick question?”
Jensen sighed, rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No,” he said. “I
wish it were. Sit,” he said. “We have something to discuss.”
Kane sat obediently, the king following.
“Sire,” Jared said. “Should I—”
“Sit, Jared,” the King said.
Jared sat. After a moment’s hesitation, he put his hand on the king’s knee
below the table, smiled at him a little to show he was supported.
The king turned to Kane. “We grew up together, Chris,” he said. “We always
wanted the same things. We’ve both wanted for so long to unite the kingdom, end
all this fighting.”
“Of course,” Kane said.
“But Jeff…he fought under my father’s command.”
“You’re worried about Jeff’s loyalty?” Kane said. “You’re not serious.”
“It seems he has been keeping things from me,” Jensen said. He looked to Jared.
Kane looked as if he suddenly understood something. He settled into his chair
and looked at the king. “This is about Jared,” he said.
“Jeff knew where he was,” Jensen said. “He saw Jared while riding South. He
neglected to tell me.”
“Jensen, forgive me, but it is likely he wanted to keep your head in the game,”
Kane said. “You haven’t been known to make the best decisions when it comes to
the boy.”
“We’ve known for some time now there is a leak,” Jensen said.
“Yeah, but…Jeff?” Chris gave a low whistle, shook his head slowly. “Fuck me.
He’s been a part of your family since he was a child.”
“Yes he has,” Jensen said. “He was even around when my uncle was head of the
council.”
“You think he’s loyal to Jed?”
“My father?” Jared said, unable to hold back.
Jensen and Chris shared a look, as if neither one of them wanted to broach that
particular subject.
“It’s the only possibility that makes sense,” Jensen said slowly.
“But that would mean my father had a hand in my abduction. In making me a
slave,” Jared said. “If Jeff is the traitor, and he was taking orders from my
father—”
“He is not your father,” Jensen interrupted.
“He raised me,” Jared said. “He is the only father I have. And you’ll pardon me
if I find it painful to learn he cares so little for my well-being.”
After a pause, Chris spoke. “Jed Ackles cares about no one but himself, kid.
Don’t take it personal.”
“There’s no other way to take it,” Jared said. He felt dizzy. He thought of
himself crawling across the floor to take Winchester’s cock into his mouth,
thought of the endless nights of cold, the loss of his homeland, of being
forced into a marriage that, though he’d accepted, he’d never wanted. His
father had given him over to all of that.
“What do you want to do?” Chris said, his words filtering slowly into Jared’s
thoughts.
“The usual,” Jensen said. “Feed him information. Watch to see what he does with
it. I will not accuse him without being certain.”
“Yes, sire,” Chris said. He stood.
“Go,” Jensen said. “Rest. Be with the men. I want you and Jeff in my tent at
sundown.”
Chris obeyed, which left Jared alone with Jensen. Jensen looked to him, his
face softening, as if he were concerned.
“Come here, my boy,” Jensen said.
Jared shook his head; his thoughts of his marriage with the king and how that
came about too near to feel comfortable going to him so easily. He tugged once
at the piercing in his ear, still with him after all this time. “I’d like to
bathe,” he said, “if that’s possible here. And I’ve been wearing these clothes
for over a week.”
Jensen considered Jared carefully. Jared just looked him in the face, let the
king have his look.
“Of course,” Jensen said, finally. “There is a servant just outside. Marta. Go
with her, she’ll get you what you need.”
Jared nodded and moved to walk from the tent.
“Jared,” the king said. He took a step closer, though he didn’t reach out to
touch. “Are you all right?” he said. “You can talk to me if you need.”
The question was much too complicated for Jared to answer. “I’m fine,” he said.
He waited for Jensen’s nod, then he slipped out of the tent.
***
He spent the day with Marta—a slave with no tongue who smiled at Jared and
slapped his naked ass after he stripped to bathe in the small stream at the
edge of the camp. Months ago, that might have made him blush, but he’d had many
unwelcome touches since, and he felt more comfortable in Marta’s presence than
he had since he’d first found the camp, so he merely laughed at her and waded
into the water, shivering at its iciness and scrubbing his body quickly with
his bare hands and a misshapen lump of lye soap.
Marta gave him clothes, soft leather trousers and a padded black linen shirt,
then pulled a cloak over his shoulders, the fur of its collar soft against his
ears and throat. She pointed at Jared then drew a circle above her head with
one finger, pointed at Jared again. When Jared just stood there, confused, she
grunted out a word, unable to shape it fully without a tongue, but Jared
gathered she was saying crown. He nodded at her, unsure of what she meant. She
shrugged, then turned around.
Marta led him around the camp in a big circle, and Jared tried to make sense of
its order. He would have to ask the king to explain its layout later, since
Marta could not explain to him what he was seeing. So Jared fell into his
thoughts as he followed behind her, smiling at her when she looked back at him,
grinning a lopsided grin and pointing at random. He wondered what her story
was. How she’d lost her tongue. He wondered if Jensen had had a hand in it, or
if it had been someone more like his master. And what was the difference
between Jensen and Winchester anyway? Jared stopped that train of thought
before it began. He wanted to look ahead rather than behind. He wondered if
Winchester had made it home yet, and, if so, if Chad and Katie were all right.
He wondered what these men, these soldiers, war weary and with no township to
call home, thought of him as he walked through the camp in a cloak finer than
anything he’d ever worn before, wondered if they knew him as the king’s husband
or as his whore. He wondered again what it was that made the king different
than Winchester.
He made it back to the tent before Jeff and Chris, and when he slid inside, he
found Jensen standing at the same table, leaning over it, his hands flat
against the map and his face drawn, worried.
He looked up at Jared. His smile seemed to Jared uncertain, so Jared tried to
smile back, to reassure him.
“I hope you’re feeling better now that you’ve bathed?” Jensen asked when Jared
said nothing.
Jared nodded.
Jensen shifted as if he wanted to move closer to Jared, but he held back.
Jared raised an eyebrow. “You want to touch me,” he said.
“Very much,” Jensen said.
“You’ve never held back before,” Jared said.
“No,” Jensen said. “I haven’t.”
Jared nodded. He walked to his king, covered his hand against the table with
one of his own, pulled it up to his face, nosed at the inside of the king’s
wrist before dropping a kiss there.
“Did he touch you?” the king said.
Jared looked up at the king. “Winchester?” he asked.
Jensen nodded once, his body still, his hand warm in Jared’s.
“He was my master,” Jared said. “Of course he touched me.”
Jensen closed his eyes.
“You touched Max,” Jared said.
Jensen looked at him, pulled his hand away. “That’s different,” he said, his
voice rough.
“How?” Jared asked.
“It just is,” Jensen said. “And it’s none of your business.”
“Please,” Jared said. “I’m only trying to understand. You’re so angry at the
thought of what Winchester might have done to me, but you have slaves. You’ve
done many of the same things.”
“You think me no different than him?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Jared admitted.
“Max and I grew up together,” Jensen said. “What he gave me, he gave freely.”
“He was a slave,” Jared said. “He could give nothing freely.”
“Yes, but I…” Jensen paused, dragged a hand across his mouth. “I cared for him.
I would not have touched him had he said no.” He snorted a laugh, though there
seemed no amusement in it. “In fact, he did say no. He was a fickle bastard. He
could go months without letting me touch him.”
“He loved you,” Jared said.
“Is that what this is?” Jensen said. “Do you think I cared more for him than
you?”
“I know you did,” Jared said.
“You are my husband,” Jensen said, as if that meant everything.
“And you’ve known me for weeks,” Jared said. “I know you care for me, for who
you think I am, and in time it could be like it was with Max. But the reality
is we barely know each other.”
Jensen shook his head. “I never loved Max that way, gods help me. I was too
lost in the thought of you. The husband I’d lost before I’d ever even had him.
Max deserved better. You deserve better.”
“Maybe,” Jared said. “But that’s all in the past. I chose to marry you. And I
didn’t understand it then, but now I’ve fought to come back to you. You’re all
I have. And I want this to work.”
“As do I,” Jensen said.
“Good,” Jared said. “I want to fight.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow, seeming a little baffled by the abrupt change of
topic. “I told you I would train you,” Jensen allowed.
“I want to fight beside you,” Jared said. “I need to be a part of this.”
“Jared that’s…” the king shook his head. “That’s not something I can give you.”
“Why not?”
“There is too much risk,” Jensen said. “You could die.”
“As could you,” Jared said.
“I am King,” Jensen said.
“And what am I?”
“You are my husband.”
“You say that,” Jared said, “but what does that mean to you? Am I to just sit
around? Look pretty? Spread my legs when you want a fuck?”
Jensen didn’t respond, but Jared could see by the look on his face that he’d
struck a nerve.
“Fine,” Jared said. “Maybe that’s what you think of me.”
“I don’t, Jared,” Jensen said. “You are more to me than a bed slave.”
“I need you to show me that,” Jared said. “I am a capable man. I’m willing to
admit that I’m not a warrior, that I was foolish and naïve when you first took
me. But I have changed, Jensen. I have reason to fight this war beside you. And
I may not be able to best you, but I am good with a sword and dagger. I was
trained by Jed Ackles, wasn’t I?”
Jensen stood silent for a moment before removing his cloak and throwing it
haphazardly on top of the table with its maps and plans.
“What are you doing?” Jared said.
“Come with me,” Jensen said.
He slipped out the back of the tent, and Jared followed. He wanted to finish
their conversation, but he was curious despite himself. He found Jensen in a
small clearing walled in by the backs of tents and holding two swords.
“Chris and I spar back here,” Jensen said. “It helps keep us sharp. Helps us
work off the tension.”
“You wish to spar?” Jared said.
“I need you to show me what you can do if I’m to let you go into battle.”
Jared smiled. “You’re on,” he said.
“This is not a joke, my husband,” Jensen said. “I am not going to be easy with
you.”
“Nor do I want you to be.”
“Good,” Jensen said. “Now remove your cloak.”
Jared untied it, tossed the heavy material to the ground. He shivered a bit in
the chill. It was not near as cold as it had been when he’d first arrived in
the North, but the summer was waning; winter would be here again soon, and
Jared hoped he’d be back in the castle when the first snows fell. He would do
what he could to be a part of that victory.
Jensen tossed him a sword, and Jared caught it by the handle. He was rusty, and
the blade almost slipped, but he managed to keep hold of it. It was a practice
blade, he saw, the edges dulled, but the metal no less a weapon; he would
bruise badly if Jensen were to catch him with it.
“Ready?” Jensen said.
Jared loosened his grip, turned side-face, and held his blade toward the king
who was watching him carefully, his somber eyes assessing Jared’s stance and
movements, and Jared did what he could to make himself perfect for the king, to
make himself perfect for himself. When the king seemed pleased that Jared was
competent in at least this aspect of sword fighting, he moved in and they
locked blades. Almost immediately, the king got the best of Jared. He allowed
himself to be led too close to the king, and Jensen got a hold of his forearm,
twisted until Jared dropped his blade and cried out.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said.
“Sorry is dead on the battlefield,” Jensen said.
“I know,” Jared said.
“Do you?” Jensen said. “Do you really know what you’re asking of me?”
“I do,” Jared said.
“Pick up your blade,” the king said.
Jared did. He loosened his grip, felt the weight of it in his hand, tried to
feel the blade as if it were an extension of his arm as he’d been taught. It
had been too long since he’d held a weapon, and he was aware his father had
taught him this skill never expecting him to have to fight. It had been a sport
for Jed Ackles, and Jared saw now that he’d taught him only as another way to
tear him down, to humiliate Jared—who’d been gangly, graceless and clumsy as a
boy—when he’d failed. But Jared hadn’t let his father get the better of him.
He’d put everything into learning the sword, and his father had eventually
admitted that Jared would be a fine swordsman. Jared was determined to show
Jensen that skill now.
“You are tall,” Jensen said, “and you’ve gained muscle since last I saw you.
But many of the men you will fight have more strength than you, and more skill.
You should concentrate on defense. Don’t rush me as you did just now. Force
them to come to you.”
Jared nodded, fell into position. Jensen did the same. The circled each other
for a moment, Jared heeding Jensen’s advice. When Jensen attacked, Jared
blocked his first blow and his second. Jensen hit his arm, hard enough that
Jared cried out, but he held his blade and managed to block Jensen’s second
blow.
Jensen eventually disarmed him and had his blade at Jared’s throat, but he was
smiling. “Good,” Jensen said. “Better.”
Jared smiled back. “You will let me fight?” he said. He felt good suddenly for
the first time in a while. Fighting with Jensen like he was Jensen’s equal,
being taught by him, working towards some purpose, and all of it caught in his
chest, a feeling of pride swelling inside of him.
“I will work with you when I have time,” Jensen said.
“That is not an answer,” Jared said, grinning wider.
“No,” Jensen said. “It isn’t.”
Jared stepped up to the king, pulled the blade from his hand, dropped it to the
ground.
“What’s this?” Jensen said, an eyebrow raised, a smirk curling his lips.
“You are beautiful when you fight,” Jared said. “My handsome, fierce king.” He
leaned in, pressed his lips to the king’s ear, his hand at the king’s waist.
“May I suck your cock, sire?”
Jared felt a shiver run through the king, felt his warm breath blow out against
his neck. He didn’t stop him, so Jared dropped to his knees, looked up Jensen’s
body to meet his eyes. Jensen’s hand went to Jared’s head, pushed his hair back
from his face, tucked some behind his ear and fingered the piercing he’d marked
Jared with.
“I remember the first time I knelt for you,” Jared said, slowly unlacing the
king’s pants, leaning into the king’s touch. “I remember how terrified I was of
you. Of what you would make of me.”
“You did not seem terrified,” Jensen said. He sucked in a breath as Jared freed
his cock, dragged his thumb across the sensitive tip.
“Such a beautiful thing,” Jared said, stroking, letting his king’s cock plump
in his hand, licking his lips as the slit winked open, a bead of pre-come
pearling out. “I’ve lusted after men since my first wet dream,” Jared said. “I
never let myself admit it until you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jensen said. He wiped wetness from the
corner of Jared’s eye with his thumb, and Jared blinked up at him.
“You know that’s not true,” Jared said. “You would not be allowed a husband if
you were not king.”
“Good thing I am, then,” Jensen said. He tugged at Jared’s hair. “Are you going
to tease all day?”
“Maybe,” Jared said, though he smiled and took the king’s cock into his mouth,
swirling his tongue around the head before going down further, pushing past his
gag reflex until the king was seated firmly in his throat. He hummed a little
and felt the king’s hand tighten in his hair. Jared tried to hold the king
there for as long as he could, but soon he had to pull back, gasping and
swallowing, then looking up at the king as he nuzzled underneath his cock
against his balls, then flattened his tongue and dragged it up the shaft. He
finished the king off with his hand, catching his come on his tongue, opening
for it as if it were a sweet the king was gifting him.
Jared wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled up at the king,
but Jensen looked flushed and upset, as if he hadn’t just been on the receiving
end of a damn fine blow job.
“Jensen?” Jared asked.
A throat was cleared behind them. Both Jensen and Jared startled, Jared
scrambling to his feet and wiping furiously at his mouth, and Jensen tucking
himself away hurriedly. It was Chris, and though he obviously knew what he’d
walked in on, he seemed unbothered, just looked at the king.
“Jeff’s inside, sire,” he said. “We’re ready when you are.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said. “We’ll just be a moment.”
Chris tipped his head in deference and slipped back into the tent.
“What’s wrong?” Jared said.
“You learned that from him,” Jensen said. “From Winchester.”
“Oh,” Jared said, a swooping sensation catching in his stomach.
He’d given the king only one blow job before he’d been taken, and it had been
his first. But he’d sucked cock so many times since then, he’d nearly forgotten
how terrible he’d been. After the first time Winchester had fucked his throat
because Jared couldn’t do it right, he’d begged Katie to help him, and she’d
patiently walked him through it, told him what worked best. It had taken a few
tries, but he’d gotten it right eventually. He hadn’t thought what Jensen would
say to his newfound expertise, though. Now, he found himself flushing and
looking away, a sick feeling of shame in his core, an apology on his lips.
“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded. “Yes, sire,” he said. “Of course.” He wanted to say more, but the
king moved into the tent before he could get the words out.
***
It seemed to Jared that Jeff was on edge. As soon as Jared stepped into the
tent, Jeff questioned it.
“He stays,” Jensen said.
“We have important business to discuss, sire,” Jeff said.
“He is my husband, Jeff,” Jensen said. “And despite your misgivings, he will
sit on my council.”
“He is a boy,” Jeff said.
Jared wanted to protest, but he thought that might do more to prove Jeff’s
point, so he remained silent.
“He needs to learn how this works,” Jensen said.
“Sire—”
“Enough,” Jensen said.
Jeff fell silent with only a slight, deferential bow of his head.
“I want to march on the citadel by week’s end,” Jensen said. “Will that be
enough time to ready the soldiers?”
Jeff said nothing.
“They’ll be ready,” Kane put in. “We received word today from your brother that
Lord Collins has agreed to our terms. He and Joshua are marching in with men
from Doverglen and should arrive by day’s end tomorrow.”
“Good,” Jensen said. “We’ll move quickly through the plains. They will expect
us to take the river route. They will not be watching for an attack from the
East.
“And what is the plan?” Jeff said. “If we attack the citadel, what will become
of the civilians in the capital?”
“I plan to bypass the city all together,” Jensen said. He pinned Jeff with a
look. “There are two passages the citadel’s visitors will not know about.
Passages that lead beyond the wall that my father had erased from the
blueprints. We will enter the passages and take the castle from the inside.”
“I do not know these passages,” Jeff said.
“No,” Jensen said. “They were known only by my father and mother, and they
passed that knowledge only to me and Joshua.”
Jeff nodded. “As long as those passages have remained a secret, then it is a
sound plan.”
“Do we have any way to be certain they’ve remained a secret?” Kane said.
“It’s unlikely anyone has stumbled upon them,” Jensen said. “Max never even
found them, and he knew the citadel better than anyone.”
“We should retrieve his body,” Jared said.
The three men looked at him for the first time since the meeting had begun.
Jared stood up straight.
“I covered his body as best I could,” he said, “but he deserves better.”
“This is a war, boy,” Jeff said. “It is not feasible to burn every body.”
“No,” Jensen said. “Jared is right. Max was a loyal servant.” His mouth twisted
a bit. “And an honored friend. I’d like to do right by him.”
Jensen looked to the map. “We will march in a straight line between the
Kingsroad and the Eastern townships, avoiding both.”
“We came that same way,” Jared said. “It should not be out of the way to find
him.”
“Good,” Jensen said. “Now go away. All of you. I am tired, and we cannot have a
meeting of the generals until Joshua arrives with Lord Collins. Tell no one of
what we’ve discussed until then.”
Jeff turned and walked from the tent. Jensen stopped Chris. “Follow him,” he
said.
Chris nodded once and slid into the night.
“Thank you,” Jared said. “For agreeing to find Max.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded. “You’re angry with me,” he said.
“I don’t like knowing that another man had you,” Jensen said.
Jared snorted. “Yeah? Nor was it a dream come true for me.”
Jensen moved to Jared, gripped Jared’s shirt in his fist. He was not rough with
Jared, he did not look at him with anger; when he looked Jared in the face,
there was nothing but hurt there.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, knocking his knuckles against Jared’s breastbone.
“Gods, I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
“I swore a blood oath to protect you.”
“You could not have known,” Jared said. He put his hand over the king’s,
unraveled the king’s fist from his shirt.
“I brought you into this,” Jensen said.
“I’m beginning to think I would have been in this one way or another,” Jared
said. “And at least, at the end of the day, I get you out of the deal.”
He tried a smile, but Jensen kissed him, pressed their lips together, closed-
mouthed, warm and dry, then he pressed his forehead to Jared’s. “I need you to
tell me,” Jensen said. “Tell me everything he did to you.”
“Jensen…” Jared squirmed away.
“I need to know,” Jensen said. “I need to know how much pain he deserves. I
need to know what I have to atone for.”
“Stop,” Jared said.
He pushed Jensen off of him; Jensen let himself be pushed.
“These are not comfortable memories for me,” Jared said.
“I need to know,” Jensen said.
“You need to know so you can appease your own guilt,” Jared said. “You have no
care for how this affects me.”
Jensen sighed. He walked to the bed and lowered himself onto the edge. “I
apologize,” he said. “I did not think.”
“I know,” Jared said.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Jensen said, tossing Jared a weak grin. “I’m not
exactly good at this sort of thing. People usually just—” he waved his hand
through the air “obey me.”
Jared laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve noticed that.”
“I hate the thought of him hurting you.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Jared said.
Jensen gave him a disbelieving look.
“It wasn’t good,” Jared said. “But he was kind to us. He…made use of us,” Jared
said, blushing, “but it wasn’t always. I was mostly a farm hand. I think he was
just lonely.”
“His other slaves,” Jensen said. “They stayed?”
“They are loyal to you.”
“I wasn’t questioning that.”
“They were in love,” Jared said. “Master brought Katie to the citadel, and Chad
wouldn’t leave without her.”
Jensen’s face softened a bit at that. He straightened his shoulders. “They will
be rewarded for helping you,” he said.
Jared paused, surprised. “You would do that?” he said.
“Of course.”
“Will you give them their freedom?”
“If that’s what they want,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s…more than I expected.”
“You seem to not expect much of me,” Jensen said.
Jared shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. Jensen was right; though he’d given
Jared no reason to think he was unkind to slaves, Jared hadn’t expected him to
be sympathetic. His understanding of Jensen was skewed, his feelings for the
man tangled. He loved him and feared him by turns, and he always felt uncertain
of his standing. It was enough to exhaust him.
“I have something for you,” Jensen said. “Maybe it will just make things worse,
but I hope it will make them better.”
Jensen stood and moved to a small satchel hanging from the bed frame. “It’s
lucky I have this,” he said, turning around with a thin wooden box in his
hands. “I lost quite a bit when the citadel was taken. All of my family’s
heirlooms are there. All of our riches. But I’d been keeping this box with me
as a reminder.”
“What is it?” Jared said.
The king held the box toward him, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Jared
took it, ran a hand across the smooth surface, opened the stiff lid to peer
inside. And there, resting on a bit of cloth, were the bronzed ear cuffs the
king had gifted him at their marriage ceremony. The king’s version of a ring,
the only crown his family owned to be worn by the person who sat by the king’s
side. He’d been touched to receive the cuffs the first time; seeing them now
righted something inside of him, forced him to remember all of the nights he
spent apart from Jensen just wishing he could have him back.
“Thank you,” Jared said. “I thought they were lost.”
“You removed them to bathe the morning you were taken,” Jensen said. “Max kept
them safe.”
“Of course he did.”
“If you wear them, my men will know you are my prince.”
Jared nodded. “I want to wear them,” he said.
Jensen smiled at that. He reached out to push Jared’s hair behind his ear.
“Good,” he said. “They will tame this wild hair of yours.”
Jared snorted. “You Northerners and your short hair.” He handed Jensen the box.
“Crown me, Your Grace?”
Jensen took the box and led Jared to sit on the edge of the bed. He removed one
cuff and slipped it around Jared’s ear. The other, he slotted into place
through the ring of Jared’s piercing, and he let his hand linger at Jared’s ear
lobe, tugging a bit.
“They could be attached,” Jared said. “It could be permanent, like the
piercing.”
“You would want that?” Jensen said, surprised.
“I already wear your mark,” Jared said. “And I can see you want that. That you
designed my piercing to hold the cuff in place.”
“They are designed to be held in place with a piercing through the lobe,”
Jensen said. He pushed Jared back onto the bed with a grin, crawled on top of
him. “I would have you wear many marks,” he said. He tilted Jared’s head back,
licked a line up his neck, bit his chin gently. “I would have you be claimed.”
He pulled the neck of Jared’s shirt down, the laces pulling apart to reveal one
of Jared’s nipples. He attached his mouth there, licking, sucking, then biting
until Jared hissed and the flesh was sore and red, the nipple peaked. “I would
pierce you here. A matched set on your perfect little nipples.” He flicked his
tongue out to touch the tip, and Jared shuddered beneath him. “I would pierce
your perfect cock and your taint, and I would lock the two together so that
they were only for me. So you could only harden at my touch. Only when I let
you.”
“Gods, but you’re a kinky fuck,” Jared said.
Jensen took his mouth again, both of his hands at the sides of Jared’s head,
tilting it as far as Jared could stretch and forcing entrance. Jared wrapped a
leg around the king’s hips and pulled him closer, searching for friction
against his hardening cock and whining when Jensen pulled away.
Jensen hushed him, though, sat straddled across Jared’s thighs, and moved to
unlace Jared’s pants and his own. He got his hands on both of their cocks,
wrapped his fist around the girth of them as best he could, using their pre-
come to ease the friction of his rough hand against the sensitive skin. Jared
came like that, his cock surrounded on all sides by Jensen, his hands gripping
Jensen’s biceps hard enough to bruise. Jensen followed not long after, just as
Jared’s cock began to feel too sensitive, Jensen’s touch edging toward pain.
The king collapsed on the bed next to him, and Jared tucked his own cock away,
then he moved on top of the king and down his body, used his tongue to clean
the king’s cock of their mingled come. Jensen looked surprised at the gesture,
and put his hand in Jared’s hair to pull him away, but Jared murmured “please”
and nuzzled against Jensen’s cock, and Jensen relented. When Jared finished and
moved up to rest against Jensen’s shoulder, Jensen’s face looked somber.
“Don’t think about where I learned it,” Jared said. “I wanted to do that for
you.”
Jensen nodded, pulled Jared in close.
“My king,” Jared said. “I have something for you as well.”
Jensen tilted his head to look down at Jared, and Jared stretched himself to
reach off the side of the bed where his pouch was. In it he found the necklace
he’d made the king. He kept his eyes on his hands as he handed it over.
“It’s not much,” he said.
“Wolves’ teeth?” Jensen said.
Jared settled in against Jensen’s chest and nodded. “It was one of my duties to
keep the wolves from harming Master’s flock,” he said, his voice quiet. “But
wolves are sacred in the South. It didn’t seem right to kill them and not
remember them. And I wanted to give you something to show you that I thought of
you. Everything that happened, and I didn’t stop thinking of you.”
“Look at me,” Jensen said.
Jared tilted his head up, but the king grabbed him by the shoulders, tugged at
him until Jared was on top of him, his chin on the king’s chest, looking up to
meet the king’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Jensen said.
Jared shrugged. “It’s not much. Not fitting for a king.”
Jensen pressed a kiss to Jared’s forehead. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. He
pulled it over his head.
They laid together in silence for some time, drawing warmth from each other and
listening to the voices and laughter of the men on the other side of the tent.
The king seemed content with the silence, but Jared, mind always too busy,
broke it before long.
“Do you really want me like that?” he said.
“Hmm?” Jensen said, sounding sleepy and comfortable.
“The piercings,” Jared said, a nervous flutter wakening in his belly and limbs
at the thought. His fingers moved to play with the necklace now resting against
the king’s collar bone. “Do you really want my cock pierced in such a way?”
Jensen smoothed Jared’s hair from his face, tucked it behind the cuff he could
see peeking out of the tangle of it. “I can’t deny the idea appeals to me,” he
said. “But I would not do it without your permission.”
Jared nodded. “Max said that if all had gone as planned, that if my parents had
not been killed and I’d been raised as your betrothed, that I would have been
castrated as a boy.”
“It was common in my father’s time to castrate male slaves,” Jensen said, his
voice thoughtful. “Slave holders believed they would be less aggressive, less
likely to form an uprising. It also, of course, gave men of the court a way to
justify bedding their male slaves, which had been considered a perversion
before. After the castration, they were not fucking a man, you see.”
“But I would have been your betrothed, not your slave.”
“My father thought a man bedding another man was a perversion,” Jensen said.
“But your parents had no daughter, and he wanted the alliance. He would have
had you castrated so there would have been no question who was fucking whom.”
“But you won’t,” Jared said.
“No,” Jensen said. “Never. I like your cock and balls just where they are.”
Jared nodded against the king’s chest, blowing out a breath.
“You were worried,” Jensen said. “Did Max tell you I wanted you gelded?”
“No,” Jared said. “But you bedded him often. You thought his body arousing.”
“You are not Max,” Jensen said. “And I would have had Max whole, as well. But
he was a gift from my father.”
“What happened to your father?” Jared said. “They say he went mad.”
Jensen let out a long breath. He pulled himself away from Jared and sat up.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “It’s not my place to ask.”
“It’s fine,” Jensen said, hunching his shoulders to rest his elbows against his
knees. “It was a growth. On his brain. He wasn’t himself at the end.”
“That must have been terrible.”
Jensen nodded. “I fear ending up that way,” he said after a moment of silence.
“I fear I’ll change nothing in this kingdom before I die. And with this war,”
he ran a hand through his hair, “fuck me, but that possibility seems daily more
real.”
Jared put his hand against the king’s back. “Jensen,” he began.
But they were interrupted, then, when a soldier rushed into the tent.
“King!”
Jensen sat straight. “What is it?”
Unlike Chris, this soldier did look flustered by what he’d walked in on. “I
apologize, sire,” he said, his eyes turning guiltily away. “You are needed.”
Jensen nodded once. He stood, dragged a hand across his face, then pulled his
cloak over his shoulders and sheathed his sword, pulling on the mantel of king,
his posture and expression cementing the change. He stepped outside. Jared
slipped out of the bed and, after quickly making sure he was decent, followed
him.
The camp ground was lit only by the moon and by a low fire that had almost
burnt itself out, the orange light flickering weakly against the blue black of
the night. The king’s guard stood in the half light, barely more than shadows,
and Jeff was in the center on his knees in the dirt, his hands bound before
him, his head hanging. Kane stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder, the
end of the ropes binding him clutched in the other.
“What is this?” Jensen said.
“Steve and I found him at the edge of camp, calling to someone,” Kane said. “A
rider came from the darkness, and Jeff gave him a missive to take to the
citadel.” He handed a piece of crumpled papyrus to the king
Jensen read it slowly. He looked up at Chris. “The rider?”
“I tried to take him alive, but he fought,” a man to Chris’s left said. “He is
dead.”
“Good,” Jensen said. “Beyond the Guard, is there anyone who knows of this?”
“Most of the men are asleep,” Kane said. “The few who saw the scuffle backed
off when they were told it was Guard’s business.”
A low laugh started up, and Jared looked to Jeff, the man’s shoulders were
hunched and shaking, and as his laugh grew louder, he flung his head back and
howled into the night. Jensen just let him laugh, his face impassive.
“What’s the matter, Jenny-boy?” Jeff said when he’d finally grown silent.
“Afraid your men will think you weak if they find out you’ve had a traitor
beside you for years and couldn’t tell the difference?”
“Hardly,” Jensen said. “I’m concerned about the lynch mob that would crop up
when they learn they’ve been betrayed. You see,” he said, stepping closer to
Jeff. He squatted just out of reach, but at eye level. “I don’t want them to
kill you. I want that honor myself.”
Jeff cracked a grin, his teeth a streak of white in the moon light. “Go ahead,”
he said. “Kill me. You’ll lose every single one of them.” He snorted. “You
think they follow you? A spoiled boy? A pervert who only holds the throne
because the Northern Council was too afraid of your father to stand up to him
when he name you successor? No,” Jeff said. “They follow me. I’m their
captain.”
Jensen nodded. “Their captain who had no trouble leading them to the slaughter
in a week’s time. How honorable.”
He stood, and looked down at Jeff. “I am sorry to have to do this,” Jensen
said. He opened his mouth to say something more, hesitated, turned his face
away. “I’d thought of you like a father.” And he hid it well, but Jared saw how
much this pained the king, saw it in the twist of his mouth, and in his thumb’s
nervous rubbing against the handle of his sword.
Jensen nodded at Kane, and he and another man grabbed Jeff by the shoulders and
shoved him forward into a bow, his body parallel with the ground. Jensen drew
his blade and moved to stand beside them.
“Wait,” Jeff said. “Wait.”
“What is it?” Jensen said.
“You owe me a debt, boy. I’m the reason your grasswalker is still alive.”
“You left him to slavery.”
“They wanted to kill him,” Jeff said, twisting his head to try to catch
Jensen’s eyes and grunting when the soldiers held him firm. “Even Jed wanted
him killed. I took him and left him in a slave market before they could do the
job.”
“Why would you do that?” Jared said.
Jensen looked at him; he seemed surprised Jared was there. Jared ignored him
and knelt in front of Jeff.
“Why would you do that?” he said again.
“None of this is your fault, kid,” Jeff said. And it was hard to tell in the
light, but he seemed honestly regretful. “You didn’t deserve to die for a
conflict that happened when you were still sucking at your mom’s tit.”
Jared nodded. He stood and backed away, confused and hurt.
“Jensen?” he said.
“I can’t, Jared,” Jensen said. “I can’t take the risk that he might escape.”
Jared nodded, swallowing the ache in his throat.
Without another word, Jensen held the blade above his head then brought it down
against Jeff’s neck, a clean cut, the head severed in one blow. Jared flinched
at the noise, at the dull thud of the blade’s tip burying itself in the frozen
dirt, and clenched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the men were
dragging the body away, and Jensen was telling Kane to take it out in the
fields and leave it for the vultures.
The king turned back to Jared, and Jared pulled in a shaky breath.
“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” Jensen said after a moment’s silence. “I thought
you’d stayed in the tent.”
Jared merely shook his head. “I’ve seen this before,” Jared said. He cleared
his throat to remove the rasp from his voice. “It didn’t happen often, but if
it was necessary, my father always dealt the blow.”
“Come,” Jensen said. “You should sleep.”
Jared nodded and followed Jensen into the tent.
***
The week ahead was hectic, a blur of men readying themselves for battle. Jensen
was moody after executing Jeff, and he refused to discuss it further than
saying “he was a traitor; he died a traitor’s death.”
Jensen continued to spar with Jared; when he could not, Kane did, and slowly
Jared was proving to the king that he could fight. Jensen still was not happy
with Jared’s insistence, but he seemed to understand it.
When Jared was not training and Jensen did not have need of him, he followed
Marta around the camp. He spoke with some of the soldiers, glad he’d learned a
good deal of the Northern language. The men seemed to respect him, bowing their
heads as he passed or when he greeted them. It baffled him at first until Marta
put her hands behind her ears and wiggled her fingers, grunting “crown” at him.
He touched the cuffs, running his finger tips along the points of the delicate
wings.
Marta pulled one of his hands to her, pointed to him, then traced into his
palm, “P-R-I-N-C.” Then she smiled.
Jared pulled his hand away and tried to return the smile, but he had a
difficult time wrapping his head around the concept of himself as royalty. As a
prince.
At night Jared and Jensen fucked, and Jared was glad of it, glad to have Jensen
back, glad to actually have the time to get to know his husband, but he was
also glad of the outlet. Because as the days passed, as Joshua arrived with
more men from the East, as plans were solidified and Jared learned to take the
sword from even Jensen’s hand, Jared began to feel a nervousness growing inside
of him. He felt high off adrenalin, each new thought about the coming battle
making him first shaky then energized. He took to talking so much that Jensen
would kiss him just to shut him up. They fucked whenever they could spare the
time, in the little clearing behind the tent, quickly between council meetings,
Jensen holding him down in the grass and covering Jared’s mouth to silence his
cries. Fucking Jensen was the only thing that could truly calm him during that
week.
When they finally set off, it took only a day to get to Max’s body, travel by
horseback much quicker than the slow pace Jared and Max had fallen into. Jared,
riding beside Jensen at the front of the mass of men, noticed the spot
immediately, a gap in the long grasses where the weight of Max’s body held them
down.
“Jensen,” Jared called, and pulled his horse to a stop. A halt was called, and
Jared heard it echoed as the command travelled through the men.
Jensen and Jared both dismounted, and Jared jerked his chin in the direction of
the body.
“Sire?” Kane called, riding up beside him.
“We’ll camp here for the night,” Jensen said, not removing his eyes from the
distance. “Settle the men, then gather a few to help build a pyre. I’d like
privacy for now.”
“Yes, sire,” Chris said. He turned on his horse, shouting “Asezati tabara!” and
Jared again heard the command echo through the group.
“Do you want me to stay here?” he said to Jensen, his voice whisper quiet.
“No,” Jensen said.
His face was a blank mask, his jaw set. As he started to walk toward the body,
Jared reached out and grabbed his hand. Jensen looked back at him.
“You aren’t alone in this, my husband,” Jared said.
Jensen’s expression didn’t change, but he gripped Jared’s hand a little
tighter, even if only for an instant.
Jared could smell the stink of the body as they drew near, their bodies making
paths through the waves of long grass. When they arrived, Jared was glad to see
his covering had held up, stones still in a neat line along the edges of the
fabric.
Jensen dropped to his knees as if he’d been shot. His hands shook as he ran
them across the fabric.
“You did well,” Jensen said. “Thank you. For caring enough for him to do this.”
“He was a good friend,” Jared said. He wiped a tear from his cheek and turned
his face away.
“You deserved better than this,” Jensen said, and Jared shut his eyes,
listening to the king talking to Max’s body, murmuring apologies and nonsense
affection, letting the noise of it lull him until he had a grip on his
emotions, and he could turn back to the king, run his hand through the short,
bristled hair at the nape of the king’s neck.
It wasn’t until the king pulled back the covering to reveal Max’s body that he
cried. He touched Max’s shorn scalp, his face dark, twisting in grief. Then he
choked out a sob, leaned forward and pressed his head to Max’s chest, one hand
caressing what was left of Max’s hair, the other tangled in his shirt. Jared
knelt beside him, pressed his palm to the king’s back.
Jensen bathed the body, and Jared and Kane helped him wrap it. Max was heavy in
death, but the king insisted on laying his body on the funeral pyre himself.
They lit the pyre, the men all crowding in to see. After a time, most of them
wandered off to bed down; though it was still early, they had a long way to
travel yet and would need their rest.
Jensen and Jared just sat together in the long grasses, and they spent the
night like that, watching the fire burn.
 
Part VI
After days of riding, they finally neared the citadel. Jensen had many men, but
they had no reliable account of the size of army that guarded the citadel, and
Jared grew increasingly nervous for the men he had come to know. Jensen assured
Jared there was a good chance they would win in battle. Their army only had to
fight to provide a distraction so that a small group could sneak into the
castle, and at the very least, they were more than capable of that.
About a mile from the capital, Jensen, Jared, Kane, and the rest of the king’s
guard split off from the group, leaving Joshua and his generals to lead the
army. Jensen rode them hard and fast, and the walls surrounding the capital
appeared soon enough. Jared saw no one, just as Jensen had said. As far as the
Council knew, there was no way to enter the capital from this angle, and they’d
left it unguarded in favor of putting their army at the capital wall’s weakest
points.
Jensen slowed his horse, and the king’s guard stood watch, hands at their
swords, ready to fight if they needed. It took Jensen some time, but he
eventually found what he was looking for, and he looked up at his men with a
grin.
“Kane,” he said. “Give me your axe.”
Kane pulled it from his back and tossed it to the king, who caught it easily.
He knelt beside the wall and began to dig with the axe’s blade. A stone
appeared in the hole the king dug, and the king twisted at it, and suddenly a
trap door appeared in the earth, opening the way to a set of rough stone steps
leading down into a black tunnel.
“Fuck me,” Jared said. “It was all but invisible.”
“My great-great-grandfather had the best engineers work to build safe passages
to and from the castle,” Jensen said. “Joshua told me he had them killed when
they were finished so that they couldn’t share the family’s secrets.”
“The Ackles have a bloody history,” Jared said.
“The kingdom has a bloody history,” Jensen said.
The men descended into the hole. They pulled their horses in with them so that
they would not be spotted, then left them at the entrance. Then they each lit a
torch, the fire hot in such a close space, and they carried on.
It took hours to make it through the tunnel. The battle at the capital’s walls
would already be well under way, and the attention of the castle guards would
be with the battle. If not, once they reached the castle, they would fight to
take it back.
When they reached the end of the tunnel, Kane insisted he go first. “There
could be someone waiting,” he said to Jensen. “You’re no use to us dead.”
Jensen nodded his agreement, though Jared could tell he wasn’t happy.
The tunnel opened into the lowest part of the citadel, beneath even the
dungeons. There was no one in the hall, and the men all climbed out, gasping at
the fresh air. The men were all intimately familiar with the castle once
inside, and before they’d left camp, they’d devised a strategy. They planned to
separate, sneak through the castle and take down one guard after another. If
they ran into a member of the council, they would be killed. Then they would
all make their way toward the great hall where the council was expected to be.
Once the men separated, Jared and Jensen were left alone.
“Just you and me,” Jared said.
Jensen grinned at him.
“You like this, don’t you?” Jared said, surprised.
“I was raised in battle,” Jensen said. “I am more comfortable fighting then
acting as king.”
“When I met you, I thought of you as the warrior king,” Jared said. “That’s
what you were called by my people.”
“Does it bother you?”
Jared shook his head. “I’d like to see it today.”
Jensen reached out to grab Jared by the nape of his neck, pull him close. He
pressed their foreheads together. “I would love nothing more than to give you
that,” he said.
He pushed himself away, then, and set off into the castle. Jared followed.
Jensen took down three guards before they ran into trouble. Somewhere in the
castle, one of the men had been discovered, and the guards had begun to search
for invaders. They turned a corner and found themselves faced with three men,
swords drawn.
“Jared. Stay behind me,” the king ordered.
Jared kept his sword drawn, but fell back a step.
“Weapons down,” one of the guards said.
“Michael,” Jensen said. “I am your king. Think what it is you’re doing. Who it
is you are threatening.”
“I am only following orders,” the man said.
“Whose orders? The council’s? Jed Ackles’s?” Jensen said. “Have I so quickly
lost your loyalty?”
The man faltered, his sword lowering slightly, but one of the other guards
spoke up. “Enough,” he said. “Lower your weapons or we attack.”
“Then I guess you attack,” Jensen said.
The men rushed them, and Jared had no choice but to go on the defense. Two of
the men went for Jensen, but Michael, seemingly unable to bring himself to
fight his king, turned to Jared.
Jared fought hard, his muscles screaming from the weight of his sword, from his
efforts to hold off the guard’s blows. He willed himself to not turn his eyes
to Jensen, though he desperately wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt. The guard
was bigger than Jared, and Jared, hyper-focused on the man’s movements, noticed
that he was tiring quickly. The guard struck out with his sword, and Jared
dodged it, crying out as it sliced into his bicep. But he didn’t hesitate;
while the man was distracted by his hit, Jared thrust his own sword out,
plunging it into the man’s stomach.
He felt queasy at his first kill, and pulled the sword from the man’s body,
lurching backwards, watching as the man covered his gut with his hands and fell
to his knees. Jared shook himself and was about to turn to help Jensen when he
was suddenly grabbed from behind, a gloved hand covering his mouth and pulling
him from his feet into a dark corridor. The man grabbed Jared’s wrist, twisting
it almost to breaking until Jared dropped his sword. He struggled, but the man
who had him was stronger, and Jared could smell an oil on the glove covering
his mouth and nose. His eyes began to droop, his muscles going lax one by one,
and suddenly his thoughts were shrouded in darkness.
***
When Jared woke, he was in a sprawl, face down on a stone floor. His head ached
fiercely, and his mouth felt as dry as if he’d made a meal of sand. He pushed
himself up onto his arms, letting slip a slight groan.
“Finally awake,” a voice said, and Jared tried not to flinch, though the noise
of it felt like an arrow to his skull. “Help him.”
To men stepped up and grabbed Jared by the arms; they pulled him up until he
was kneeling, his shoulders bent, and Jared shoved at them until they released
his arms, then he slowly raised his head to see who’d been speaking. His eyes
widened when he saw his father, lounging like a pampered house cat on Jensen’s
throne. Jared was in the great hall, and, as he looked around, he realized he
was surrounded by the majority of the Northern Council.
“By now, you likely know who I am,” Jared’s father said, calling Jared’s eyes
back to him.
“Father,” Jared said, his voice a croak.
“I’m not your father, boy,” he said.
Jared nodded his head, trying to get his bearings. He didn’t know how long he’d
been unconscious. Whatever they’d drugged him with was strong, and he felt as
if he were trying to make his way through a fog. “You’re Jed Ackles,” he said,
when he found his voice.
“I am.”
Jared looked around at the many eyes of the council. He turned back to his
father. “But you raised me,” he said, and try though he might, he couldn’t keep
the pleading from his voice. He’d come to the citadel fully intending to kill
the man now sitting before him, but there were still sixteen years between
them, and that wasn’t something Jared could easily forget.
“I did,” Jed Ackles said. “Which is why you have an option here. I am not happy
you let that perversion of a king touch you, but I realize, too, that you had
little choice in the matter. You are not my blood, but I raised you as if you
were. Because of that, you have a place at my side.”
Jared dropped his head, clenched his hands against his knees.
“Perhaps we should let the boy rest,” someone said. “He has had a difficult
day, and he is young.”
Jared whipped his head toward the man who was speaking. He knew Duke
Winchester’s voice intimately.
“Hello, Jared,” Winchester said.
“He does not deserve rest,” another man said. “He is lucky we are letting him
live. If he needs time to think over the offer, then he should not be offered
such a reprieve in the first place.”
“Maybe he’s too in love with Jenny-boy,” another said. “Maybe it’s clouding his
judgment.”
Jared found the strength to stand at the mention of Jensen’s name. He opened
his mouth to tell the man he had no right to speak of his king in such a
manner, but he was interrupted.
“Bring the pervert king in,” Jed Ackles said. “Show my son what has become of
him. Perhaps that will convince him of the right person to whom he should gift
his loyalty.”
Jensen was brought in by two guards. He’d been stripped of most of his clothes,
only his trousers left, bloody and ripped at the knees, and he was in chains, a
thick iron collar around his neck chained to thick cuffs at his wrists. He was
shoved onto his knees in the center of the hall, but he held his head high. He
was bruised badly, his lip split, bleeding freely, one eye swollen almost
completely shut, and there were stripes across his chest and shoulders, bruised
to black as if he’d been caned.
“What do you think of your king now?” Jed said.
“Jensen,” Jared said. He knelt before him, held his face in his hands until
Jensen looked at him. “Gods, what have they done to you?”
Before Jensen could speak, Jared was grabbed and hauled away.
“Tell him, nephew,” Jed said, turning to Jensen. “Who is the true king?”
“I am,” Jensen said, his voice shattered but there. Then he grinned, angry,
almost feral, his teeth bloody with it, wide enough his split lip began to
bleed. The same grin that made people call him warrior, that made people fear
him.
Jed literally roared in fury. He stood from the throne and walked to Jensen,
grabbed the collar and pulled him up until Jensen was grasping at the iron and
struggling to gain his feet, until they were face to face.
“You will declare me as the true king,” Jed said. “I will break you. You will
kneel willingly beside me and tell all of these idiot people in the capital who
love you that I am the true king. That they will answer to my command.”
He let go of Jensen’s collar, and Jensen dropped to the floor, though he
immediately pulled himself upright; shaky, but upright.
“You can’t do this,” Jared said, turning to Jed. “Please.”
“Don’t worry, boy,” Jed said. “I have no plans to kill my wayward nephew.
That’s not quite a fitting enough punishment. He needs to live in misery. Below
his station. The way I’ve lived for the past sixteen years. Hell, maybe after I
break him, if you’re a good boy, Jared, I’ll give him to you as a toy. Maybe
you’d like that, hmm?”
Jed put his hand on Jared’s shoulder, squeezed it in a mockery of affection.
“Of course,” he said, and put his mouth next to Jared’s ear. “If we go that
route, he’ll have to lose a little something before he can share your bed.”
When Jed pulled away to grin into Jared’s face, Jared smiled right back. Then
he plunged the dagger that had been strapped to his arm straight through his
father’s throat.
“I guess you underestimated me,” he whispered into Jed Ackles red face, his
lips blood spattered, his eyes bulging. “You didn’t even bother to check for
weapons on my person.”
He shoved the man away, the dagger sliding wetly from his throat.
“What have you done, boy?” one of the councilmen asked. He stepped up to the
body, looked from it to Jared.
Jared held his dagger at the ready, backing up to stand in front of Jensen.
“Don’t come any closer,” he said.
“And what is it you plan to do?” another councilman said. “Take out ten men
with one dagger?”
“He has more than one dagger.”
Jared looked past the council, and Kane and Joshua stood in the entrance to the
hall, an army at their backs. Soldiers moved quickly through the room,
disarming the councilmen.
Jared sheathed his dagger and turned to kneel before Jensen. “Keys!” he
shouted. “Somebody bring me the fucking keys, already.”
Joshua knelt beside them, turned Jensen’s face toward his. “Brother,” he said.
“I’m fine, Joshua,” Jensen said. “Take care of your men.”
“They are fine,” Joshua said. “They have subdued the Council’s army. Hell, many
of the soldiers turned and fought on our side once they learned you had
returned.”
Kane handed Jared a set of keys, and he made quick work of removing the irons
from Jensen’s neck and hands. Together, Jared and Joshua helped Jensen to his
feet.
“I can stand,” Jensen said, and they let him go, though Jared stayed close.
“Kane, take the councilmen to the dungeons. I have nice, cozy cells waiting for
them.”
“You should execute them all,” Joshua said.
“Yes,” Jensen said. “But they will be tried first.”
“Jens—” Joshua began.
“It is not up for discussion,” Jensen said.
“Of course,” Joshua said. He motioned for his soldiers to follow with their
charges.
Jensen turned to Kane. “I want soldiers guarding every inch of the wall as well
as soldiers set throughout the city. Any man who’s not wounded.”
“Yes, sire,” Kane said. He turned and walked out of the hall.
Jared and Jensen were alone. Jensen turned to Jared, then staggered, and Jared
caught him, holding up his weight.
He ran his hand through Jensen’s hair, kissed the corner of his lip where there
was no bruise. “You need to rest,” Jared said.
“I’ll rest when my men rest,” Jensen said.
“No,” Jared said. “You’ll pass out on the floor well before that can happen.”
Jensen didn’t respond, he was looking past Jared to his uncle’s body.
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Jensen said.
“Don’t be,” Jared said. “It had to be done.”
Jensen nodded.
“Do you think my mother and sister are in the castle?” Jared said. “Or do you
think he left them behind?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll make sure they’re safe,” Jensen said.
Jared nodded, looked around the hall.
“So I guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” he said.
“Would that…” Jensen started. “Would that displease you?”
“No,” Jared said. “Nothing would please me more.”
 
Fin.
End Notes
     Initially inspired by Game of Thrones, though you wouldn't notice it
     at all. A few terms - like "kingsroad" and "the common tongue" are
     taken straight from the show, though, so I feel the need to credit.
      
     Author's notes: First, I made it through my first big bang! OMG.
     *wipes sweat from brow* There were times when I honestly did not
     think I would finish this fic for many many reasons that I won't get
     into here, but I DID finish, and that is thanks to many wonderful
     people:
     First, let me thank my wonderful beta candygramme. She has been
     absolutely fantastic and helped me every time I was stuck (which was
     a lot) and was awesome enough to tell me when a choice I made for the
     plot was not at all working and brave enough to smack me over the
     head when I tried to end the fic about 10,000 words before it was
     actually over. I'm really glad to have met her. ♥
     Then of course there's mythicbeast who went above and beyond what I
     expected with her lovely, fantastic art. Go look at it. Now.
     Seriously. I feel so ridiculously lucky that she chose my fic. All of
     the costumes that I've described here would not be described near as
     well had it not been for her research. When she got my draft, it was
     basically things like, "And Jared was wearing a shirt!" It's because
     of her that that's no longer the case. Anyway, I hope I've done a
     good job of describing everything with my prose, but her art really
     brings the story to life.
     Also, I want to say a quick thank you to ramona4jake for helping me
     with the Romanian you see in the fic. It's probably not perfect
     because she did a lot of translating without context, but that's what
     I get for randomly picking Romanian to represent the Northern
     language. *facepalm* She was a lovely friend and cheerleader. ♥
     And to my fantastic cheerleaders - big_heart_june, equally_dour,
     mariez65, and casey28 - Honestly, if it weren't for these girls, you
     would not be seeing this fic. *hugs them tight*
     And finally, thank you so much to wendy and thehighwaywoman for
     hosting spn_j2_bigbang. Big bang summer is my favorite time of year.
     :D
     *A note about the warnings: The warnings make this fic seem like this
     is totally cracked out dark fic, but I don't think it is; at least,
     that wasn't my intention. I do want to say that I labeled this as
     non-con because, though I think a case can definitely be made that
     Jared wants to sleep with Jensen, I think he ultimately believes that
     even if he didn't want to, he wouldn't have a choice in the matter.
     That makes this non-con in my book. When I very first started writing
     this, it was based on the Dani/Kahl Drogo wedding night from Game of
     Thrones, and though it has strayed very far from that initial
     premise, the consent issues are similar.
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