A/N: thank you to Higashisaru who was my beta this time!
I won't keep you. I know you've been waiting a week… ;)
By Royal Command
Chapter 7: A Colt You May Break, But an Old Horse You Never Can
From the last chapter:
"Oh, and what are you going to do? Smack his nose? Tell him 'no'? No one will be impressed with a punishment like that!" the snarky voice said. It was also brimming with glee, making Slade instantly hate the little snot.
"No, I won't 'smack his nose'," the man heard his master growl. "Guards! Fetch the executioner!"
Slade grew cold when he heard that word. He should escape, he decided, even though it would mean he would have to throw his plans away and just gather his men and attack. It would most likely mean carnage on both sides, and he had hoped for a cleaner takeover.
"So you're getting rid of him, Robin? Good choice. Can't have filth like that around," Lord Blackgate chuckled.
"I'm not getting rid of him, I'm going to properly punish him," Robin snorted, still holding the man's leash very tightly. "Punishments are the executioner's job after all."
That calmed Slade down a little. Maybe it was best to endure whatever was coming and stay put. He ground his teeth. This would not be fun.
"I say put him down, and that whore he was with as well-" the noble said loudly but he didn't get a chance to continue before the prince stopped him.
"I will certainly not punish a young woman when she clearly was seduced! I place the blame solely on my slave, but I'm affronted that you think you have any right to voice an opinion. Lord Blackgate, you are excused," Robin growled.
"But I-"
"You are trying your Prince's patience. Leave now, or join my slave's fate! Guards, escort him away!"
"I can walk by myself, thank you, Robin." the noble snarled. "And I will. Straight to my father."
The prince only snorted. Slade had eye lowered to the ground but heard angry steps crossing the courtyard and then they were left alone, apart from the remaining guards who kept a respectful distance. The man didn't doubt that they would be ready to fire their crossbows into his back if he as much as made an attempt to rise. Still, he knew who was the closest and had his eye on the man's sword, wondering if he would be able to reach it in time if he had to.
"Master-?"
"Quiet!"
"But… what did I do?" Slade had a very good idea what had pissed off the young monarch, but he was going to play dumb. At least if it would lessen his punishment. Desperate times…
The prince sighed and squatted down to his slave's level, using his finger to raise the man's chin enough to look into that single eye.
"You are mine. I told you to remember who you belong to, and I find you here about to… to KISS that maid! Sullying yourself with OTHERS behind my back!"
"I didn't know-"
"But you should have! You belong to me! I don't care what filthy deeds your former owners allowed, but you belong to a prince now! I obviously can't trust you off the leash and you are going to learn what happens when you make me look like a fool!"
"Your Highness?"
Robin rose as he heard the voice of the executioner. When he had been a little boy he had been very afraid of him, who wouldn't be, but as he had grown up he had learned that this was just a normal man with one of the hardest tasks in the kingdom.
"Ah, Headsman," the prince greeted him by his less official title. "My slave has been acting very inappropriately towards me and needs to be punished. What do you suggest?"
"Crimes against the crown are punishable by death, My Lord," the man said without so much as blinking.
"It was not that serious," Robin shook his head. "What is the crime for adultery?"
"Fifteen lashes, Sir, for a first offender."
"Then fifteen lashes it is. At once, please."
"Very good, My Lord. We'll bring him to the pole and I'll send my boy for the whip."
"Thank you. Guards, take the slave to the pole," Robin said, leaving his pet in the other men's hands.
"It is traditional to strip the convict before the punishment," he was told.
"Let him keep his breeches," the prince decided. "He's still my slave, after all. Headsman, a word?"
As the guards led Slade away Robin exchanged a few quiet words with the executioner.
"Tell me… whipping… can it cause permanent injuries?"
"Some die, My Lord. From the shock of the pain alone, or from the whip breaking their neck or spine, or from the lacerations getting infected."
"I want him punished," Robin said, "But not severely injured. Is there some way you could…?"
"Oh, yes, in some cases I'm asked to hold back. As long as it's fifteen strikes, the punishment is sound. It will still hurt him, however. You won't have much use for him for the rest of the day, at least. More if the skin breaks."
"I understand. Thank you. But please, try to not make it look like you're holding back. And we never had this conversation," the prince smiled thinly.
"Of course not, Your Highness."
"Good man. I will reward you highly for this… but if something happens… if he dies… you're the next one on the pole."
"Understood, My Lord," the man bowed.
The gossip had spread through the castle like wildfire, and, although Robin was moving things along as quickly as he could, there wasn't an empty window surrounding them as they stood in the inner courtyard. The pole here was rarely used, only when inhabitants of the castle itself were punished, but it stood in plain sight, as a reminder.
Robin thought he winced more than the slave did as the first strike landed. He had to steel himself not to look sorry for his pet. The anger about what the man had been about to do, maybe already done countless times, still burned hot enough to bury most of his empathy, however.
Slade grunted. Five. The lashes stung like nettles from hell, but he was surprised they weren't worse. The executioner also left space between each welt, making it less probable that they would split into open wounds. As he had never met the headsman the slave could only surmise that this was, for some reason, by order from the prince. Still, the punishment hurt, and seemed to take forever. Never had counting to fifteen taken so long. He kept his head pressed to the pole, gaze down, because most of the faces around him were either looking fascinated or leering. This was the scandal of the year for the castle, no doubt. Slade tightened his jaw. When he was king of this place, he'd have this pole ripped up. After whipping little Lord Blackgate to death on it, preferably. By the tone of the noble's voice Slade had assumed that he had something to do with this, but what, exactly…? He would find out and then he just needed an excuse…
"Prince Robin."
Robin didn't even turn around when he heard his father's greeting, afraid that that would make it look like he couldn't bear to watch the punishment.
"Your Majesty," he replied shortly.
"Did your slave misbehave?"
No, I'm doing this for the entertainment of it, Robin thought dryly to himself.
"It seemed he hadn't understood one of the basic rules," the prince replied.
"Well, that was careless of you. You need to explain things very plainly when it comes to servants and slaves."
"Yes, Sir, I have learned that now," Robin nodded.
"Good. I am glad to see you are punishing him properly, however. He won't be likely to… stray again. My duties are calling me, but I would like to see you for dinner in the main hall tonight."
"Yes, thank you, Sir." Robin nodded, trying not to blush from the 'stray' comment. Of course the king had heard exactly why Slade was being whipped, and probably a worse version of it as well.
"That's fifteen, My Lord. What shall we do with him now?" the executioner asked.
"Clean him up and take him to my rooms. He's not to leave them," Robin answered. He watched the man being unchained and heard a grunt of pain from him when his arms were lowered, but then he turned away. He didn't have to watch anymore, and frankly, he didn't want to. His anger had lessened with each stroke and now he just felt… sick.
"My Lord?" Alfred had appeared at his side. The old man had probably been there since the punishment began, but the prince hadn't noticed. "Would you like to change the schedule for today?"
"No. The fencing class would have been over now… what's next?"
"Mostly paperwork, My Lord. Are you sure you-?"
"Yes. It's fine. Bring it to the throne room."
"Not your private study?"
Robin made a face. Returning to his own quarters with Slade just a couple of rooms away? "No."
Slade was lying on his bunk, on his stomach. He had been washed with cloths soaked in cold water, and not very gently, but he had said nothing, barely moved. He felt hot, and still shivers were running up and down his spine, making him shake slightly. It was not a true fever, he knew; even if he had some open wounds it was too soon for any infection to set in. This was merely shock; the body's way to try to deal with, and understand, the pain. He had expected it to be more or less over with the last strike, but instead his flesh had swelled up, causing more strain on the welts. It reminded him of a really bad sunburn he had gotten as a youth, that had left him feverish as well and every attempt to move brought pain.
Robin worked all through the day until evening, when he had Alfred bring him a change of clothes so he could join his father and the crème de la crème of Gotham City. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but didn't feel that hungry. He picked amongst the delicacies while trying to converse politely with the other guests about absolutely nothing at all. He had a glass of wine. And another. And another. He managed to leave the dinner with his dignity intact, however, if just barely.
It wasn't until he saw Slade on the cot that Robin remembered why he hadn't wanted to go back to his rooms. He had shooed Alfred away already, although the valet had been reluctant to leave his prince alone in his condition.
"Oh," The prince said when he laid eyes on his slave. "So here you are, huh…?" his voice was slurred, but he didn't hear it himself. "You 'wake?... You… 'kay?"
Slade didn't open his eye. He'd rather pretend to be asleep than deal with the prince right now and the boy was drunk as well. The prince, however sat or almost fell down on the side of his cot.
"You… you are so stupid…" the young man mumbled, starting to stroke the slave's hair. "You… almost… you almost ruined it… don't you see? Don't you see that they… that… they would have… would have take- taken you away from me?" the prince hiccupped and then burped quite loudly. "I… I have to… to control you… I… I'm… I'm sorry…" With what sounded like a dry sob the prince got unsteadily to his feet and, after just a few steps, collapsed on his own bed. Soft snoring was heard just seconds later.
The man did understand now. He remembered the King saying that he would take Slade away from the prince if he brought any 'disgrace' to him. In fact, the prince had told him that too. He should have known better than to flirt with someone else… at least that openly. He had been an idiot and he had paid for it. He had to consider that fair, in the end. He would have punished a disobedient subordinate as well, and maybe even harsher, depending on the crime, and, considering how taboo sex was here… Slade snorted softly to himself. He had really chosen the wrong time and place for it.
"Good morning Si-"
"Nooo… let me sleep…" Robin groaned and pulled the covers closer around him. He felt terrible and he was uncomfortable as well. Was he still wearing his shoes?
"I think an infusion for your headache might be recommended. I have a cup prepared, My Lord, if you would just sit up."
Robin grumbled. Alfred couldn't be deterred when he used that voice. He rolled over and sat up with another groan. At once his eyes fell on Slade who was still on his cot. The prince swallowed uncomfortably. The man's head was turned away from him, but his back...
"Oh, god…" the young man whispered, staring at the long, angry red welts and bruises.
"I took the liberty of acquiring a cream for your slave's back, which will reduce the swelling and the pain… but only if you want it to be used, of course," Alfred let him know and pressed a mug of a steaming tea-like beverage into the prince's hands.
"Yes… Yes, of course!" Robin stuttered and swallowed a few mouthfuls of the infusion that would, hopefully, settle his headache. "I mean… I want him to be back on his feet, so… yes," he said, trying not to sound, and feel, guilty. He had done the right thing. Maybe he should have explained the rules a bit more clearly, but Slade should have known better. He really should.
"Very well, Sir. I've cleared your schedule for this morning as it's nearly ten already."
"Could you clear the rest of the day as well?" Robin wanted to know, swallowing the rest of the brew.
"I could, Sir, but are you not worried that would be seen as a sign of… weakness?"
Robin grunted. Yes, Alfred was right. It would seem like he was sulking about his slave or that he was so hung over that he was incapacitated.
"I'm never drinking wine again," he muttered.
"Well, My Lord, if you had only had your usual one glass…" his valet pointed out.
"Thank you, I know," the prince sighed.
Slade had pretended to be asleep all through this, mainly because he didn't really feel like getting up as the skin across his back was stretched so tautly. He had to at one point or another, however, and stirred, turning his head around, hissing from only that movement. The prince was quickly by his side, and gently touched his hair.
"Stay where you are, Slade, you don't have to get up. We'll get a lotion on your back which will help with the pain, and you can stay in my rooms today."
"Thank you, Master," the man ground out and then steeled himself for the rest; "I'm terribly sorry I dishonored you. I understand now what a crime it was and I hope you will someday forgive me."
"I thought you understood that you were mine," the prince said sternly, "but I do forgive you. The punishment is over and that means the crime is behind us. After all, that is what punishments are for. But I have to ask, and tell me the truth… Did you bed her?"
"No, Master. It was only that kiss, and that got… interrupted."
The prince snorted, obviously not appreciating the humor. "Fine. If you do anything like this again, however, I'll have you gelded." It was not a joke, Slade could see that clearly in the young man's eyes. The look softened, however, when the prince continued. "To prove that you are forgiven, I will apply the cream myself."
"My Lord, are you sure?" Alfred, who clearly didn't think that was appropriate, asked.
"Yes. When I rode Summer, a few years back and didn't notice she had a loose shoe, making her trip, I tended to her leg for weeks, didn't I?"
"You did, My Lord, but-"
"Slade is my responsibility too. I have to take care of him. After all, he has no one else," Robin said softly and played with the man's hair again.
Slade only gave him a small smile, wondering what the young man would say once he realized he indeed had quite a few people behind him. Well armed people at that.
Alfred agreed, but not until the prince was dressed and ready for the day. Well… what remained of it. Robin was then handed the jar and swallowed quietly. He didn't feel as sure of himself as he had sounded. He was, basically, afraid of making things worse, but he followed the instructions on the note from the castle's physician and cleaned his hands properly first, before cleaning the blistering back as well. Robin could tell it hurt, but he moved on, hoping Slade would appreciate it being done sooner instead of later. As he carefully dried the skin off, he drew a breath of relief.
"There we go, now for the cream…"
First it felt icy cold against his skin, then it burned, but soon the man could feel the numbing effect. The salve was apparently very strong, and Slade appreciated it. He wondered if it contained poppy seeds like some of the strongest pain remedies in the mountains did. Whatever was in there, though, let him relax a little for the first time in twenty four hours.
"There. Better?" the prince asked.
"Yes, Master, thank you," Slade nodded.
"Good," Robin said, and, before he stood up, he did something that made the slave's eye widen a bit; he patted the man's ass. The young man then walked out of the room followed by his valet. Slade's and Alfred's gazes connected for the briefest of moments, but the older man's face was unreadable. Slade wasn't sure what the man thought of him, but he clearly hadn't warmed up to him like his prince had… or maybe he wasn't quite as gullible. Although, Slade had to admit, it was hard to find anyone as gullible as the prince… well, he amended, when it came to personal things, at least, because he had seen the young man be as sharp and shrewd as anyone, and the reason he was naïve about other matters was hardly his fault. Like the patting right now. It was impossible to hate the prince for it, because he didn't mean it to be demeaning. He didn't try to humiliate Slade, after all, the man knew. The pats, as well as the way he liked to play with his hair, were signs of affection; after all, that's how you showed fondness for a pet, wasn't it? Sure, the prince was aware of his status, and it was so far above the one of a slave that they actually might really have been different species. But, again, that wasn't his fault; that wasn't only how he had been raised, it was also the only world he had ever seen. Slade doubted the young man had traveled much, probably not even been out of the country, and he had never met people who questioned his authority in any way… so why would he? The man chuckled dryly as he realized that he was, for some reason, defending the boy, but he did see some of himself in him. He hadn't grown up nearly as sheltered, and had already sized power at the prince's age, but he knew what it was like to be surrounded by people who didn't dare to disagree with him, and that that might lead to terrible mistakes.
Slade didn't have time to think about the little prince anymore, because at that moment two servants came in to tidy up the young man's rooms. It was the same ones who had showed him how the bath worked when he had first arrived, and the man realized that all the servants he had seen in the prince's quarters had been boys or men. He wondered if it was a coincidence, but probably not. Better to keep temptation away from young men, he guessed. Especially as that temptation might lead to illegitimate contenders to the throne.
Slade greeted the men, but they seemed very uncomfortable.
"What? You lads never got whipped for trying to kiss a woman?" he grinned, which instantly lifted the tension. They talked and joked while one of the men changed the prince's sheets and the other cleaned out and restacked the fireplace. Slade, carefully, got on his feet, as he really had to relieve himself, and when he got back his own sheets were changed as well.
"Thank you, they were starting to smell," he nodded. "So… I hope Cassidy didn't get in trouble?"
"Trouble? She has had three marriage proposals so far today!" one, Aron, Slade thought his name was, chuckled.
"Really?" Slade blinked.
"Yeah," the other one, Ben, said. "You might be a slave, but you are the prince's… umm… personal one… so you're practically the prince in some people's eyes. And if you're interested in her…"
"Ah, I see…" the northern king chuckled.
"I heard even the blacksmith asked," Aron gossiped as he tidied up.
"She wouldn't do bad there, a blacksmith is never out of a job," Ben nodded.
Slade only feigned interest in the conversation. He guessed being a wife might be better than long, hard days in a hot kitchen with people shouting orders, but on the other hand, she would most likely lose interest in Slade if she accepted a proposal… not that he was serious about the maid; all he wanted was some fun and if the fun might actually ruin her life, it wasn't really worth it to the man. He'd wish her good luck if he ran into her again, after all, bar parting her legs, he doubted there was more she could really do for him.
The day went by slowly for Slade. He was sent lunch and even some fruit, so the prince obviously hadn't forgotten about him. He moved carefully, because although the pain from the whipping had been taken away by the cream, he knew it was only temporary. When he checked his back in the mirror in the afternoon, however, it didn't look too bad. He had no idea how his back had looked this morning, but judging by the prince's reaction it had to have been worse then. It wouldn't scar, something he was grateful for, because he didn't need a permanent reminder of something like this.
He read, but it was uncomfortable to either stand or lie on his stomach to do so, and all other positions were unthinkable. As the effect of the lotion began to wear off the pain came back, but it was lessened now, not much more than a light sunburn this time.
The prince was bored as well. Bored and worried about his slave. He spent the day mostly socializing with people as his inner circle had been complaining that he had abandoned them since he got his pet. Robin realized that he had actually spent most of his time with only Slade and also that he hadn't missed the others in the least. Bryant was there as well, looking smug, but the prince tried to ignore him as much as possible without being rude. That didn't discourage Lord Blackgate at all though.
"I hope your slave isn't dead?" he began.
"Of course not," Robin snorted. "He'll be fine by tomorrow," he added, hoping that would be true.
"After a whipping?" Lord Riley gasped. "I have heard those can kill you!"
"Not Slade, he's a very strong man, after all," the prince gloated.
"Oh, I don't know. Father has let me pick one for myself, and he's quite a strong man as well," Bryant scoffed. "Yes, yours is somewhat taller and heavier, but you know that those big oafs are rather useless when it comes to actual strength. Like fighting."
"When Slade is well again we can see, Blackgate," Robin smirked. "And where is this famous slave of yours?"
"Oh, he'll… be arriving in a few days. Father sent for him specially," the young man claimed. "I will keep him as my bodyguard, though. I see no other use for him."
"No, well, you wouldn't," the prince leered, knowing better.
"Ah, but you misunderstand me, Robin," Bryant leered back and leaned a little closer to the prince. "You see, I wouldn't lower myself to seek pleasure from a slave. Gentlemen, after all, should seek their company from each other… isn't that right, Lindon?" he asked and turned to Lord Riley, whose first name Robin hadn't even known before now. Well, he remembered it now, so he guessed he had only forgotten. The strawberry blonde blushed a bit and looked away, while mumbling a "Yes, Lord Blackgate," making the prince wonder what exactly the vile boy had made him do.
"That's one way to see it, I guess, but I'd rather have an experienced tutor than a fumbling fool in that area," Robin snorted.
"He's experienced, alright, bedding every maid in the castle," Bryant giggled.
Next a sharp slap rang out through the room, followed by a yelp. Robin lowered his hand, the back of it having connected quite hard with the young lord's cheek. Bryant, quite wide-eyed clutched it.
"How dare you insult my property?" Robin hissed. "One day I will be your king, you would do well to remember that!"
The prince could see expressions flickering across the lord's face, like an internal battle raged inside him. For a moment Robin almost thought the young man would strike back, but that would be considered an attack equal with treason, and might lead to a death penalty. Robin almost hoped he would strike, but instead the young man collected himself and gave a little bow. It was too shallow to be much more than a mocking gesture, however.
"I apologize. It was meant as a joke, My Lord. The drawback of having a sharp tongue, I'm afraid."
The drawback of being a complete jerk, you mean? Robin thought darkly to himself, but he had noticed the 'My Lord' and hoped that meat Blackgate had taken his warning seriously. He didn't voice any form of pardon, however, just nodded shortly and turned to talk to Lord Gordon about horses, as that young man actually owned a few decent ones.
At last, when the late afternoon finally arrived, he could excuse himself for a valid reason: he had a lesson to attend.
"Master," Slade greeted the prince with a bow, although it was a bit shallower than usual.
"Slade!" the young man rushed forwards like he was the eager puppy this time, and started to feel his face for some reason. "How are you feeling? You don't have a fever, do you?"
"No, Master, and the cream really worked," the man answered.
"Let me be the judge of that, turn around," the prince ordered and as Slade was still shirtless, he could see the result immediately. "Yes, it really does look a lot better," he confirmed. "I have a lecture shortly, but after that and dinner, I'll apply a new coat, if you want?"
"I'd be very grateful, Sir," the man said honestly. "If I may ask, what is the lesson in?"
"Strategy. Mainly war strategy. Usually we look at historic wars and I'm supposed to figure out what went right or wrong and alternative tactics."
"Sounds a little dull, My Lord," Slade smiled, remember his own lessons as a child.
"It does, but it's surprisingly interesting. I like to try to solve problems that seem impossible. Like chess. That's a game where-"
"Yes, Master, I know about chess," Slade nodded with a chuckle.
The prince blinked, as it was not a very common game, and absolutely not one for the masses. "You… don't happen to know how to… play it?" he asked carefully.
"Yes, I do."
"Fantastic! I so rarely get to play and frankly, the competition here is very poor… When you are comfortable again we'll play."
"I'm looking forward to it, Master," Slade nodded. He did, in a way; chess was one of his favorite pastimes in the long winter months.
"You know what, Slade?" Robin had a small grin on his face, which made his blue eyes really light up. "It's like your former masters trained you just for me…"
To Be Continued….
A/N: aw, wasn't that sweet? If only Robin knew… ah, well, not yet, I'm afraid. Long story, remember? Hopefully you're not bored yet. Review and tell me.
