Flashback
Young lord Calon Myseine al Shaeraban, firstborn son and heir to lord Khelanor Myseine al Shaeraban and all the power the title entailed, had never been much for entertaining the masses. Not like the prince was, waving and smiling, and accepting tokens from the people lining the wide main street called Honor, leading up to the castle of the city of Semban.
It was the second day of the spring month, the prince's birthday, and it was the reason they were out here now, making themselves available to the people at the head of a large procession in honor of the prince.
The prince looked splendid this day, in his favored blue velvet jacket and gold trimmed cape, a wide belt circling his waist twice to keep the ceremonial sword in its jeweled sheath secure at his left hip. Dark velvet breeches and leather boots polished until they shone completed the ensemble. His golden hair was intricately braided, a few wisps of hair loose and framing his face. He was smiling again, his blue eyes shining with mirth and good humor. Prince Kell Deasir al E'Tharion truly loved this day.
Calon liked to think of it as displaying his status, letting all and sunder know just who he was and whom he was a close confidante of. For not everyone were confidantes of the prince heir, and it was important to Calon to show he still held that position.
And he would do anything to keep it. His father was a great benefactor and supporter of the king, and Calon had always known he'd follow in his father's footsteps.
The prince laughed where he rode on his dappled grey gelding just ahead of Calon's open carriage, twirling the stem of a fine red rose between his fingers, before kissing its petals and tossing it back into the sea of outstretched hands. Calon didn't see who caught it, not that he cared either – there was nothing so boring in Calon's mind as public displays, and he wouldn't abandon his plush, velvet seat for a hard saddle just to have a better view – but a blessed item from the prince's hand was a much desired possession. Calon wondered idly if the flower would even be in one piece when it reached its final owner.
"Come now, Cal!" the prince said to him, smiling, as he steered his horse closer to the carriage. "Don't look so gloomy, my birthday is not a funeral and I wouldn't want the people to think I bore you!"
Calon felt a flush rising from his chest below the collar of his brocade jacket; he'd not meant to shame the prince. "I beg your forgiveness, my prince. I shall strive to do better by you." He bowed his head where he sat, and the prince laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Fool." But it was said without reproach and the prince reached out a hand clad in finest leather to clasp Calon's shoulder briefly, before riding ahead again, the horse's tack and bit jingling.
Calon felt a smile touch his lips, he was favored this day. Surely many had seen the easy display of camaraderie. He knew the noble men and women in the coach behind his certainly had, and he hoped they interpreted it correctly. He knew his position with the prince was secure, few had gotten close to him and even fewer had remained close. It seemed Calon was the only constant in the prince's inner circle, and he was proud to be part of it.
He would surely become a great man like his father one day, perhaps even greater, and accompanying the prince heir on his way to the throne was the way to accomplish all his goals, he was certain of it.
* * * * * * * *
Kell never thought about his dealings with the people around him as anything else than what was expected of him, so accepting the invitation to a certain social gathering, or agreeing to come on a hunt with a favored courtier in the Far-reach forest, was never a chore. In fact, he enjoyed it all, more or less, and usually saw it as another opportunity to learn more about and get a new opinion on what would one day become his kingdom and subjects.
The celebration of his birthday was one such event, but a much more festive one, and much more personal. It was the day when he spent half the waking hours receiving gifts, well wishes, and cheers from the people and nobles, and the other half in blessed quiet seclusion with a select few of his closest friends.
The first half of the day was now over and he let out a relieved sigh as he opened the doors to his private rooms in the heir's wing and held them open to let Calon, his sister Eoline and her ladies, and young lord Elrin enter. He told the servant waiting on them to bring light refreshments and wine, which was all they could manage after the six course banquet in his honor earlier.
Calon and the others were in the sitting room, having found their favorite seats on divans and loungers, and Kell sat down on the comfortable sofa next to Calon. His friend offered him a sidelong glance under his lashes and a small smile, like they had just shared a private joke. Kell smiled back.
It was a few pleasurable hours during which they shared gossip and rumors everybody knew, and others that only a select few of the nobles were privy to. Many good laughs were had, as well as sweet cakes and pastries and fruits, Sorumian chocolate, and rich red wine. Kell felt his muscles loosen and his mood hit that perfect place where there were no worries at all.
The city bells had struck midnight when his guests announced it was time to leave. None of them wished to impose on the prince too long or seem rude. Even if they all knew Kell would never throw them out, it was best not to risk his displeasure and the at times precarious position in his inner circle. The young prince did have a temper after all, one they were careful not to rouse.
Calon, of course, stayed a while longer. Kell was familiar enough with the looks he had received during the day to know what his friend wanted. Kell felt a bit of the same needs lurking deep in his stomach, and some easy pleasure was never to be turned down, not when it came from someone as skillful and confident as Calon.
He wondered sometimes where Calon had learned it all, but was pleased that he was on the receiving end of the attention. Calon showed him the enjoyments of having another man in bed and they sought release by hands and mouth.
Calon had once asked him to take him in his mouth, and young and eager to explore, Kell had agreed. But after Calon had gotten too passionate, Kell gagging and lurching back almost in shock from the forceful, insistent hands on his head, he would allow it no more.
Nor had he ever allowed penetration into his own body, feeling it was too intimate a joining to engage in lightly, and he didn't consider their play was enough to warrant it. In return he didn't penetrate Calon either, and the lord couldn't very well argue the point. "Receive none – give none", as the pleasure girls used to say.
But after having agreed on a loose set of rules Kell felt secure in the lord's hands and ended his birthday, as many a nights before, in bed with his closest confidant and friend, giving and receiving pleasure, touching, caressing, kissing and stroking until they both fell asleep.
* * * * * * * *
Calon had been invited to the prince's rooms with a short note saying he was wanted. He had perhaps read more into the message than was necessarily correct, but the prince had been away with his father and some important men from around the kingdom for nearly a week, and Calon desperately wanted to see him. In private, preferably.
He groomed himself to look his best, and presented his noble self at the prince's door only one hour after he had received the note. A proper time of response would have been closer to two hours, but he was certain the prince wouldn't argue.
Kell was pacing the small sitting room when Calon was ushered inside by a servant, the prince looking thoughtful with a small frown on his face. He gestured for Calon to sit, but he wouldn't unless the prince did as well.
"Something the matter, my prince?" he asked.
Kell stopped pacing, glanced his way and shrugged. "Not exactly. I've had a few interesting days, that's all."
"Then what?" Calon asked. He wondered about those men they had seen. It was rumored they had been more than just men, and that the meeting had been long since decided. "Have a seat, my prince, some wine, and let us talk." He could be satisfied with that, he told himself. But the prince turned to him, looking confused and almost defeated.
"I feel I need to move on, Cal," he blurted out. "It's like I'm looking for something. I haven't found it yet and the urge to keep searching is so strong I cannot stand still some days. It feels like I'm supposed to have more than this," the prince spread his hands as he said it.
Calon stood staring for a long moment, baffled, shocked, angry, empty. "And what is it you're seeking, my prince?" he managed to ask finally, when he had composed himself enough. "If you tell me perhaps I can assist you?" He was being gracious now.
But Kell only smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "If I knew what I was looking for I probably would have it in my possession by now." He looked a bit rueful. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Cal," he dared use Calon's nickname at a moment like this! "I never meant to use you in such a way, although it was pleasurable while it lasted, you must agree." He peered up at Calon from under his lashes. "I hope you're not angry with me?"
Calon opened his mouth as if to say something, but his tongue refused to work.
Kell removed his hand and took a step back when Calon's expression turned cold. "I'm sorry, truly I am. I thought you realized we were only ever playing. It can never be more than easy pleasure between us, Cal. My father wouldn't allow it and ending it now is easier for us all."
Calon felt his hands curl into fists. "'Play', you say," he hissed. "All the pleasure I gave you with my own hands, all the seed I offered you to spill on my skin, and it was only ever play!" his voice rose on the last few words and the prince flinched back. That angered him even more. "I never 'play', Kell," he spat, the prince's name a curse upon his tongue, and took a step forward. When the prince backed away Calon took another.
"I do everything with the utmost intent, everything to the best of my abilities, and to realize my goals. I never, never do anything for play!"
Kell raise his hands in a mollifying gesture. "I didn't mean to belittle you or your efforts, any of them. But to me this is a friendship with very personal benefits, and I cannot favor any one person like that for long without losing the support and respect of so many others. I will need their support later on, and angering anyone now would do me no favors."
"But you don't hesitate to anger me!" Calon growled. "You do not hesitate to risk my support!"
Kell looked almost shocked. "Surely you can't take this all so seriously? You know what I have told you to be true, Calon. I cannot keep such a close relationship with you any longer."
There was a finality in the prince's voice that didn't sit well with Calon. He straightened his spine to the point of tension and pulled his lips back from his teeth. "Then you shall be rid of me!" he nearly shouted, slashing out with his hand. "You shalln't have to lay your eyes on me ever again!" And with those words he stalked out, in his mind promising himself to never again return to the prince heir's side.
* * * * * * * *
Kell didn't reflect much over the why's or where fore's of his and lord Calon's breaking. He knew Calon was angry with him, but hoped his friend would come around as soon as he had calmed down. He knew Calon to have a bit of a hot temper at times, and they had had arguments before with short pauses in their near constant friendship.
Kell's sister Beanice often said they argued like brothers and made up like lovers, what with how sweetly Calon treated Kell after such spats. Even though the terms of their relationship weren't correct, Kell wondered if she truly knew how close to the truth she was.
This time was no different, Kell thought. Calon had come back into his social life after nearly a month of sulking somewhere out of the prince's way, granted, that was a bit longer than usual. When he returned though, his smile was as cool and composed as it had ever been, his glances and touches as full of meaning as before. But he suited himself to Kell's wishes and stayed out of his bed.
So it was with an easy heart and a little welcome excitement that Kell accepted Calon's invitation to spend a number of summer weeks at lord Shaeraban's estate. The lord himself went away for a few weeks to tend to business, and Calon and Kell had the manor to themselves. The young lord took over the role as host to the prince heir and was ever gracious and generous.
Kell enjoyed the stay, taking full advantage of the freedom seldom had, to dress himself as he wished, and speak without having to watch every word out of his mouth, and to take his horse on a ride without the ever present guards. Calon spoiled him, indulged his every whim, and Kell couldn't really begrudge him the few casual touches the lord allowed himself.
But as the days rolled by Calon seemed to become more brooding, restless, and the glances he gave Kell now were darker, needier, full of a meaning that Kell couldn't interpret. One evening as they sat idly sipping some fine wine in the parlor, Calon began talking of things Kell hadn't even begun contemplating.
"I've had on my mind for some time," he began slowly, "a few concerns, my prince."
Kell turned to him, wondering what his friend might need help with, he'd gladly give it. He nodded to indicate Calon had his attention.
"I'm concerned for the future of this kingdom," Calon continued, his eyes on the fire dancing merrily in the lavish marble hearth.
Kell frowned. "The kingdom?" he asked. "What concerns might this be?"
Calon turned to him. "The current king have many years left to his reign, I'm sure. But the future king must have advisors and supporters as strong to be certain to keep the throne within the dynasty, and indeed within the kingdom itself."
Now Kell started to get concerned too. "What are you talking about, Calon?" He leaned forward in his seat. "Are you implying treason to the king?" His palm felt damp around the wineglass.
"Oh, no! Not treason, my prince. Certainly not, and most assuredly not by me!" Calon gave Kell a stiff smile. "My family goes back too far with the crown to ever consider any foul deeds against the royal family."
Only slightly reassured Kell sat back again. "Then what do you mean?"
Calon was silent for a moment, taking a sip of his wine before he continued. "I mean that you should start cultivating your closest allies, making sure you have sufficient and powerful support once the day comes for you to ascend the throne."
Kell blinked. "Right. But as you said, it's years, perhaps even decades, until that day. My father is healthy and he has a strong grip on the crown. You should know this, Calon; your father is his benefactor."
Calon nodded curtly, his brow furrowed. "Of course. But there is always uncertainty in the days between one ruler and the next, and opportunity could present itself when a competitor might make a claim on the throne. Heirs have been known to die in their sleep and a new dynasty ascend to rule in their stead."
Kell hoped he didn't look as unnerved by this talk as he felt. "And you would know if such an opportunity would arise? If any noble would compete with me for the kingdom?" A knot of anxiety was beginning to form in Kell's gut.
"I might," Calon said slowly. "You will need someone by your side, someone powerful enough to ward off any threat to your person."
"And that someone would be you, then?" he risked asking.
The lord looked at him with an expression that told Kell that was obviously the case. "I am forever loyal to you, my prince. I am the most ultimate companion by far, and I know how the court works. I'd make sure your reign was secure and successful before it even began."
To Kell this didn't sound so reassuring. He wondered what enemies he might have and what would befall those who didn't align themselves with his leadership.
"I know you only mean well, Calon. But I'm sure my father would leave me the throne secure and with it a few advisors who can teach me how to best rule the kingdom." Kell had a few men in mind that he might choose himself when the time came. Calon would be disappointed to know he wasn't one of them.
Calon almost glared at him, something dark briefly flickering across his face. "You need to understand, my prince, that no one would compare to me. I have connections that would benefit you greatly." His voice lowered to a deep murmur. "You should consider my offer with great care."
This whole conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn, that sounded to Kell like a threat. He swallowed the last few mouthfuls of his wine, reluctant to leave the glass filled since it could be taken for offence. He daren't risk it with how this evening was turning out. He rose, keeping an eye on Calon.
"I'll consider all you've said tonight. But the hour is late and I've not the clear head I'd need to wholly grasp all implications." He stepped away. "If you'll excuse me, I shall seek the comforts of my bed." He bowed his head slightly and left the parlor, feeling Calon's gaze on his back every step of the way.
He leaned heavily against the door to his rooms when he closed it behind him. Sweet gods! What was Calon talking about?! Kell didn't know how to most easily handle this, to make sure he didn't hurt Calon's feelings, and harm the lord Shaeraban's and the king's positions in the process. Offended nobles were not easy to deal with, and this family was particularly important to keep on good terms with; like Calon had said, they had been on the side of the E'Tharion dynasty for generations. Their two families even had some blood relations far back in the lines, if Kell remembered correctly.
He raked a hand through his hair and pushed away from the door to get ready for bed. He'd have to discuss this with his father, and in a way that didn't imply any foul deeds on anyone's part.
At first he didn't register what the sound was, but the click of the door closing behind him had him spinning around. Calon stood in his room, his eyes dark of malice, and his posture taut with intent.
"Calon?" Kell began, sudden anxiety nearly choking him, this didn't look like the Calon he knew.
"You dare reject me!" Calon said, his voice dark, and started walking closer. "You dare turn down my offers like they were worth nothing!"
"I said I'll think about…" Kell began, but was cut short when Calon swung his fist and hit Kell backhanded across the mouth. Shocked, Kell could only stare wide-eyed and trembling, with the taste of copper on his tongue.
"You will do more than think, prince," Calon hissed as he stalked closer, forcing Kell to retreat around the room. Kell's heart stuttered with fear in his chest. "You will give me what I want."
"No…" Kell began again, not sure he even knew what he wanted to say. It was barely a whisper, but Calon's eyes narrowed when he heard it.
"You dare!" he yelled and lunged at the prince so fast Kell barely had the chance to throw his arms up.
Blows rained down on him, fists finding his vulnerable ribs and stomach. Kell cried out, shocked, scared, incredulous that this was happening. But survival instincts screamed at him and he finally scrambled out of reach.
Not watching where he went, he took a step back and nearly stumbled over a small table. Calon pressed on, sensing the weakness in his prey. Kell blocked a fist only to have the other crashing into his shoulder. With a startled cry he leapt back, numbing tingles trailing down his arm.
"I've never been so offended," Calon growled, not immediately following. "I seek to follow in my father's footsteps and you will not stand in my way."
Kell stared, panting and sweating with fear. It was unreasonable to be this scared, a part of him said, he'd sparred on occasion with Calon and knew how the lord moved. Why was this any different?
Because this was not in good humor. Because Calon was not reasonable, attacking him with malicious intent and a darkness in his eyes Kell had never thought he'd ever see aimed at him. What was happening here was surreal, absurd.
Kell's senses were extremely alert now, every muscle poised and ready to defend, to fight. Perhaps that was why he didn't die that night, or perhaps Fate was with him.
"I never play," Calon said and came at him. "And you will not say no to me again!"
Kell cried out, scrambling back without watching where he stepped, and he stumbled and nearly fell when the heel of his boot caught on the edge of a thick rug.
He flailed, his balance poor, and Calon took his chance. He tackled Kell, a shoulder to his chest, and they both toppled over. Breath rushed out of Kell's lungs when they landed and his vision darkened for a brief moment. He could hear Calon chuckle deeply close to his ear, the lord's body a suffocating weight over his own.
Panic and fear made him strike out with a fist. He hit something and Calon grunted. He thrashed and kicked, and something fell with a scraping of metal and crashed to the floor not far from their heads.
"Damn you!" Calon spat, struggling to keep the prince under him.
Kell was lost in panic, his vision tunneling and his breath coming in short, sharp pants. He screamed and flailed desperately. Calon caught one of his wrists and trapped it under their bodies, the other he pinned to the floor above Kell's head. He bared his teeth, his breath hissing out between them, and rested all of his weight on Kell's chest.
"You will not say no to me, prince." Calon's words reached Kell's ears in a hoarse murmur and his brain registered just what meaning and intentions they held.
Calon's other hand was pushing Kell's belt and tunic up, tugging on his lacings, trying to free them from his breeches. Cool air hit Kell's skin and he sucked in a breath in reaction. What was happening?
There was a harsh yank on the waistband of his breeches and he heard fabric tear.
"Calon, no!" Kell cried out. Calon only laughed, his breath pumping ragged and moist across Kell's face. He tried to twist and wriggle free but Calon stopped him by pushing a sharp hipbone down on his groin. Pain flared out in his limbs and tears leaked from behind his lashes. With a whimper he stilled.
How absurd was it that he had been in a position much like this before, with Calon's body covering his own, but in such a way that there was never any threat, despite them both being naked. Calon's grip on his wrists and Calon's hands on his body had never been harsh or hurtful, only demanding and firm. Kell had had to say no before, a couple of times, but Calon had always backed off, even if he had pouted and asked ‘why not'. But he had respected Kell's wishes.
No more, it seemed.
Calon's hand sought Kell's flesh, nails scraping his skin and leaving red marks in their wake. Calon shifted and Kell became frighteningly aware of the hard ridge pressed against his inner thigh.
Calon chuckled at his wide-eyed fear and harsh breath. "You will take me back, prince, and you will give me what I want."
There was a moment when Calon leaned down to fasten his lips to Kell's mouth, where Kell found the weight on top of him shifted enough for him to find leverage, and he took his chance. He yanked his trapped arm free and aimed a blow to Calon's side. The lord yelled and jerked his head up to gasp for breath.
With a harsh cry Kell's hand shot up, his fingers poised like claws, and he aimed for the lord's face. He didn't really see or care what he hurt, only that he needed to get free. His nails caught on the lord's eyelids and Calon screamed, his one hand going up to cover his hurting eyes, and he reared up off of Kell.
The prince thrashed to get out from under the man still straddling his thighs, and Kell never saw the blade being drawn. He had never known Calon carried a dagger and not until the blade caught the light of a lamp did he realize what danger he was in. The need to flee became overwhelming.
By now Calon was angry enough and the scratches on his face hurting enough that he knew no reason. Vengeance was foremost in his mind, for if his flawless face was marred he'd show no mercy.
Kell saw this in his attacker's eyes, darkness flickering in the grey depths. As the dagger was raised Kell instinctively threw his arms up to shield his face, and twisted as much as he could to cover his vulnerable torso.
But as Calon growled under his breath and his fist with the dagger came down, Kell made one last desperate effort and kicked out with his legs, thrusting his hips up and briefly making the lord lose his balance. This saved him from certain death. The dagger slashed at an angle down across Kell's side, getting tangled in his clothes and catching his hip, tearing cloth and flesh alike.
He cried out, bucking as pain overcame him, and flailed his arms around. One fist hit Calon in the chest.
The blood on the lord's dagger must have pulled him out of his madness, for he leapt off and away from the prince like he carried the plague. Kell rolled into a tight ball, his hands pressed to the wound to staunch the blood, warm and wet against his skin. It hurt so much, every nerve screaming with pain and shock, all he could do was lie there and pant for breath through clenched teeth.
For a long, pain-filled moment all he could sense was his own clammy, cold body. But then sight returned and with it a dark shadow looming over him, light from the lamps glinted off bloodied metal and Kell froze, fear returning to him and turning his limbs to water.
Calon stared at him, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a thin, humorless smile. His eyes raked over Kell's trembling body in a disconcerting fashion, not unlike the ways he used to look at the prince in much more pleasant circumstances. He spoke.
"You see now of what I am capable," he began in a low voice. "Imagine this turned against your enemies, for your benefit. They will have nothing that I cannot combat." He stepped closer, his expression now one of intense zeal. "For you, my prince, I would have the king himself killed, if you asked it of me. And make no mistake, I am capable to see it done."
Kell held his breath, unable to rise or look away from the madman standing over him. This couldn't be true, not the king. Not his father.
"Yes," Calon said slowly. "The king. I'd see his reign ended, his supporters and courtiers ruined, even exiled if they wouldn't follow you. Do not doubt that I have the power, prince."
Kell heard a weak whimper issuing from his throat. Calon laughed.
"Which is why you will speak of this to no one. This never happened. You will return to your mother's bosom and never utter a foul word of me in you life, or I shall see it all done." Calon crouched down and fisted one hand in Kell's hair. "You can never escape me, my prince."
* * * * * * * *
It was nearly an hour after Calon had left before Kell found the strength to move. Even then stars burst in front of his eyes and his ears started ringing, the room spun and wavered and he retched up bile and what little there was of supper.
A cold sweat broke out and pain flared in his hip and from other numerous points on his body, but he managed to stumble into the bath. Fighting down nausea as much from pain as from fear, he tore at his clothes with trembling hands. He found a small pile of linen hand towels and used one and the cold water in the basin to clean the wound as much as he could. It had already started scabbing at the ends, but started seeping again as he touched it. Thank the gods it was a clean cut and narrow thanks to the sharp blade, if there was such a thing as thankfulness in this situation. He had to stop several times, tears leaking from his eyes to blur his vision and sobs coming from his mouth.
This couldn't be happening, he told himself again. How could this be happening?
Gritting his teeth he made a bandage of another towel and the sash of a silk robe. It would have to do, he could manage no more. He felt weak to the bone, like all muscles had turned to water. Even standing up slowly all blood left his head and he slumped back down to the cold tile floor.
He had no notion of how long he sat there this time, battling nausea and faintness. But eventually he regained his feet and wobbled into the bedroom. It was with relief and a slight sense of dread that he crawled as well as he could under the covers.
What he wouldn't give to have his sister here now. She was so often a great comfort to him when he was out of sorts, from sickness or offended pride, soothing him with her soft words and generous care. But home and family were miles away and none could be found in this place.
Kell's greatest friend and confidante had turned on him in the cruelest fashion imaginable. He wondered how much of a miracle it was that he was still alive. Who could he turn to for trust and friendship now? He was certain there was no one.
It was with hopelessness and dark despair that Kell cried himself to restless, hollow sleep.
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