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The palace was lit by 1,000 lanterns reflecting the scattered light from the bejeweled walls. Hangings of rich silk dyed in red, purple and saffron hung around the throne room, and behind the throne a pierced stone lattice betrayed a presence — one that was apparently interested in the activity amongst the courtiers below as they assembled, ready for their new ruler’s daily audience. It was known that a caravan bearing tribute had arrived the previous day and would be seeking audience later. Curiosity had brought them out in the hopes that there might be prizes to be had.
If anyone had looked up, they might have seen the observer, perhaps would have questioned his presence, but none of the handful of arrogant courtiers made any attempt to examine their surroundings, and the watcher continued to monitor the conversations that were taking place down below between the silk clad, jeweled nobles.
“I hear he must take a spouse,” said one.
“He’s not making much of an effort to find one,” responded a second.
“He’s still grieving his father’s death. Give him time.” Several of them nodded in agreement.
“Such a tragedy. His father cut down like that at the very moment of victory. The boy really isn’t ready to assume the Margravate. I’ll be surprised if he lasts. Someone will poison him or murder him in his bed.” The first speaker nodded as he spoke. “He’ll have to step up if he wants to rule.”
Several people around him gasped. It was fine to think such treason, but quite a different matter to voice it.
"My lord, they speak treason." The listener's companion sounded scandalized, and the listener himself gripped his shoulder.
"Hush, Matt. There's more to be learned here." Sure enough, another person began to speak, and both men turned their attention to his words.
“I hear that he took the heads of his father’s killers himself. He went berserk.”
“Aye. It’s true. I was there.” The speaker was one of the generals, an older man, who had fought in the last battle alongside the Margrave. “The boy will do. You shouldn’t underestimate him. He has already decreed that the slaves must be freed.”
“He’ll never have the chance to show what else he can do. He’ll be dead before the full moon. There are those who have paid to make it so.” The newcomer was small and wore the beard that denoted that he was one of the clergy. He smiled viciously as he studied the group who were listening. “The Oracle spoke only this morning of the one who will take his place”
One of the nobles, an older man with very little hair stepped forward. “You’d best not speak of it, Benedict. One word in the wrong place and it will all be for nothing.”
“You’ll find that it’s too late now, Fuller. Ahriman spoke, and we are only men who must do as he bids.” The priest made a gesture of obeisance as he spoke, then turned away to signal that he had finished with the conversation.
"Ah, you see? Now we begin to learn.” The Margrave gave his companion a wide smile. "I think we should look into this man Fuller. What do you say?"
Although the conversation was becoming more interesting by the minute to the men behind the screen as yet another man opened his mouth to speak, the sound of a gong cut him short and the hubbub died as the huge, copper and iron edged doors began to open at the far end of the throne room. A lone herald entered, blasted a horn to silence the gossip and announced the arrival of a caravan bringing tribute to the newly crowned Margrave Everyone turned to see what kind of offerings would be made, and nobody was watching the modestly dressed young man who stepped from behind the concealing screen to take his place on the throne, followed by his attendant, Matt, who took up his place beside the throne, bristling with weapons. The herald stepped aside, and a procession, led by two of the Margrave’s guard, began its stately progress up the center of the hall to come to rest before the dais that held the throne.
The courtiers, none of whom had noticed the arrival of the Margrave himself at first, all hastily dropped to their knees to press their foreheads to the ground as they realized that he had joined them. So seeing, the leader of the caravan did likewise, remaining prone for a long minute while the Margrave himself smirked.
“Oh, do get up,” he said, finally. “Welcome to Herakleon. What brings you here?” The crowd around him all began to rise and take seats on the silken rugs around the dais as the Margrave continued to lounge indolently on his throne.
“My lord Margrave, your loyal subjects of Georgia heard of your coronation and are here to pledge our loyalty and bring gifts as a token of our sincerity.” The man who spoke was tall, and his rich brown hair was cut short in the Greek fashion. The dress he wore spoke of the military, and there were scars about his person that proclaimed that he was, or at least might have been, a soldier. The Margrave rose to his feet and stepped forward to clasp forearms with the newcomer, and it could be seen that he too was dressed in leather battle dress with only a short cloak clasped with a gold pin shaped like an eagle to show his status.
The Margrave stood holding onto the visitor for several minutes, studying the man's face before smiling and stepping back. “Call me Jensen,” he said finally, nodding. “How long were you traveling? Georgia is many miles from here. You must be tired.”
“Not tired, my lord Jensen.” The envoy bowed. “Happy to be here at last to present our tribute.”
“Ah, yes. The tribute.” Jensen signaled for two servants to lead the bearers of the coffers that held the tribute to take it to his rooms, then turned back to his visitor. “We thank you for your generosity. We’ll inspect it thoroughly, later, but right now, allow me to.conduct you to a place where you may refresh yourself.” Jensen took the envoy’s arm and gestured for one of his guards to follow. As he was leaving the hall, he turned as if he’d forgotten something.
“Benedict?” he called. “Attend me, please.”
The little priest, taken by surprise, looked utterly terrified as he heard the Margrave's words. It seemed as if he might turn and run, but another of Jensen’s guards stepped towards him, drawing his scimitar, and he smiled uneasily, then bowed and followed the.royal party.
Once outside the great hall, Jensen beckoned Matt, murmuring, "I'll deal with these two. Go find Ty and have him bring me Fuller and his crew. Put them in one of the less comfortable rooms and make sure that they are locked in. I'll want to question them later."
~*~
The Margrave's quarters were as brightly lit as the throne room had been, but unlike the throne room, there were no jeweled embellishments, and the furniture was carved wood rather than the wrought gold and gem encrusted fancies in the rest of the palace. There were hangings around the bed, to protect a sleeper from any cold drafts, but the entire place was far less bedazzled than anywhere else.
There was a small shrine to Ahura Mazda in an alcove beside the bed, and an opening from which could be heard the gurgle and flow of water. The envoy stood in the middle of the room looking around himself, mild apprehension on his face. Jensen put his hand on the man's shoulder. "You look worried. Don't be. There's nothing here that will hurt you."
"It's not every day that one is invited into the chambers of a ruler, my lord."
"I suppose not." Jensen smiled. "And as a rule, I would not have done so, but there are some things I need to know." He waved the envoy into one of the chairs, waiting until the man sat down before asking, "Tell me your name, my friend."
"I am Jared." The envoy said, with a small bow.
"I am pleased to meet you, Jared." Jensen turned as Matt and Ty pushed open the door, gesturing for the tribute bearers to bring in the boxes and coffers that contained it.
"Oh, right. Set it down. We'll inspect it in just a minute." Jensen glanced over to Benedict, the priest, who was kneeling beside the shrine, muttering what might have been prayers softly to himself.
"The boxes look very heavy," Jensen observed. "I wonder what the people of Georgia feel to be appropriate to give as tribute to their liege."
As his two attendants ushered out the bearers of the tribute, Benedict raised his head, gazing at the pile of boxes with a smirk.
"Ah, I see you are eager to know as well, Benedict. Why don't you come and help me open them?" Jensen rose from his chair and went to pick up his sword from the stand beside the bed. "Come."
The last word was most definitely a command, and the smile disappeared from Benedict's face as he whimpered once and then rose to go to stand beside Jensen.
"Here. I give you the first strike. Use my dagger, to prize open the box, like so..." Benedict was looking around himself, apparently frantic to escape, but Ty, Jensen's henchman, stepped in behind him, and the little priest made a soft keening noise. His hand was trembling as he began to do as he was told.
The lid of the crate clattered to the floor, and a silken rug was revealed, folded on the top of the contents. "One cannot have too many floor coverings," remarked Jensen, suddenly stepping back as the rug heaved and the man it was concealing rose to full height, stabbing forward as he did so.
Benedict, who had Ty crowding him from behind, was unable to get out of the way and the assassin's knife plunged into his gut and up to jam against his breastbone. The little priest uttered a faint cry and collapsed, knife still embedded in him. Ty kicked him out of the way and stepped forward, his scimitar whirling to remove the assailant's head from his shoulders in one fluid movement.
"My goodness," said Jensen, turning to Jared. "I'm saddened to think what the people of Georgia must think of me."
"This one isn't from Georgia," said Matt, waving the severed head around. "He's one of Beaver's thugs."
"Perhaps we should invite Mr. Beaver to join us in conference, too." Jensen and Ty were methodically running their swords through each of the boxes as he spoke. At the end, there were eight other assassins to join the two already on the floor.
Jared had risen to his feet, horror in his eyes. "My lord Jensen, I swear I had no knowledge of this..."
"I know." Jensen flashed him a grin. "My spies have followed your progress since you entered the country." He beckoned Matt to him. "I think we should have Fuller here next, don't you?"
Matt grinned. "He was a little reluctant to come with me, earlier. I hope you'll excuse the bruises."
"I suggest that you summon him so he may make his complaints, and if you could persuade Sheppard to invite Jim Beaver too, that would be wonderful." Matt snickered and saluted as he turned to leave.
Jensen called after him as he was going through the door. " Oh, tell Sheppard to take two of the elite with him. We wouldn't want my request for his presence to be misconstrued."
Ty was busy manhandling the corpses back into their boxes as Jensen went over to sit beside Jared. "I saw you in the arena once, when I traveled to Rome with my father. You were amazing. I was happy to hear you had been freed."
Jared bowed his head. "I killed many, and would have killed many more if I had to." He raised his eyes to Jensen and bit his lip. "We were quartered with Beaver last night, since we arrived as curfew was called. I imagine that's where the tribute is. The Georgian people would never..."
"Hush. You are not at fault." Ty had finished loading the bodies up, and now went over to pour two goblets of wine from the jug that stood beside the bed. Bringing one over to Jensen, he offered the second to Jared, who stuttered his thanks. As they sipped, the door was pushed open and Matt entered, followed by a burly guard with a body slung over his shoulder.
"More bruises, I fear," smirked Matt as he watched the guard dump the unconscious, severely rumpled Fuller onto the floor at Jensen's feet. "He really didn't want to come with me."
"And yet," murmured Jensen, stirring Fuller with one elegantly shod foot. "Here he is."
Fuller gave a groan as he came to, and pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes opening wide in fright as he realized his surroundings. "My lord," he wheezed, clutching at his chest as he spoke. "I didn't... I had no..."
"Save it." The command shut him up instantly. "I am well aware of your perfidy, and of your reasons for wanting me out of the way. If I hadn't declared that all slaves under my protection should be freed at once, I would consider making you a slave to show you just how unpleasant it is to live as the chattel of another, subject to whatever whim that other might have, however brutal." Jensen snarled. "However, since I can't actually do that now without violating my own decree, I have dispatched some of my guards to free the unfortunate souls in your stable and give them a share in your wealth so that they may start their lives with money in their pockets."
Fuller cringed, and crab-walked away from Jensen, only to bump into the guard's legs. Jensen raised an eyebrow at the guard and nodded. "Go ahead, Clif. I don't think we need him anymore."
The guard nodded, raised his scimitar, and in the next moment, Fuller's head rolled over to where Ty was standing.
"For the love of Ormazd, Jen! We're going to have to get the cleaners in if this goes on any longer." Ty kicked at the head, sending it back to lodge itself against Fuller's body. "What do you want me to do with all this... meat?"
"Can we just burn them?" Jensen shrugged his shoulders. "Just one more interview, and then I'll be done. I don't think there will be too many more attempts to depose me, do you?"
A tap on the door heralded Sheppard's entrance, followed by two of the guards, dragging a spluttering Jim Beaver.
"Your wish, as they say, is my command," said Sheppard, looking around himself and raising his eyebrows at the mounting pile of bodies. "You have been busy, haven't you?" he said. "The housekeeper's going to be pissed."
"That's what I keep telling him." Ty shook his head. "Now we've got to find somewhere to put them all where they won't be in the way."
"Come on, Mark. You're always so inventive," said Jensen. "What's your solution?"
Sheppard gazed around, appearing to consider the options. When his eyes fell on the body of Benedict, the priest, he grinned. "That little fucker's had it coming for some time. So here's what we'll do. Load them all onto a cart and have them conveyed to the temple with your gracious thanks and the request to dispose of them as they deserved. Half of them are Benedict's acolytes anyway."
"Excellent. Make it so." Jensen turned and looked at Beaver, who had stopped struggling at the sight of the carnage." Mark nodded and went to do Jensen’s bidding, grinning as he went.
"Are you going to add me to that pile?" Beaver stood straight and held his head high.
"Unless you have a better idea," said Jensen, waving his hand. Ty stepped forward again and yet another head rolled as Beaver slumped down onto the pile of bodies, blood spraying over the boxes that had contained them.
"I hope you don't intend to have me beheaded too." Jared set his empty goblet down on the arm of the chair and gave Jensen a look that spoke of his apprehension.
"Quite the opposite, in fact." Jensen reached for Jared's hand. "Come on. Let's go get rid of the blood spatters while this mess is cleaned up." He turned and gave a wink to Matt and Ty. "We'll be in the tepidarium when it's all clean again. "Thanks again for your help."
Heading through the door opposite the main entrance, Jensen led Jared to the first bathing room and began to shed his clothing. "There's a hot spring that feeds the calidarium. I think you're going to like it," he said, eyeing Jared's body with great appreciation as he began to remove his garments. "I know I will."
"What made a gladiator who had been given his freedom choose to come here, to Herakleon?" Jensen had reached for the jar of oil and began to apply it to Jared's body, smoothing it over the tawny skin, running his fingers over the marks of old scars.
"At first, I had thought to go home," said Jared, sighing as Jensen kneaded the oil into his back. "But it soon became obvious that there was no home for me anymore. I had heard of a ruler who was freeing the slaves, and I decided to come here and meet him. I was offered the job of conveying the tribute here and decided that it was too good an opportunity to miss. Now, here I am, just in time to avoid having my head severed by an enthusiastic henchman. I have no idea how you decided that I was innocent, but I'm rather relieved that you did."
Jensen had moved on to scraping the oil from Jared's body with a strigil carved from bone. "I make it my business to know as much about the goings on in my city as I can." He flushed a deep red. "And when I heard that the great gladiator Tetraites was coming here, to my domain, I was determined that I would meet him. When Beaver intercepted your arrival last night, I was there. I saw how you were treated, and then watched Beaver and Fuller as they removed the goods from your train and substituted their own, so I knew you weren't part of the plot."
"So you're a fan?" Jared laughed. "I haven't heard the name Tetraites for a very long time."
"I confess that I've followed your exploits since I first saw you in the arena, seven years ago. Word is slow to come from Rome, but I had heard that you were given your freedom." As he spoke, Jensen raised a hand to cup Jared's jaw. "You are just as beautiful as I remembered."
Jared was wielding the oil now, stroking it over the margrave's chest, and he let out a surprised laugh. "I would need to be beautiful indeed to stand beside you," he murmured, and Jensen's eyes opened wide at the compliment. Blushing all over again, he reached up to pull Jared's head down for a kiss, soft and fleeting, but charged with promise.
"I think we're clean enough for the tepidarium," said Jensen, somewhat breathlessly, tugging Jared's arm in an effort to get him to go with him. Rubbing the remaining oil from their bodies with cloths of linen, the two of them went through to the room that housed the tepidarium. In the center was a pool large enough for the two of them to swim in, and Jared gave a happy little groan as he sank into the water.
"I haven't immersed myself in water for weeks, not since I left Rome. This is amazing."
"There's a spring that flows through to give us the hot water we use here. Some is directed into this pool, but more goes to the kitchens. A tributary feeds the temple of Ahura Mazda, and..." Jensen caught sight of the grin on Jared's face and sputtered to a stop. "I'm babbling, aren't I?" he said.
"You are, rather." Jared chuckled. "I believe I will apply for a job as engineer for the city of Heraklion, just so that I may listen to you waxing lyrical about its wonders."
"That would mean that you would have to stay." Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, and Jared reached to touch his cheek.
"I want nothing more," he said, and Jensen surged forward to press him against the tiles at the side of the pool, arms sliding around to pull them together skin to skin.
"That's the right answer," he said, and then there was no more talking.
Jensen led Jared up the steps and out to where there were more linens and began to dry him off. Jared stood allowing Jensen to touch, to own, legs splayed, bare and beautiful as Jensen worshipped his body. His cock was already hard, thick and juicy as it curved up towards his belly, and Jensen moved back to gaze, filling his eyes with the sight, his breath quickening as he dropped to his knees.
Jared's smile was quicksilver, white teeth flashing as he widened his stance, permitting Jensen's questing fingers to touch wherever he felt the need.
Jensen was achingly hard but didn't want to touch himself yet, instead, he ran his lips down to first lick and then to take Jared's balls into his mouth, running his tongue over the velvety flesh as he felt the skin draw up tight under his tongue. When he heard Jared gasp, he released his mouthful with a slick sound and began to wind his tongue around the thick base of Jared's cock, sliding up from the base to the swollen crown, fluttering his tongue into the leaking slit to taste the moisture there before sealing his lips over the fat head and sucking.
The sounds that Jared was making were obscene now, little grunts and gasps, words half spoken as Jensen squeezed at his thighs, then slid a hand between his legs to cup Jared's balls again, squeezing gently as he massaged the sweet spot just behind them. Jared gasped, hips jerking forward reflexively to bury his cock deeper into Jensen's sucking mouth, stopping his air as he strained to shoot his load.
"Give it to me." Jensen pulled away to breathe before diving back to suck him in as deep as he would go, nose buried in the curls in his groin. He swallowed against the marauding cock that was pressing in hard enough to deny him breath and felt the pulse as first Jared's balls contracted and then his cock began to spurt, the thick, bitter fluid coating his tongue and escaping to run down over his chin.
"I need..." Jared's words were gasped out, and Jensen jumped up, cock bobbing as reached to steady him.
"You need to rest." Jensen led him to a couch in the anteroom.
"Maybe," said Jared, reaching to pull on Jensen's cock, swinging unattended as he took care of his new lover. "Later, maybe. After..."
The thought made Jensen groan and sent prickles of sensation from his dick up along his spine. Jared's hand was gripping him tightly, and as Jensen watched he took his place on the couch and pulled his knees up in a way that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than an invitation.
There was sweet oil on the shelf, and Jensen almost spilled it as he pulled the stopper out to pour some in his hand. Fingers probed, parting firm buttocks to find and massage the little opening there. Precome was sliding down from Jared's hand and Jared used it to coat Jensen's hard length, massaging it in as still more oozed from the fat tip.
"I won't break." Jared gazed up at him, eyes half shielded by the heavy-lashed lids, his face exotic and predatory in the lamplight. "Give me what I need." He tugged again, and Jensen finally allowed himself to pierce Jared, plunging into the offered hole and sinking deep with a cry that shook him to his bones. It was like sinking into fire, the heat of Jared clasping him close, silken flesh that dragged against his own as he pushed into Jared's body. He slowly opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, looking down at Jared's face, the expression of half pain, half bliss closing a circuit that made his own cock to twitch and tingle with delicious sensation.
Jared was rolling his hips in time with Jensen's thrusts, sobbing as he let himself go. The counter-friction made Jensen's movements erratic as he chased the sensations it caused, wanting more and more of the ohmygodsuchfuckingperfecttightness.
Their bodies moved in perfect sync, and Jensen could see that Jared was aroused again, his cock pressing to the flat of his stomach, dripping as Jensen reached for it, enclosing it to rub and squeeze, pull it in time with his own rapidly escalating thrusts.
Pressure built in the base of Jensen's spine. He fell forward to bury his face in Jared's shoulder as he gave in to the need to move, to fuck, to own.
There was sweat, and tingling, piercing bliss as he felt everything gather to pool behind his balls, and he surged forward one last time, striving to get just a fraction deeper inside Jared. Then everything burst, and he jolted, body jittering as he reached the height and hung, suspended, suffused in pleasure.
It seemed like a lifetime, his body flooded with sensation so much bigger than he could control, and when it finally broke like waves pulsing over him, he collapsed on Jared, feeling the man's heart pounding under him in time with his own.
"I want you to stay," he murmured, lips pressed to Jared's rough cheek.
"I will stay." Jared's words were slurred, as if he were almost asleep, and Jensen rolled the pair of them so that they were lying side by side, kissing Jared’s neck, his cheek, his ear, holding him close as Jensen drifted away into sleep himself.