Fiction: Whipping Boy pt 3
May. 19th, 2009 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Whipping Boy part 3
Pairing: Matt/Mo
Rating: R
Warnings: Some violence, sexual content
Spoilers: None
Note: Totally, completely AU. Sorry!
Follows: Part 1,Part 2
In the morning he is mobile once more though stiff and uncomfortable with it. We eat the last of the bandit’s meagre rations and cautiously make our way out of the cave.
“Fresh air!” I say happily. “Truthfully, Matthew, I would not have thought we two alone could stale the air that quickly.”
He laughs lightly and stretches. “Sickness and heat are poor aids to sweet air, highness.”
I follow him to the stream and we undress to bathe. The bandages on his back are stained yellow and brown but it seems that the swelling is almost gone. His body is broad and perhaps a little soft, lacking the definition of the guards. But the muscles are clear and definite and his skin fine. His shoulders and thighs are straight and strong. His eyes, when he sees me looking, are a little confused and a little hurt.
“Am I so distasteful to your highness?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
He is about to say something else when my member wakes fully. For the first time I can remember, it makes me blush. Matthew wades over to me.
“I ought to have watched more closely when I was being tended,” I say sheepishly.
Matthew takes my hand in his and puts it to my member. His other hand rests on my back, nearly spanning the breadth of it. His face is near mine as he moves my hand along my member. I feel his breath on my cheek as I look up at him. His eyes are huge and dark as he watches my face, my mouth.
“Does this feel pleasant?”
“Very,” I whisper. The heat from his body should be boiling the water.
He guides my hand to caress my inner thighs, my stones, and then my member again. He curls my hand around it and pushes it slowly up and down, increasing gradually in speed.
“And this?” he asks. “Pleasant?”
“Yes,” I mutter breathlessly. My forehead presses against his chest and my free hand rests on his shoulder. The pleasurable itch is building within and the smell of his skin is all over me. Light pulses behind my eyelids as I call out.
Matthew presses his lips to my cheek.
The fish are quick silver through the water. Matthew has a sharpened branch which he uses to spear them but alas I do not have the knack of it. Instead I tie Matthew’s worn shirt between two branches and use it as a net, scooping the fish up. I throw them down onto the bank where they wiggle for a few moments. Matthew throws his speared prey down besides them and smiles at me.
“A good haul.”
“They will go bad before we can eat them all,” I suggest.
“We can smoke them,” Matthew says. “Also there is a village not too far away. We could barter for salt or oil and bottle them.” He rubs his head. “By the time we reach Strathmore anything but fish will seem a luxury.”
I laugh and nod. “But at least we eat.”
There are clothes in the packs. They fit Matthew far better than me, truth be told, but they are clean and warm. We put the jewellery into the packs on the Arabian horse and bury our soiled clothes in the forest. Matthew tries to protest but I insist he take the bay horse.
“Then take the Arabian, highness,” he asks.
“You know we cannot risk it,” I say, helping him up onto the horse. “We agreed that the merchant will have sent out searchers and besides the horse is too fine. It will attract too much attention.”
Matthew sighs and grips the reigns.
I have rarely felt so deeply the weakness of my exercise regime. The poor horse snorts as, yet again, I have to stop and catch my breath.
“Highness, please?” Matthew puts his hand on my shoulder. “Ride a while?”
“We cannot both ride and you cannot walk,” I say, patting his hand. “When we reach Strathmore I beg you ensure that I take more exercise. It is most embarrassing.”
The weather is beautiful; azure skies with silver-white clouds drifting in the gentle breeze, and sunshine warm but not unbearable. There is a village in the distance; a few dozen buildings around a central square.
On the way we pass a few farms; bare fields with blighted, rotted soil or a few emaciated cows, huddled together lowing. Is this my kingdom to be? Desperate people in terrible straits while our table at court had food that would never, could never, be eaten.
“Tell me about politics?” I ask, looking up at Matthew. “There is more than simply a food shortage here.”
He nods slowly. “That is true. Disquiet has been building for some time.”
“Why?”
Matthew plays with the reigns. “The king suspended the representative assembly some months ago.”
“Oh, yes, I remember something about that. There was corruption in the system of election?” I ask.
“So it was said,” Matthew says carefully.
“By my father?”
“Indeed so,” Matthew agrees. “There has been growing unrest. Food is but one issue amongst many; taxation, freedom of religion, the natural place of men.”
I kick my boot against the track. “Is that not what the representative assembly is for? To deal with such issues?”
“That is an opinion, certainly,” he says with a mild smile. “Not one which the king agrees with.”
“Oh. No, of course not, I suppose he believes instead that they should do exactly as he says?”
Matthew smiles and shrugs. “The king’s views on the natural place of man are quite clear. There is himself, there are other royalty, the other aristocracy, free men, and slaves. Each man should stay in his place and each man should submit to his better.”
I look up at him. “Do you believe that?”
Matthew sighs and looks at me. “It matters not what I believe. It remains that there is rising... resistance.”
I almost stop where I am. “A revolution? Truly?”
“It might be that the attack on the palace was nothing but a riot,” Matthew says.
“If not... I can hardly think.”
Matthew pulls the horse to a halt and slides off painfully.
“I... I should have to go into exile. No, I... I do not think they would want to overthrow it all would they? My father has made mistakes and I ought to put them... put them right.”
Matthew puts a hand on my arm and I am suddenly pulling him tight to me. Too much, too much.
We rest a little while and I regain my equilibrium. Matthew does me the kindness of not pressing the issue but is instead gentle and solicitous.
“Do you know where your people are from?” I ask him.
“No highness, not here, as is obvious,” he says, gesturing at his face. “I believe there are those of my hue to the far north and perhaps of my build too.”
He reddens at that as if ashamed.
“I like your build.”
“Highness, really,” he stutters.
“Really, what?” I ask. “I do. It is very pleasing to me. You are very pleasing to me.”
Matthew squeezes his eyes shut. “Highness, I beg you go no further.”
“Do you not find me pleasing then?” I ask plaintively.
He snorts and laughs a little. “Of course I do.” He rubs his eyes and looks at me. “Highness, I will do anything you wish, anything, of course. But please let us not discuss this.”
“Why not?” I ask quietly.
“Because I know you,” he says simply. “You have your passions; strong but fleeting. I have no doubt your feelings are true at the time they are felt.” He shrugs. “But then they pass. You said yourself coupling is not worth throwing away a kinship.”
I touch his hand. “It would be different with you. You are not some passing fancy, Matthew.”
“May I speak plainly?”
I fear I might throw up. “Please do.”
Matthew takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “You are in distress, in pain, confused. You are reaching out for something known, something comforting. I do understand. Please understand me though. If we did this you would reject me afterwards and you would send me away.” He looks away. “I do not want to be sent away.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I promise.
“You would,” he says softly. “All I have is what you give me. Please don’t take everything away.”
I caress his face and he leans into my touch, eyes closed.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I say again.
He catches my hand and squeezes it gently. “We should continue walking or we will be still here at nightfall and the cold will be excruciating.”
“I think perhaps your highness should wait here,” Matthew suggests. “I will go and make purchases.”
“You cannot protect me from the world,” I say.
“If I have to burn it to ashes,” he says firmly, taking me by surprise.
“What if while you are down there bandits attack here?” I ask meekly. “I will be defenceless.”
Matthew looks at me and sighs. “You are determined, highness?”
“You cannot call me ‘highness’ in front of others,” I point out. “Happily I hardly look the part right now.”
“As you wish, sir,” he says uncomfortably, leading the horse by the reigns.
“You could call me by my name,” I suggest, touching the back of his hand with my fingertips.
Matthew looks across at me. “I could not,” he retorts.
“I miss being called by my name,” I say as sadly as I can. “Only father did it. If someone does not use it regularly I will surely forget it!”
“Should I shout it angrily and throw my arms in the air also?” Matthew asks archly.
“If it pleases you,” I say sweetly.
He snorts and shakes his head.
“Matthew?”
“Yes h... sir?” he asks.
The village is quite close now. I can see people looking in our direction.
“Do you remember my mother?”
Matthew blows out his cheeks. “A little. I was very young when I was assigned to you. You were only a baby.” He smiles at me. “Happily little thing.”
“I was? I thought babies were all tears, feeding, and the other.”
Matthew shrugs easily. “Laughing too, you laughed more than you cried. The queen was kind, I remember that.” He reddens slightly at some memory. “I had been at the slave mongers long enough to miss the women who cared for me. I cried somewhat. The queen called me ‘little pet’, had me sit with her while the wet nurse fed you.” He sighs softly. “Then she went away and did not come back.”
“I did not know she cared for you,” I say quietly.
“Oh,” Matthew says, straightening. “I dare say she did not beyond finding me amiable and obedient.” He rolls his eyes. “Those were the words of my advertisement. ‘Healthy, amiable, and obedient; patient and good-natured especially with animals or children.”
“Had you been trained for children?” I ask curiously.
“As much as one can train a child that age. I learned more once in the women’s quarters. I could hold you safely though and keep you amused.”
The villagers stare as we enter the tiny cluster of houses. An odd sensation to have all attention fixed on Matthew but of course his hue marks him as exotic and strange.
They have little food beyond coarse maslin bread and are suspicious of the fish we have. Hungry overcomes propriety though and the little storekeeper gladly trades bread and bottles of oil for a few handfuls of fish.
“Where do you get your bread?” Matthew asks.
“Comes on the coach,” the shopkeeper breathes, as if afraid this strange visitation might strike him down.
“Coach?” I ask. “How often is the coach?”
“Twice weekly, due tomorrow.”
“Where can we buy passage?” Matthew asks sharply. “On the coach?”
The shopkeeper nods frantically. “The Inn has rooms if you mean to stay.”
“We know not where it goes,” I protest quietly as we head to the Inn.
“We have the merchant’s money still,” Matthew says smoothly. “For enough of that it will go wherever we might wish.”
“I shall have to pay that back,” I fret.
Matthew nods in agreement and touches my shoulder. “First duty to the country and then to the one subject, eh sir?”
The Innkeeper is desperately apologetic about the state of the rooms, the Inn, the village, everything and anything he both can and cannot control. Apparently simply having an exotic servant marks me out despite our attempts to blend in. Under other circumstances I would rather enjoy the attention that Matthew is attracting even though it embarrasses him.
The room is small, the bed frame has one leg shorter than the other three, and the mattress is damp and lumpy. After the woods and the cave is entirely wonderful.
Better is the tin bath the Innkeeper drags into the bedroom. It is a testament to the power of money that there has been no comment on the malodorous stench emanating from us both. The days without bathing would be bad enough but with Matthew’s infected wounds as well... most unpleasant.
We heat water in a cauldron over the fire and pour a mix of boiled and cold water into the bath. I undress first and climb into the water shivering happily at the heat. Matthew scowls at the tablets of harsh soap as if he can soften them with the power of his distaste. Despite the harshness of the soap, and the coarse brushes, it is both a relief and a pleasure when Matthew bathes me. His hands are as tender and knowing as ever; one hand tilting forward my head as the other hand guides the scrub brush over my neck, shoulders, and over my back.
Matthew’s thumbs rub into my back. I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees.
“That is most pleasant.”
“I regret having no scented oils,” he says quietly.
“Another time,” I murmur. “Matthew?”
“Sir?”
I shift my legs slightly. “I fear I need your aid.”
He snorts his amusement and his warm breath tickles the back of my neck. One hand rests on my shoulder and the other strokes along my leg and twixt my thighs.
I lie back in the water and watch him frown in concentration as he tends me with typical care. He smiles when my breath hitches; looks surprised when I put a hand around his nape and pull him into a soft kiss.
He blushes when he undresses. We take off the linen sheet carefully, and a couple of the bandages come with it. The uncovered wounds seem free of infection; pale and healing. There is a little scum of dried honey clear and brown over the top of them which will surely wash off. I have some concern about those bandages still adhering to his back; the dried liquid showing through the material.
“Lie back,” I say. “The bandages might come free when soaked.”
Matthew tries to reach for the soap and brushes but I hold them behind my back.
“Highness...”
“Sir,” I correct. “Or Mohinder, better.”
“Then I embarrass you with my stench longer than anticipated,” he says raising an eyebrow.
“Close your eyes,” I suggest, smiling at him. “Let me look after you.”
Matthew licks his lips and his fingers tap on the edge of the bath. “Is that a request or an order, Sir?”
“Please?” I ask sweetly as I can.
Matt grumbles to himself lightly but he closes his eyes.
I kneel by the side of the bath and lean up to carefully draw the coarse bristles across Matthew’s skin. He relaxes a little in the warmth of the water although his hands remain in his lap.
“Why so shy?” I ask. “I have already seen it all.”
He blushes even though he cannot see me. “I am not used to the scrutiny.”
“You think I am?”
“From me, certainly,” he answers mildly.
I put down the brush and rub my hand across his chest. He shivers at my touch though not, I think, unpleasantly.
“Is there another?”
Matthew opens his eyes and blinks at me. “Another? Another what?”
“Do you have a lover,” I say mildly. “Is that why you don’t want me?”
He shifts uncomfortably even as he shakes his head. “That... I do not, I could not, and it is not a matter of not wanting you,” he says. “I have been honest in my concerns.”
“I would let you take a lover,” I protest. “If you will not have me, then that at least would do you good. There is someone else then, is there?”
“I have been honest!” Matthew says hotly. “There is no other and never has been.”
“I meant no insult,” I say mildly. “It is a human enough need.”
“I am no dog to go running after every bitch in heat,” he growls.
I lean back on my heels. “Why are you angry?”
Matthew draws up his knees and puts his arms around them.
“Please forgive me, highness,” he says, not looking at me.
“Why are you angry?” I ask again, putting my hand on his shoulder.
“You make me want things I cannot have,” Matthew says quietly.
“Anything that is in my power, Matthew, anything at all is yours,” I promise.
He closes his eyes. “I wish you would not be kind to me.”
“You do make it difficult,” I say, ruffling his hair.
He smiles at that and moves forward so that I can check the bandages on his back.
The material is all soaked through; some of the bandages have already peeled off and the others are working loose.
“You are almost hale,” I say, carefully peeling the bandages away. “You heal quickly.”
Matthew makes no answer but a soft sigh. When I look I see that his cheek is pressed against his knee and his eyes are closed.
“Are you tired?” I ask quietly, smoothing the soap over his back with my hand.
“Hmm,” he murmurs.
I wash the dirt, sweat, and detritus from his back and rub gently at his shoulders until he smiles.
“Tickles,” he mutters drowsily. “Have to do it with more firmness.”
“Ah, I see.” I push my fingers into the tight muscles and he groans. A shiver runs through me at the sound. I move down his back and he keens softly in pleasure. A sound I’ve never heard from him before and yet so pleasing to hear it, and gratifying to know I am the cause of it.
He is near asleep when I am done and mutters complaints when I urge him out of the cooling bath water. In his sleepy, agreeably relaxed state he merely scowls at his nakedness and is easily persuaded to sit on the bed, atop a towel, while I dry him.
“It is enjoyable to be cared for, is it not?” I ask, drying his back and arms.
“Tis,” he agrees, tipping back his head and smiling at me. “I am unwell still.”
“A little,” I admit unwillingly. “Tired too, the day has been long and arduous.”
“The coach will be two days or so to Strathmore,” he yawns. “Then you will recover your senses.”
I walk around in front of him. “Recover my senses?” I ask uncertainly.
“Aye,” he says, eyes closed. “Have me sent away since you will not stand to look upon a slave you thought desirable; or have me killed for having seen you weak.”
I don’t sleep at all well.
For breakfast we eat some of the black bread which sits in the stomach with the grace of a dropped cornerstone. We are both quiet. The Innkeeper stares at my gold as though he fears it will turn to dust at any moment. He burdens Matthew down with brandy, ‘will help you heal’ and a clear, apple smelling liquid, ‘keeps the chill out – keep it away from metal!’
The coach is earlier than we dared hope and has only two patrons. A handful of gold each and suddenly they are in no hurry to reach their destination. Three handfuls for the driver and we are promised to make Strathmore before two days. Matthew makes to sit up top with the luggage, as if I would allow that even if he were not still recovering from his wounds.
“We ought to have brought...”
Matthew brings out a pack of cards from a pocket and holds them up.
“I swear sometimes you read my thoughts,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Your highness was never a patient traveller,” he says mildly, dealing out a hand each.
“Other times I wonder if you know me at all,” I choke the words out but better said than nestled in me, rotting slowly.
Matthew looks at me with the blankness of someone with no memory of the event. “Highness?”
“Last night, you said that when we reach Strathmore I would recover my senses.” My voice is shaking and I feel I might either be sick or weep.
Matthew shakes his head. “I do not know what that means or have recollection of having said it.”
“You were tired and suffering with the infection again,” I stutter. “When I asked what you meant...” A knot is in my throat and mouth. I try to swallow it and Matthew looks away, embarrassed for me or him I do not know. “You said I would either send you away in shame at having wanted you or have you killed for seeing me weak.”
His mouth is opening and closing but no words are coming forth.
“That is what you said and then you went to sleep! Is that what you think of me?”
“I... I...”
“Is it what you think of me?”
“No!” he almost howls.
“Then why say it?” I demand, whip fast.
“I know not!” He’s gasping for breath, red faced. “Perhaps I were babbling or confused.” Matthew calms himself with slow breaths. “It is unfair to hold me to words spoken when I am not myself. I do not hold your highness to his words and deeds when he is sodden with drink!”
He goes red as soon as the words are spoken and is clearly thinking how to take them back.
“What words and deeds?” I ask quietly.
“Highness...”
I hold up my hand. “Enough, this is ridiculous. We have been screaming at each other and we will speak honestly right now. No respectful ‘highness’, no polite prevarications, no lies. You are Matthew and I am Mohinder and, if it kill us both, I will have this business twixt us settled one way or the other by day end.”
Matthew thins his lips. “Know that I do not believe you will either kill me or send me away in Strathmore. You ought, perhaps, but you have too much kindness and sweetness to stomach it.”
“You say ‘kindness and sweetness’ as though they are some shortcoming.”
“Possibly, but you have a knack for engendering affection so I doubt any traitor would garner much support in your court,” he says with a shrug. “Other men will do your darker deeds for you.”
“Why do you not want me?” I ask baldly.
“I am sick of this,” Matthew says irritably. “I want you, have wanted you, and will want you. If I could live my life at your feet I would be content.”
“What?” I ask.
“You do not listen! You cannot tell when you are hearing the truth or at least you not wish to believe it,” Matthew says sharply. “I see you. I see you smiling and charming and seductive as you take those you want and then move on. Move on with no thought to the cost of your pleasure.”
“What cost?” I ask with sinking heart.
“Exactly, ‘what cost’ indeed,” he echoes bitterly. “What cost those already married or betrothed? What cost slaves sworn to the temple or to a master?”
“You mean the catamite?” I ask tentatively. “I thought he returned to the temple?”
“Aye,” Matthew says hotly. “For the last useful service a blasphemer can do. For the last ceremony.”
The carriage sways and fades in and out. “Executed?”
Matthew hesitates, his anger fading quickly. He tries to tip me back onto the seat. I grab his arms.
“Is he dead?”
“Highness...”
“Tell me!” I demand.
Matthew sighs and closes his eyes. “When I returned from taking the girl to the women’s quarters I found you lying with him. He was not bruised or marked, had not been taken by force.”
“Tell me,” I beg.
“He had broken his vows,” Matthew says softly.
“I killed him?”
“He broke his vows, he, not you. He knew what would happen if he were caught.”
I shake my head. “You hold me responsible.”
“I do not want to be another discarded toy,” he says calmly. “I will not apologise for it. I am not that boy. I cannot live by romantic fictions. A night of happiness will not support a lifetime of misery or my death,” he says very calmly.
“I would not ask you to. I do not think this is some passing fancy,” I say meekly. “The things you talk of are the work of intoxication. I am sober Matthew. Sober and have given much thought to it.”
He shakes his head. “The root is in drunkenness.”
“It is not,” I say, confused. “Truly I know quite clearly the moment I realised I wanted you.”
“Realised, yes,” Matthew says as if exhausted. “But not the moment you took it into your head to fancy me.”
I am missing some thread that connects this all together. “You said that you do not hold me to my words and deeds when I am drunk, and you say the root of my wanting you is in drunkenness. Did I try to seduce you?” I ask incredulously.
Matthew reddens. “It is of no matter.”
“Hypocrite!”
“What?” he asks.
“You hypocrite! After you lectured me that a drunken man is only a sober man with bravery! You have the nerve to say that it means nothing when I, drunk, want you but that it has meaning when I, drunk, am not violent!”
Matthew half smiles despite himself. “The debating tuition goes well I see.”
“Do not jest with me, I am angry! How dare you tell me over and over that I will discard you, that I have a mere fleeting interest, when you know right well I have had feelings for you longer than I realised!” I say hotly. “When was this? When did I try and seduce you?”
Matthew shuffles in his seat. “Highness...”
“More than days then, weeks?”
“This is to no...”
“Months? Have you known my feelings for months?” I demand.
Matthew shakes his head irritably. “Slurred protestations of love and attempting to remove my clothing are not proofs of deeper affection.”
I feel myself redden. “Not perhaps the most seductive approach you have ever received.”
Matthew subsides, shrugging in embarrassment. “I do not doubt that you want me now, although I know not why,” he says quietly. “I doubt that you will still want me afterwards.”
I lean forward and kiss him. He is tense for a moment before returning the kiss tentatively.
“This is not some drunken fumble,” I assure him. “Let me prove it.”
“Promise me that you will not send me away afterwards,” Matthew says quietly. “I will be a faithful slave even if you want me no more.”
“I promise.”
The coach stops late in the evening. We are further north in a larger settlement now. Matthew attracts a little less attention here or at least the stares are less obvious. The coach will set off again at dawn with fresh horses and a new consignment of post to carry.
We are both sore and tired as we exit the coach and head to the Inn. This one is larger and more comfortable although there is little intelligence to be had beyond confirmation of my father’s death.
In the room Matthew holds me for a long time. Just holds me close and lets me weep.
This Inn has potage which I have never had before. It is a strange sort of thick sort of soup with oats, a handful of peas, and black beans. Matthew’s expression when he tries the first mouthful is most amusing.
“At least it is not fish,” I suggest.
“That is so, highness,” he says dryly.
“Should we...”
He looks at me so evenly and steadily waiting to hear what I might say. We reach Strathmore tomorrow and I shall either be exiled or king. In either case nobody shall ever talk to me as Mohinder again. No-one will ever say anything that is purely, honestly felt. It will all be carefully chosen to attempt to get me to do what they want, say what they want. Any weakness exploited, any partiality manipulated.
“Highness?” he asks gently.
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper. “Not when we’re alone.”
I think for a moment he might protest but he just leans across and brushes his lips across my cheek.
“What ails?”
“Call me by my name?” I plead.
He moves next to me and I lean against him. “Mohinder,” he says, and I close my eyes. There is the rattle as he puts down his bowl and then he puts his arm around me. “When you were small you could not say my name,” he says fondly.
“Could I not? What did I call you?”
“Aaachoo! With the mime of a sneeze,” he says with deliberate gravity.
It makes me giggle. Most unKingly it must be said.
“I am fortunate to have someone who knows me so well,” I say patting his hand. “I have not always been grateful enough.”
“Anxiety about tomorrow is natural,” Matthew reassures.
I stand up and pull him to his feet. “I have you. I am content.”
It is such an unusual thing to be more confident, more secure in a task than Matthew. It is such a different thing to take care of him. It is unusual, different, and entirely pleasant. To hear his breath hitching, feel his heart hammering, see his fingers gripping the sheets.
He is self-conscious and diffident afterwards. Reaches up as if he wants to touch me but dare not. Watches me wide-eyed.
“Am I a disappointment after the boy at the whorehouse?” I tease.
“It pleases you to taunt your faithful slave,” he says, smiling at me.
“Of course, is it not our way?” I kiss his throat. “I must take my pleasure while I can.”
“Oh?” he asks, uncertainly.
I run my fingers over the chest I have been coveting. “You were always a quicker study than I. Soon enough you will be a more confident and better lover than I am.” I steal another kiss. “Then you will have it all your own way.”
In his way he is as nervous as I am but he hides it better. He grips his sword tightly as the coach is stopped at the gates of Strathmore.
The door is yanked open and a guard finds himself with a blade edge caressing his throat. His eyes on me though.
“Highness... Sire! The king!” he stammers.
Matthew removes his sword and the door is slammed shut and we sweep on. We can hear shouts outside. The tension is unbearable as we to see if there will be jeers or cheers.
Most of the court is here and all of the army. Without my father there has been infighting between the lords, the army commanders, and such of the representative assembly as have forced their way in.
“We must stamp down hard...”
“We must reinstitute the assembly...”
“Punish the...”
“Attack the...”
“Enough!” My voice carries further than I thought possible. “Famine first, that is the most pressing issue. Have the assembly members recalled. They shall arrange distribution of food in each district.”
Uproar below stairs. The cook screaming blue murder and Lord of the Pantry babbling like a fool. They do not even notice me until I am stood before them. I mean to be the sort of ruler who can and does go everywhere.
“What is this pandemonium?”
“A slave,” the cook spits. “Came in here with guards and started taking away food!”
“Are we short of food?” I ask.
The Lord of the Pantry waves his hands desperately. “No high... sire. No, there is plenty until the solstice.”
“Good, I fail to see the problem then.”
I find Matthew at the gate supervising the distribution of food to the villagers. The guards shuffle away as he walks to me, kneels, and kisses my boots.
“Nonsense,” I murmur. “Get up.”
“Yes, sire,” he says meekly.
“You are causing uproar I am told.”
Matthew nearly smiles. “A good slave anticipates his master’s desires. I anticipated that your majesty would wish the excess food from the kitchens given to the needy.”
“That is not the issue,” I say, struggling to restrain my own smile. “I fear your rank is restricting you from making the most of your abilities.”
“Sire?”
I shrug and smile at him reassuringly. “The privy council are all my father’s men. I need new blood. I give you your freedom, Matthew, on condition you will accept Duke of Parkman, household steward. There is land but I would have you here. As you know that role would mean you are still be tasked with my care, alas. A prince may be bathed by a slave but a king must be cared for by a lord.”
“You do not have to do this,” Matthew says after a few moments. “Serving is enough reward.”
“I wish to.”
“There will be repercussions,” he warns.
“There are always are. Will you accept?” I smile at him.
“As always, majesty, I am entirely yours to command,” Matthew says with a smile.
The End
Sequel The Favourite
Pairing: Matt/Mo
Rating: R
Warnings: Some violence, sexual content
Spoilers: None
Note: Totally, completely AU. Sorry!
Follows: Part 1,Part 2
In the morning he is mobile once more though stiff and uncomfortable with it. We eat the last of the bandit’s meagre rations and cautiously make our way out of the cave.
“Fresh air!” I say happily. “Truthfully, Matthew, I would not have thought we two alone could stale the air that quickly.”
He laughs lightly and stretches. “Sickness and heat are poor aids to sweet air, highness.”
I follow him to the stream and we undress to bathe. The bandages on his back are stained yellow and brown but it seems that the swelling is almost gone. His body is broad and perhaps a little soft, lacking the definition of the guards. But the muscles are clear and definite and his skin fine. His shoulders and thighs are straight and strong. His eyes, when he sees me looking, are a little confused and a little hurt.
“Am I so distasteful to your highness?” he asks.
“Not at all.”
He is about to say something else when my member wakes fully. For the first time I can remember, it makes me blush. Matthew wades over to me.
“I ought to have watched more closely when I was being tended,” I say sheepishly.
Matthew takes my hand in his and puts it to my member. His other hand rests on my back, nearly spanning the breadth of it. His face is near mine as he moves my hand along my member. I feel his breath on my cheek as I look up at him. His eyes are huge and dark as he watches my face, my mouth.
“Does this feel pleasant?”
“Very,” I whisper. The heat from his body should be boiling the water.
He guides my hand to caress my inner thighs, my stones, and then my member again. He curls my hand around it and pushes it slowly up and down, increasing gradually in speed.
“And this?” he asks. “Pleasant?”
“Yes,” I mutter breathlessly. My forehead presses against his chest and my free hand rests on his shoulder. The pleasurable itch is building within and the smell of his skin is all over me. Light pulses behind my eyelids as I call out.
Matthew presses his lips to my cheek.
The fish are quick silver through the water. Matthew has a sharpened branch which he uses to spear them but alas I do not have the knack of it. Instead I tie Matthew’s worn shirt between two branches and use it as a net, scooping the fish up. I throw them down onto the bank where they wiggle for a few moments. Matthew throws his speared prey down besides them and smiles at me.
“A good haul.”
“They will go bad before we can eat them all,” I suggest.
“We can smoke them,” Matthew says. “Also there is a village not too far away. We could barter for salt or oil and bottle them.” He rubs his head. “By the time we reach Strathmore anything but fish will seem a luxury.”
I laugh and nod. “But at least we eat.”
There are clothes in the packs. They fit Matthew far better than me, truth be told, but they are clean and warm. We put the jewellery into the packs on the Arabian horse and bury our soiled clothes in the forest. Matthew tries to protest but I insist he take the bay horse.
“Then take the Arabian, highness,” he asks.
“You know we cannot risk it,” I say, helping him up onto the horse. “We agreed that the merchant will have sent out searchers and besides the horse is too fine. It will attract too much attention.”
Matthew sighs and grips the reigns.
I have rarely felt so deeply the weakness of my exercise regime. The poor horse snorts as, yet again, I have to stop and catch my breath.
“Highness, please?” Matthew puts his hand on my shoulder. “Ride a while?”
“We cannot both ride and you cannot walk,” I say, patting his hand. “When we reach Strathmore I beg you ensure that I take more exercise. It is most embarrassing.”
The weather is beautiful; azure skies with silver-white clouds drifting in the gentle breeze, and sunshine warm but not unbearable. There is a village in the distance; a few dozen buildings around a central square.
On the way we pass a few farms; bare fields with blighted, rotted soil or a few emaciated cows, huddled together lowing. Is this my kingdom to be? Desperate people in terrible straits while our table at court had food that would never, could never, be eaten.
“Tell me about politics?” I ask, looking up at Matthew. “There is more than simply a food shortage here.”
He nods slowly. “That is true. Disquiet has been building for some time.”
“Why?”
Matthew plays with the reigns. “The king suspended the representative assembly some months ago.”
“Oh, yes, I remember something about that. There was corruption in the system of election?” I ask.
“So it was said,” Matthew says carefully.
“By my father?”
“Indeed so,” Matthew agrees. “There has been growing unrest. Food is but one issue amongst many; taxation, freedom of religion, the natural place of men.”
I kick my boot against the track. “Is that not what the representative assembly is for? To deal with such issues?”
“That is an opinion, certainly,” he says with a mild smile. “Not one which the king agrees with.”
“Oh. No, of course not, I suppose he believes instead that they should do exactly as he says?”
Matthew smiles and shrugs. “The king’s views on the natural place of man are quite clear. There is himself, there are other royalty, the other aristocracy, free men, and slaves. Each man should stay in his place and each man should submit to his better.”
I look up at him. “Do you believe that?”
Matthew sighs and looks at me. “It matters not what I believe. It remains that there is rising... resistance.”
I almost stop where I am. “A revolution? Truly?”
“It might be that the attack on the palace was nothing but a riot,” Matthew says.
“If not... I can hardly think.”
Matthew pulls the horse to a halt and slides off painfully.
“I... I should have to go into exile. No, I... I do not think they would want to overthrow it all would they? My father has made mistakes and I ought to put them... put them right.”
Matthew puts a hand on my arm and I am suddenly pulling him tight to me. Too much, too much.
We rest a little while and I regain my equilibrium. Matthew does me the kindness of not pressing the issue but is instead gentle and solicitous.
“Do you know where your people are from?” I ask him.
“No highness, not here, as is obvious,” he says, gesturing at his face. “I believe there are those of my hue to the far north and perhaps of my build too.”
He reddens at that as if ashamed.
“I like your build.”
“Highness, really,” he stutters.
“Really, what?” I ask. “I do. It is very pleasing to me. You are very pleasing to me.”
Matthew squeezes his eyes shut. “Highness, I beg you go no further.”
“Do you not find me pleasing then?” I ask plaintively.
He snorts and laughs a little. “Of course I do.” He rubs his eyes and looks at me. “Highness, I will do anything you wish, anything, of course. But please let us not discuss this.”
“Why not?” I ask quietly.
“Because I know you,” he says simply. “You have your passions; strong but fleeting. I have no doubt your feelings are true at the time they are felt.” He shrugs. “But then they pass. You said yourself coupling is not worth throwing away a kinship.”
I touch his hand. “It would be different with you. You are not some passing fancy, Matthew.”
“May I speak plainly?”
I fear I might throw up. “Please do.”
Matthew takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “You are in distress, in pain, confused. You are reaching out for something known, something comforting. I do understand. Please understand me though. If we did this you would reject me afterwards and you would send me away.” He looks away. “I do not want to be sent away.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I promise.
“You would,” he says softly. “All I have is what you give me. Please don’t take everything away.”
I caress his face and he leans into my touch, eyes closed.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” I say again.
He catches my hand and squeezes it gently. “We should continue walking or we will be still here at nightfall and the cold will be excruciating.”
“I think perhaps your highness should wait here,” Matthew suggests. “I will go and make purchases.”
“You cannot protect me from the world,” I say.
“If I have to burn it to ashes,” he says firmly, taking me by surprise.
“What if while you are down there bandits attack here?” I ask meekly. “I will be defenceless.”
Matthew looks at me and sighs. “You are determined, highness?”
“You cannot call me ‘highness’ in front of others,” I point out. “Happily I hardly look the part right now.”
“As you wish, sir,” he says uncomfortably, leading the horse by the reigns.
“You could call me by my name,” I suggest, touching the back of his hand with my fingertips.
Matthew looks across at me. “I could not,” he retorts.
“I miss being called by my name,” I say as sadly as I can. “Only father did it. If someone does not use it regularly I will surely forget it!”
“Should I shout it angrily and throw my arms in the air also?” Matthew asks archly.
“If it pleases you,” I say sweetly.
He snorts and shakes his head.
“Matthew?”
“Yes h... sir?” he asks.
The village is quite close now. I can see people looking in our direction.
“Do you remember my mother?”
Matthew blows out his cheeks. “A little. I was very young when I was assigned to you. You were only a baby.” He smiles at me. “Happily little thing.”
“I was? I thought babies were all tears, feeding, and the other.”
Matthew shrugs easily. “Laughing too, you laughed more than you cried. The queen was kind, I remember that.” He reddens slightly at some memory. “I had been at the slave mongers long enough to miss the women who cared for me. I cried somewhat. The queen called me ‘little pet’, had me sit with her while the wet nurse fed you.” He sighs softly. “Then she went away and did not come back.”
“I did not know she cared for you,” I say quietly.
“Oh,” Matthew says, straightening. “I dare say she did not beyond finding me amiable and obedient.” He rolls his eyes. “Those were the words of my advertisement. ‘Healthy, amiable, and obedient; patient and good-natured especially with animals or children.”
“Had you been trained for children?” I ask curiously.
“As much as one can train a child that age. I learned more once in the women’s quarters. I could hold you safely though and keep you amused.”
The villagers stare as we enter the tiny cluster of houses. An odd sensation to have all attention fixed on Matthew but of course his hue marks him as exotic and strange.
They have little food beyond coarse maslin bread and are suspicious of the fish we have. Hungry overcomes propriety though and the little storekeeper gladly trades bread and bottles of oil for a few handfuls of fish.
“Where do you get your bread?” Matthew asks.
“Comes on the coach,” the shopkeeper breathes, as if afraid this strange visitation might strike him down.
“Coach?” I ask. “How often is the coach?”
“Twice weekly, due tomorrow.”
“Where can we buy passage?” Matthew asks sharply. “On the coach?”
The shopkeeper nods frantically. “The Inn has rooms if you mean to stay.”
“We know not where it goes,” I protest quietly as we head to the Inn.
“We have the merchant’s money still,” Matthew says smoothly. “For enough of that it will go wherever we might wish.”
“I shall have to pay that back,” I fret.
Matthew nods in agreement and touches my shoulder. “First duty to the country and then to the one subject, eh sir?”
The Innkeeper is desperately apologetic about the state of the rooms, the Inn, the village, everything and anything he both can and cannot control. Apparently simply having an exotic servant marks me out despite our attempts to blend in. Under other circumstances I would rather enjoy the attention that Matthew is attracting even though it embarrasses him.
The room is small, the bed frame has one leg shorter than the other three, and the mattress is damp and lumpy. After the woods and the cave is entirely wonderful.
Better is the tin bath the Innkeeper drags into the bedroom. It is a testament to the power of money that there has been no comment on the malodorous stench emanating from us both. The days without bathing would be bad enough but with Matthew’s infected wounds as well... most unpleasant.
We heat water in a cauldron over the fire and pour a mix of boiled and cold water into the bath. I undress first and climb into the water shivering happily at the heat. Matthew scowls at the tablets of harsh soap as if he can soften them with the power of his distaste. Despite the harshness of the soap, and the coarse brushes, it is both a relief and a pleasure when Matthew bathes me. His hands are as tender and knowing as ever; one hand tilting forward my head as the other hand guides the scrub brush over my neck, shoulders, and over my back.
Matthew’s thumbs rub into my back. I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees.
“That is most pleasant.”
“I regret having no scented oils,” he says quietly.
“Another time,” I murmur. “Matthew?”
“Sir?”
I shift my legs slightly. “I fear I need your aid.”
He snorts his amusement and his warm breath tickles the back of my neck. One hand rests on my shoulder and the other strokes along my leg and twixt my thighs.
I lie back in the water and watch him frown in concentration as he tends me with typical care. He smiles when my breath hitches; looks surprised when I put a hand around his nape and pull him into a soft kiss.
He blushes when he undresses. We take off the linen sheet carefully, and a couple of the bandages come with it. The uncovered wounds seem free of infection; pale and healing. There is a little scum of dried honey clear and brown over the top of them which will surely wash off. I have some concern about those bandages still adhering to his back; the dried liquid showing through the material.
“Lie back,” I say. “The bandages might come free when soaked.”
Matthew tries to reach for the soap and brushes but I hold them behind my back.
“Highness...”
“Sir,” I correct. “Or Mohinder, better.”
“Then I embarrass you with my stench longer than anticipated,” he says raising an eyebrow.
“Close your eyes,” I suggest, smiling at him. “Let me look after you.”
Matthew licks his lips and his fingers tap on the edge of the bath. “Is that a request or an order, Sir?”
“Please?” I ask sweetly as I can.
Matt grumbles to himself lightly but he closes his eyes.
I kneel by the side of the bath and lean up to carefully draw the coarse bristles across Matthew’s skin. He relaxes a little in the warmth of the water although his hands remain in his lap.
“Why so shy?” I ask. “I have already seen it all.”
He blushes even though he cannot see me. “I am not used to the scrutiny.”
“You think I am?”
“From me, certainly,” he answers mildly.
I put down the brush and rub my hand across his chest. He shivers at my touch though not, I think, unpleasantly.
“Is there another?”
Matthew opens his eyes and blinks at me. “Another? Another what?”
“Do you have a lover,” I say mildly. “Is that why you don’t want me?”
He shifts uncomfortably even as he shakes his head. “That... I do not, I could not, and it is not a matter of not wanting you,” he says. “I have been honest in my concerns.”
“I would let you take a lover,” I protest. “If you will not have me, then that at least would do you good. There is someone else then, is there?”
“I have been honest!” Matthew says hotly. “There is no other and never has been.”
“I meant no insult,” I say mildly. “It is a human enough need.”
“I am no dog to go running after every bitch in heat,” he growls.
I lean back on my heels. “Why are you angry?”
Matthew draws up his knees and puts his arms around them.
“Please forgive me, highness,” he says, not looking at me.
“Why are you angry?” I ask again, putting my hand on his shoulder.
“You make me want things I cannot have,” Matthew says quietly.
“Anything that is in my power, Matthew, anything at all is yours,” I promise.
He closes his eyes. “I wish you would not be kind to me.”
“You do make it difficult,” I say, ruffling his hair.
He smiles at that and moves forward so that I can check the bandages on his back.
The material is all soaked through; some of the bandages have already peeled off and the others are working loose.
“You are almost hale,” I say, carefully peeling the bandages away. “You heal quickly.”
Matthew makes no answer but a soft sigh. When I look I see that his cheek is pressed against his knee and his eyes are closed.
“Are you tired?” I ask quietly, smoothing the soap over his back with my hand.
“Hmm,” he murmurs.
I wash the dirt, sweat, and detritus from his back and rub gently at his shoulders until he smiles.
“Tickles,” he mutters drowsily. “Have to do it with more firmness.”
“Ah, I see.” I push my fingers into the tight muscles and he groans. A shiver runs through me at the sound. I move down his back and he keens softly in pleasure. A sound I’ve never heard from him before and yet so pleasing to hear it, and gratifying to know I am the cause of it.
He is near asleep when I am done and mutters complaints when I urge him out of the cooling bath water. In his sleepy, agreeably relaxed state he merely scowls at his nakedness and is easily persuaded to sit on the bed, atop a towel, while I dry him.
“It is enjoyable to be cared for, is it not?” I ask, drying his back and arms.
“Tis,” he agrees, tipping back his head and smiling at me. “I am unwell still.”
“A little,” I admit unwillingly. “Tired too, the day has been long and arduous.”
“The coach will be two days or so to Strathmore,” he yawns. “Then you will recover your senses.”
I walk around in front of him. “Recover my senses?” I ask uncertainly.
“Aye,” he says, eyes closed. “Have me sent away since you will not stand to look upon a slave you thought desirable; or have me killed for having seen you weak.”
I don’t sleep at all well.
For breakfast we eat some of the black bread which sits in the stomach with the grace of a dropped cornerstone. We are both quiet. The Innkeeper stares at my gold as though he fears it will turn to dust at any moment. He burdens Matthew down with brandy, ‘will help you heal’ and a clear, apple smelling liquid, ‘keeps the chill out – keep it away from metal!’
The coach is earlier than we dared hope and has only two patrons. A handful of gold each and suddenly they are in no hurry to reach their destination. Three handfuls for the driver and we are promised to make Strathmore before two days. Matthew makes to sit up top with the luggage, as if I would allow that even if he were not still recovering from his wounds.
“We ought to have brought...”
Matthew brings out a pack of cards from a pocket and holds them up.
“I swear sometimes you read my thoughts,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Your highness was never a patient traveller,” he says mildly, dealing out a hand each.
“Other times I wonder if you know me at all,” I choke the words out but better said than nestled in me, rotting slowly.
Matthew looks at me with the blankness of someone with no memory of the event. “Highness?”
“Last night, you said that when we reach Strathmore I would recover my senses.” My voice is shaking and I feel I might either be sick or weep.
Matthew shakes his head. “I do not know what that means or have recollection of having said it.”
“You were tired and suffering with the infection again,” I stutter. “When I asked what you meant...” A knot is in my throat and mouth. I try to swallow it and Matthew looks away, embarrassed for me or him I do not know. “You said I would either send you away in shame at having wanted you or have you killed for seeing me weak.”
His mouth is opening and closing but no words are coming forth.
“That is what you said and then you went to sleep! Is that what you think of me?”
“I... I...”
“Is it what you think of me?”
“No!” he almost howls.
“Then why say it?” I demand, whip fast.
“I know not!” He’s gasping for breath, red faced. “Perhaps I were babbling or confused.” Matthew calms himself with slow breaths. “It is unfair to hold me to words spoken when I am not myself. I do not hold your highness to his words and deeds when he is sodden with drink!”
He goes red as soon as the words are spoken and is clearly thinking how to take them back.
“What words and deeds?” I ask quietly.
“Highness...”
I hold up my hand. “Enough, this is ridiculous. We have been screaming at each other and we will speak honestly right now. No respectful ‘highness’, no polite prevarications, no lies. You are Matthew and I am Mohinder and, if it kill us both, I will have this business twixt us settled one way or the other by day end.”
Matthew thins his lips. “Know that I do not believe you will either kill me or send me away in Strathmore. You ought, perhaps, but you have too much kindness and sweetness to stomach it.”
“You say ‘kindness and sweetness’ as though they are some shortcoming.”
“Possibly, but you have a knack for engendering affection so I doubt any traitor would garner much support in your court,” he says with a shrug. “Other men will do your darker deeds for you.”
“Why do you not want me?” I ask baldly.
“I am sick of this,” Matthew says irritably. “I want you, have wanted you, and will want you. If I could live my life at your feet I would be content.”
“What?” I ask.
“You do not listen! You cannot tell when you are hearing the truth or at least you not wish to believe it,” Matthew says sharply. “I see you. I see you smiling and charming and seductive as you take those you want and then move on. Move on with no thought to the cost of your pleasure.”
“What cost?” I ask with sinking heart.
“Exactly, ‘what cost’ indeed,” he echoes bitterly. “What cost those already married or betrothed? What cost slaves sworn to the temple or to a master?”
“You mean the catamite?” I ask tentatively. “I thought he returned to the temple?”
“Aye,” Matthew says hotly. “For the last useful service a blasphemer can do. For the last ceremony.”
The carriage sways and fades in and out. “Executed?”
Matthew hesitates, his anger fading quickly. He tries to tip me back onto the seat. I grab his arms.
“Is he dead?”
“Highness...”
“Tell me!” I demand.
Matthew sighs and closes his eyes. “When I returned from taking the girl to the women’s quarters I found you lying with him. He was not bruised or marked, had not been taken by force.”
“Tell me,” I beg.
“He had broken his vows,” Matthew says softly.
“I killed him?”
“He broke his vows, he, not you. He knew what would happen if he were caught.”
I shake my head. “You hold me responsible.”
“I do not want to be another discarded toy,” he says calmly. “I will not apologise for it. I am not that boy. I cannot live by romantic fictions. A night of happiness will not support a lifetime of misery or my death,” he says very calmly.
“I would not ask you to. I do not think this is some passing fancy,” I say meekly. “The things you talk of are the work of intoxication. I am sober Matthew. Sober and have given much thought to it.”
He shakes his head. “The root is in drunkenness.”
“It is not,” I say, confused. “Truly I know quite clearly the moment I realised I wanted you.”
“Realised, yes,” Matthew says as if exhausted. “But not the moment you took it into your head to fancy me.”
I am missing some thread that connects this all together. “You said that you do not hold me to my words and deeds when I am drunk, and you say the root of my wanting you is in drunkenness. Did I try to seduce you?” I ask incredulously.
Matthew reddens. “It is of no matter.”
“Hypocrite!”
“What?” he asks.
“You hypocrite! After you lectured me that a drunken man is only a sober man with bravery! You have the nerve to say that it means nothing when I, drunk, want you but that it has meaning when I, drunk, am not violent!”
Matthew half smiles despite himself. “The debating tuition goes well I see.”
“Do not jest with me, I am angry! How dare you tell me over and over that I will discard you, that I have a mere fleeting interest, when you know right well I have had feelings for you longer than I realised!” I say hotly. “When was this? When did I try and seduce you?”
Matthew shuffles in his seat. “Highness...”
“More than days then, weeks?”
“This is to no...”
“Months? Have you known my feelings for months?” I demand.
Matthew shakes his head irritably. “Slurred protestations of love and attempting to remove my clothing are not proofs of deeper affection.”
I feel myself redden. “Not perhaps the most seductive approach you have ever received.”
Matthew subsides, shrugging in embarrassment. “I do not doubt that you want me now, although I know not why,” he says quietly. “I doubt that you will still want me afterwards.”
I lean forward and kiss him. He is tense for a moment before returning the kiss tentatively.
“This is not some drunken fumble,” I assure him. “Let me prove it.”
“Promise me that you will not send me away afterwards,” Matthew says quietly. “I will be a faithful slave even if you want me no more.”
“I promise.”
The coach stops late in the evening. We are further north in a larger settlement now. Matthew attracts a little less attention here or at least the stares are less obvious. The coach will set off again at dawn with fresh horses and a new consignment of post to carry.
We are both sore and tired as we exit the coach and head to the Inn. This one is larger and more comfortable although there is little intelligence to be had beyond confirmation of my father’s death.
In the room Matthew holds me for a long time. Just holds me close and lets me weep.
This Inn has potage which I have never had before. It is a strange sort of thick sort of soup with oats, a handful of peas, and black beans. Matthew’s expression when he tries the first mouthful is most amusing.
“At least it is not fish,” I suggest.
“That is so, highness,” he says dryly.
“Should we...”
He looks at me so evenly and steadily waiting to hear what I might say. We reach Strathmore tomorrow and I shall either be exiled or king. In either case nobody shall ever talk to me as Mohinder again. No-one will ever say anything that is purely, honestly felt. It will all be carefully chosen to attempt to get me to do what they want, say what they want. Any weakness exploited, any partiality manipulated.
“Highness?” he asks gently.
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper. “Not when we’re alone.”
I think for a moment he might protest but he just leans across and brushes his lips across my cheek.
“What ails?”
“Call me by my name?” I plead.
He moves next to me and I lean against him. “Mohinder,” he says, and I close my eyes. There is the rattle as he puts down his bowl and then he puts his arm around me. “When you were small you could not say my name,” he says fondly.
“Could I not? What did I call you?”
“Aaachoo! With the mime of a sneeze,” he says with deliberate gravity.
It makes me giggle. Most unKingly it must be said.
“I am fortunate to have someone who knows me so well,” I say patting his hand. “I have not always been grateful enough.”
“Anxiety about tomorrow is natural,” Matthew reassures.
I stand up and pull him to his feet. “I have you. I am content.”
It is such an unusual thing to be more confident, more secure in a task than Matthew. It is such a different thing to take care of him. It is unusual, different, and entirely pleasant. To hear his breath hitching, feel his heart hammering, see his fingers gripping the sheets.
He is self-conscious and diffident afterwards. Reaches up as if he wants to touch me but dare not. Watches me wide-eyed.
“Am I a disappointment after the boy at the whorehouse?” I tease.
“It pleases you to taunt your faithful slave,” he says, smiling at me.
“Of course, is it not our way?” I kiss his throat. “I must take my pleasure while I can.”
“Oh?” he asks, uncertainly.
I run my fingers over the chest I have been coveting. “You were always a quicker study than I. Soon enough you will be a more confident and better lover than I am.” I steal another kiss. “Then you will have it all your own way.”
In his way he is as nervous as I am but he hides it better. He grips his sword tightly as the coach is stopped at the gates of Strathmore.
The door is yanked open and a guard finds himself with a blade edge caressing his throat. His eyes on me though.
“Highness... Sire! The king!” he stammers.
Matthew removes his sword and the door is slammed shut and we sweep on. We can hear shouts outside. The tension is unbearable as we to see if there will be jeers or cheers.
Most of the court is here and all of the army. Without my father there has been infighting between the lords, the army commanders, and such of the representative assembly as have forced their way in.
“We must stamp down hard...”
“We must reinstitute the assembly...”
“Punish the...”
“Attack the...”
“Enough!” My voice carries further than I thought possible. “Famine first, that is the most pressing issue. Have the assembly members recalled. They shall arrange distribution of food in each district.”
Uproar below stairs. The cook screaming blue murder and Lord of the Pantry babbling like a fool. They do not even notice me until I am stood before them. I mean to be the sort of ruler who can and does go everywhere.
“What is this pandemonium?”
“A slave,” the cook spits. “Came in here with guards and started taking away food!”
“Are we short of food?” I ask.
The Lord of the Pantry waves his hands desperately. “No high... sire. No, there is plenty until the solstice.”
“Good, I fail to see the problem then.”
I find Matthew at the gate supervising the distribution of food to the villagers. The guards shuffle away as he walks to me, kneels, and kisses my boots.
“Nonsense,” I murmur. “Get up.”
“Yes, sire,” he says meekly.
“You are causing uproar I am told.”
Matthew nearly smiles. “A good slave anticipates his master’s desires. I anticipated that your majesty would wish the excess food from the kitchens given to the needy.”
“That is not the issue,” I say, struggling to restrain my own smile. “I fear your rank is restricting you from making the most of your abilities.”
“Sire?”
I shrug and smile at him reassuringly. “The privy council are all my father’s men. I need new blood. I give you your freedom, Matthew, on condition you will accept Duke of Parkman, household steward. There is land but I would have you here. As you know that role would mean you are still be tasked with my care, alas. A prince may be bathed by a slave but a king must be cared for by a lord.”
“You do not have to do this,” Matthew says after a few moments. “Serving is enough reward.”
“I wish to.”
“There will be repercussions,” he warns.
“There are always are. Will you accept?” I smile at him.
“As always, majesty, I am entirely yours to command,” Matthew says with a smile.
The End
Sequel The Favourite
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Date: 2009-05-19 11:57 pm (UTC)I love the growing understanding between Matt and Mohinder in this, and the way that while Mohinder's spoiled and inconsiderate to start, he's never heartless or cruel. His affection for Matt is there right from the start and it just takes him awhile to realize and express it.
And Matt's so completely devoted even when Mohinder's being a brat. His gradually having to accept some measure of care from the man he's used to taking care OF is such a warm, beautiful thing. :D
Love it, as always! <333
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Date: 2009-05-20 04:47 am (UTC)I love the growing understanding between Matt and Mohinder in this, and the way that while Mohinder's spoiled and inconsiderate to start, he's never heartless or cruel. His affection for Matt is there right from the start and it just takes him awhile to realize and express it.
I really didn't want to do one of those stories where the 'rich' or 'posh' person gets humiliated and laughed at for not knowing all about being poor or whatever. It seemed more interesting for him to be more out of touch - with Matt's reality and his own emotions - than stupid.
His gradually having to accept some measure of care from the man he's used to taking care OF is such a warm, beautiful thing.
Aww thanks! I'm really glad it worked for you <333
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Date: 2009-05-20 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-20 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-20 04:50 am (UTC)First, the image of little!Matt taking care of baby!Mohinder is adorable!!!
And this is me being all kinds of wrong, but also the image of Matt being whipped (and Mohinder watching) and Matt kissing Mohinder’s boots…lds;ajgfasjfosidjafoaihi uj
Really, this was one of your Epic fics. Your attention to detail is amazing!! All your research paid off. I even had to look up a few words you used!!! (Well, for me that’s not saying much, I always have a dictionary around :/ )
And I got all teary eyed when Mohinder told Matt he was beautiful and Matt thought Mohinder was teasing him. *sigh* Yeah, this and “The Gift’ are my favorites! ! <3
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Date: 2009-05-20 05:05 am (UTC)First, the image of little!Matt taking care of baby!Mohinder is adorable!!!
Phew! That's a relief as I was slightly concerned it might seem creepy with them ending up together. But I really wanted to have them have that long history together.
And this is me being all kinds of wrong, but also the image of Matt being whipped (and Mohinder watching) and Matt kissing Mohinder’s boots...
Hee! I thought you might like those.
I even had to look up a few words you used!!!
Damn, really? I worry that takes people out of the story. Maybe I should put a glossary at the beginning for this kind of story.
I'm really glad you liked it! Thanks so much <333
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Date: 2009-05-20 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-20 02:59 pm (UTC)But yeah I liked the idea of Mohinder finding out that he actually was capable when push came to shove and learn to think of other people. Heh, how moralising does that sound?
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Date: 2009-06-23 12:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 08:15 pm (UTC)Just really, really lovely. ♥
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Date: 2009-06-25 09:01 pm (UTC)I know that really a whipping boy would be the son of a member of the court but I thought I could get away with cheating :D I must admit to thinking a little of Edward II and his favourites when I planning it :)
Thanks so much for the feedback! <333
Speechless...
Date: 2009-07-09 10:28 am (UTC)The way Mohindar truly try to open his eyes, understand the world, and make amends is very earnest and beautiful. His slow realization of the consequences of his actions is very subtle and gut-wrenching at the same time. There were a few times where tissues were needed before going on with the story!
The storyline is fantastic. I never knew what to expect next! I even read some lines over and over because they were just so powerful.
“All I have is what you give me. Please don’t take everything away.” Oh my gosh!! *Tears*
Thank you for writing this beautiful story.
-A happy anonymous story reader
Re: Speechless...
Date: 2009-07-09 04:14 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for such a beautiful, thoughtful comment. I'm touched that you enjoyed it so much and very appreciative that you let me know how much you liked it.
Thank you so much and I hope if you read any of my other stories that you like them too> <333