Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Author's Note: Thanks to Mandi, my adored beta, for making this a chapter coherent, which is not an easy thing considering how strange my ramblings can be! If Thomas doesn't smarten up soon you have my permission to use the WHACKING stick on him!! :-) And thank you to Rene for being the slave driver that she is. :-p
Chapter 6
It was very late when the guards came for Jason. He was waiting outside the slave barracks for their arrival and went willingly. He trusted the instinct that told him he would not be harmed again that night as he made his way into the palace.
He also knew that this had to be dealt with quickly for there was more damage to be done that night. He could not be sure but the boy who Thomas had witnessed being beaten... Jason had heard the whispers of why he had been taken to the dungeons but not of who it had been.
Trip had yet to return from his evening job of cleaning the dishes for the kitchen slaves. If one of their number had taken ill the small slave could easily have been called upon to deliver Daemon's meal. Jason hoped it was not so and not only for the yet innocent slave child. If Trip had been tormented...
Eric had not returned when the guards led Jason into the palace. He had been part of a small slave contingent sent to work in the king's field that day. They did not make the journey back to the palace until well after dusk. If he arrived to find Trip missing or beaten... Jason did not want to think what his fellow slave would do.
If it was so, Jason needed to be present. He could only hope Thomas would not require his presence for long.
Thomas was standing, staring out one of the windows of his chamber, when the guards delivered Jason into the ornate room with a rough thrust through the open door. They followed him, hiding their sniggers of laughter and stopped, unsure of how to proceed. They rarely had these sorts of dealings with the prince.
"Leave us," Thomas ordered without turned.
The guards looked reluctant but did not make a sound of protest. The prince was more difficult to read than his father, who simply wanted cruelty and obedience. One guard shoved Jason slightly as they left, no doubt to remind him of his place as was so popular, but they said nothing to Thomas.
Jason remained silent, studying Thomas carefully as he waited for him to speak. The younger man's posture was tense; his head bowed slightly as if something heavy rested atop it, forcing it down. He simply emanated discomfort and unrest.
"What is it you want from me?" Thomas began at last. "I never know what to expect from you. I do not understand why you even bother with this charade of kindness at times. So what is it you want from me? What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing," Jason told him. "I want you to do nothing. Doing for me will get you nowhere. I want you to be."
"Be? Be what?" Thomas demanded his tone frustrated.
"What you have inside, what you already are," Jason's eyes were piercing, "but are afraid to be. I want you to be what I have sensed inside you, what I know is there, only hidden away because of your fear."
Thomas snorted, sick of the cryptic words. "You speak of foolishness, of dreams, of nothing but utter nonsense. If you have sensed something in me, which I do not believe you have, you are mistaken."
"Your fear speaks for you, as it should. Your father is a powerful man but he is not indestructible and he is well aware of this. He does not like competition so he has cowered you, bent you to his will from fear of him. Eventually, you may begin to question, to fight this, even without my influence, and then what will become of you?"
Thomas' knuckles whitened with strain as his grip on the windowsill tightened noticeably. He snarled, "You know not what you speak of!"
"I know of your grandfather." Jason's voice was soft, yet still managed to shatter Thomas' defences.
Thomas' eyes widened in surprise and anger, he turned to stare at Jason, fury overpowering the disbelief in his face. "That is not possible! His name is no longer spoken within these walls."
"The silent observers of this castle, of the world, speak to me." The odd eyes were suddenly enflamed with an intense fire and Thomas found himself entranced by the gaze. "I know of what your father saw to. I know how he executed the old, good man. I know you mourned his loss in silence, in fear of what your father may have done to you. I know you cried to the shadows of the night as only a bewildered, wounded child can."
Thomas shuddered once as Jason continued, the cold of his memories creeping through his bones. "I know you did not understand, do not still, the dank darkness that swallowed this land. I know what he did to you, how he kept you from fighting. I know your sorrow, your whimpers in the night when darkness can hide your tears with her gentle blanket. I know of you, Thomas, and I know what will become of you."
Thomas was frozen, his mouth bound by ice so not even the sound from the quick intake of breath could escape. Jason continued on, "Perhaps you will rebel, will fight his iron fist and, if so, die under it, but this is not the fate I see for you. No, I believe what will come to pass will also spell death for you but you will linger on in this place far longer."
"You will suffocate; drown slowly beneath the polluted waters of your father's reign. It has already begun. It will be slow, hardly noticeable to anyone, until the very end." Thomas was held firm in the grip of Jason's voice, paralyzed by his gaze.
"Your health will decline as what lies within falters, for the body can only survive so long without the soul. You will sicken easily, until some common ailment takes you and you will simply not wish to fight it. That is not what is important, though, the dying on the inside is what is to be mourned."
"What I have seen, what has allowed me to bear the anger of your father's whip, will die. Slowly, painfully you will lose it, yourself, and become nothing. No one will notice save myself and perhaps, the trees, the silent sentinels that see all and speak nothing." Thomas shivered, a chilling breeze blowing those trees to scrape their branches against the stone bricks of the palace.
"Then you will die and it will not matter. You will have already lost what is more important than life. You will have already been dead; your body will simply be waiting to join your spirit." The fire died and the eyes became gentle again, almost cooling the burns they had left behind.
Thomas shivered, his head spinning as something within him unlocked and a torrent of himself surged forward violently, without guidelines or boundaries. He felt like retching again and turned an almost deathly shade of pale.
He felt himself following Jason's instructions as those strong hands guided him to the bed. He lay down, still fully clothed, and drew in a shuddering breath. He felt himself being covered with a blanket and a gentle hand ran over his hair before Jason gave a sigh, sitting beside the bed.
"I hope you can forgive this. No one should have to face such thing, but it is necessary in this imperfect world." Thomas raised his head enough to catch the look of sincere sorrow in the darkened eyes. "Things do not have to be this way."
"Please, what do you want of me?" Thomas begged. "I want peace. I just want... to not have to struggle like this, be caught between, any longer. Please, help me."
"Then make a choice this night. That is what I want of you. 'Choose a path. You can continue to follow the course you are currently taking, and I will finish teaching you what is required to pass the warrior trails, and then disappear. You will not see or hear of me again.
"Or, you can choose to change your path, then tomorrow we will begin your *real* training. Everything will change with this choice, and I will not lie to you and say it will be easier."
Jason touched Thomas' cheek for a moment, a tender, wistful, brief touch. Thomas knew it was not meant for him, it was meant for some soul lost to Jason's heart, but that, perhaps, in time, it could be for him alone. "I once knew a young man like you, who faced a similar choice himself. Perhaps, one day, you will learn his story."
Jason stood then, and turned to leave the room. He was nearly to the door when Thomas found his voice to speak. "Jason?"
The pale face was half-obscured by the shadows of the room but the blue eyes were very clear and somehow supporting. "Yes, Thomas?"
"If come the morning, I decide I do not wish to travel this path set out by my father, what will become of you?" Thomas asked.
What Thomas could see of Jason's mouth quirked into a tiny smile and the sea of his eyes softened further. "That remained to be see,n but it will be more worthy than slinking off into the waiting night."
"Will you remain here?" Thomas pressed.
"For longer than I would otherwise, certainly," Jason told him. "Rest well, Thomas, for, whatever you will choose, tomorrow brings great change."
Then Jason was gone. Thomas could hear the guards leading him down the hall, after they had glanced through the door to make sure the slave had not harmed the prince. Their progress was punctured by curses aimed at Jason, and once even the sound of a dull thud as something, probably a fist or foot, connected with the body of the slave.
Thomas rose from the bed, taking the blanket with him. He watched the guard lead Jason back to the slave barracks, taunting him all the way. Jason made no response to their abuse, did not even break his stride. Except...
On their way, one of the guards gave a swift kick to the tightly curled body of the boy he had seen earlier. It was hard to detect but Thomas thought he saw Jason tense at that, as if he wished to scoop the battered form into his arms and shield him from farther harm. Thomas felt a similar yearning within himself but knew if he so much as offered a kind word to the slave child he would bear a beating himself. He sighed once and returned to his bed knowing the night he faced would be long and unforgiving.
*****
It was Jason who carried Trip back to the slave quarters. The young man, no longer a boy for he had indeed lost his tenacious hold on innocence this night, was unconscious and unfeeling but he was held ever gently in the strong arms of the teacher-slave.
Jason had not been able to pick up the unconscious boy as the guards escorted him back to the slave barracks though he had desperately wanted to. As soon as the brutes departed he went back on silent feet, carefully cradling the battered form.
He was met at the doors of the barracks by Eric who had gone still in anger and utter, utter hatred. His eyes were wild when they met Jason's deep, dark, angry, blue orbs. His rage blinded him and hung like a thick red drapery over his brain, clouding his thoughts. He took a half step forward as if to make for the palace to seek vengeance on those who had hurt his self appointed ward...
Only before he could take another step Jason had placed Trip's battered form in his arms and Eric looked down out of instinct to study the young man.
His hidden heart clenched within him and, for a moment, his lungs squeezed so painfully he thought he would never breathe again. He took in the damage. It was no more than the beatings the guards usually delivered to Jason only this time it was on a smaller, weaker body that had never bore such torments before. Trip did not have the resistance that Jason had built. He had little to no resistance at all.
Eric's gaze lingered on the slack face that was still awash with the remainders of a torrent of spilt tears.
"He will need you now." Jason's voice was compelling but at the same time eased over Eric like a balm, making him swallow and tuck away his angry...for the time being.
"Ha... Have they...?" Eric knew Trip was an attractive, young, innocent man and that many guards would not hesitate to sate themselves with him.
Jason shook his head once as he let his hand stray to Trip's forehead to brush aside a strand of shaggy, wayward, black hair. "Nay. He has been spared that. The king was present and he does not crave to witness such things."
Eric found a small sigh of relief escaping him. "That is a kindness then."
"It would be kinder still if you stayed with him. He will need you now, more than before. Do not deprive him of that," Jason said seriously.
"No..." Eric looked at Trip's face again; his heart could not take any more loss. "No. Vengeance will have to come later. I cannot leave him now."
Jason nodded once. "Vengeance is misplaced when healing is needed."
Eric's eyes narrowed. "If you think I will allow this to go unpunished you know nothing of me."
"Be patient," Jason cautioned. "The winds are changing, and no matter which direction they come to blow in, he will need you."
Eric scowled as they entered the bunkhouse and he quickly moved to lay Trip on the nearest available bunk. "This is no time for riddles; speak plainly!"
Jason sighed, nodding once as he began to tear strips of one of his old shirts for bandages. "Let us see what tomorrow will bring before you have you revenge. Change is coming. I would have you here to greet it with him."
Author's Note: Thanks to Mandi, my adored beta, for making this a chapter coherent, which is not an easy thing considering how strange my ramblings can be! If Thomas doesn't smarten up soon you have my permission to use the WHACKING stick on him!! :-) And thank you to Rene for being the slave driver that she is. :-p
Chapter 6
It was very late when the guards came for Jason. He was waiting outside the slave barracks for their arrival and went willingly. He trusted the instinct that told him he would not be harmed again that night as he made his way into the palace.
He also knew that this had to be dealt with quickly for there was more damage to be done that night. He could not be sure but the boy who Thomas had witnessed being beaten... Jason had heard the whispers of why he had been taken to the dungeons but not of who it had been.
Trip had yet to return from his evening job of cleaning the dishes for the kitchen slaves. If one of their number had taken ill the small slave could easily have been called upon to deliver Daemon's meal. Jason hoped it was not so and not only for the yet innocent slave child. If Trip had been tormented...
Eric had not returned when the guards led Jason into the palace. He had been part of a small slave contingent sent to work in the king's field that day. They did not make the journey back to the palace until well after dusk. If he arrived to find Trip missing or beaten... Jason did not want to think what his fellow slave would do.
If it was so, Jason needed to be present. He could only hope Thomas would not require his presence for long.
Thomas was standing, staring out one of the windows of his chamber, when the guards delivered Jason into the ornate room with a rough thrust through the open door. They followed him, hiding their sniggers of laughter and stopped, unsure of how to proceed. They rarely had these sorts of dealings with the prince.
"Leave us," Thomas ordered without turned.
The guards looked reluctant but did not make a sound of protest. The prince was more difficult to read than his father, who simply wanted cruelty and obedience. One guard shoved Jason slightly as they left, no doubt to remind him of his place as was so popular, but they said nothing to Thomas.
Jason remained silent, studying Thomas carefully as he waited for him to speak. The younger man's posture was tense; his head bowed slightly as if something heavy rested atop it, forcing it down. He simply emanated discomfort and unrest.
"What is it you want from me?" Thomas began at last. "I never know what to expect from you. I do not understand why you even bother with this charade of kindness at times. So what is it you want from me? What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing," Jason told him. "I want you to do nothing. Doing for me will get you nowhere. I want you to be."
"Be? Be what?" Thomas demanded his tone frustrated.
"What you have inside, what you already are," Jason's eyes were piercing, "but are afraid to be. I want you to be what I have sensed inside you, what I know is there, only hidden away because of your fear."
Thomas snorted, sick of the cryptic words. "You speak of foolishness, of dreams, of nothing but utter nonsense. If you have sensed something in me, which I do not believe you have, you are mistaken."
"Your fear speaks for you, as it should. Your father is a powerful man but he is not indestructible and he is well aware of this. He does not like competition so he has cowered you, bent you to his will from fear of him. Eventually, you may begin to question, to fight this, even without my influence, and then what will become of you?"
Thomas' knuckles whitened with strain as his grip on the windowsill tightened noticeably. He snarled, "You know not what you speak of!"
"I know of your grandfather." Jason's voice was soft, yet still managed to shatter Thomas' defences.
Thomas' eyes widened in surprise and anger, he turned to stare at Jason, fury overpowering the disbelief in his face. "That is not possible! His name is no longer spoken within these walls."
"The silent observers of this castle, of the world, speak to me." The odd eyes were suddenly enflamed with an intense fire and Thomas found himself entranced by the gaze. "I know of what your father saw to. I know how he executed the old, good man. I know you mourned his loss in silence, in fear of what your father may have done to you. I know you cried to the shadows of the night as only a bewildered, wounded child can."
Thomas shuddered once as Jason continued, the cold of his memories creeping through his bones. "I know you did not understand, do not still, the dank darkness that swallowed this land. I know what he did to you, how he kept you from fighting. I know your sorrow, your whimpers in the night when darkness can hide your tears with her gentle blanket. I know of you, Thomas, and I know what will become of you."
Thomas was frozen, his mouth bound by ice so not even the sound from the quick intake of breath could escape. Jason continued on, "Perhaps you will rebel, will fight his iron fist and, if so, die under it, but this is not the fate I see for you. No, I believe what will come to pass will also spell death for you but you will linger on in this place far longer."
"You will suffocate; drown slowly beneath the polluted waters of your father's reign. It has already begun. It will be slow, hardly noticeable to anyone, until the very end." Thomas was held firm in the grip of Jason's voice, paralyzed by his gaze.
"Your health will decline as what lies within falters, for the body can only survive so long without the soul. You will sicken easily, until some common ailment takes you and you will simply not wish to fight it. That is not what is important, though, the dying on the inside is what is to be mourned."
"What I have seen, what has allowed me to bear the anger of your father's whip, will die. Slowly, painfully you will lose it, yourself, and become nothing. No one will notice save myself and perhaps, the trees, the silent sentinels that see all and speak nothing." Thomas shivered, a chilling breeze blowing those trees to scrape their branches against the stone bricks of the palace.
"Then you will die and it will not matter. You will have already lost what is more important than life. You will have already been dead; your body will simply be waiting to join your spirit." The fire died and the eyes became gentle again, almost cooling the burns they had left behind.
Thomas shivered, his head spinning as something within him unlocked and a torrent of himself surged forward violently, without guidelines or boundaries. He felt like retching again and turned an almost deathly shade of pale.
He felt himself following Jason's instructions as those strong hands guided him to the bed. He lay down, still fully clothed, and drew in a shuddering breath. He felt himself being covered with a blanket and a gentle hand ran over his hair before Jason gave a sigh, sitting beside the bed.
"I hope you can forgive this. No one should have to face such thing, but it is necessary in this imperfect world." Thomas raised his head enough to catch the look of sincere sorrow in the darkened eyes. "Things do not have to be this way."
"Please, what do you want of me?" Thomas begged. "I want peace. I just want... to not have to struggle like this, be caught between, any longer. Please, help me."
"Then make a choice this night. That is what I want of you. 'Choose a path. You can continue to follow the course you are currently taking, and I will finish teaching you what is required to pass the warrior trails, and then disappear. You will not see or hear of me again.
"Or, you can choose to change your path, then tomorrow we will begin your *real* training. Everything will change with this choice, and I will not lie to you and say it will be easier."
Jason touched Thomas' cheek for a moment, a tender, wistful, brief touch. Thomas knew it was not meant for him, it was meant for some soul lost to Jason's heart, but that, perhaps, in time, it could be for him alone. "I once knew a young man like you, who faced a similar choice himself. Perhaps, one day, you will learn his story."
Jason stood then, and turned to leave the room. He was nearly to the door when Thomas found his voice to speak. "Jason?"
The pale face was half-obscured by the shadows of the room but the blue eyes were very clear and somehow supporting. "Yes, Thomas?"
"If come the morning, I decide I do not wish to travel this path set out by my father, what will become of you?" Thomas asked.
What Thomas could see of Jason's mouth quirked into a tiny smile and the sea of his eyes softened further. "That remained to be see,n but it will be more worthy than slinking off into the waiting night."
"Will you remain here?" Thomas pressed.
"For longer than I would otherwise, certainly," Jason told him. "Rest well, Thomas, for, whatever you will choose, tomorrow brings great change."
Then Jason was gone. Thomas could hear the guards leading him down the hall, after they had glanced through the door to make sure the slave had not harmed the prince. Their progress was punctured by curses aimed at Jason, and once even the sound of a dull thud as something, probably a fist or foot, connected with the body of the slave.
Thomas rose from the bed, taking the blanket with him. He watched the guard lead Jason back to the slave barracks, taunting him all the way. Jason made no response to their abuse, did not even break his stride. Except...
On their way, one of the guards gave a swift kick to the tightly curled body of the boy he had seen earlier. It was hard to detect but Thomas thought he saw Jason tense at that, as if he wished to scoop the battered form into his arms and shield him from farther harm. Thomas felt a similar yearning within himself but knew if he so much as offered a kind word to the slave child he would bear a beating himself. He sighed once and returned to his bed knowing the night he faced would be long and unforgiving.
*****
It was Jason who carried Trip back to the slave quarters. The young man, no longer a boy for he had indeed lost his tenacious hold on innocence this night, was unconscious and unfeeling but he was held ever gently in the strong arms of the teacher-slave.
Jason had not been able to pick up the unconscious boy as the guards escorted him back to the slave barracks though he had desperately wanted to. As soon as the brutes departed he went back on silent feet, carefully cradling the battered form.
He was met at the doors of the barracks by Eric who had gone still in anger and utter, utter hatred. His eyes were wild when they met Jason's deep, dark, angry, blue orbs. His rage blinded him and hung like a thick red drapery over his brain, clouding his thoughts. He took a half step forward as if to make for the palace to seek vengeance on those who had hurt his self appointed ward...
Only before he could take another step Jason had placed Trip's battered form in his arms and Eric looked down out of instinct to study the young man.
His hidden heart clenched within him and, for a moment, his lungs squeezed so painfully he thought he would never breathe again. He took in the damage. It was no more than the beatings the guards usually delivered to Jason only this time it was on a smaller, weaker body that had never bore such torments before. Trip did not have the resistance that Jason had built. He had little to no resistance at all.
Eric's gaze lingered on the slack face that was still awash with the remainders of a torrent of spilt tears.
"He will need you now." Jason's voice was compelling but at the same time eased over Eric like a balm, making him swallow and tuck away his angry...for the time being.
"Ha... Have they...?" Eric knew Trip was an attractive, young, innocent man and that many guards would not hesitate to sate themselves with him.
Jason shook his head once as he let his hand stray to Trip's forehead to brush aside a strand of shaggy, wayward, black hair. "Nay. He has been spared that. The king was present and he does not crave to witness such things."
Eric found a small sigh of relief escaping him. "That is a kindness then."
"It would be kinder still if you stayed with him. He will need you now, more than before. Do not deprive him of that," Jason said seriously.
"No..." Eric looked at Trip's face again; his heart could not take any more loss. "No. Vengeance will have to come later. I cannot leave him now."
Jason nodded once. "Vengeance is misplaced when healing is needed."
Eric's eyes narrowed. "If you think I will allow this to go unpunished you know nothing of me."
"Be patient," Jason cautioned. "The winds are changing, and no matter which direction they come to blow in, he will need you."
Eric scowled as they entered the bunkhouse and he quickly moved to lay Trip on the nearest available bunk. "This is no time for riddles; speak plainly!"
Jason sighed, nodding once as he began to tear strips of one of his old shirts for bandages. "Let us see what tomorrow will bring before you have you revenge. Change is coming. I would have you here to greet it with him."