AN: This is my first ever Torchwood fic! It's completely AU. I'd love to here what you think of it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Torchwood or Doctor Who

It was night outside when the yellow flame vanished from the middle of the stopwatch.

In the heart of The Realm of Gems, King John Smith's eyes shot open and panic shot through his heart. A name left his lips as he breathed out, a hand clutching his chest.

"Saxon."

The King slammed the doors open to the conference room, face grim as he surveyed the council before him. Most were in various stages of undress; some had stumbled right out of bed and into the conference room, some had pulled on robes and slips. All looked extremely irritated at being awoken at this god-forsaken hour, but it was quickly replaced with concern at the grave expression on the King's face.

"John..."

The King turned his face slightly towards his wife and advisor, Rose. Her eyes seemed to be asking the one question that sprang to everyone's mind when the King sent his errand boys to round up the council as soon as possible. King John shut his eyes and nodded once. He distantly heard his wife choke, her robes rustling as she turned her back on the council to compose herself.

Turning and opening his eyes to address the council, the King said softly, "The Master has returned."

There was not a single gasp. Only silent terror. For one... two... three breathes, no once moved or spoke. For three solid seconds, the room was completely still. Then, softly, from the far end of the table, Franklin Harkness spoke.

"The chosen one. Now is the time to find the chosen one. You can't hide from this any longer, John." A smattering of soft murmurs of agreement rose in the room, and if possible, the Kings face became darker. For years now, the council had been urging their King to take the chosen child. To begin the training. To prepare for the Master's return. The King thus far had denied the need to take such action.

He was beginning to believe he had no choice.

John chewed on his lip as he thought. He had believed that the Master was too weak to come back this fast. The chosen one wasn't ready for the training yet. He was still a child; only eight years old. The King did not want to see this child corrupted by the fear or hate of his people. If the council discovered the identity of the chosen one, John knew in his heart his and the other Realms would betray him and send the child away to the Training Grounds in the Realm of Dragons. They wouldn't settle for any of the other Realms for training. They would pick the harshest and most rigorous of all the training grounds in all of the Realms.

The King knew he could never do that to a child, regardless of the prophecy. John's fingers tightened around the stopwatch in his pocket. He knew the Master was both too weak and too smart to strike anytime soon. They still had a bit of time, even though the monsters would definitely start to get rowdy. He made his decision.

He focused his eyes on the silent council. All held their breath as he sighed softly and shook his head. "It is not time. The chosen one is still too young."

As expected, the council was outraged. Several jumped to their feet, including Franklin, fury scribbled on their faces.

"King John!"

"Please, sir!"

"This is ridiculous; we'll die if he isn't trained soon!"

"Doctor!"

All fell silent as Franklin shouted the King's well known nick-name. John's body tensed as he turned his gaze towards his good friend. Franklin walked around the table and stood in front of the King. He put his hands on his shoulders.

"Doctor... We have to act now. You know what will start up soon. Those monsters... We need the chosen one, Doctor... We need him..."

Franklin was pleading with him, the fear for his young son and beautiful wife obvious in his eyes. John gave him a small reassuring smile.

"Trust me, Franklin," he said softly. "The time is not right. It will be a little while longer before the Master will become an issue." He shifted to address the whole council.

"Yes, the monster will start to act up, but we've dealt with them before. Yes, I have sensed the Master's presence, but I also sense it is weak." He swept his eyes around the council. "Fifteen years. No more and no less. In fifteen years, the chosen one will be revealed to you all." Yes. Twenty-three was a good age to train the chosen one. He held up a patient hand when protest began to fall from unhappy lips.

"Then, and only then will we train the chosen one. The prophecy declares he needs to have a clear heart as well as a warrior's strength. Trust your King, please. All I ask is for you to trust me." John stood with his arms crossed and his chin tilted in an authoritative way. A few heartbeats past, before the council grudgingly accepted the verdict. The King let out a very relieved sigh. He waved his hand.

"Captain Andy, prepare your soldiers for the new enemies. Rhys, send out letters to the other Realms. Let them know they need to start preparing for the end of this era of peace. Franklin, meet me in my room in ten minutes." With those words, the King swept himself out of his room.

The King was not stupid. He knew the chosen one was not safe from the Master and his monsters no matter how weak he was. John knew what he was going to do will break the chosen one's heart. He also knew this was what had to be done if he wanted to spare the chosen one from corruption and certain death. He needed to hide the chosen one in plain sight.

He opened his bedroom door and sat heavily on the mattress. He ran his hand through his hair furiously. He knew Donna would take good care of the chosen one. He could trust her to keep him safe and loved. He felt awful, but again, it had to be done. He looked up as Franklin politely knocked on the door, before entering without waiting for John to reply. He stood stiffly in front of his king, still mildly ticked off.

"You wanted to see me?" He said, his blue eyes flashing with just a hint of annoyance. The King sighed heavily.

"How much do you know about the debt of the Jones family..."

Ianto Jones, 8 years, 6 months, 3 weeks, and two days old

Ianto was sweeping in his corner. Yes, his corner. This was the corner he used to listen to all the different conversations going on around the downstairs pub. Only a few months in and he already knew how to keep himself entertained as he worked (slacking off would result in a swift beating and a bunch of hollering... He learned that the hard way.) It was the usual hum... Susan's daughter caught typhoid... Charles, the poor lad, lost a hand trying to stop a run-away mine cart and was slowly dying of infection. Granted, at the time he had not a clue what any of it meant, but it was something besides the broom and the floor... A language he could decipher.

Ianto was eight years old. A lot of boys his age went to work earlier than that, but his mother insisted he wait longer before working. He was special; he needed more time before he could start hauling barrels of whisky around like his older brother, Alwyn, or waiting on tables, like Rhiannon. Ianto's father didn't like her excuses one bit; he said his youngest was frail just because she spoiled him so much. Alwyn threw a fit too, complaining that he was bound to leave them and start working for some other family. He'd say often when arguing with their mother that, 'at least they work equal shares there' and 'kids younger than him would already be working in those mine shafts.' While the latter might have been true, she always argued that their family was more civilized then those monsters sending their babies out to work... And yet, Ianto knew most of them had no choice.

His family was a lucky one. They had set up shop here in the city before the king had even decided to move his capital to their quaint little town. For generations on Ianto's father's side, the Jones family had been running the Crisial Inn, and while it might have had its rough patches in the past, it was over and done with now.

Or so they thought.

His father always told them that the business had blossomed under the castle's change of locations; their Inn was brimming with families that couldn't afford to build their own houses, but had stormed to the city to perhaps catch a glimpse of what their Realm was known for...

There were eight Realms that made up the world's inhabitable lands, each fixed precisely where they are best suited to function. His Realm was situated right on top of a jackpot of precious gems of all shapes and colors and sizes. Each gem was special, each one had a slightly different job; there were several for decoration, like the traditional sapphire and ruby gems. Others, however, had the ability to enhance the qualities of the wearer. Some, like the tokwa gem, even gave the wearer powers. Those were rare though, and only the most wealthy of nobles had enough money to buy them.

Of course, in order to acquire those gems and fix them up to sell, you needed hands... lots and lots of hands. Ianto had always lived pretty far away from the 'heart' of the Realm, where most of the gems and goods would be located, but as the resources there became more scarce, the heart 'migrated.' It was tradition for the king and his family to get up and move to a place with the most gems left. Little did the residents of this traditional Welsh village know they were sitting right on top of a huge underground network of expensive gems. Ianto's village would've never known that; no one there dares to try and open up a mine shaft and the area hadn't been scanned for deposits since the Lands were split into eight Realms. It was now illegal to scan potential mining areas for business without the government approving the act. Not that any of them would if they had the chance. If possible, it would be much better for someone to work in a business like is family... running an inn and pub. Everyone in their little village had something besides mining to do... Until the king moved here, and as a direct effect, all of those people.

Those people were simply looking for work. They needed money to pay bills, to feed families; Ianto knew that. Despite his eight-year-old (lack of) knowledge of economic issues, he was still disgruntled about the increase in prices of lots and lighting for house. The average adult male now could only acquire enough money to light up a single room in a house they owned, where before tit was plenty to light the whole house and then some. That being said, every single person in a family would have to work outside the home, even the children. It was an awful kind of work, but some families thought it was best to work that way. Ianto often heard his parents arguing about sending all three of their children out to work. He never really understood what the issue was, not at his young age.

Not only poorer folk came to their growing town, however, when the king moved. Nobles came as well; several of them owned mine shafts, and essentially, the people that worked for them. They always looked down on the lower class.

Ianto loved to look out the window and stare at the fancy looking carriages that were tugged along by gorgeous huge horses of all kinds of colors. Since he was watching the hustle and bustle separately, however, he also saw the way the people in the carriages looked at the families dragging their feet in the street. They were disgusted and it made him feel uneasy just looking at their snide faces. Ianto vowed he would never work and serve people like that.

But, because the times had changed, and Alwyn and father were practically drowning in work, Ianto was thrown into the family business head first. The day he turned eight, his mother couldn't shelter him anymore. It was time he learned what it meant to be a boy, a boy that was one day going to be a man. He swept the floors at first (he was too short to actually clean or serve any table and he was still too weak to toss those barrels around) so he swept and cleaned dishes.

That particular day, though, as he swept in his corner, something happened that caused the crowds usual hum of the pub to lessen some... Something had caused them to hush one another and twist in their seats. Something had disturbed this nest of drunken gossipers, turning their attention away from their brain numbing escapes at the bottom of their glasses. Ianto's little eight-and-a-half year old brain couldn't understand the fuss; the hurried, hushed whispers, the nudging and fidgeting. He was baffled, and his hands hesitated with the broom... The consistent scratching seemed out of place in the quite tense ambience that had taken over the shop.

'What's going on,' he wondered to himself, unsettled by the atmosphere. 'Are there monsters outside."

Everything seemed almost normal though. There was the same click of hooves on the roads accompanied softly by the wheels crunching on the asphalt as a little carriage was tugged along. Even as Ianto heard the carriage stop outside, nothing appeared out of sorts. He was startled by the bell that went off whenever the door was opened. He knew it was improper to stare, but a low murmur rippled through the place, and soon after it, the sound of bodies shifting to turn around as not to be rude. Ianto was just too curious to ignore all the surreptitious glancing and muttering. He snuck a glance towards the people who had just walked in.

Ianto then knew what had caused such a stir in the pub. The family that walked in was not one he had seen before. In any other circumstance, Ianto wouldn't have been puzzled; new people came to the inn most every day to pick up orders made by family members and such. There was just something about this family that seemed... Different. They oozed superiority and importance (Ianto noticed they're issue with keeping their nose in the air right off the bat) They stood looking down at the other patrons of the bar, all three of them, a mother, a father, and a son, all crisp and clean, looking as if they had just got back from a funeral. Ianto knew this was silly, for no one in town had died recently (he didn't think it counted if they were on the brink of death) Ianto figured those folk were probably mine owners... The really rich kind.

He didn't think anyone this important and rich had ever stepped foot in their place. Each family member had an extremely rare looking gem worn around their necks; each was wonderful looking. I recognized one: the amertis. The amertis was the gem for grace and charm. It was lying neatly under the mother's throat, shinning its dark purple. Ianto didn't think he'd ever see a gem so rare and beautiful with his own eyes.

"Wow... Mine owners in our pub," he whispered to himself in awe. Despite his curiosity, however, he couldn't help but wish they had never come in. Their snide faces matched those who believed they were supreme. He didn't like at all.

This silence seemed to be stretching forever. Every action had ceased in the wake of these beautiful people with their beautiful gems. Ianto was as startled as some of the patrons when his mother suddenly realized her place and the opportunity for business, scuttling out from around the counter bustling over to the rich people, carrying her menu in her hand and speaking loudly.

"Oh my! Look at my manners! I'm so terribly sorry! Welcome to the Crisial Inn..." The rest faded out for Ianto, he had heard it so many times. He focused instead on the family. Ianto took in how cold and calculating father looked; he could tell the noble wasn't in the mood to listen to what kinds of rooms were discounted for today.

The mother looked bored. 'She feels she has something better to do then be here,' Ianto thought, a tad bit disgruntled. They shouldn't be here if they didn't want to be! His little body leant against his broom as he finally laid eyes on the son.

He was thoroughly startled. The boy already had his eyes focused on him, the feeling of being watched sending heat straight to his cheeks. Even though Ianto had already caught this boy staring, all he did was smile slightly. It was more like a smirk, a very self-satisfied smirk that only widened when Ianto glared at him from across the pub. He felt mocked. Had that boy no manners! To stare at him like that, as if calculating him and deeming him useless or foolish. Ianto felt like writing him off too. He wanted to turn his back and stew as children do over silly things like this. But something stopped Ianto. His eyes. They were so very different from the eyes of most of the wealthy.

The boy's eyes were bright and full of adventure and mischief. It was then Ianto realized just how young the boy was. He had to be Ianto's age at the youngest, probably a year or so older in fact. Just the way he had dress... it had certainly led him to believe the young noble was a lot older than eight or even ten! His posture also seemed more mature; he stood as if he were programed to stand a certain way. He stood like the rest of his family, with the same expression gracing his face. His eyes spoiled the facade. Ianto was confused by the emotions flickering in his bright blue eyes. The noble almost seemed to be gazing at Ianto as if he wished he was in his place.

The two boys of completely different backgrounds and lives stared each other down, sizing each other up. Ianto no longer felt bitterness and childish fury towards the brash kid, just pure curiosity. The corner of the young noble's mouth twitched upwards, and his eyes sparkled more clearly with mirth. Ianto was captivated.

The spell was broken when his family began to move towards a table. Ianto quickly looked away, his cheeks holding only a small smudge of color. This seemed to be like a signal to everyone else inside the shop. Everyone started relaxing and the hum picked up. Ianto noticed only the ones furthest from the noble's table were speculating the reasons as to why this rich family would be here, while the ones closer to their table picked up topics that were floating around before the family busted into the room.

Ianto was willing to risk his backside to learn more about the family and the boy with the crystal eyes. He made his way around the room to the corner closest to them. By the time Ianto had slowly made it there, the cold father was already asking for Ianto's father to come have a seat with them.

Ianto was even more confused now. Surely they would've called ahead if they wanted to have a meeting?

He decided to continue his sweeping instead of stopping to listen closer. He figured the grown-ups would pay no mind to him if he pretended to be busy. He carefully picked their voices out of the buzz of activity. The first person who spoke was the rich man.

"Mr. Jones, what a pleasure to meet you..." he said in a soft sharp drawl. Ianto could practically feel his father tense up as he sat straighter in his seat and lower his chin.

"Why are you here, Franklin..." Ianto could hear the low threatening tone in his voice as he spoke. It sent a shiver of fear down his spine. His father was obviously upset and slightly afraid, and that terrified tiny Ianto more than anything. The rich man shifted in his seat, leaning forward to get closer to his father's face.

"You know exactly why I'm here, Mr. Jones, and I'd appreciate it if you called me Mr. Harkness. You were always such a rude bastard..." Mr. Harkness added, his words sharp and cold. At this, Mrs. Harkness turned to take her sons hand, leading him up to the counter and away from the escalating argument. Ianto glanced up briefly and felt the heat rush back to his face when he caught the son's gaze again. His eyes shot down to the floor and he instead tried to focus on the words flowing between the older men instead of the cool eyes of the noble's son. The two were becoming less and less like professional partners as the conversation went on. Ianto's ears pricked up as Mr. Harkness continued.

"And here I've been such a kind man... I've given you plenty of opportunities to dig yourself out of debt, and yet, here we are again." Mr. Harkness sat back again as it was Mr. Jones's turn to lean forward.

"You know I will not pay those bloody taxes... they aren't fair! A tax because we lived here before the king, a tax because we don't work in the mines... what's next!? A tax because we got up on the left side of the bed instead of the right? I refuse to pay any extra then what I did before!" Ianto's father was raging as quietly as possible, the anger thickening his accent. Ianto felt like this was exactly what Mr. Harkness wanted his father to say, for he stood with a small victorious smirk. Ianto's gut was steadily sinking towards his feet.

"Then it's decided. Since you refuse to pay the taxes, the land grant for the Jones family will be renounced and you will be tossed on the streets." Ianto's head whipped around violently, all pretenses of working gone. No way was this happening to them. Mr. Jones suddenly stood too. He had been trying to keep things quiet until this point.

"You... you can't do that! This is bloody stupid! How dare you! You... you won't do that!" His father bellowed, his face red and his eyes shining angrily. The pub was dead silent again. Ianto looked towards the counter and his little heart filled with fury at the content look on both the mother and son's rich faces. His little fists tightened on his broom.

Mr. Harkness turned slowly to face Tad. His lips turned up in a cruel, cold smile. "Mr. Jones... I know you aren't a bad man, so let's make a deal. I'll let you and your family live here without paying those extra taxes, but," he paused, watching Mr. Jones's grim face grow darker, "only if I can take one of your youngest son. The kitchen maids need a man's touch for once." The pub was silent.

Ianto was stunned. 'Me... It's... It's... It's me,' he thought, his little brain whirling fast. No way could his father give him away... He wouldn't... Ianto was scared to admit he wasn't all that sure that was the truth. He watched his father intensely.

Mr. Jones's face was pale and his eyes looked dull. He flicked his eyes towards Ianto, and his face twisted with pain. He turned back to Mr. Harkness after a moment.

"D-deal... you can take my youngest son. His name is Ianto... he may not look like much, but I'm sure he can help clean up," Tad whispered. Ianto felt the blood drain from his face and tears began welling up in his little eyes. His mother burst out of the kitchen, breaking the tense silence with her wails.

"You can't, Gareth, you can't do this!" she screamed, grabbing his arm. "That's our baby! That's our baby!" Ianto had never seen his mom in such distress before; it tugged at his heart and it made it harder for Ianto to keep it together like his father said real men did. He wasn't really sure what was going on, but he had the gist of it; he was being carted away. Someone grabbed his shoulder firmly, and Ianto looked up, startled at who he saw.

Mr. Harkness.

"Go pack your bags, son, we're taking you home." His voice had softened slightly, but he still nudged Ianto gruffly when he didn't move. He suddenly jolted forward, to his room, as if in a dream. Ianto couldn't believe this was happening.

It was Rhiannon who helped him pack my things. Her beautiful face was pale and her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"This'll be good for all of us, Ianto... I here they take good care of servants... you'll have raspberry jam on toast every day, for each meal," she said to her youngest brother, her hands and arms flying as she piled everything he could fit into this tiny bag for him. "You'll sleep in a bed, you won't have to share one with Alwyn, I know how loud he snores... Oh! And I bet the place will be full of nooks and crannies to..." She trailed off at the look her brother was giving her.

"Rhi... I'm... I'm scared... I'm so scared," he whimpered softly, tears welling up in my eyes again. He rubbed his eyes with two balled up fists. He wasn't strong enough not to cry. He didn't want to leave his family; Ianto loved his family, despite their debt and other money issues.

Rhiannon looked surprised, as if she had just been struck in the face. Then, suddenly, she crouched down and pulled her younger brother into her arms. She cradled Ianto like the child he was. He buried his face in her long soft hair and wept. He wished she could hold him like this forever. Here it was safe and familiar.

"It'll be okay, Yan... I promise..."

Almost as soon as these words were uttered, Mr. Harkness was calling down the hall again, his tone sharp like before. Rhiannon pulled away and Alwyn appeared in the doorway. He strode over to Ianto and kissed his head. He refused to utter a single word. Instead, he clapped Ianto's shoulder, his mouth a thin line. The brothers both sort of nodded to each other, a manly code. Just like that, the trio started down the hallway.

When they entered the pub, it was quiet. Their parents had quickly emptied the pub when the realized what was going to happen. Ianto's mam was glaring at his tad, who couldn't bear to look anyone in the eyes. Ianto's mother caught sight of him and ran towards him, her red puffy face twisting up again as she pulled her son into her arms and hugged him tightly. She cried softly, mumbling something into his neck, something Ianto couldn't make out because her arms were so tight around him. Ianto decided he didn't care. He just didn't want to leave.

Suddenly she pulled back, her eyes as clear as she could make them.

"N-now you be a good little boy, mind your manners... treat Mr. and Mrs. Harkness nicely and stay clean... I want you to make us Joneses proud... my little Ianto..." her hand stroked his cheek, before they both heard Mr. Harkness cough rudely. Ianto's mam stood, her face murderous, but it quickly cleared as she stepped aside. His father said not a word... he just stared at the floor. Ianto wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to hold his tad, tell him he loved him so much and wanted to stay, but Mr. Harkness was ready to leave. Ianto knew he had to get into a habit of anticipating his new family's needs.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, for being so civil and understanding. We will take good care of him. Now, carry on with your business." He turned on his heel to face Ianto. "Come along, Ianto," Mr. Harkness said quickly, exiting after his wife and son, both who had been impatiently hovering by the door. Ianto took one look behind him, at the place he had spent his eight and a half years of living, before following the tail of Mr. Harkness's fancy coat out of the pub.

As the door swung shut, Ianto heard his father begin to cry.