A/N: This fic was written for the SamDean_OTP mini bang on Live Journal. It was so much fun to do and allowed me to branch out slightly and try things I haven't done before. I can honestly say that I never thought I would manage the 10k minimum but ended up surpassing it. I hope that you all enjoy this and for those that are reading my other fics, I promise I haven't forgotten about them, life has just been very very busy and I'm in the middle of about 4 writing challenges on LJ at the moment but I will be updating.
Anyway on with the fic and hope you enjoy. Please review and let me know what you think :)
Bxx
France, 1337
Racing along the dirt path, Dean Winchester spurred his horse Colt on through the French landscape desperate to escape back to his homeland- England. Five years ago, he had been deployed to France under the guise of being foreign liaison to the French King, trying to keep peace between France and England, which over the last couple of years had been threatening to spill over into devastating conflict. However, it had only been a cover, he was in fact a knight of the English court and had another objective by his King: to gain Intel on the French court and to assassinate leading court officials' who would stand in the way of an Englishman taking the French throne. Dean had managed to integrate himself into the court much easier than even he thought possible, they had no real idea of whom he was and his true reason for being at their court. All they saw was a young man just of age coming to their court through orders of his King, no-one knew of his real status…he was the Duke of Richmond, possibly the most elevated peer in the realm outside the royal family themselves. It was suggested when he was a child that one of his ancestors had been a bastard of the royal family. Richmond being a title normally bestowed on those of royal blood without acknowledgment. When he had come to Paris, he had shed the name Winchester, instead taking a name of a lower more obscure noble so he could maintain an anonymous presence at Court. Unfortunately his father was one of the most well known and respected knights of England so to be associated with him would bring a suspicion upon him that would deter him from his real objective.
This whole nightmare had begun with the accession of the Valois family to the French throne after the extinction of the Capetian dynasty. The King of England, Edward III had believed that he was rightful heir to the throne through his mother however; the French had refused to acknowledge an heir, which came from the female line and had instead chosen Phillip VI instead. Dean shuddered as he remembered the anger his King had shown at this. Receiving a summons to court both Dean and his father had been in a private room with the King to wait for news from France; Edward's face had darkened with rage before throwing a chair across the room and upturning a table. For the first time in his life Dean had been wary of the man, he had grown up with Edward, establishing a relationship which resembled more brothers than that of lord and vassal. As he had seen the table crash to the floor, he had taken a step back from the man, physically shuddering as the King turned his calculating gaze on him. He was questioned on exactly how loyal he was to England, apprehension flooding through him as a glint of something he couldn't place flashed in the King's eyes. It was only moments later that Edward declared that he was going to send Dean to France as a liaison to try keep peace. The way it had been said had left Dean with a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew there was more to this plan than just peace, later that evening it was confirmed when the King told him what he wanted Dean to do. Part of him wanted to shout NO, that he wasn't going to carry this mission out, that his life was hanging onto the assumption that the French would accept his word. He kept his silence however, he knew that it was his King's will and he would do it without complaint. It had taken only a few days to set up the appropriate papers and passage on a ship to France; he had been terrified at the prospect of going to strange lands. He knew was capable of fighting need be, he was the best knight of his age, even surpassing most that were older. People respected the younger Winchester and saw a man who could certainly hold his own, it was for this reason that Dean had realized the King had sent him. Apart from his father, there was no other male in England who could do battle as well. Dean knew that they wouldn't be able to send his father, he was to well known and for him to be sent to the French court would rouse suspicion that the English were planning something. Dean however had been raised in relative obscurity, the English knew who he was after success in battles against the Scottish and Welsh but outside of England, no one knew who he was.
From the moment Dean had stepped into Paris, he had managed to fit in and become the number one confidante of Phillip. He felt a rush of guilt as he thought of his duplicity, the French King was not one to take people into his confidence and that he had done so in Dean had proven to be a bittersweet victory. He was not the type of man who was accustomed to lying and it was something that he hated doing, he had managed to wear Phillip down, charming him to the point that the King told him secrets that no-one except for a priest would have ever known. He had outwardly shown a desire to become more French and settle down in Paris causing the King to believe that he had cut off his ties in England, however every piece of information he gained was set to England, his allegiance always being to the house of Plantagenet.
He pushed Colt on a little faster, the feelings of danger creeping through his body once more, and he needed to get home. His mind began to filter through how he had ended up in this predicament, the King began to seek him out for advice on the court and warfare, and five nights ago a piece of paper found its way into Dean's hands that had turned his blood to ice. An Order, which had been made in secret to exact an invasion on England to attempt a conquering. Dean had immediately jumped into action, seeking a young stable boy he had established as a contact to take his letters out of Paris. It had all gone sour when he had been in his rooms when one of the garrison had came to his door saying that the King was demanding his presence, Dean had felt something was wrong and had made sure he tucked his dagger in his doublet before leaving with the solider. His suspicion confirmed as he reached the throne room only to see the stable boy being dragged in screaming, "It was the English man, and it was his letter I swear. I didn't have anything to with it". Dean had felt the colour drain from his face, he had no idea how someone had gotten their hands on his letter but he did know he had a few enemies who were envious at his position of comfort with the King and would gladly try get rid of him.
The solider had dropped his hand on Dean's shoulder to push him into the room when the reality of what was going to happen hit him. Grabbing the soldier's wrist with one hand, he spun round grabbing his dagger from his doublet and stabbed him in the stomach twice, pulling the man's mouth to his shoulder to muffle the sound. Glancing round, to make sure he was alone, he had dragged the body, dropping it out of sight and had run to his room gathering his belongings before racing to get his horse to get the hell out of Paris. He knew that as soon as someone discovered that he was gone that people would be looking for him. The point was proven after he narrowly missed capture in Poitiers by the Count of Alencon who had been pursuing him on his brother's behalf.
Rubbing the back of Colts mane, he whispered, "come on boy, just a little further and we will be safe". He knew they were about five miles out from Calais- smiling at the prospect of safety; he fingered his money pouch he had tied to his sword sheath, which he attached to the leather belt holding his hose in place. He was going to have to try bribing a sailor to stow him away and take him back to safe shores. He was a wanted man in these lands now and if he remained, he knew he would be beheaded for treason. Gripping Colt's reigns, he was both excited and nervous about returning home. It had been so long and he was eager to see what had changed but he was not as eager to see his Father. The last time he had seen him, there was angry words exchanged and Dean had left with a swollen jaw after he had told his father the truth about himself. Swallowing hard Dean pushed that thought to the side and continued to Calais, he would figure out how to deal with his Father when he was on his way back to England.
As soon as Dean could smell the salt of the sea in the air, he felt his body relax slightly even though he was not completely out of the woods yet. It didn't take him long to get to the port of Calais, dismounting Colt, he pulled his cloak tighter round him making sure the hood was up and covering his face. Word would have gotten out and he knew there would be soldiers' positioned at the ports to try capture him. Gripping Colt's reigns he walked towards the docks, his eyes always looking out for potential danger. His breath caught as he saw the colours of the French army, ducking his head down, he faced his horse patting it's mane, and fingering the hilt of his sword under his cloak, he didn't want to have to fight his way out but if it came down to it, he would. From the edge of his hood, he saw the soldiers' speaking loudly to a couple of merchants before wandering in the direction of one of the taverns.
The second Dean saw them disappear; he pulled Colt behind him and vowed to find someone who would take him home. To his immense surprise, it was not difficult; he managed to locate an English merchant who was on his way back to England. After a little persuasion and declining the gold he was offering, the merchant agreed to stow Dean away. He sent the young Duke to the lowest decks also helping him bring Colt with him before giving him a little food and wine. The merchant told him they would be leaving anytime but to stay quiet.
"Thank you for your kindness" Dean replied softly as the man walked back up to the top levels of the ship. The man did not reply he sent only a kind smile and nod towards the young man before closing the door leaving him in darkness.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and for the first time in five days had some proper rest, he tried to keep his eyes open just in case something was to happen meaning he would have to try make a quick escape but the escapades of his departure from Paris left him weary. Taking his cloak off, he bunched it up into a ball, laid it down on the dirty wood of the ship, and closed his eyes, hearing the soft neigh of Colt coming from the other side of the room. Dean smiled softly and whispered "We're going home Colt, we are going back to England".
English Channel, 1337
Feeling the light rock of the ship woke Dean up with a start, sitting bolt upright he looked round the darkened room for a second forgetting where he was. Getting his bearings, he was reminded of what was going on. He could hear the splash of water outside and knew they were on the high seas. Feeling around blindly, he found the wall and laid against it, drawing his knees up to his chest and stared into the blackness surrounding him, lost in thoughts.
He was ecstatic about going home, he had heard quiet chatter about the changes it had gone through in his absence, much more relaxed. Although he could never get fully comfortable with the free decadent life in France, he was unsure he could fit in with the regimented English style after experiencing the freedom. However, going home meant seeing his Father, a heavy weight descended over his heart at the thought of seeing his father for the first time in five years however. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted back to the last time he saw him. Dean had been aware for a number of years that the women of the court held little to no interest for him, his eyes tending to land on the young noble men. He had tried to push down the thoughts and outwardly to his father professed his desire to take a wife; his father had been casting a critical eye on Dean as though he knew there was something wrong with his son.
Everything had been going well until one day he had been grooming Colt in his father's stables. He had been lost in the actions of brushing that he had not heard someone enter the stable. He had heard a soft cough, which had caused him to jump, spinning around he locked gazes with a boy around his age. Dean vaguely recognized him as one of his father's servants. Dean tended to ignore the servants however looking into this boy's deep blue eyes, he wondered why. As the boy began to stutter about interrupting him and saying he would come back, Dean had held up his hand effectively stopping him mid sentence.
Swallowing deeply and letting the calming sound of the sea slapping against the side of the boat, Dean pictured that day, the time when his life turned upside down. The young boy, Michael as Dean found out when he asked his name, looked terrified as Dean walked towards him, a predatory sway in his step. He had told him not to look so nervous as he pressed upon him, quickly backing the boy against the wall of the stable. Dean could not tear his eyes from the boy's kissable pink lips constantly moistened by his tongue darting out with nerves. Ripping his gaze from his lips, he gazed into the blue eyes which held a flicker of nerves along with something that sent shivers down Dean's spine; a look of unbridled lust. With a groan, he had leaned forward and claimed the boy's lips with his own. From there things had spiralled out of control, somehow Dean had ended up with his back against the wall with his doublet discarded on the ground, shirt pushed up against his chest, hose pulled down and his cock in the boys mouth. From the second he felt the warm heat encompass his length, he knew he could not lie any longer to himself; he wanted a man in his life not a wife. It was as he was being sucked within an inch of his life; his father had entered the stable to find them.
The moment Dean had seen him; he had pushed the boy off him and pulled his shirt down. Locking gazes with his father defiantly, they had stood for what had felt like hours staring one another down. John Winchester had growled at the servant boy to leave and that he would deal with him later. Dean felt the boy's terrified gaze falling on him, almost pleading for him to help but Dean could not drop his father's stare, to do so would admit defeat, something he refused to do with his father. As soon as they were alone, John had grabbed his son by the throat and held him against the wall demanding to know where he had gone wrong. Dean responded by pushing his father off him and yelling that he could not help the way he was. He preferred the company of men to women and his father could not change that. John's face had gone pale at the comment, he had turned away for a brief moment as though he was going to walk away before spinning back round to face his son bringing his fist with him. Dean had no time to try block the surprise hit and felt his father's fist connect with his jaw. Holding the sore flesh with his hand, he had looked at his father with hatred burning across his features. He was ready to hit back when his father spoke quietly saying he had come to get Dean, as the King was demanding their presence at court. He spun on his heel and marched out the stable, leaving his son nursing his aching jaw.
Dean could feel the trickle of a tear roll down his cheek as the memories replayed back. He had left with his father to head to court. When they had stopped briefly, there had been more words of anger exchanged after Dean had yelled at his father. John had told him that if the King had not invested him as Duke his father would have disowned him. He refused to accept his son's position, he wanted him to settle with a wife and produce heirs. Dean had felt his world split in half as he listened to his father, after his mother's death they had almost clung to one another for support. With his father's words, he knew he was alone now, he may have his title and land but he had lost his only family. That was the same day they went to the King's side. When he found out that Phillip was the new crowned King of France. Edward had decided his course of action quickly. Dean had no time to prepare for his leaving England, gathering what he could; he was to leave on a ship with written orders to prove he was to be the liaison for England. He remembered standing on the deck of the ship, looking towards the shore hoping he would see his father. As they pulled away from the port, Dean spotted the dark hair and cloak he had grown up with, smiling slightly he looked at his father as he set sail for France, the last picture he would remember was a look of regret on his fathers face.
Hitting the back of his head off the wood, Dean cursed softly, he was not sure if he could face his father. They had said many things to one another but that day at the port made him wonder if his father may regret what he had said. They had not spoken in the entire time Dean was in France, it was to dangerous for them to correspond but there was a small flicker of hope that possibly his father had regrets as well. That maybe they could talk it through when they had a chance. John would have to accept that Dean was not interested in women and if it was, a problem then Dean would make his own way in the court. The one thing the French court had taught him over the years was confidence in himself, to live life freely and the way he wanted. However, if he was being honest with himself, he had no more encounters with men since Michael the stable boy. Part of him felt damned due to his father's reactions and whilst he didn't care about what his father thought of his life in general, he felt an innate need to try not disappoint him any further.
In the dark, Dean could hear footsteps outside the door. Standing up, he pulled his sword from his sheath ready to protect himself should the person come inside. The door began to creak open and the low light from a lantern filtered in. Holding his breath, he took a defensive stance as the flame from the lantern lit candles around the room, releasing his grip as light flooded the room; Dean saw that it was the merchant who had helped him. "I came to tell you that we are just closing on the English port my boy. The French came looking for you but I told them that none of us had seen you," the man said gruffly.
"I apologise for the inconvenience but I had to get back to England. France has become a danger to us I'm afraid" Dean said smoothly, hoping the merchant would not question him.
The man looked at him curiously before saying "What have you gotten yourself into son? I know France is becoming dangerous but these were the King's men looking for you. They don't leave Paris for nothing; there was talk of treason and a high reward being offered for you"
"It is better that you do not know. I don't want any trouble to come to you if you were to be questioned. All I can say is that I am fulfilling my duty to our King." Dean offered a weary smile before continuing, "You mention a reward for my capture, why did you not take it?"
"If you had not been English my boy, I would have but I have a sense of duty to my country and even through all that dirt that is covering you and underneath your cloak, you have the finery of a nobleman. I knew that you must have been running from something serious and if it is bad enough that you had to take refuge here, I was not going to turn you in." The merchant began to walk towards the door before turning back to look at Dean once more "We are pulling into port any moment now, you will be about a days ride from the King's court, maybe less depending how fast your steed can go." Pulling a bag of some sort from his tunic, he walked over to Dean and handed it over. "I have put some food in here for you, my prayers are with you son, may the grace of god protect you"
Dean felt a rush of gratitude race through his body at the kindness of a complete stranger. "May I ask your name Sir? So I know who it is that helped me in my time of need."
"My name is Maxwell, Maxwell Simon." the man replied. "And yours?"
Dean swallowed hard as he contemplated on giving the man his real name, but he was cautious. If the man was questioned, the last thing he needed was for the French to find out who he really was. "I am the Earl of Kent" he lied.
The merchant nodded "well my lord, I am happy to have done you a service, I hope you have a safe journey to the Kings court". A look of disbelief crossed his face when Dean announced his title, he knew that the man knew he was lying but would not question him any further. A noise sounded from above causing Dean to snap his gaze to the ceiling, the merchant beckoned him with his hand and moved towards Colt "Come, that is us landing, I will help you with your horse"
As they worked on loosing the ties that had kept the horse in one place, Dean laid his hand on the Merchants arm "Maxwell, I will never forget your kindness. Should you come to court one day, I will make sure you are repaid" The man smiled at him as he finally got the horse free and opened a door to let them out. Heading up to the deck, Dean could see the familiar land of England as the ship pulled into a dock, ignoring the curious and suspicious looks of the other sailors, he watched as the plank was put into place. Turning once again to his saviour, he smiled "Thank you again"
"You are welcome my boy, now go, none of us will have ever seen you, if we are questioned. As I said earlier, may the grace of god be with you" the man smiled at him.
Dean pulled the reigns of Colt and began to lead him down the plank before replying "I hope he is with you too Maxell. Goodbye". When he reached the bottom of the plank, he pushed up into his saddle, swinging his leg over to seat himself properly. Patting the horse's mane, he tapped his side with his boot softly pushing against the side of his horse; he set off through the familiar countryside. Breathing in a gulp of air, a smile broke across his face. He was finally home.