Defiance

"No!" Tate screamed raggedly, crying out as the persistent image of the dream tore through his mind. He struggled to pull the heavy quilt from around his slender waist and tipped himself out of his small sleeping cot in the process. He fought wildly for a moment as he tried to ward away the invisible hands clawing at him, eventually realising that he was battling against the confines of his own blanket. "Mercy," he whispered softly, running a shaking hand through his sweat drenched hair, only beginning to grasp that he was awake and alone. He strove for calm as his eyes searched the tiny room for any signs of an intruder. "Just a nightmare." He assured himself. "Not back, not yet."

He realised with a start that he had been crying. He hastily scrubbed at his swollen eyes and shuddered as residual image of the dream tore through his mind. He was going mad, he was sure of it.

The door to his tiny chamber burst opened, causing him to flinch badly. Tate resisted the urge to sneer as the young guard usually posted outside his room shot him an accusing glare. "Why are you on the floor?" He demanded stupidly, stepping inside and presumably looking for anything out of the ordinary. "Why were you yelling?"

"A bad dream if you must know." Tate said haughtily, which was no easy thing considering he was lying flat on his back. The guard continued to watch him, a smirk turning up the corners of his thin lips as his small eyes focused on Tate's bare chest. For a moment Tate couldn't breathe. Fear flared through him, hard and unyielding. Not Christian, he told himself, he can't hurt me "If there isn't anything else?" He asked, his voice sickeningly sweet as he got slowly to his feet, allowing the quilt to drop, less he look like a coward clawing at it for comfort. He smiled demurely at the young man who grinned stupidly back at him. The guard was an idiot. "Why don't you go away?"

The smile slipped quite suddenly and those piggy little eyes turned hard and malicious. "What's wrong little whore, are you afraid of me? Frightened that I might take that which you so gladly give our prince?"

Tate's own smile barely twitched. "What a silly solider you are, to think that something as utterly pointless and useless as yourself could ever possibly frighten me. I might as well claim fear for the dirt or the scuffs beneath my souls."

"So high and mighty." The solider sneered, his eyes darkening further as he took another step into the tiny room. "The bastard lordling that will gladly open his legs to all, even dirty tinkers."

"I wonder what that makes you then," Tate said easily, refusing to allow the soldiers crude accusations to hurt him. "As I'd never allow one such as you to touch me, though I'd gladly give myself to a dirty and disease ridden tinker."

"Whore," He hissed. "Dirty, weakling trollope. Shut your filth begotten mouth before I shove a gag down your throat."

Tate registered danger, registered it and pushed it aside as his own temper began to flare. "Perhaps you might blind me as well, then I won't have to look at your ghastly pox marked face."

The solider lost all pretences of discipline and lunged for Tate's throat. The half-blood barely avoided a fist to the face as he ducked beneath the soldiers grasping hands and bolted through the narrow chamber door.

He passed through Christian's chambers, opened the prince's door and almost ran full force into Richard. Tate managed to avoid the captain grasp but as he retreated back the young solider came up behind him and took a painful hold on his upper arms.

"What in the name of the gods is going on?" The captain asked in tightly controlled sneer. He chanced a quick look behind him, confirming there was no one present before ushering them inside and firmly closing the door behind him.

"Sir, he was trying to escape."

"Trying to escape?" Richards gaze travelled up and down the length of Tate. "In his nightclothes, without any shoes or a shirt?"

"He provoked me." The solider growled, his temper slowly seeping away as sense began to return.

Richard sighed and pulled Tate from the soldiers grasp. "Of course he was provoking you fool, he's a weakling. He has naught else to cut with beside his tongue. Get out, I'll watch him now."

The solider clipped a crisp salute and quickly retreated from the room. Richard's grasp became tighter as he strong armed the half-blood back to his tiny chambers. "What exactly were you hoping to achieve?" He asked, his tone angry and irritable.

"It was really more a case of what I was trying to avoid." Tate answered casually. He received a quick and sudden push in the back and barely caught himself before he fell facedown on his small cot. He spun around and glared at the captain. "I'm here now, you can leave."

"When I'm ready." The captain said, circling Tate thoughtfully. "You look better." He observed after a moment. "No bruises, you've put on a little weight. It appears the princes absence agrees with you."

"Not being beaten senseless does wonders for a man." Tate agreed acidly. He carefully expanded the distance between them, keeping a watchful eye on the captain. "What do you want Richard?"

The captains light grey eyes turned troubled as he continued to circle the smaller man. "Baron Hasan is at court. Were you aware?"

At the mention of his father's name Tate felt his skin begin to heat. Fury and shame overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling thoroughly sickened and suddenly very tired. "What is he doing here?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

Richard smirked at him. He wasn't fooled. "He's come to take you home, or so I've heard. He's even petitioned the king."

"And the outcome?" Tate asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Come now mongrel, do you honestly think the king would ever give away Christian's favourite pet?" He walked boldly towards Tate, forcing the smaller man back until his back was flush against a wall. His hand reached out and hovered over Tate's face before abruptly dropping it. "However, his majesty has allowed the baron the opportunity to visit with his illegitimate bastard. I'm to take you to him for breakfast this morning. You're expected to be on your best behaviour. Do not think to run away again."

"No!" Tate took an unsteady step to his right. "I won't see him. I've no wish to face him."

Richard's hand reached for him again but like before he seemed reluctant to touch the half-blood. "As if you have a choice! Get changed and make yourself presentable. You'll see the baron, even if I have to drag you there."

The intense look in the captain's eyes caused Tate to falter. Of late Richard had become increasingly skittish, especially on the rare occasions when they were alone. His hand remained poised before Tate's face, his hand almost cupping the half-blood's cheek. Tate had enough experience to know where the half crazed look in the captain's eyes would eventually lead. The younger man suspected the only thing stopping Richard from tackling him to the bed was his fear of the prince's wrath.

Richard remained where he was for a long time. He seemed unable to move and Tate had enough sense not to push the situation.

"Change." The captain eventually said, his voice raw and hard as he finally allowed his hand to drop. The sudden look of hatred on his face knocked the breath out of Tate. "Change!" He roared. "Get changed, now!"

Thankfully he did not stay and watch.

*****************

Over a year had passed since Tate had fled Hasan holdings. The baron had expected his son to be picked up within the day but Tate had surprised them all by disappearing without a trace. He should have known that someone had helped him.

The shame he'd endured over the past year had been fierce. Everyone had inevitably found out about that fateful night the prince had attacked Tate in Hassan's own courtyard. The rumours had run riot and had only increased tenfold with the knowledge that the boy was now acting like the whore within the kings own court.

And then there were the tinkers. Hassan could understand the princes desire to be rid of the gypsies, they were filthy and cowardly vagabonds one and all, but what really disturbed the baron was the realisation that the prince's onslaught against the tinkers came hand in hand with his pursuit of Tate. Officially the gypsies had been rounded up and eliminated or sold to the southlands because they had grown too densely populated. The truth however was much more disturbing. Tate had been travelling in tinker company during the initial onslaught against the travellers. Outrageous rumours had run riot among the court ever since. Everyone claimed the prince had not cared one whim about the travellers. His quarry had been a far prettier package.

It hadn't taken too long for those rumours to reach one of Hasan's son's. What worried him was the realisation that the prince had only destroyed the tinkers in order to obtain his son. It unnerved him that his child could invoke such feelings in their future king.

As a child Tate had attracted all of the wrong sort of attention. He was extraordinarily exotic looking, even Hasan was aware of that. The boy's mother had possessed features that could only be described as breathtaking. Hasan had quickly become besotted with her and when she fell pregnant and begged him to take their child he had relented and agreed. And now he had a boy who possessed all the beauty of his mother and none of the power or presence of his father.

Hasan shot a sidelong glance at his eldest son Minick. The baron wasn't the only one who had suffered during the past year.

Of all of his sons Minick was especially resentful. He cursed his younger brother venomously and had even approached Hassan about hiring an assassin to rid them of any further embarrassment. Hassan had resolutely refused his request but he feared for his youngest boy's life.

"They're coming." Menick said, his light blue eyes as hard as stone as he stared at the door with chilling hatred.

"Let them come then." He answered, meeting the boy's hard gaze with one of his own. "And listen to me well boy; if you harm your brother the consequences will be fierce. Do you understand me?"

"Don't threat father." The boy said, snapping off each word. "I won't do anything to endanger your favourite."

Hassan frowned at the boys tone but he didn't have time to scold him before his servant appeared, requesting admission for his son and the captain of the prince's guard. Hassan inclined his head and sat back as he waited to see his boy.

**************

His father was quiet for a long time, simply watching Tate as he slowly sipped from the flagon of ale in his hand. Beside him Tate's brother Minick glared at him, his expression drawn in one of utter distaste.

It was so difficult being with them. Bad enough that every man and woman in the court knew of his disgrace but to have his father and elder brother not only aware but involved made their presence almost unbearable.

"You can leave Captain." Hasan said eventually, his eyes finally moving from Tate as he addressed Richard who stood closely behind the half-blood.

The captain offered him a cool smile. "I will be outside. Please call me when you are finished."

"Is my son incapable of finding his way back to his own chambers?" The baron asked coldly.

"His highness would have me keep a close eye on his page. He has been known for his skittishness in the past."

"I'll see to it that he returns safely." Hasan said tightly, his eyes hard as he watched the captain, daring him to question his word.

"I'm afraid the prince's word rules all of my actions my lord. I will be waiting outside the door." He bowed, a shallow nod of his head before turning neatly on his heels and walking quickly from the room without another word.

Stony silence followed. His father kept his eyes averted for a while but his brother's glare was sharp and constant. Tate made himself not look at either of them but kept his gaze firmly on his boots.

"You've lost weight." Hasan said suddenly, the words starling him for they were the last things he had expected to come out of his father's mouth. "Have you been ill of late?"

He couldn't find his voice for a moment. Gods, Tate was so angry with him. Everything that had happened to him after the prince had tried to rape him was entirely his father's fault. He gave me to him, he thought furiously, gave me away as if I meant less than one of his hounds.

And the shame, it burned at him, sickened him.

"I was not – ill my lord." He said slowly, wondering how he could phrase the words without informing his father that the future king liked to be rough and Tate often wore the proof of that fetish.

"Well, you seem sound enough. You were never much of an eater I suppose."

Such meaningless words, so stupid and pointless when they all knew the truth.

"What marvellous clothes you wear little brother." Menick sneered, his fist clenched tightly around the goblet of wine in his hand. "One would not expect such finery in a squire."

Tate looked away, his face hot and his tongue heavy.

"Menick." Their father said warningly.

"What services must you offer to be rewarded so richly I wonder?"

"Menick!" Their father yelled. "You will mind your tongue."

"Why father, are you afraid of upsetting the prince's catamite? "

"Enough!" The baron roared. He rose to his feet and pointed a meaty hand towards the door. "Get out boy, least I give you a kick out of the door!"

Menick must have realised he had pushed their father too far. He snarled at the half-blood and left the room with an enraged curse. Though Tate tried to move from his path his elder brother made a point of shouldering into the smaller man. Tate stumbled into the wall behind him, barely letting out a hiss of pain as his shoulder knocked into the hard rock.

"For god's sake child sit down." His father gestured to the seat that Menick had just vacated with an imperial wave of his hand.

Tate took the offered seat without comment. He kept his eyes on his knees as his father's eyes roamed over him.

"You break my heart." The old man said suddenly, quietly and un-expectantly. Tate looked up at him in utter surprise. The baron was a hard man and considered words of affection an act of weakness. "So small." He said quietly, more to himself that to Tate. "I promised her I would care for you. I gave her my word."

Tate dared to meet his eyes. "You promised who father?"

"Your mother of course. A pity she could not stay with us longer. Do you remember her at all?"

Tate could remember small aspects of her. Hair like spun copper and eyes the shade of honey. An odd tongue and a few words picked up when she cursed or cried. She had cried often. "No my lord." He said quietly. "I don't remember her. Not really."

"You look so much like her, did you know that?"

Despite himself a small smile curled up the corner of Tate's lips. "I had assumed as much my lord, considering our apparent differences. You used to get so angry if I asked about her." He bit his lip, daring. "You never said much about her before?"

"Ah, well that is because she broke my heart as well." The baron hefted a large sigh. "I knew nothing of her parentage, nor even her race. She refused to tell me and she was so beautiful that it started not to matter. I would have married her, had she seen fit to take me as husband."

"Did she say why she left us, me?" He asked softly, amazed that his father was speaking of her at all and deathly frightened that he might break the spell by asking the wrong question.

"She told me once not long before she left that she couldn't bare the cold any longer. She said she longed for hot sand and the blaring sun. She said she was made for the sky and the clouds and that our little kingdom in the northern hills was killing her. She used to cry a lot."

"And she just left one day?"

"Left and never returned." The baron's gaze met his mournfully. "She left me you though, a constant reminder of the love I once felt for her. I thought I might have hated you for that but I realised early on that I could never hate anything that had been a part of her." He took a shuddering breath. "I never meant for any of this to happen to you. That night during the feast I was beside myself. I feared for your life. Your brothers-" He waved his hands, seemingly in distress. "I thought sending you with him was the only alternative. It was all very rushed. I was so unsure. And then you ran away."

Pity, anger and shame raged within him. "Can't you do anything?" He asked, hating how his voice cracked. "Please father. Can't you take me home?"

"I want to but the king won't allow it. The damned chancellor has spoken against me. It's been decided that whatever claim I had no longer holds sway after I-" He faltered for a moment. "After I gave you to them." To Tate's horror the old man's eyes grew red and tearful. Never in his entire life has he seen his father weep. "I'm sorry boy, truly I am."

Tate knew he should have felt something but in honesty he was numb. He never really expected his father to save him but the small spark of hope had done little to improve his already floundering resolve. "He'll kill me." Tate whispered hoarsely.

The old man didn't hear him. He was too busy wallowing in his own guilt.

*************

"Interesting," Richard remarked casually as they made their way back towards the prince's chambers. Tate had made a point of walking slightly ahead of the older man but now the captain closed the short distance between them and laid a heavy hand on Tate's upper arm. It was an effort not to pull free from the loathsome touch, but with a force of will he made himself remain impassive. "I thought I might have to wrestle your father off you but instead I find the old man blubbering like a woman." He kept his voice pitched low so only Tate was able to hear him. "It seems to me that the men of your line are simply inclined to mimic the ways of women."

Tate knew what Richard was doing. He wanted to push him temper so he did something stupid in-front of people. The many servants and soldiers posted around the castle would make an ideal audience. The half-blood was unsure what Richard hoped to achieve by making him lose his temper but he was certain he didn't want to find out. He pressed his lips into a thin line and continued on without comment.

"Of course you're far better playing the wilting flower than your father. Perhaps I just caught him in a moment of weakness. What say you Tate?"

The captain increased his hold on Tate's arm until it hurt. Unthinkingly the smaller man wretched free and despite his better judgement he answered. "What do you want Richard?" His voice sounded tired and resigned to his own ears.

"I was simply making conversation." His hand moved from Tate's arm and reached out to brush his hair. He began to stroke it as he pressed hip subtly against the half-bloods. "I can see why he coverts you so. Such a pretty, pretty boy."

Tate bared his teeth and knocked the captain's hand away with a curse. He spared a moment considering his own stupidity before he was abruptly pressed flat against a wall with a hand wrapped tightly against his throat. His felt his eyes bulge as he clawed at Richard's hands. "Stop!" He tried to choke out. He pushed and struggled but the other man didn't budge.

"Don't raise your hands to me again." He said, loud enough that anyone close by would be able to hear him. "I won't allow disobedience Halfling."

The captain released him suddenly and Tate spent a moment trying to suck in breath before he drew back his fist and lashed out at the captain's jaw. It connected, causing a burst of pain to spread through Tate's knuckles as the older man's head snapped back.

"Bastard!" He spat, which was stupid of him because he should have been running.