The Unsuitable Slave. (NC-17) Part 24/34
They traveled in silence, took back routes and skirted settlements. The pace was fast and nobody fell behind. Lady Victoria and Chad rode as competently as any soldier Jared had met and both kept a bow and quiver on their back. As the day wore on Jensen pulled over and waved the others on. He dismounted and had Jared stand by him. He reached into his pocket and produced a small key. “By my estimation we are into no-mans land by now. We could run into Morgan’s men any time." He gave his slave a sympathetic look, "We have to take your collar off, Jared.”
Jared chewed at his lip, he hadn't considered its removal, it felt like nakedness and vulnerability. “I have brands Jensen, you cannot take them away. I’m not ashamed to be yours, I can cover it with a scarf but I shall keep it on.”
“We will have to cut into civilization soon. It's dangerous.”
“It is all dangerous. The solution is to get them before they get us.”
“You would fight? This is your own people, Jared.”
He glanced to the sky and landscape and calculated the hours. “Jensen, these are your villages and your citizens. If a soldier chooses to dishonor our ethics of occupation, then a civil war may not have begun but he has already chosen a side and it is not the Queen’s.” He wound his scarf around his neck for a third time and slipped his boot back into his stirrup. “Yes Jensen. I will fight. This is my family and our honor and I will not have it further destroyed.”
They followed a river as it grew and widened, ran fast as it wound its way South, and soon there was no option but to cross. The bridge was on a well-used route, through a thriving market community. They paused to hide weapons and check that Chad and Jared’s brands were sufficiently hidden by their clothes. Jensen rewound Jared’s scarf to his satisfaction.
They smelled the town before they saw it. Chad paled and looked sick. Misha, Victoria and Jensen set their faces and gripped their reins over-tight. Bodies lay rotting and fly infested in the muddied roadside. There was no specific target, the dead were collared and uncollared, young and old, children, parents and grandparents. Jared recalled the day Jensen had taken him, the care taken to reduce fatalities and bury the dead with respect, and his bile rose, sick with guilt. His pace slowed as he found himself unable to turn away. He mentally cataloged the sights, tallying the numbers. His armies, his responsibility. “They should have a burial.”
He felt a brush against his leg as Jensen drew in close. “Its not you, Jared. Not your fault, not your responsibility.”
“My Realm.”
Jensen was firm with him. “Button it up and listen to me Jared. It’s wrong. It’s not under your control or mine. You ride, you keep pace and you put it away until you need to use it. Then you take out whatever sons-of-bitches you need to, in order to complete the task and stop it all. Understand? Answer me!”
“Yes, Jensen.” Jared pulled his gaze away and straightened, he quickened his canter to return to pace.
They recced the bridge from a vantage point, counted six soldiers, two elders and only four citizens, none of whom were being granted access to the bridge, one citizen appeared to argue and was summarily cut down, the three remaining civilians backed off and left the way they had come. A brief sortie to the outer limits indicated supplies and horses for around 50 soldiers in occupation and Jensen's small group hid themselves well to discuss their options. The river was in full flood so there was no hope of successful crossing through it. There were no other bridges or fords within a reasonable distance and bribery looked to be off the cards.
“If there’s a fuss we’ll be overrun in no time,” said Misha.
“So we need to be quiet.”
“Freakin’ silent, and invisible,” added Chad.
“We need a distraction,” said Jared. He unwound his scarf, opened his lapel to show the shiny metal of his collar and grinned at Jensen before speaking again. “An archer either side,” he nodded at Misha and Victoria, “Two head to head and one distraction. How many should I get away from the bridge?”
“No!” hissed Jensen. “That isn’t an option.”
“Why not?” Jared spoke decisively, “You know it’s our best chance. They won’t be expecting it in the chaos. I'll just be one of hundreds of slaves on the run, hoping for rescue."
“It makes sense,” said Misha.
Jensen shook his head but he wasn’t convincing. “I could be the distraction,” offered Chad.
“I’m better able to defend myself alone, I’m the better swordsman and you all know it.”
" Execution is summary, there have been too many incidents. Will they even stop to ask?” wondered Victoria.
“I’m a rich man’s slave, that much can be seen. They’ll want information first. They’ll take me to the billet.” He nodded to the area that seemed be commandeered for troops.
“If they get you there, you’ll be lost. I need you. We need you,” complained Jensen.
“There are blind spots, I won’t let them get me that far. We need over the bridge or everything falls apart. Trust me Jen, please.”
Jensen pulled on the tag of his collar and kissed him, brief but passionate. “I trust you. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. You are not permitted to get injured or killed.”
“No, Master,” Jared returned with a cheeky salute.
He rode fast, with no finesse, his bay was puffed and had no stirrups or saddle, just a poorly fitted bridle which he gripped with his bandaged hand. He pulled up, too sharp, barely avoiding being dismounted and slid from the horse to reach for the soldiers with desperation.
There were quick-drawn swords and a flourish which he ducked with lucky reflex and Jared was forced to consider his lack of real-life experience as cold steel cut through air toward him. He made to draw his own hidden weapon but there was a sharply spoken order and activity ceased as the senior officer stepped up to survey the breathless and panicky slave.
Jared hunched his shoulders, looked through disheveled hair with wide, childlike eyes and spoke in stuttering nervous gasps, indicating towards the hills and dense woodland. He didn’t let anyone see the sigh of relief as a single soldier and one of the Elders gripped him by the elbows to lead him away, with the other Elder following. He had hoped for two of the enlisted men but this would do. He staggered and let them take his weight.
“Nice collar. Do you fuck him? Does your Master play with his pet?” the Elder gripping his right arm spoke with a leer and gave a deliberately harsh pinch to Jared's flesh. The soldier holding his other arm laughed and dragged hard on him. Jared gritted his teeth, hid his rage and kept his eyes low, but he didn’t miss the obvious discomfort of the other religious man at their behavior.
They passed into a muddied gulley between homes. Water ran rancid-red into the stinking drain and smoke curled from smouldering houses. “What happened here?” asked Jared.
“What do you care? Faithless varmint and deviant evil happened here. They were judged and found wanting.” It was an ugly sneer on the Elder’s face.
Once hidden, between charred walls, Jared acted, doubled over, faking pain with a cry, and palmed his dagger. The soldier first, he thought. The Elder on his arm would take longer to react. Every instinct told him that the other robed man would be soundless in his shock. It was all he had and possibly his only chance. He straightened with frightening speed and strength, pulling the surprised warrior into a deadly embrace. His knife tore easily into the flesh between ribs to rupture the black heart with an upward twist and a cry muffled by the closeting hug. He pulled his blade out with a sickening squelch and kicked the body backwards with relish. There was an audible gasp from both Elders and he acted instantly to shake off the firm hand of the cruel Elder, to grasp at his head with a palm over his mouth and wrench it with the satisfying snap of bones. Adrenalin flooded his body and he panted in sick pleasure, over his deeds.
The other religious man stood agape and trembling. Jared thought he looked young and lost. It was a smooth move that had him in Jared's arms, mouth covered and dagger to his throat. “Sorry,” he said, as he pressed sharp edge into delicate skin. He froze, his anger was fading with the cooling shame of the bodies at his feet. He wasn’t sure how many moments they stood like that. The young cleric didn’t struggle, he licked his lips and spoke against the restraining fingers. “My sister is a slave in the Kingdom.” His voice died to nothing and gathered strength again as he began to pray, a hopeless plea for the Gods’ forgiveness and Stars’ care.
Jared couldn’t complete the task. He span the man around, “If you don’t believe them, if you cannot stomach their deeds then it is time to find others and stop them. In that there may be redemption.” He swung a clenched fist direct to the cleric's chin and watched as the man sank onto oozing mud.
He sensed presence of another without a glance. Jared's steel was unsheathed and raised before he was even half turned to this new adversary.
“Predator!” Jensen leaned casually against a blackened post, blood was spattered over his jacket and hands but it wasn’t his own “What are you doing with that?” He nodded to the Elder who was struggling to his feet with his hand clutching his chin and his feet sliding back into the mire.
“He’s not going to give us away,” Jared glared at the man, “Are you?” He sheathed his sword as the man shook his head in mute fear.
“Come on then,” Jensen grabbed Jared’s hand and pulled.
The river raged beneath the bridge as they crossed. Bodies of silently-fallen soldiers sank and drifted with the current and Jared offered a quiet prayer for their souls.
***
They stopped high in the barren stones of the hills. Weary and hungry, they watered and tended their horses before sinking to the ground by a roasting-warm fire. Conversation was sparse as they ate their basic provisions. Misha, Chad and Victoria bade them goodnight and retired to the lee of a large rock, where they cuddled together, sharing blankets, warmth and affections. Jared pretended not to hear the soft sighs and suckling. He pasted himself to Jensen’s side and let the older man cuddle him close. They shared mugs of steaming coffee and stared at the stars.
“You still pray to them, your Gods and your stars. For a time I thought you lost your faith but today you prayed,” Jensen spoke softly.
“From the start, I prayed for you,” replied Jared, “I still do.”
“Did you pray for me to lose my deviancy?” The older man asked.
“At the beginning I did. I prayed for lots of things, even when I believed us damned.”
“And now?”
“I pray for the people. I pray for my family, I pray for us. I pray that my temper does not lead me. Those things I did today, I was so angry, it became fulfilling and that has to be wrong. I am inexperienced and I let my ire overtake me.”
“It was righteous anger Jared.” Jensen pulled his hands into his own and smoothed his fingers over his slave’s restraints, “You saved the one that you could, you spared him where others would not and your instinct was correct, no alarm was raised.” His Master looked thoughtful, “I think your Gods look after you still. Perhaps, with all of your pleas, they look out for me too.”
“I believed we were lost to them for a time, but now I’m not sure. Maybe they do care for us still.”
Jensen dropped his hands to take his slave's face and tilt it to his own. He leaned in and kissed him, and Jared’s lips parted to let him in. He withdrew briefly, “Your Gods may want to avert their eyes around about now.”
Jared chuckled, “They might enjoy it.”
Jared let Jensen lead, he submitted control to his Master, took the desire and the comfort of it in firm touches and loving caresses, in the heat and need, the wet suction and sweaty hot slide. They let the wind carry their cries of pleasure and the moons light their naked motion. The stars glistened their care over their love as momentum gathered and peaked in grunted orgasms and an outpouring of whispered endearments. Jared collapsed boneless into the firm hold of his Master. Even in the deepest of his sleep Jensen didn’t relinquish his hold on his slave. Jared slept there, under a great, wide, unending sky clutched close and safe in strong warm arms.
***
Morning was cold and damp, the hot coffee welcome and strong.
“How much further?” asked Jared.
Misha answered, “We will be there by noon if we meet no resistance.”
Victoria clarified, “Most Realm troops have moved up and through. They see no gain to stay in the Southern Borderlands.”
“But Jensen always had purpose here. I remember he told me that.”
Jensen sat beside him, placed an arm round his waist. “Morgan underestimates the landowners there. They have always aided us.”
“Why?”
“There has been a network, an escape route, in place for several years. One that brings deviants and other political refugees, safely from the Realm into the Kingdom. Sometimes we took slaves too. It soothed my father’s opinion and gave the network cover. Besides, many did not have the food on their table to live here and sons are lost as fodder in Morgan's ranks.”
Chad interrupted. “Jensen started it and kept it open.”
Jared leaned into his Master’s embrace. “I misjudged you.”
“You were supposed to. Every village we terrorized we offered the choice. It is an excellent measure of the caliber and leaning of the town seniors. We found a lot of friends and learned our enemies well.”
“My mother is with friends in that network?”
“Yes. She’s with people we can wholeheartedly trust.”
“Thank you Jensen.” He kissed his green-eyed warrior gently on his neck.
They packed up efficiently and rode through thick mud and driving rain. They picked their way over rough terrain to avoid patrols and stray soldiers. Twice they stilled like statues, behind cover, as marching men and horseback officers passed them by.
A few miles from their destination Jared brought his bay mare beside Jensen’s steady stallion. “I don’t understand Kane’s involvement. You said he didn’t betray me but was he always with you? Was it his way to remove me from Morgan?”
Jensen looked at him, steady in his green gaze. “No.” His eyes shifted away in guilt, “I used you as leverage, to bargain with him.”
“He wouldn’t have done that.”
Jensen rubbed a hand across his eyes. “He woke up and I showed him your injuries. Doc Grey, my own physician, explained your fever and I told Kane I could let you suffer and die or we could cure you and keep you safe, away from my father and safe from Morgan. He chose the latter and we came to an agreement. Your fever was useful to me, I had enough personal snippets of your life to convince him of my care for you, to keep him co-operating. He trusted me.”
“You made me a slave, how is that care?”
“You were already a slave when we made the agreement. I simply hid the evidence. And I paid for it the day he saw you in the Square, he saw what I had done, what you had become, and he laid into me, would have killed me if it hadn’t been for James.”
“And Jake?”
“Kane commands him for now. I ask for his assistance. He was Morgan’s man but he could not go through with the final betrayal, so he settles for working to ease his conscience. He’s angry with me too. I seem to have that effect.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you still work together?”
“We may not be on the same page but we found that we were reading the same book. Our goals coincide, so they deal with the devil and pray for your soul.”
“I am still alive,” conceded Jared.
“Your body has been ravaged and your soul is tarnished.”
“My soul is just fine and my body is recovered.”
“You have been reading.”
“You left it for me to see.”
“I did. I’m a coward.”
“I’m glad, Master. It was painful but necessary.”
Jensen showed some surprise at the use of the affectation and Jared gave a shy smile. “Surely I remain yours, even here, since it is what I wish?”
“You remain mine, wherever we are and for as long as you want Jared, but surely you will not want that with your mother. We will remove the collar and restraints for now.”
They were reducing to a fast walk, a manor loomed, lonesome and imposing upon the moor. Around its location, in the distance, specks of activity could be seen as their party was spotted. Jared was aware of the cold run of rain down his neck as his cape reached saturation and his feet were damp and chilled. “No,” he said. “Of all the people I might lie to, my Mam is not one. She will have me as I am, as I have become and am content. She will know that I..” he paused, “ .. kept a promise, and I came to care for the Prince of Adomisa, that I wish for a peaceful solution to this war.”
Green eyes bored into him and Jensen appeared to have an argument to return but he simply dug his heels into his stallion's flanks to encourage it on and replied with a short, “As you wish, Child.”
They were welcomed by earnest ostlers and bustling maids. Warm drinks were served next to a roaring hearth and cloaks and shoes set to dry. They were introduced to the Lord and Lady of the Manor. Steve and Sophia were cheerful and welcoming but their gaze fell to their Prince’s collar and they moved their eyes away in discomfort as Jensen reached to stroke Jared’s face and tangle his hand through his hair. Jared leaned into the touch and responded with a brush of their fingers, regardless of their opinions.
Jake came for him, blue eyes unable to meet his hazel gaze. He stared at the collar, before turning away, his discomfort obvious. Jensen followed a few steps behind them both and Jared couldn’t help feeling that was the wrong way around, but his Master insisted.
Jake spoke, “Your mother is awake, Your Highness.”
“I’m not a Prince any longer Jake. It is plain Jared or Child.”
Jake bristled and scowled, “You will always be our Prince, Sire.”
Jared was firm but not unkind, “Then take my orders and call me by my name, as I wish it to be.”
The soldier nodded affirmation and opened the door to a darkened sick room with a cheery fire and blankets stacked at the end of a generous and comfortable bed. A woman was propped against a pile of soft pillows. Thin and pale, her hands shook as they held a short novel and she squinted at the words on the page.
“Mam,” Jared spoke softly, afraid to break the spell that had his mother in this room with him. Her hair was ragged and greying and the eyes that squinted were the palest of hazel surrounded by reddened rims in sallow, lined, skin. Her thin, cracked lips pursed as she registered the word and she looked up for the source of it. She found his face and stared into it without emotion, as if she wouldn’t allow herself to believe it. He stepped forward with slave-soft steps and grace, let the light catch on his profile and reflect on the sheen of his collar, “Hey. So, it’s me Mam.”
She tipped her head to one side and surveyed him properly. Her eyes filled with tears as a sad smile arced her mouth, “Jare. Is that really you? They said you lived, that you would come. Is this real?”
He stepped the rest of the way and sat on the side of the bed. He reached out his hand and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Feel me. I’m solid. I left De’ith and I did not die. I met someone and they kept me safe, much as they have with you.”
She clutched at him, ran her hands over him and cupped his face. She settled a finger on his collar and gasped, looking to him for explanation. “This can’t be. You are to be King. You are my son, it isn’t right Jared.”
“You think I am wrong? Would you have me dead rather then deviant?” his face crumpled and his shoulders fell.
“No, darling, you misunderstand me. I always knew you were different.” Her voice was starting to fade and her grip loosened but her fingertips slid to the engraved tag and smoothed its cold metal. “You are nobody’s property, no toy to scrape before another man’s throne.”
“I’m not, Mam!”
“He’s not! Never that!” It was an indignant rebuttal. Jensen stepped up, solid and reassuring, from the shadows behind Jared. He placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“It was a fair won battle, I took a choice and keep my promise. I do not regret it, Jensen is an honorable victor.”
“There were others he saved by it, Your Majesty, your citizens. Jared is bursting with courage and that light will not be extinguished in him.” His Master was answering the Queen but he talked to his slave, looking at him with an open expression of awe, as if he were the only person in the room.
The Queen tugged Jared into a tight hug. “Oh! My baby.” Tears flowed freely over her cheeks and Jared could pretend the wetness on his own face was hers but his eyes glistened and pooled. She grasped him by his elbows and pushed him back again to get a better look at her son. “Such a bright light,” she murmured and sank into the soft, silk-clad pillows with a pained frown. “You’re not coming back for the throne, are you?” she asked.
“No.” He answered her softly. “No, there is too much gone past. I am no longer the prince who was a ghost within the Palace walls. I am dead to our people and it is best I remain so.”
“So why do you come to me? Why does my enemy’s brother tease me with your presence?”
“You misjudge Jensen, Mother. He keeps you safe so you can recover. You will not abdicate for me and in natural progression Meghan will succeed you.”
“Jared? No! You can still return.” Jensen patted his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, let his hand trail and rub at his arm.
“No, Jensen, I can’t. I’m not what the Realm needs." He hadn't discussed his conversation with Woolvett and didn't want to divulge it here and now. "It’s alright because it has the appropriate person and she will recover. That is why I came all this way, to ensure my mother recovers her health, and she will.” He gave his mother a stern gaze with the barest twinkle of fun in it. “That’s right, isn’t it Mam?”
“You love him don’t you?” she was looking directly at Jensen.
They answered in unison, both thought the question was directed to them. “Yes,” they said and Jensen startled at Jared’s reply with wide lashes over green-gold eyes and the formation of a round O with his plush pink lips. Jared shrugged, turned dark lash-lined eyes to him, “I can’t lie to my mother.”
The Queen smoothed a hand over her son’s fingers and gave a wistful smile. “You sacrificed yourself and I never considered such an interpretation. I think the darkest hour is through,” she paused and yawned, “extinguished in your radiance. Hold onto him Jared,” she nodded at Jensen, “because you will be loved in his grace.”
Jared didn’t understand the choice of whispered words but she was relaxed and serene. Her book dropped from the bed with a thunk and she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep with her hand fixed on Jared’s arm. Jensen moved an armchair close and they sat to watch over her in the curtained, cozy room.
Part Twenty Five
Masterpost
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