Hiya, so I reckon that there needs to be a lot more to this book in way of fanfiction, in particular to the relationship between Gar and Asher.

Not related to my other fanfict.

Takes place after Asher has been beat up by his brothers.

Warning: Slash themes/impressions.

He never should have come back. Not to this house. Not to Westwailing. "Leave it be."

"His name, Asher."

Somehow he opened his eyes. "I fell down."

Gar stared, incredulous. "I don't think so."

"I fell down."

That's a lie!"

"I fell down!"

Infuriated, Gar shoved him a second time.

(Comes from the book.)

Collapsing into the wall an anguished cry tore past his lips as his eyes closed tightly in an effort to keep the tears at bay. He would not cry, not here, and definitely not in front of him. As he tried to stand his legs buckled and he fell to the floor in a dull thud, balling his hands into fists and slamming them into the nicely carpeted floor in an effort to keep from crying out. Breathing raggedly he tried to collect himself, to force the pain away.

He really needed another drink; the pain was getting to be too much.

He was dimly aware of when Gar lowered himself down beside him. He was definitely aware of it when Gar's long fingers gently ghosted over the wounds closest to his shoulders before they strayed lower. His breath hitched and air was suddenly harder to come by as those fingers traversed his dizzying array of wounds before coming to rest gently at his hips. Miraculously they were unharmed from his brothers' heavy blows and Zeths' belt.

He felt, more than heard, Gar shifting once more, sidling closer ever mindful of his multitude of injuries. Noises were becoming as distant as his vision was fading to black. Those gentle hands eased off his unmarred hips and slowly eased his side to a warm vibrating chest. Gently, as though made of glass he was manoeuvred until he was cradled against a warm well-muscled silk robed body, like a mother would a small child.

Any other time and he would never allow this to happen, this humiliation. Any other person and he would certainly never endure it, would jerk away as if burned, despite the fact the mere thought of moving proved too tiring to accomplish.

Much to his shame, he found him releasing what could only be a pathetic sob turned whine and whimper as a moved one arm to wrap round the prince's neck as the other clenched at his shirt in an attempt to keep him there, to stay as they were. The warmth and safety he felt was as terrifying as it was welcoming and needful. Shifting his head he buried it into the crook where shoulder meets neck, feeling the unbound hair softly tickling him. It was now that salty tears fell from red eyes, absorbed by the person handling him with such great care.

Those long talented fingers carded softly through his thick matted black hair, soothingly stroked the small area of unmarked skin at his hip. With those sensuous lips which whispered softly into his ear, who gently pressed kisses to the top of his head.

He thought he heard the door creak open, no doubt the ole crow coming to make sure he hadn't hurt his precious prince. Ha, as if!

This thought was proven right when he felt the chest tighten with tension and the hand in his hair moved away as the one round his waist tightened sending burning rivers of pain through his body, a pitiful moan pouring out of his dry aching throat. Not a word was spoken by either Gar or Darran though the latter let loose a dreadfully loud gasp at the sight of his bloodied back; which would no doubt scar whether it be treated or not.

Tears fell onto the top of his head, as Gar loosened his hold once the door clicked close once more. Darran, no doubt, sent away with a pointed glare, off to fetch a pothecary.

"Asher, please tell me who did this, please let me help you." Gar's voice sounded just as broken as he felt.

But what could he say? What was done was done. It could not be undone no matter what the prince did. Common Fisherfolk Law ran partly outside that of the crown. Even if it didn't there was no way any could win by going to court over this, matters would just become worse.

Shaking slightly he whispered. "Forget it, what's done is done, I am forever shunned." Holding back more sobs he raised his head, pushing himself backwards so as to look the prince in the eyes. Let him see the truth of it in his.

But what he saw in the prince, no in Gar's eyes, shook him to the core, more so than what his brothers words ever could. He saw shadows of the storm, he saw grief over the loss of the king, and he saw weariness. Most of all he saw how much his present condition pained Gar to no end, he also saw something which he could not identify, something which he had seen in others eyes, but had never before been directed towards him. It scared him as much as it warmed him. It was not done, was wrong but sent torrents of happiness through his veins to know that Gar felt the same; that his feelings were returned.

Better still, he did not ever need to voice it for he knew by the slight widening of his eyes and the quirk of his lips that he saw it in his equally tired red eyes.

As awareness returned to his beat up body, he heard dual footsteps thudding up the stairs. Darran had returned.

A full smile now lit Gar's face, a small chuckle released as he quickly lowered his head, catching Asher's lips in a chaste kiss. Pressing his forehead to the Olken's, Gar spoke softly.

"Stay strong, I will see you healed and then we will leave this place, return together to the Tower. I want and need you by my side." A soft kiss was pressed against his temple as he nodded his acceptance.

By each one another's side was where they belonged, the path may not be an easy one but it was the one they would follow for it was where their hearts lay.