Medieval Slash

Theodore had spent the following minutes after Peter's departure fretting about the prince. How was he supposed to relax when the prince was in danger? He bit his nails out of habit after taking the linens down to the washmaids, the tray back to the kitchens, and the tub had been emptied once more. He spent several hours pacing before sneaking down to the tournament. He hid away beneath a tree and watched the whole thing. He'd felt pride well in his chest at each knight that Peter defeated, but it quickly was replaced with dread when Ser McKenzie entered the arena. He bit his nails nervously, making one of them bleed when he bit too close to the cuticle. After that, he rung his hands in his oversized tunic, watching in anticipation.

The dread multiplied fiftyfold when the brute of a man threw dust into Peter's eyes and he was taken down with a single blow to the head. Theodore joined the crowd in their collective gasp, although a few cheers did ring out as Ser McKenzie smirked and whooped in victory. Peter would be a disgrace in the king's eyes now, unworthy of him and the crown. Theodore swallowed nervously as he returned to the castle, pacing in Peter's inner chambers with a pot of water and a rag to clean the wounds that he knew Peter would have. He had run down to the medicinal stores and grabbed a salve to rub on Peter's back to prevent any scarring. He paced by the desk as Peter entered the room and sat on his bed.

Theodore was there in a flash, rag dipped in cool water as he knelt before the prince, he dabbed at the head wound, apologizing under his breath when he felt he was applying too much pressure. "I have a salve for your back, it'll keep it from scarring up," he said softly as he continued to wash the first wound. "How is your head? Do you need to lie down?" Worry and concern colored his voice as he searched the prince's face for any traces of pain or confusion. He hoped the wound hadn't caused too much damage.
 
Peter had barely noticed that Theodore was there, though he supposed he should have expected that. He was always there for him when needed, and today was no different. Of course, the prince winced as the rag was pressed to his head, hissing through his teeth as the pain intensified. Still, he bore it without any actual complaint, not wishing to take any of this out on his faithful servant. "I am fine, please, don't fuss so much." In truth he felt that he had earned these wounds, and much as they hurt, he wasn't sure he should be receiving such kind treatment. He didn't admit that he was feeling quite faint, and he probably had the beginnings of a concussion. His face betrayed him though, he was rather pale, a stark contrast to the angry weals that marred his back.

"Did you rest today?" Peter asked, lurching to the side slightly, unaware that he was doing so. Even now, his concern for the servant transcended his own needs. It was a backwards way to be in this society, but after so long, it was unlikely to ever change.
 
Theodore worried his lip as he continued tenderly caring for the head injury. Peter seemed rather faint, his eyes not entirely focused. Even though Peter had reassured him he was fine, Theodore could see that he wasn't. Peter was paler than usual, looking ill. Concern filled his light blue eyes as Peter lurched away. It seemed to Theodore that Peter had a slight concussion, not a surprise under the circumstances. After all, he'd taken a rather fierce blow to the head. The only way that Theodore knew how to treat a concussion was to let it be, but sleep was a definite no. At least for a few hours. Theodore stopped worrying his lip as he tasted blood in his mouth. "I did my best to relax as you instructed." He gave the prince a bright smile. "I couldn't help but to worry over what injuries you may collect so I went down to watch after finishing my chores."

Theodore backed away to clean the cloth in the water. He wrung it out before balling it again. "Hold this to your head, I'm going to get started on your back." He stood to grab the salve from the desk, tearing away part of his worn and overgrown tunic before returning. He crawled up on the bed behind Peter, hoping to keep him alert by the stinging he was going to feel when he started cleaning the wounds on his back. Also, with him sitting up, Theodore hoped it would lessen the chances of Peter falling asleep. "This'll sting," he warned before dabbing at the welts on Peter's back with his wet piece of tunic.
 
Peter really did want to sleep, and probably would have if he had been left to his own devices. As it was, he remained awake, thanking Theodore for his attentions. It was difficult to really appreciate him though, seeing as his care was only causing him more pain. As instructed, Peter did hold the cloth to his head, doing his best to ignore the dull ache that was spreading through his skull. "There was no need to worry. I'm fine." He was genuinely trying to convince him of that, though of course it was obvious he was less than okay.

As the welts on his back were tended, Peter did become slightly more alert. He had to concentrate hard not to keep shying away from the touch of the balm, tensing his muscles quite alot as he attempted to remain as still as possible. Despite the pain, he allowed his servant to continue with this treatment for a while, though after a time he did turn his head to speak to him, "I think I'll be alright now. I just need some rest." Needless to say, that wasn't the best thing for him to be doing, but he laid down on his bed all the same. "Thankyou, Theodore." He smiled blearily, attempting to lay an affectionate hand on his arm, though it actually ended up on his thigh.
 
Theodore was glad that Peter listened to him and gave a slightly relieved sigh as he continued his attention to the wounds. Some were rather bad looking, deep and angry red. Some of the smaller ones were already turning pink. He gave a quiet laugh at Peter's words. "That remains to be seen," he quipped back, adding copious amounts of salve to the worst wounds. A lot of those would remain or scar anyways, but probably not as bad as originally they would have been. He continued his work quietly.

Theodore went to object Peter's request for rest and dismissal from his presence when that hand landed on his thigh, distracting him. He looked down at the hand before putting on of his own atop Peter's, squeezing lightly. "I don't advice that, majesty," he said quietly, blue eyes downcast. He distracted himself with Peter's hand, picking at his fingers lightly. He feared for his prince. Both as his caretaker and his friend. He almost longed for that hand to move upwards, closer to his leather leggings, to tug at his ties. Better yet, to free Peter's hidden treasure, as it were, from it's bindings. He couldn't linger on those thoughts for long or he may slip back into how he was before. He didn't want to scare Peter again.
 
Peter didn't want to get up. It was too comfortable on this feather down bed, and he could feel him drifting into a foggy slumber. Thankfully, Theodores words did draw him from this, though his eyes still felt heavy, his head cloudy. "Theodore, it will be fine. I promise." He managed to hold himself up on his elbows, smiling wanly at his servant. He was in a bit of a state, really, and although he was aware of what he was doing, he wasn't thinking about it so much, he was at last not holding himself back.

In an effort to allay the servants fears, Peter sat up totally, opening his eyes fully as he spoke some genuine words, "Theodore, you are all that has kept me sane through the years. Don't let me forget that." He sometimes felt as if he took advantage of his servant, though of course that was what he was for. Even so, Peter squeezed the leg of the servant, not currently thinking about what this might lead to. "Thankyou, my dearest friend."
 
Theodore felt relief flood him as Peter managed to sit up slightly. Would these flashes of emotions never end? From worry to relief, it was a vicious cycle. One that Theodore wasn't confident he'd survive for much longer. It was insanity, but he'd endure it for Peter, who was always so kind to him when he deserved so much less. "Yes, my prince," he grumbled obediently, feeling his heart sink anyways. And on it goes, he thought to himself. He brushed his blond hair away from his eyes, looking up to meet Peter's. He'd always envied the vibrant green eyes and silky dark hair that Peter had. He was gorgeous, but far too modest to admit it. Peter could have any princess in the land that he pleased.

More elation filled Theodore at Peter's ability to open his eyes fully and sit up all the way. "Yes, majesty," he responded, nodding to show that he would do what was asked of him, as he'd always done. That squeeze on his thigh was almost teasing him, taunting him in a way. He looked down at Peter's hand again. So close. Theodore licked his lips nervously before meeting those eyes again, his normally light blue eyes darkened from lust. He'd hate to take advantage of Peter in this state, but a bigger part of him didn't care as he made a move, his mouth closing over the prince's.
 
It took a few seconds for Peter to realise what was happening. As Theodore swallowed up the distance between them, Peter simply let it happen, hardly noticing as he found his lips so completely flush against those of the servant. Of course, when he did realise that they were engaging in an act that was certainly not something the godly would approve of, Peter pulled back, tensing slightly as he did so. However, he was subconsciously reluctant to do so, and his eyes were no longer as foggy as they had been. Instead, there was a thin veil of lust in them as he gazed at Theodore questioningly.

"Theodore...what are you doing?" He asked belatedly, furrowing his brow, much like he had once done when shown magic tricks he didn't understand. A prince should never be described as cute, but this innocent expression was just that, embarrassing as that might have been. He showed no sign of anger, he could never feel that towards Theodore, even though he was now pressing into extremely dangerous territory.
 
Theodore enjoyed the kiss while he could, taking it all in. The meld of Peter's lips against his. The amazing smooth skin that made up his lips, the warmth of the other's body. He watched the conflicted gaze pass over Peter's face, the udder confusion. It was an adorable look. Of course, Theodore had always kind of thought it was a nice look for Peter, it made him look impossibly younger, even now. Theodore let a slither of a smile crawl onto his face. He watched him think it over. What they had just done, what Theodore had just done, it was ungodly. It was frowned upon. But the spark of complete lust that Theodore had felt for Peter while bathing him was turning into a raging flame of passion. He couldn't stop it, nor did he want to.

Theodore pushed some of the ebony hair away from Peter's face with a large grin. "Keeping you awake, majesty," he explained himself. He pushed Peter down against the bed gently, pinning him with his weight. "The young girls at the tavern keep your knights up for far longer into the night, do they not?" He asked, looking into those green eyes with his blue. "I have heard them, majesty. Late in the night, the young girls call out the names of your knights, sometimes even your father's knights."
 
This was an impossible situation, and Peter was finding himself feeling dazed and confused in a way that was certainly nothing to do with the blows he had received today. Although he still felt that this was entirely wrong, he could not deny his feelings for the servant. They were close, inextricably linked, even if that had never before been in any context as risque as this. The young prince gazed up into the eyes of Theodore, finding that he was not attempting to extract himself from beneath the other. This simple fact was somewhat alarming to him, as were - of course - the words that the servant spoke. He wasn't quite casual, but he did not seem too bothered by these notions.

It perhaps took Peter half a second too long to respond, as his uncertainty was mounting up on him. "But they are not - they are women.It's different." Peter clenched his fists, looking away momentarily, "It is wrong Theodore." He made eye contact once again, looking a little like a frightened animal as he completed this role reversal. He was looking to his servant for guidance and help, though in truth he should have been kicking the living shit out of him for such terrible behaviour. But he wasn't. Although his thoughts remained unspoken, it was becoming clear that this lack of resistance was not only due to shyness, it was also brought on by a deep desire that was slowly beginningto surface.
 
"Then tell me, my prince, how it is wrong." Theodore challenged, eyes flashing. He noticed that Peter hadn't actually fought their current positions, only what Theodore planned to do. "I think that the women are wrong, they meet with a knight, sometimes a stable boy for one night. I have cared for you our whole lives. I know you, majesty. Those women-filthy as they are, do not. Nor will they ever. You are meant for a princess, to make her a queen and a queen alone. Those tavern whores will never touch you. You're far too pure, even in disguise." No whore would touch his prince's precious flesh. Not if Theodore could help it. The women were unclean, more ungodly (in Theodore's mind) than what they were doing here and now. No, no impure flesh should come in touch with Peter. Theodore himself wasn't pure enough for Peter, but he wasn't about to admit that. Not when he could possibly sway the prince in his favor.

"Tell me how this is wrong, majesty." Theodore repeated. He wasn't scared to challenge Peter in his current position. Not with the roles reversed. If he were the one in Peter's position, he'd not have the courage to challenge him. He could lose his head for talking to the prince like this, but he knew that Peter wouldn't allow that. Perhaps, he'd have to, if the king were in their presence. Of course, then Peter would be left vulnerable for having put himself in the situation he was in. Theodore cast those thoughts aside as he awaited Peter's answer carefully, thinking up a counter to any response the prince might try, down to fight moves.
 
If he was totally honest with himself, he could think of no logical reason to believe that the present thoughts and potential actions were wrong. Of course, it was practically unheard of, and on the rare ocassions that men were found to be bedding eachother - well, it tended to end with at least one death. It was rather tragic, without a doubt, and someone with the heart of Peter could quite easily see the injustice in such treatment. And to add insult to injury, what Theodore said about the whores of the brothels and streets - it was all true. As was his destiny to marry some exotic princess in a marriage of convenience. The prince had never enjoyed that thought. He was a believer in love, not union in order to build power. It was perverse.

"And what if someone finds out?" By now there was little denial. Although Peter might have struggled in his convictions, he was not a dimwitted man, and so he was able to rationalise and admit the realities of this moment relatively quickly. "I cannot have your death on my shoulders." Not really knowing what he should be doing, the prince squeezed the juncture between Theodore's neck and shoulder, his concern blindingly obvious both in this gesture, and his expression. There was also the matter of what would happen to the prince himself, although it was fairly likely that a story would be spun in order to show him in a favourable light. With no other heir to the throne, he could not be executed or exiled, unless the king wished to jeopardise the entire kingom. Either way, the fate of the servant seemed sealed, should this come out. At this stage it was all that held Peter back. The fear he felt for Theodore was pinning him down, much as the man himself was.
 
Theodore thanked the gods above for Peter's soft heart. There was so much that Peter could have done if he were a harder man, but he wasn't. Which meant that Theodore had to protect him from the evils of the world as one would protect a younger brother. He felt himself melt into Peter's touch and he allowed his eyes to soften and show a small amount of affection that he had for Peter between the lust. Peter was too selfless. "My majesty, shall my untimley death come from this, let it be known that Theodore Corellas lived a life of great servetude and devotion to you. That I died happily and satisfied," he responded gently. Bless the gods for the gentle, fragile, prince beneath him. "If my death must be the end, I will die only by your sword, no other weapon." For in those last few minutes of life, he would allow himself to accept his punishment, however overdue, and show the other man his true emotions. "You must promise me that, my prince. I ask of nothing else, but your sword to be my end." Peircing blue eyes found vibrant green.

"Beyond that, I will protect this affair with my very life. None shall ever know, but you and I. As it should be, your majesty." Theodore would willingly take this to his grave, however shallow it may be. His prince would not fall into harm because of something Theodore had done. He'd give himself to the king before he let the man lay a hand on Peter again. Especially, if somehow, the affair got out. As long as he had Peter, he was invincible. Peter was his sword and shield, the only weapon he had. The only trick up his sleeves.
 
It was perhaps understandable that it took the prince a while to respond. This pouring out of emotions was not what he had expected for this evening, and although it was not wholly unwelcome, it was still somewhat difficult to process. A part of him wished to run from this as he would flee from a helllhound, but the greater part of him chose to stay here and accept whatever this turn of events would bring to him. He was aware of the dangers, but also the hurt it would cause them both to deny themselves what they truly felt. Of course, it was Theodore that was likely to pay the price for this, but the prince vowed that it would not happen.

"I will not allow it to come to that, but should I fail, then you have my word." He wouldn't mention the actual killing of the servant, for fear that it was tempting fate. But still, he knew that their fate was sealed now, for good or ill. Such was his conviction and acceptance of this fact, that young Peter chose to take his own shy initiative. Momentarily, he leaned in close to his servant, offering a fleeting, chaste kiss. It was his promise, as well as his own way of believing that these emotions welling inside of him were real, and not to be thrown by the wayside. Despite years of convincing himself that they shared merely a brotherly bond, he had now come to the conclusion - if a little late, and with great persuasion - that they were far more than that.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back