A last appeal

The year 299, the day one hundred and eighty nine after Aegon's Conquest (A.C), the Solar of Lord John of House Julius, Lord of Fortitudo Simplicis.

The Lord pressed his lips into a thin line as he stared at the man on the other end of the desk; for all the emotional distance which currently laid between them, it could have been the other end of the room. He stood up and motioned to the knight at his side, Ser Creel of Long Rope, to examine and affirm that his seal was firmly placed on the document. With a motion that seemed to be alike the wind, he handed the decree to Ser Jocelyn of House Moore. For once, it seemed, the house of his second wife had done something right.

"My Lord." called Maester Lucas, attempting to catch him with his eyes. His lustful, dark, sensuous eyes. Those eyes which had enraptured the Lord since their first meeting, and which on nights of passion still held their sway over his body. His voice carried a tone of pleading, mixed with the subtle purity of a lover who expected to be attended to. "Surely…you shall hear him one last appeal."

"What more would it do, sweet Lucas?" asked the Lord "I have absolved him of murder, and we know his other crimes to be the truth of the matter."

"Give him a chance to testify in his own defense my lord." the Maester pleaded "I beg of you, as a friend."

"As a friend?" asked the Lord, grabbing the chain which hung around the maester's waist "Or as a lover?"

The Maester flushed lightly, before briefly flashing scarlet in a slight burst of anger as he spoke "Is this how my Lord treats those he cares for? Making one choose between friendship and intimacy?"

"Not at all." said John, smiling "Most of my servants don't break vows of chastity."

"As is well my Lord." said the Maester, not missing a beat "Most are not worth the honor of doing so."

"This is most certainly so." said John "Few are as beautiful as you are."

"You would do well, if you wish to keep me, to hear my request." said Lucas, his eyes sultry as he spoke once more "It is merely a petition for Simon's appeal-"

"Groat-" said Lord Julius, emphasizing the formality "Has received his sentence in accordance with evidence."

"In accordance with the word of you, Rona, and Silvercheek." said Lucas "What of the Archmaester's of the Citadel? What of the great smiths of Oldtown? Why are we not using every resource-"

"-to absolve a man of a crime I've already pardoned him for?" asked the Lord "He has been charged and convicted of treason, thievery, and embezzlement."

"How has he committed treason, my Lord?" asked Lucas "How has he committed treasonous acts against your government? He never sought to kill you."

"Even so, he still betrayed his allegiance to the same. He still betrayed my trust and confidence and attempted to impair the wellbeing of the state and it's people. Perhaps the first of these definitions seems tyrannical; I would agree. I would also agree that even the betrayal of my trust and confidence is a small matter, for you have kept information from me as well, but that does not mean he has not committed the latter." said the Lord "He has intentionally, using the power of his influence gained through his position, inhibited the state and its ability to function, and he has foresworn his allegiance to not only myself but to my entire dynasty. He has said these things."

"Should you not arrest me as well?" asked the Maester, his eyes sad "Should you not arrest Rona? Have we not impaired the state?"

"You refer to the incident of Tyana of Crakehall and your recent lack of forewarning with regard to Simon's background." said the man "I have deferred judgment on the former, and forgiven the latter."

"Exactly." said Lucas "You are a good man; you are the man I gave up my vows for."

"Do you believe it was a sin?" asked John, his eyes softening as he spoke "Do you pray for forgiveness, when you think of it?"

"We pray to different Gods." said Lucas "But I would never confess to what I have done; not because it is a sin, but because-"

"I am not asking you what the Citadel told you, Lucas." said John "I'm asking you what you believe when you think upon me fucking you, telling you I want you as my lover, and then begrudgingly allowing you to continue on as my Maester as I grin on and on about the Septa's sermons on devotion to celibacy ."

"No." said Lucas "It wasn't a sin."

The Lord nodded, picking up his quill as he began to collect his thoughts. Using the quill knife, he began to dress the writing utensil as he ruminated on the argument put before him. It was the most odd combination of the ethos and logos; he was expected to give Groat a trial because he was a fair man, yet also to consider all of the evidence. It remained clear to him that the man had blatantly, callously, committed treason, thievery and embezzlement. All that remained to him was how to pacify this otherworldly being he had grown so close to. It was not all for the benefit of dark hair and darker eyes, however; in the back of his mind he pondered his lover's earlier words, before their liaison had begun.

"Papers can be forged." Lucas had said. This was doubtlessly true, and these were the grounds under which John had imprisoned the bailiff. He had received, via his own testimony, the sentence of life imprisonment. His punishment would have certainly been death, if not for Lucas' own intervention. The fact therefore remained that Simon Groat should have been thanking the Gods he was still alive, not asking for an appeal of a reduced sentence.

Nonetheless the reality stood as it was. With a sigh, he inked his quill in the well, and pulled out a piece of vellum parchment as he began to write. He knew he would only be writing this once. Once he had finished, he set the quill down, nodded once to himself, opened his eyes, and looked at Lucas with a calm expression.

"Lucas." said the Lord in a calm tone "I cannot give him an appeal."

"My Lord-" Lucas began, only to be stopped by the hand of his Lord, who had signaled a pause.

"I cannot grant him his appeal because among other things, this is worse than the incident with Elyas of Oldtown." said John "I managed to calm that by lopping off some heads and making Elyas quietly go away. I would have to banish Groat, or kill him. Public or private it would not matter; there is no way this would go away, Lucas. He is not a boy that can be in the public eye seen as being taught a lesson. This is a man that must be shamed before he is accepted back into society."

"But why?" asked the Maester, his eyes pleading "What is the use of power if you must use it for cruelty?"

"He shall not suffer greatly." said the Lord "Yet I must grant him the punishment of thieves, if it shall not be that of traitors. "

Lucas nodded, closing his eyes "What shall his punishment be?"

"He shall be flogged first. Eight strikes with the cat, another with the switch, in the village square." John said "Then he shall concede four teeth, two from both the bottom and the top, in addition to forfeiting his monetary assets to the treasury. His physical assets shall be transferred to Long Rope pending his trial for treason."

Lucas nodded , his breathing deep "I thought you had said no to an appeal."

"I said no to a riot." said John , sighing "It is sad to state, but the fact is they shall kill him for his financial crimes before they shall hang him for treason, and shaming him before the trial shall humble him in their eyes."

"Shall he be released from prison?" Lucas asked "Following his shaming, will you let him go?"

"I see no reason why he can not leave his cell on occasion." said the Lord "But he shall remain under house arrest within the confines of the castle, or a cottage of my choosing where he shall be under guard."

Lucas closed his eyes; he knew he would get little else from his Lord, despite their relationship. Nonetheless, he sought to press for one last answer.

"My Lord?" he asked "Will you grant me one last request?"

"What is that, Lucas?" asked John

"Please, only one." said the Maester "Have Magistrate Albaster preside over his trial."

The Lord nodded once, kissing Lucas' cheek with tender affection. A few moment's later, there came a knock at the door.

"Come in." said Lord John "Be you with haste."

Ser Jocelyn entered, accompanied by Dame Serala of House Moreland and Edric Blacktyde, a hired sword of honorable repute. They carried with them their lord's decree, and Simon Groat in chains. His time in prison had lessened him to a shadow of his former glory; his face barely moved as he was gently shoved into the room, and his clothing looked to hold such filth that it was clear he had not bathed in a long period.

"Simon." John said, his voice holding an ice which would surely have frozen any of the Red Woman's flames. "Come in. We were just discussing your appeal. I have decided to show you leniency, on behalf of our kind Maester."

The man, once so high, began to fall gradually to the ground as he looked at his liege. Tears which would not allow themselves to fall stilled themselves in his eye ducks as they formed, and gradually cascaded like so many waterfalls down his cheeks. Slowly, he regained control of his breath; this sight, the slow disintegration of a being and their soul, was playing out before their eyes. The dried blood and scars on various places on his body seemed fresh now, and years of physical torture, however light, seemed to have renewed themselves from the strength of the emotional tour de force.

"Do rise, Simon." said John in a clear voice "I wish to begin your sentencing process."

Yet he need not have spoken; his guards seemed to have already divined his will, and had gradually begun to prop the defeated man up with the strength of their arms. The Maester looked on with a mixture of sadness, horror, and fear. He wondered what his Lord would do to the likes of the Mistress of Whisperers or even himself, if ever they fell out of his favor as Groat had. Once the bailiff had gotten up, his legs still weak and back hunched, Lucas decided it was better to never have to find out.

"My Lord" said Groat, bowing his head slightly "What sentence have you passed on me for my crimes against your enlightened governance and woeful committal of avarice?"

"It is good to know you are starting to get why you are here." said the Lord with a smile. "I have decided to show you a great deal of mercy, actually; you shall be forgiven of your wretched crimes….once you fulfill the sentence that I have described to our dear friend."

At this, John gestured to Lucas, who nodded solemnly as he unrolled the vellum scroll and read out the sentence in a crisp, formal tone. In a clear effort to maintain his own dignity, Simon Groat did nothing more than maintain his silence following the reading. His face was white and his eyes a tad wide, yet nothing more. With a nod, the Lord continued to write on another piece of parchment (sheepskin, this time) and looked on with little more than a business like demeanor. Every once in a while, however, he would glance with a look of tenderness at Lucas, only to receive clear prompting that a man's slow mental torture was not the time for flirtation.

"When shall my trial begin?" Groat finally asked "When shall I be set free…..or face death?"

"Not long after your shaming." said John, setting his quill down. "We shall allow a fortnight to elapse before the uproar that shall surely come with the trial. Believe it or not, I'm hoping you live-"

"Thank you, my Lord-" Groat began.

"Cease." said John, his cold demeanor ever present "I stated I hope you live; you shall most certainly cease to be my bailiff, whether you live here or six feet beneath the ground."

Simon seemed to be utterly baffled "But who shall replace me?"

"Alvn of Oldtown." said John "He is trustworthy. Reliable. I have sliced the diseased branches from his family tree, at least in the public eye. I shall have to make a secondary judgment on Elyas, I fear, but nothing more."

"And who shall replace him?" asked Groat, nearly sneering in contempt.

"One of the Red Priests of the temple of R'hllor." said the Lord "Or one of their faithful who happen to be my subject. There are a few now, I am told. Personally I have given up on Stannis as an asset, but we should likely send someone."

"You've given up on Lord Stannis?" Groat asked "Why?"

"Because while it is wise to keep as many pieces on our board as possible." John began. "It is not wise to invest in a man with no self control, no true restraint, who only has enough mental faculty to believe he has these things, who only gives lip service to equal protection for other religions while blatantly letting his mistress burn her way through their places of worship, and does so in the belief that THAT is the path to power, while neglecting his wife and child for a prolonged period of time and proclaiming that his adulterous affair, poor leadership, and lack of ability to connect with his family are the will of his god, when he admits to having one."

"But he is the most likely claimant to the throne-" Groat began once more, nearly gasping from the pain of his injuries.

"Robert's bastards are the most likely claimants to the damned throne." said John "Beginning with the at least two males we know of."

"But what of the Prince and Princess?" asked Groat "Have you forsaken them?"

"Not particularly." said the Lord "But I would like to make sure we all keep in mind we don't want another Targaryen on the throne. Specifically not a woman who honestly believes she's morally righteous."

"Then…." Groat said "Why send an envoy you do not intend to use?"

"Because like several players in the game, Melisandre believes she is smart when in reality she has only succeeded in fooling the witless." said John "Stannis was hopelessly easy prey, and shall follow her lead like it is an omen of his own ascent. I merely wish to watch as they both collapse beneath their poorly made designs."

"You have plotted this all along, haven't you?" asked the man with a shiver "You plan to hedge your bets."

"Don't be so crass, my friend." said the Lord "I am not a man with the mind of Petyr Baelish. As it stands, I lie firmly with the Lannister-Tyrell alliance. However, we must remember that the Princes and Princesses of Winterfell still live. Yet that is another matter; your shaming shall begin in not three days time."

Groat could tell the time for questions had ended; he was to be told nothing more but his next direct actions. With a nod, he closed his mouth and listened as his 'options' were laid out before him; would he like confession before a weir witch , Septa or red priest. He was then asked if he would like a glass of wine or arbor gold prior to his flogging. The following questions pertained to his place of residence, and his possible employment after the trial. Finally, he was asked his preferred manner of death; poison draught, hanging or a bucket of wine.

To his credit, Lord Julius did not mention the less savory options which could be handed down by the magistrate; among them were crucifixion, burning at the stake or beheading. Yet from the look in his former friends eyes, he knew that he could see the veiled threat of these punishments within his words. He saw vision's, clear as day within his minds eye, of Groat being crucified with nails of fine silver. Above that, in the mix of bastardized valayrian and common tongue which made his birth place, would read here lies the traitor.

"You may go." said John in a voice that rang of authority "Lucas, you shall stay."

Groat nodded, his pace helped by his escort. Once he had gone, the room was filled with a pregnant pause of silence. Yet soon, John sighed with relief, pulling out a dagger made of black iron. It was clear he needed release, and there would be no delay.

"Lucas, come here." said the raven haired Lord "Please."

Lucas nodded, walking over to him with steps of such grace that they would have put the Queen to shame. He held him then, and kissed him with such ferocity that it caused the other man's lips to bleed lightly. Then there was not but whispered words and heated touch, blade tangled with chain as each fought for surrender. With a look of apprehension, the Maester used his left hand to stay the blade before it could do more.

"John…" Lucas began in a breathless tone, for once ending his use of his liege's formal title. "We can't."

"Who states we cannot?" asked the Lord "Your gods?"

"My conscious." said Lucas "And yes, the Gods as well."

"Your Gods." said John, nipping the man's neck to create a tender ache "How sweetly they might burn, being only statues."

"I did not take you for a red heretic, my love." said Lucas, near ecstasy "Woe that we would not send you to Dragonstone instead of-"

"I am a follower of the Old Gods." said John in a sensuous whisper "And I would be pleased to convert you, sweet Lucas."

"How do you plan on doing that, my Lord?" asked Lucas, biting his lip "You have always demanded public adherence, but it has always been understood that inside the home-"

"I plan to make love to you, shorn and disrobed, before the eyes of the Old Gods." said John, his eyes blown with lust. "I plan to take you in our natural state, as the Gods made us."

"My Lord, have you lost your faculties?" he asked "To do so would be sacrilege, before the Gods old and new, and anyone-"

"Could see?" he asked "You worry of Lady Ami? You worry of Rona? Her little spies? You worry of the Weir folk and Gammer Wilde?"

"Yes." Lucas breathed "It would be adultery….and a sin so deep it would never be cleansed."

"Lucas." John said "I have already committed adultery and sexual relations outside of the bounds of my marriage. I have already slept with you. You have no vows to keep at this point-"

"The fact that we have already sinned against our Gods does not mean we should indulge more." said Lucas "A single death does not justify a massacre."

"Is it not better to live in sin than to die an unhappy man?" he asked "I have sought dissolution for my marriage. I have prayed for forgiveness."

"Does this look like repentance to you?" Lucas asked, gesturing to their posture "You sought dissolution so that you might discard a distant and uncaring wife; do not act as though I am an option for you, John Julius."

"You are not an option because you deny yourself the chance to be one." said John "Homosexuality, even marriage between men, was not illegal in the old days. It is not illegal under the Old Gods-"

"So we would have here, perhaps Tol and several scattered holdings within the South." said Lucas "And then the North and beyond the wall; those are all that would support our marriage, John. Your people would only support it because you're in it. I would be rendered an outcast within the Faith. I would be shamed, and possibly scourged worse than any common whore for our sin."

"Why would you not convert?" John asked "For me, why would you not convert?"

"Why will those men who love men or those women who love women not convert to your faith, John?" Lucas asked "We are raised in a certain faith, and we die in that faith."

"I suppose all of those conversions to the Red demon and the Old Gods are just myth, then." said John with a smile "Or awful rumors."

"I do not doubt Samwell Tarly's conversion." Lucas said "But I cannot believe that someone who thought their only other choice was death would choose that over a false prophet who claimed flame as their champion."

"I agree." said John "Though I do not besmirch those who genuinely believe, such as Alvyn."

"Nor I." said Lucas "Good night, John; I'll see you at the trial."

"Good night, Lucas." said John softly as he got up and began to pull away from the young Maester. Once he had redressed himself, Lucas stumbled toward the door, and smiled fondly at his Lord. With a meaningful look, the Lord signaled for him to stay.

"Lucas?" the Lord asked "May I ask a question? Just one?"

The Maester, shocked at the tone of utter affection with which he was being addressed, answered softly, and with a dry throat. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Would you marry me?" John asked. "If I got an annulment from Ami…..would you marry me?"

Lucas paused, attempting to breath. "Yes, John. Yes I would marry you."

The Lord nodded, dismissing him with a kind wave and a gentle nod. In his eyes, there seemed to be a flicker of love and deepened affection. Lucas smiled lightly in return, opened the door, and closed it gently. At his desk, John smiled as he continued his work; there would be time for more later. They would have all the time in the world.

After all, they would have a trial to attend.