The Unsuitable Slave. (NC-17) Part 9/34
Jared was being watched. He lay inert on the thin mattress and stared at the pattern on the rough hewn stone wall.
He remembered Ethan carrying him away from Jensen, snatching him out of the cage, cradling him in his arms and taking him away from the loud, accusing voices to somewhere quiet and warm. When he thought about it, the small man's strength surprised him. There had been blood, altogether too much blood, Jensen soaked in it, Jared dripping it from his own wounds, it was on the floor, soaked into the rugs, smeared over Ethan's skin and clothes. He had no memory of being cleaned and bandaged then brought to this room or cell, whatever it was, he hadn't asked and nobody offered the information.
Alona had visited, brief and formal, she had kneeled by his side to tell him that he had been exonerated of all wrong doing and that Jensen lived. The physician had examined him. Jared endured the shame of being rolled on his side and his cheeks pulled apart while fingers probed at the sore and puffed hole. There had been somebody watching them. The physician had displayed the intimate wounds and discussed the pity that this pretty slave was not a virgin and would not be suitable for Court. He had slathered ointment on his abused, puckered muscle and forced fingers inside to apply a thick layer on the most private damage. They talked about the slave’s reduced value like he was a slab of meat at market, and Jared cringed at the indignity.
Different slaves attended him. They brought his food, removed his pot, provided a wash cloth, rubbed ointment on him and turned him over to tend his internal wounds as he cringed in shame.
Nobody spoke to him.
A high barred window showed the progression of the days and it was now ten dawns since Jensen had whipped and taken him. The first days he had stayed belly to the mattress, unable to move. The physical pain eased but Jared was in Hell. He was hurt and wanted to be angry. He wanted to take his sword and run Jensen through but when he imagined the action it always ended with his Master’s desolate expression, the broken, rasped, words and the smell of charred meat.
He knew his welts marked him as a troublesome slave, one worthy of punishment. He understood why no other slave would speak to such a disgrace, one with matted hair and marked skin, but it stung more than any wound that Jensen had laid on him. In his loneliness he missed the cold familiarity of Jensen’s room. He missed his Master’s voice, any voice. He yearned for the touch of fingers in his hair with the comfort of the simple words “Good Boy.”
Jared thought maybe he had lost his mind. That none of it was real. He was back in the room of his own Palace and Meghan would come dashing in, without so much as a knock on his door and he would wake from this dream and growl at her to stop pestering him.
The other person in the room shifted and cleared their throat. Jared remained facing the cold stone wall. Let them speak for his attention. He needed the comfort of a voice, any voice, be it angry or sad or mellow. Anything to prove that he lived, that he still was.
“Come here, Child.”
A heavenly voice, sweet music of speech and yet; It was Jensen and it was not.
Jared uncurled and rose stiffly, only to fall to his knees before the man. No slave this, a man of his own height who reached his manicured fingers to lift the slave’s face to look into curious deep green eyes. It was Jensen and yet, it was not. “What is the magic that you weave, Child?”
“I beg forgiveness Master, I do not understand the question.” Jared’s voice was hoarse with disuse.
“You are in every way unsuitable, and yet…” the eyes searched his face, gentle fingers cupped his chin, and a thumb rubbed the scratchy line of his jaw. “Are you recovering from your wounds, Child?”
“Yes Master.”
“You may call me Your Majesty. You have no Master.”
Jared bit back the sounds of his disappointment. His only purpose was to bring comfort, beauty and pleasure. Maybe there had been another agenda but he remembered the word, worthless. He had failed in all ways and was disowned. It was much as he had suspected but the confirmation crushed him nevertheless. He dropped his eyes in shame. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Look at me, Child.” Jared reluctantly returned his gaze. “There are no laws, but mistreatment of slaves, within these walls, will not be tolerated. Your Master has not removed you from his service. His ownership was revoked.”
Jared frowned and shook his head. There had never been any sugar-coating to his deal, slaves had no rights and owners could do what they wished. “I don’t understand. I was disobedient. I took off my cuffs. Why? Your Majesty.”
“The punishment was not just. You should not have to look upon him or bear his touch. He asked to offer you this small mercy.”
“Please, Your Majesty. What will happen to me?”
“You are an attractive and healthy young slave. You shall fetch a fair price at a fair market.”
Jensen would sell him? Offer him to the highest bidder? He had taken everything and everyone that he knew, condemned him to an afterlife of Hell and now he would withdraw the only familiarity he had? Jared couldn’t stop to consider the depth of fucked-up implied by the sudden realization that he favored a cold and brutal familiarity within castle walls, over a lonely, unknown fate elsewhere, he just knew that his Master’s rejection plunged him into a deeper despair than he had yet known.
He gathered what inner strength he still possessed, it wasn’t a time for tears or silent submission, he had learned that they got him nowhere. Jared reassessed his visitor. “May I ask another question, Your Majesty?”
The King watched him with unnatural interest, “You may, Child.”
“Why is it you who bears this news to a mere slave? Is there anyone to listen to my plea?”
“You are a bright thing, you are a slave and according to rules and precedent there is nobody to listen to your words. Perhaps I came for you to listen to mine. Maybe a new King can trade pleas with a slave because there is no-one to correct him.”
“You would ask something of me, Your Majesty?”
“I would ask you to reject your Master’s mercy. I would have you return to him. I would ask that you return his spirit to me because I fear that you are the only one who can.”
Jared did not care, he was certain he could not fret for the man and yet he needed to know. “What ails him? Surely there is Ethan?”
Joshua took his hand from Jared’s face and sat on the floor, cross legged in front of the slave. “I shall be direct with you, Child. It is a bold thing for a King to put his brother’s life into the hands of a slave, who was an enemy but a moon ago, but I am quite desperate in this and am assured of your extraordinary nature. You will understand that a betrayal of this strange trust will result in more pain than you have ever experienced.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.
“Physically, Jensen is recovered, spiritually we cannot mend him. Ethan believes you have chance where we do not succeed and he has an unerring sense in affairs concerning Jensen. It baffles me that you did not take revenge when you had the opportunity to see Jensen die slow, that in fact you put yourself at risk to prevent it. You should hate me and everything I stand for, yet even now you are gentle mannered.” Joshua paused.
Why exactly did he save Jensen? It wasn’t something that Jared had allowed himself to dwell on. He hadn’t been angry, not when it was raw and fresh. He had simply acted. There had been overwhelming pain, fear and anxiety, maybe pity and something more that was elusive and unnameable.
Jared allowed him to continue.
“ In this one thing you have no obligation to accept, you may choose to go to market this day and never speak of it. I cannot erase what my brother has done to you and the path is difficult if you stay. There will be no suggestion or rumor of Jensen’s melancholy and you will be presented as an ordinary Court slave. Our enemies cannot become aware of our temporary loss and our own Lords must not lose their morale. You may think on it before you reply.”
Jared nodded. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother. In the ten dawns he had slept in this room, her face had been close in his mind, her wisdom closer. “Jared, your birthright is not only a privilege, but a responsibility. Royal Heritage is given to bear both the joys and the sins of The Realm.”
“..cut off his hands….They built a pyre….he will not stop…..you have your mother’s eyes”
All Jared's blood could not wash away the sins of his Realm, the penance Jensen had taken from him seemed paltry for the enormity of the crimes Jensen had described, but maybe Jared could find a way to stand firm against the Sinful. In this Palace, in Prince Jensen, he retained the faintest hope of influence. It was a reason to remain though maybe not the only one.
“I should like to exchange my plea, Your Majesty.”
“You are a forward young thing,” King Joshua laughed. “Go ahead.”
“I have already lost everything, I have nothing to achieve with anger. Without your brother, I have no place. I gave myself as a slave and I understood the nature of the gift. The pain has been hard to bear but it is no less than the pain that Jensen feels. Your Majesty, I wish to be returned to my Master’s care.”
And how did that work? he wondered. Why make such a reckless decision? He wouldn’t be able to bear such treatment again, didn’t even know how he would look in his Master’s eyes or remain still with his touch, and yet it was a touch he somehow craved. Not the vengeful grasp, but the soft kisses on his neck and the solid warmth of his Master’s chest to lean upon.
King Joshua stood and paced the small room. “A slave is defenceless. It is never acceptable to use it in anger. I give Jensen this one last chance but I will not let him repeat his action. For now, you will accept direction, not only from Jensen, but from Ethan, and The Princess Mackenzie. There may be occasion when we will require you to go against your Master’s will and that will be a test for you.” He gave a slight chuckle “and we shall try to be consistent. You may use the term Master or Mistress, for all, as appropriate.”
“As you wish, Master.”
The new King tapped at the door for his exit. “Oh and Child, you will not attend Jensen until you have bathed and prepared. Ethan will ensure that such matters are your first lesson.”
“Master?” The word felt good on his tongue
The King tutted with impatience.
“I am truly sorry for the loss of your father and for the deaths of your countrymen.”
***
Jared held himself with poise and folded neatly to his knees atop the stool that Ethan had placed near the bed. There was a shimmer of oil on his shaved body. His carefully styled, silky locks fell softly over his collar. He carried the faint perfume of zest of lime and sandalwood. Ethan took his leash and placed it on Jensen’s hand, folding The Prince’s fingers around it in a loose hold.
“Your stubborn slave would not leave you, Jensen. It has insisted that it tend you and we are going to let it. If you want to complain or change the arrangement then you will at least need to speak.”
Jensen was still, the covers neatly pulled to his breast and his eyes staring upward with an infrequent blink of his thick lashes.
Ethan bowed out of the room and locked the door. Jared wondered if he was locking them in, or the rest of the Palace out. He reached to Jensen’s face and stroked his cheek lightly. The action was easier than he imagined, it did not invoke fear or disgust. Jensen was pale, warm and vulnerable. Jared wore the collar but he was in control of the moment. “I know it is not my right, but I forgive you.”
Jensen turned his face away from Jared.
“You must think me naïve. I suppose I am. Well that ends. I am yours, I am not equal but I am no mannequin. We once agreed we would try to understand each other. Well, this is me, here, learning. I need you to keep your side of the deal, Jensen.” He took Jensen’s hand in his own and lapsed into silence. They sat while the sun rose to its peak and began its descent beyond hills that Jared had never visited. When Jensen would not sip at his drink Jared soaked a sponge and dripped it in his mouth, stroking the newly styled short hair and whispering reassurance.
Jared sat with him through that day and the next. Hushed consultations with Ethan and Alona had Cookie providing honey rich liquid, broths, custards and sieved fruit. He studied the books on Jensen’s shelves and picked out several volumes of well thumbed poetry, he found the most dog eared pages and read them aloud. It wasn’t a chore, he found Jensen’s taste in literature oddly similar to his own and some of the pieces he read were old favorites. He kept up a one sided conversation while he washed and soothed the fading red slashes that savagely marred Jensen’s arms. He didn’t keep track of his insignificant chatter, simply allowed himself to meander through descriptions of the day, as viewed through the bay window, and memories of childhood, family and hounds. During most of this attention Jensen lay mute, with an unfixed gaze, but every now and again Jared would catch a sly glance in his direction and on one occasion, as he described an unfortunate event involving his hounds, a loud bugle and a manure ridden byre, there was a suggestion of a smile and a rare glint in Jensen's eyes.
***
Candles burned, firelight that danced in the grate lit the man’s frail beauty and Jared could not reconcile it with the one who had wrought such fury on him. He saw the man who had nestled close by the camp fire, the one who had kissed him so sweetly when he was in doubt.
He reached for a bottle of oil and massaged the fingers soothingly and extended it to the rest of his hand. He took Jensen’s other hand and did the same. He traced his fingers lightly over the scabbed skin of his Master’s scarred arms and pressed feather light kisses over them, upward, over his shoulder and neck to the beautiful plump lips, dry and cracked now. He felt a slight tremor beneath his touch and the faintest whimper from the pink bow as he leaned within a breath of the mouth that had once kissed him so sweetly. “You can tell me, no,” whispered Jared. Jensen’s hand firmed around his leash, shortened it and jerked his slave’s head back from his face. He rasped his first word since Jared had returned. “No!”
Jared waited, his head held still by the leash but Jensen didn’t slacken it or speak again, he simply stared up into his slave’s eyes as if they contained some dark secret.
A cold draft blew in with a bustle of fabric. Moss-green eyes appraised the scene. “Jensen that’s not polite. How can your slave kneel before me when you hold so tightly.”
She was a pretty girl, not yet twenty, with sparkling bright eyes and fair skin. She leaned over the bed and forced Jensen’s fingers open. She took the leash from him and Jared moved to the floor and kneeled, head bent low. She tugged at his leash “Move for me Child. I want you here.” Her toe pointed a little to the left and he could not understand why she would ask such a thing. He hesitated. “Here, now!” Her voice was full of warning. He scrabbled to move, a half walk and half crawl.
“Stand! Down! Side!” She clicked her fingers with a circular movement.
Jared tried to keep up but faltered at the command side, struggling to guess its precise meaning.”
She looked to the bed. “Jensen your slave is pathetic. It is to be presented within this moon cycle and it will be eaten alive.”
Jared’s eyelashes parted wide.
“Not literally, Child.” She rolled her eyes.
His cheeks reddened, he was already disappointing the lady he assumed to be his Mistress.
“It is clueless and somewhat clumsy.”
“I beg forgiveness, Mistress.”
“I did not give you permission to speak.” She was sharp with Jared.
Jensen shifted a fraction in his bed. Jared realized that this position afforded his Master with the best view of Jared with what must be his sister, the Princess Mackenzie.
“Stand!”
Jared stood and with her hands on his hips, she manipulated him to face Jensen. She tugged his head back roughly and he jumped as he felt her hands slide downward over his groin. “Have to get used to this Slave.” She stood on tiptoes and licked his ear, “Everyone is going to want a piece of you. Flinch once more and I will have you punished.” Fingers trailed up to his chest and tugged at his nipple and he bit his lip. He had imagined doing these things with somebody, dreamed about them through his puberty and he had pictured it as beautiful and erotic. This felt dirty and every muscle tensed and trembled, fighting to run while his mind demanded that he stay. Her hand reached between his thighs “Open them!” His leaden feet reluctantly obeyed. He felt his eyes well with tears and fought to contain them. “You are one, worthless, inept and stupid slave, Child. But your body does make up for it.” As her fingers gripped his cock tightly he whimpered and a single tear slid over his lashes.
“No!”
Jared almost overbalanced as the pressure on his collar was released and fingers fell from his skin. “Don’t ever do that to my property again Mac. Or I swear..”
Jared looked on helplessly as Jensen pinned his sister to the wall by her neck. Was this one of the moments he was supposed to intervene in contradiction of his Master? Mackenzie lowered her head “Ow, no, no, Jensen please, I’m sorry.” She wriggled theatrically and Jensen responded by releasing his hand. “Gah, Mac, I’m, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Are you hurt?” Mackenzie hugged into her brother’s shoulder making little hurt noises in her throat. She raised her head and looked directly at Jared. She gave a half grin and winked at him before turning to face her brother with a sad, childlike expression. “I am bruised.”
“Child! Fetch cold water, a cloth and some arnica.” Jared was quick to obey. “What on earth has got into you Mackenzie?”
“What has got into me? That is rich, dear brother. I was curious to see if you could manage a care about anything. It will recover, I will recover and you shall have to mend too.”
“What I did to you Mackenzie. I am so sorry. Everything I do just now is wrong.”
Jensen looked pale and worn from the brief activity. Mackenzie guided him to an armchair and sat him down. She sat too. “You look just terrible, you can start with eating. I brought fruit.”
Jared looked to Jensen for approval and he nodded wearily. “Mistress, will you allow me to tend to you?”
“Of course, Child.” She smiled warmly at him.
This, at least, was familiar. He had tended to Meghan’s wounds on countless occasions when she came running in, tears streaming, afraid to admit to their nursemaid that she had been climbing a tree or jumping on walls. Her big brother would wipe her tears away, sit her on a chair and tell a nursery rhyme as he dabbed at the inevitable results of her waywardness. His mind jumped to the present and he tried not to think of Jensen’s suggestion that she would marry Morgan. Meghan was too full of vibrancy and fun to be saddled with a stern and pious old man but there was a political expediency to it. Meghan was impulsive and cheery but she also had a strong sense of duty.
“Your mind is elsewhere, Child. We need to work on that. Your full attention must always be with your owner and his desire.” Mackenzie was matter of fact rather than harsh in her tone. “Do not bore me with apology for I fear there will be a lot of correction in the days to come.”
“Mackenzie, it is not your slave to correct.” Jensen spoke from the comfort of his chair, where he had curled his legs under him and rested his head on the arm of the huge squashy piece of furniture.
She ignored her brother and waved Jared away. “There is fruit for your Master. You shall ensure he eats it.” He considered the command for a moment, collected the plate and knelt to one side of the chair where Jensen sat. He concentrated on trying to be graceful but instead he wobbled and dropped a soft chunk of food to the floor.” He drew his breath and squeezed his eyes together, awaiting the inevitable censure. Instead he heard a quiet chuckle from his side and a titter from Mackenzie. “Oh Moons! It is perfectly adorable and yet a ridiculously unsuitable selection. It is so, absolutely, yours.”
“Did you come here for any other reason than to insult my choice of slave Mackenzie?”
“I came to cheer you up,” She smiled brightly, “though if I had Child, I doubt I would require such a service and I would not want you to distract me from my bed.”
“No. You didn’t Mackenzie.”
“Well there was something else Jensen.” She took a serious stance. “I want you to try harder with Joshua. He believes you are not well enough to Campaign any time soon and thinks you do not wish to participate in the direction of it. I disagree. We are all we have now and it is time we worked together. I see value in your approach and I know that Joshua does as well.”
Jensen started to speak and Mackenzie shushed him. Jared placed a chunk of juicy red fruit on his lips and Jensen took it and chewed. “Joshua would never criticize Papa’s approach while he was alive but I know he has doubts. He will be amenable to constructing a fresh plan but only if he believes you are healthy in mind and body, to take your part. Selling this to our allies and our Lords will be difficult. To that end there will be a Banquet, a Summit if you will. It will honor Joshua’s accession to the throne, it will demonstrate our united front and it will reassure them that life in Court goes on, as normal, with traditions intact. To that end you will attend in good form and Child will be presented in the accustomed manner. The old King’s rebellious son will be seen to have clipped his wings and taken life seriously at last.”
“I cannot present Child.” Jensen was distressed. “What I have done. It is too soon.”
“You would worry about a slave, with the Kingdom in tatters? What do you think Morgan’s men will do to it when we are overrun? Believe me, I concur that it is too soon but I see no other way.”
Jared concentrated on lifting Jensen’s food to him. Jensen sighed and rubbed his brow.
“You are tired Jensen. I should go. Joshua is not expecting you to leave your apartments for seven dawns and I think that is wise. It will give you time to relax, regain your vigor and think on your Campaign. Oh, and you should attempt to smile. I lied when I said your slave is stupid. It is intelligent and pliant. You should accept its care and amusement with some enthusiasm.” She kissed her brother’s cheek. “Good night, Jensen.” The door banged and clicked behind her.
Jared felt suction on his fingers and a tongue licked at the fruit juice on his palm. Jensen took his hand and placed a kiss on the end of each of his slave’s fingers then guided them to rest on the scars of his right arm. “What I did, I thought I’d lost you” he whispered “and I needed to feel a greater pain, but it wasn’t. Losing you still hurt more.”
“You didn’t lose me Master. I am here. My place is with you.”
“Come lie with me. Just lie. No more.”
Jared allowed himself to be taken to bed and Jensen settled the eiderdown over them both. They lay shoulder to shoulder and Jared sank into the luxury of the soft bed beside his Master’s solid presence. It didn’t seem wrong or frightening when Jensen turned on his side to rest his head on Jared’s shoulder and rest his arm over his chest. He closed his eyes and let himself pretend he could always have this. He drifted to sleep.
Part 10
Back to Part Eight
Masterpost
He remembered Ethan carrying him away from Jensen, snatching him out of the cage, cradling him in his arms and taking him away from the loud, accusing voices to somewhere quiet and warm. When he thought about it, the small man's strength surprised him. There had been blood, altogether too much blood, Jensen soaked in it, Jared dripping it from his own wounds, it was on the floor, soaked into the rugs, smeared over Ethan's skin and clothes. He had no memory of being cleaned and bandaged then brought to this room or cell, whatever it was, he hadn't asked and nobody offered the information.
Alona had visited, brief and formal, she had kneeled by his side to tell him that he had been exonerated of all wrong doing and that Jensen lived. The physician had examined him. Jared endured the shame of being rolled on his side and his cheeks pulled apart while fingers probed at the sore and puffed hole. There had been somebody watching them. The physician had displayed the intimate wounds and discussed the pity that this pretty slave was not a virgin and would not be suitable for Court. He had slathered ointment on his abused, puckered muscle and forced fingers inside to apply a thick layer on the most private damage. They talked about the slave’s reduced value like he was a slab of meat at market, and Jared cringed at the indignity.
Different slaves attended him. They brought his food, removed his pot, provided a wash cloth, rubbed ointment on him and turned him over to tend his internal wounds as he cringed in shame.
Nobody spoke to him.
A high barred window showed the progression of the days and it was now ten dawns since Jensen had whipped and taken him. The first days he had stayed belly to the mattress, unable to move. The physical pain eased but Jared was in Hell. He was hurt and wanted to be angry. He wanted to take his sword and run Jensen through but when he imagined the action it always ended with his Master’s desolate expression, the broken, rasped, words and the smell of charred meat.
He knew his welts marked him as a troublesome slave, one worthy of punishment. He understood why no other slave would speak to such a disgrace, one with matted hair and marked skin, but it stung more than any wound that Jensen had laid on him. In his loneliness he missed the cold familiarity of Jensen’s room. He missed his Master’s voice, any voice. He yearned for the touch of fingers in his hair with the comfort of the simple words “Good Boy.”
Jared thought maybe he had lost his mind. That none of it was real. He was back in the room of his own Palace and Meghan would come dashing in, without so much as a knock on his door and he would wake from this dream and growl at her to stop pestering him.
The other person in the room shifted and cleared their throat. Jared remained facing the cold stone wall. Let them speak for his attention. He needed the comfort of a voice, any voice, be it angry or sad or mellow. Anything to prove that he lived, that he still was.
“Come here, Child.”
A heavenly voice, sweet music of speech and yet; It was Jensen and it was not.
Jared uncurled and rose stiffly, only to fall to his knees before the man. No slave this, a man of his own height who reached his manicured fingers to lift the slave’s face to look into curious deep green eyes. It was Jensen and yet, it was not. “What is the magic that you weave, Child?”
“I beg forgiveness Master, I do not understand the question.” Jared’s voice was hoarse with disuse.
“You are in every way unsuitable, and yet…” the eyes searched his face, gentle fingers cupped his chin, and a thumb rubbed the scratchy line of his jaw. “Are you recovering from your wounds, Child?”
“Yes Master.”
“You may call me Your Majesty. You have no Master.”
Jared bit back the sounds of his disappointment. His only purpose was to bring comfort, beauty and pleasure. Maybe there had been another agenda but he remembered the word, worthless. He had failed in all ways and was disowned. It was much as he had suspected but the confirmation crushed him nevertheless. He dropped his eyes in shame. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Look at me, Child.” Jared reluctantly returned his gaze. “There are no laws, but mistreatment of slaves, within these walls, will not be tolerated. Your Master has not removed you from his service. His ownership was revoked.”
Jared frowned and shook his head. There had never been any sugar-coating to his deal, slaves had no rights and owners could do what they wished. “I don’t understand. I was disobedient. I took off my cuffs. Why? Your Majesty.”
“The punishment was not just. You should not have to look upon him or bear his touch. He asked to offer you this small mercy.”
“Please, Your Majesty. What will happen to me?”
“You are an attractive and healthy young slave. You shall fetch a fair price at a fair market.”
Jensen would sell him? Offer him to the highest bidder? He had taken everything and everyone that he knew, condemned him to an afterlife of Hell and now he would withdraw the only familiarity he had? Jared couldn’t stop to consider the depth of fucked-up implied by the sudden realization that he favored a cold and brutal familiarity within castle walls, over a lonely, unknown fate elsewhere, he just knew that his Master’s rejection plunged him into a deeper despair than he had yet known.
He gathered what inner strength he still possessed, it wasn’t a time for tears or silent submission, he had learned that they got him nowhere. Jared reassessed his visitor. “May I ask another question, Your Majesty?”
The King watched him with unnatural interest, “You may, Child.”
“Why is it you who bears this news to a mere slave? Is there anyone to listen to my plea?”
“You are a bright thing, you are a slave and according to rules and precedent there is nobody to listen to your words. Perhaps I came for you to listen to mine. Maybe a new King can trade pleas with a slave because there is no-one to correct him.”
“You would ask something of me, Your Majesty?”
“I would ask you to reject your Master’s mercy. I would have you return to him. I would ask that you return his spirit to me because I fear that you are the only one who can.”
Jared did not care, he was certain he could not fret for the man and yet he needed to know. “What ails him? Surely there is Ethan?”
Joshua took his hand from Jared’s face and sat on the floor, cross legged in front of the slave. “I shall be direct with you, Child. It is a bold thing for a King to put his brother’s life into the hands of a slave, who was an enemy but a moon ago, but I am quite desperate in this and am assured of your extraordinary nature. You will understand that a betrayal of this strange trust will result in more pain than you have ever experienced.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.
“Physically, Jensen is recovered, spiritually we cannot mend him. Ethan believes you have chance where we do not succeed and he has an unerring sense in affairs concerning Jensen. It baffles me that you did not take revenge when you had the opportunity to see Jensen die slow, that in fact you put yourself at risk to prevent it. You should hate me and everything I stand for, yet even now you are gentle mannered.” Joshua paused.
Why exactly did he save Jensen? It wasn’t something that Jared had allowed himself to dwell on. He hadn’t been angry, not when it was raw and fresh. He had simply acted. There had been overwhelming pain, fear and anxiety, maybe pity and something more that was elusive and unnameable.
Jared allowed him to continue.
“ In this one thing you have no obligation to accept, you may choose to go to market this day and never speak of it. I cannot erase what my brother has done to you and the path is difficult if you stay. There will be no suggestion or rumor of Jensen’s melancholy and you will be presented as an ordinary Court slave. Our enemies cannot become aware of our temporary loss and our own Lords must not lose their morale. You may think on it before you reply.”
Jared nodded. He closed his eyes and thought of his mother. In the ten dawns he had slept in this room, her face had been close in his mind, her wisdom closer. “Jared, your birthright is not only a privilege, but a responsibility. Royal Heritage is given to bear both the joys and the sins of The Realm.”
“..cut off his hands….They built a pyre….he will not stop…..you have your mother’s eyes”
All Jared's blood could not wash away the sins of his Realm, the penance Jensen had taken from him seemed paltry for the enormity of the crimes Jensen had described, but maybe Jared could find a way to stand firm against the Sinful. In this Palace, in Prince Jensen, he retained the faintest hope of influence. It was a reason to remain though maybe not the only one.
“I should like to exchange my plea, Your Majesty.”
“You are a forward young thing,” King Joshua laughed. “Go ahead.”
“I have already lost everything, I have nothing to achieve with anger. Without your brother, I have no place. I gave myself as a slave and I understood the nature of the gift. The pain has been hard to bear but it is no less than the pain that Jensen feels. Your Majesty, I wish to be returned to my Master’s care.”
And how did that work? he wondered. Why make such a reckless decision? He wouldn’t be able to bear such treatment again, didn’t even know how he would look in his Master’s eyes or remain still with his touch, and yet it was a touch he somehow craved. Not the vengeful grasp, but the soft kisses on his neck and the solid warmth of his Master’s chest to lean upon.
King Joshua stood and paced the small room. “A slave is defenceless. It is never acceptable to use it in anger. I give Jensen this one last chance but I will not let him repeat his action. For now, you will accept direction, not only from Jensen, but from Ethan, and The Princess Mackenzie. There may be occasion when we will require you to go against your Master’s will and that will be a test for you.” He gave a slight chuckle “and we shall try to be consistent. You may use the term Master or Mistress, for all, as appropriate.”
“As you wish, Master.”
The new King tapped at the door for his exit. “Oh and Child, you will not attend Jensen until you have bathed and prepared. Ethan will ensure that such matters are your first lesson.”
“Master?” The word felt good on his tongue
The King tutted with impatience.
“I am truly sorry for the loss of your father and for the deaths of your countrymen.”
***
Jared held himself with poise and folded neatly to his knees atop the stool that Ethan had placed near the bed. There was a shimmer of oil on his shaved body. His carefully styled, silky locks fell softly over his collar. He carried the faint perfume of zest of lime and sandalwood. Ethan took his leash and placed it on Jensen’s hand, folding The Prince’s fingers around it in a loose hold.
“Your stubborn slave would not leave you, Jensen. It has insisted that it tend you and we are going to let it. If you want to complain or change the arrangement then you will at least need to speak.”
Jensen was still, the covers neatly pulled to his breast and his eyes staring upward with an infrequent blink of his thick lashes.
Ethan bowed out of the room and locked the door. Jared wondered if he was locking them in, or the rest of the Palace out. He reached to Jensen’s face and stroked his cheek lightly. The action was easier than he imagined, it did not invoke fear or disgust. Jensen was pale, warm and vulnerable. Jared wore the collar but he was in control of the moment. “I know it is not my right, but I forgive you.”
Jensen turned his face away from Jared.
“You must think me naïve. I suppose I am. Well that ends. I am yours, I am not equal but I am no mannequin. We once agreed we would try to understand each other. Well, this is me, here, learning. I need you to keep your side of the deal, Jensen.” He took Jensen’s hand in his own and lapsed into silence. They sat while the sun rose to its peak and began its descent beyond hills that Jared had never visited. When Jensen would not sip at his drink Jared soaked a sponge and dripped it in his mouth, stroking the newly styled short hair and whispering reassurance.
Jared sat with him through that day and the next. Hushed consultations with Ethan and Alona had Cookie providing honey rich liquid, broths, custards and sieved fruit. He studied the books on Jensen’s shelves and picked out several volumes of well thumbed poetry, he found the most dog eared pages and read them aloud. It wasn’t a chore, he found Jensen’s taste in literature oddly similar to his own and some of the pieces he read were old favorites. He kept up a one sided conversation while he washed and soothed the fading red slashes that savagely marred Jensen’s arms. He didn’t keep track of his insignificant chatter, simply allowed himself to meander through descriptions of the day, as viewed through the bay window, and memories of childhood, family and hounds. During most of this attention Jensen lay mute, with an unfixed gaze, but every now and again Jared would catch a sly glance in his direction and on one occasion, as he described an unfortunate event involving his hounds, a loud bugle and a manure ridden byre, there was a suggestion of a smile and a rare glint in Jensen's eyes.
***
Candles burned, firelight that danced in the grate lit the man’s frail beauty and Jared could not reconcile it with the one who had wrought such fury on him. He saw the man who had nestled close by the camp fire, the one who had kissed him so sweetly when he was in doubt.
He reached for a bottle of oil and massaged the fingers soothingly and extended it to the rest of his hand. He took Jensen’s other hand and did the same. He traced his fingers lightly over the scabbed skin of his Master’s scarred arms and pressed feather light kisses over them, upward, over his shoulder and neck to the beautiful plump lips, dry and cracked now. He felt a slight tremor beneath his touch and the faintest whimper from the pink bow as he leaned within a breath of the mouth that had once kissed him so sweetly. “You can tell me, no,” whispered Jared. Jensen’s hand firmed around his leash, shortened it and jerked his slave’s head back from his face. He rasped his first word since Jared had returned. “No!”
Jared waited, his head held still by the leash but Jensen didn’t slacken it or speak again, he simply stared up into his slave’s eyes as if they contained some dark secret.
A cold draft blew in with a bustle of fabric. Moss-green eyes appraised the scene. “Jensen that’s not polite. How can your slave kneel before me when you hold so tightly.”
She was a pretty girl, not yet twenty, with sparkling bright eyes and fair skin. She leaned over the bed and forced Jensen’s fingers open. She took the leash from him and Jared moved to the floor and kneeled, head bent low. She tugged at his leash “Move for me Child. I want you here.” Her toe pointed a little to the left and he could not understand why she would ask such a thing. He hesitated. “Here, now!” Her voice was full of warning. He scrabbled to move, a half walk and half crawl.
“Stand! Down! Side!” She clicked her fingers with a circular movement.
Jared tried to keep up but faltered at the command side, struggling to guess its precise meaning.”
She looked to the bed. “Jensen your slave is pathetic. It is to be presented within this moon cycle and it will be eaten alive.”
Jared’s eyelashes parted wide.
“Not literally, Child.” She rolled her eyes.
His cheeks reddened, he was already disappointing the lady he assumed to be his Mistress.
“It is clueless and somewhat clumsy.”
“I beg forgiveness, Mistress.”
“I did not give you permission to speak.” She was sharp with Jared.
Jensen shifted a fraction in his bed. Jared realized that this position afforded his Master with the best view of Jared with what must be his sister, the Princess Mackenzie.
“Stand!”
Jared stood and with her hands on his hips, she manipulated him to face Jensen. She tugged his head back roughly and he jumped as he felt her hands slide downward over his groin. “Have to get used to this Slave.” She stood on tiptoes and licked his ear, “Everyone is going to want a piece of you. Flinch once more and I will have you punished.” Fingers trailed up to his chest and tugged at his nipple and he bit his lip. He had imagined doing these things with somebody, dreamed about them through his puberty and he had pictured it as beautiful and erotic. This felt dirty and every muscle tensed and trembled, fighting to run while his mind demanded that he stay. Her hand reached between his thighs “Open them!” His leaden feet reluctantly obeyed. He felt his eyes well with tears and fought to contain them. “You are one, worthless, inept and stupid slave, Child. But your body does make up for it.” As her fingers gripped his cock tightly he whimpered and a single tear slid over his lashes.
“No!”
Jared almost overbalanced as the pressure on his collar was released and fingers fell from his skin. “Don’t ever do that to my property again Mac. Or I swear..”
Jared looked on helplessly as Jensen pinned his sister to the wall by her neck. Was this one of the moments he was supposed to intervene in contradiction of his Master? Mackenzie lowered her head “Ow, no, no, Jensen please, I’m sorry.” She wriggled theatrically and Jensen responded by releasing his hand. “Gah, Mac, I’m, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Are you hurt?” Mackenzie hugged into her brother’s shoulder making little hurt noises in her throat. She raised her head and looked directly at Jared. She gave a half grin and winked at him before turning to face her brother with a sad, childlike expression. “I am bruised.”
“Child! Fetch cold water, a cloth and some arnica.” Jared was quick to obey. “What on earth has got into you Mackenzie?”
“What has got into me? That is rich, dear brother. I was curious to see if you could manage a care about anything. It will recover, I will recover and you shall have to mend too.”
“What I did to you Mackenzie. I am so sorry. Everything I do just now is wrong.”
Jensen looked pale and worn from the brief activity. Mackenzie guided him to an armchair and sat him down. She sat too. “You look just terrible, you can start with eating. I brought fruit.”
Jared looked to Jensen for approval and he nodded wearily. “Mistress, will you allow me to tend to you?”
“Of course, Child.” She smiled warmly at him.
This, at least, was familiar. He had tended to Meghan’s wounds on countless occasions when she came running in, tears streaming, afraid to admit to their nursemaid that she had been climbing a tree or jumping on walls. Her big brother would wipe her tears away, sit her on a chair and tell a nursery rhyme as he dabbed at the inevitable results of her waywardness. His mind jumped to the present and he tried not to think of Jensen’s suggestion that she would marry Morgan. Meghan was too full of vibrancy and fun to be saddled with a stern and pious old man but there was a political expediency to it. Meghan was impulsive and cheery but she also had a strong sense of duty.
“Your mind is elsewhere, Child. We need to work on that. Your full attention must always be with your owner and his desire.” Mackenzie was matter of fact rather than harsh in her tone. “Do not bore me with apology for I fear there will be a lot of correction in the days to come.”
“Mackenzie, it is not your slave to correct.” Jensen spoke from the comfort of his chair, where he had curled his legs under him and rested his head on the arm of the huge squashy piece of furniture.
She ignored her brother and waved Jared away. “There is fruit for your Master. You shall ensure he eats it.” He considered the command for a moment, collected the plate and knelt to one side of the chair where Jensen sat. He concentrated on trying to be graceful but instead he wobbled and dropped a soft chunk of food to the floor.” He drew his breath and squeezed his eyes together, awaiting the inevitable censure. Instead he heard a quiet chuckle from his side and a titter from Mackenzie. “Oh Moons! It is perfectly adorable and yet a ridiculously unsuitable selection. It is so, absolutely, yours.”
“Did you come here for any other reason than to insult my choice of slave Mackenzie?”
“I came to cheer you up,” She smiled brightly, “though if I had Child, I doubt I would require such a service and I would not want you to distract me from my bed.”
“No. You didn’t Mackenzie.”
“Well there was something else Jensen.” She took a serious stance. “I want you to try harder with Joshua. He believes you are not well enough to Campaign any time soon and thinks you do not wish to participate in the direction of it. I disagree. We are all we have now and it is time we worked together. I see value in your approach and I know that Joshua does as well.”
Jensen started to speak and Mackenzie shushed him. Jared placed a chunk of juicy red fruit on his lips and Jensen took it and chewed. “Joshua would never criticize Papa’s approach while he was alive but I know he has doubts. He will be amenable to constructing a fresh plan but only if he believes you are healthy in mind and body, to take your part. Selling this to our allies and our Lords will be difficult. To that end there will be a Banquet, a Summit if you will. It will honor Joshua’s accession to the throne, it will demonstrate our united front and it will reassure them that life in Court goes on, as normal, with traditions intact. To that end you will attend in good form and Child will be presented in the accustomed manner. The old King’s rebellious son will be seen to have clipped his wings and taken life seriously at last.”
“I cannot present Child.” Jensen was distressed. “What I have done. It is too soon.”
“You would worry about a slave, with the Kingdom in tatters? What do you think Morgan’s men will do to it when we are overrun? Believe me, I concur that it is too soon but I see no other way.”
Jared concentrated on lifting Jensen’s food to him. Jensen sighed and rubbed his brow.
“You are tired Jensen. I should go. Joshua is not expecting you to leave your apartments for seven dawns and I think that is wise. It will give you time to relax, regain your vigor and think on your Campaign. Oh, and you should attempt to smile. I lied when I said your slave is stupid. It is intelligent and pliant. You should accept its care and amusement with some enthusiasm.” She kissed her brother’s cheek. “Good night, Jensen.” The door banged and clicked behind her.
Jared felt suction on his fingers and a tongue licked at the fruit juice on his palm. Jensen took his hand and placed a kiss on the end of each of his slave’s fingers then guided them to rest on the scars of his right arm. “What I did, I thought I’d lost you” he whispered “and I needed to feel a greater pain, but it wasn’t. Losing you still hurt more.”
“You didn’t lose me Master. I am here. My place is with you.”
“Come lie with me. Just lie. No more.”
Jared allowed himself to be taken to bed and Jensen settled the eiderdown over them both. They lay shoulder to shoulder and Jared sank into the luxury of the soft bed beside his Master’s solid presence. It didn’t seem wrong or frightening when Jensen turned on his side to rest his head on Jared’s shoulder and rest his arm over his chest. He closed his eyes and let himself pretend he could always have this. He drifted to sleep.
Part 10
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