Hi Friends!

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting this story. I hope you are enjoying it and I hope that I am keeping you on your toes.

I only did a quick edit so please forgive any mistakes that slipped by my eyes.

Enjoy!

Later that morning, after Spencer had left, Derek had fallen back asleep only to be woken up by one of his father's messengers. The young boy had informed the prince that his father had requested his presence later that evening in his receiving chambers. Confused and a bit worried, Derek had his servants help him thrown on his clothes and had set off for breakfast.

All throughout the day the prince pondered what his father could possibly want. The king was nowhere to be found and the castle was abnormally bustling with activity. At one point Derek became so fed up with being kept in the dark that he eventually asked one of the servants what had everyone so busy. Unfortunately, the servant was unable to explain the purpose behind the activity and didn't know of anyone who could enlighten the prince.

The day continued to drag on slowly and by the time the evening came about Derek was more than ready for his meeting with his father. He showed up a bit earlier than instructed and demanded that the guards allow him into his father's rooms. Once he arrived and got a look at the king he instantly knew that something was wrong. His dad was pacing back and forth across the vast space and grumbling under his breath. It took Derek clearing his throat and saying, "I'm here father. You wanted to see me?" for the king to cease his stepping and looked up at his son.

The look on William's face was scrutinizing and calculating as he inspected the prince. The king's mind was going a mile a minute as images of Derek being intimate with that disgusting slave flitted through his head. Deciding not to delay this conversation any longer he said, "Son, as of this morning you are now pre-contracted to the Lady Elle Greenaway. Her father and I met this morning, ironed out the paperwork and signed the documents. You two will be married at Christmas time this year."

Derek's jaw dropped open in disbelief, "I…I don't understand. Last night you said you were willing to give me some time to find my own mate."

"Things have changed since then. Especially since this morning when Lord Greenaway proposed an offer to me that I couldn't refuse," William said shrewdly.

"But I don't love her…," Derek trailed off.

"Ha…love. Who ever said that marriage was about love? You are a prince and love really isn't a factor when it comes to you and your future bride. This is the real world son and as the king it's my job to make sure that your wedding is beneficial to my kingdom. Lady Greenaway's father has promised me a handsome dowry; one that is going to profit my coffers greatly," William explained.

"Money!? This is about money? It's my future, father. I think that my happiness should be worth more than a few thousand dollars," Derek cried out heatedly.

"Honestly…it's not. Money is what makes the world go round and really all that matters. My father made sure that Quantico had a powerful reputation throughout the world, and money is the only way we can keep our feared status. Your union will make it possible to expand our lands, strengthen our army, and build a few more ships. We will become more powerful than ever before and the whole world will cower at our feet," William bragged.

Derek stood speechless as he processed the information. He always knew that his father was greedy, but he never imagined he would put his hunger for supremacy above the happiness of his one and only son.

"What if I refuse to marry her?" Derek ventured once he got his voice back.

"You can't. The contract has already been signed and the date is set. The only way for you to get out of this marriage is death," William scoffed. "And if I even think that you are considering fleeing the kingdom I will lock you in your room until Yuletide."

Derek was just about to respond to his father's threat when the doors to the receiving chamber were flung open. Both men turned toward the doorway, startled at the sudden disruption. There, standing just inside the entrance were the king's most trusted knights gripping a struggling body in between them. The figure looked very familiar but their head was bowed down and they were wearing the same clothes as every other slave in the castle.

The prince glanced at his father to see if he knew what this was all about, but saw that King William seemed just as confused as his son. Derek turned his attention back to the knights and missed the sinister smile that now graced his father's lips.

"Sir Foyet. Sir Breitkopf. What is the meaning of this disruption?" the king demanded, trying to hide his glee.

Sir Foyet let go of the prisoner and stepped forth and bowed down, "Your Highness. Prince Derek. I have some disturbing news to deliver."

"Go on," William encouraged.

"Sir Breitkopf and I were making our rounds this evening when we heard a sound coming from the hallway over by Lord Gideon's rooms. We quickly made our way toward the noise and when we rounded the corner we were met with the site of Lord Gideon dead. He had been stabbed through his midsection with his own broadsword," Foyet described.

Derek gasped at the revelation and felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. He looked toward his father, whose jaw was wide open in disbelief, and turned back to the knight, "Who did such a thing?"

Foyet grimaced and gestured behind him, "We found the culprit crouching in front of Lord Gideon's body."

Sir Breitkopf took the opportunity to shove the lanky body he was holding down onto the floor in front of the king, "He was pressing on the wound and watching Lord Gideon bleed out. He is covered in blood and his handprint is on the hilt of the sword."

The perpetrator on the floor kept his face hidden as his body trembled in a tight ball before the king.

Sir Foyet, relishing in the kid's agony, kicked the slave in the stomach and said, "Pay the king and prince some respect, you filthy piece of garbage."

Derek watched with angry eyes as his mentor's killer straightened up his body and bowed low in proper supplication.

King William hovered over the boy's prone body and said, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

A muffled response came, "I…I didn't do it…I found him like that, Your Highness."

Derek didn't think he could have been any more surprised when he recognized the voice coming from the figure splayed before him, "Spencer?"

The boy slowly tilted his head upward and his mop of hair fell away from his face revealing his visage for the prince to clearly see. His lover's face was streaked with tears and flushed a deep red. There were splatters of blood marring his features and the look he was projecting was devastating.

Not giving the slave a chance to respond to his son the king cut in, "You expect me to believe that when you're covered in his blood and your handprint is on the murder weapon?"

"I…I…tried to help him, but it was too late. And I never touched his sword, Your Grace," Spencer sputtered as he realigned his gaze with the floor.

"Right, and I'm a poor beggar on the side of the street. You're going to have to come up with a better explanation than that," the king sneered.

"Father! There is no way Spencer could have done this. Lord Gideon was like a father to him," Derek cried out in his best friend's defense.

The king turned toward his son and scoffed, "Derek, you are too deeply invested in this young man to judge this unbiasedly. I guarantee that he was fed up with Lord Gideon treating him like a slave and lashed out against him. Now he is taking advantage of your history growing up together in order to trick you into believing he is innocent."

Spencer, upon hearing the king's comment, longed to look up at his lover and tell him that what his father was saying wasn't true. He wanted to proclaim his innocence at the top of his lungs but he couldn't. As it was, he knew he was being framed. He just didn't know why and by whom.

"No father, you are wrong. I know this man and he wouldn't hurt a fly. He values life too much to take it away from someone else!" Derek said as a rebuttal.

"Enough! You have been hypnotized by this piece of filth and I will not stand for it anymore. What more do you need to understand that he isn't worth your time? He is covered in the blood of your mentor. That alone is enough evidence for me. Sir Breitkopf! Sir Foyet! Take this waste of space down to the dungeons and put him in irons. Schedule his execution for Friday when he will be drawn and quartered out on the green," William proclaimed with venom in his voice.

The two knights walked forth and jerked the waif off the floor. The boy was inconsolably sobbing upon hearing his sentence and had an endless stream of tears running down his face. Knowing that there was no way he was going to get out of this alive he decided to appeal to his lover one more time, "Derek! I didn't do it. Someone had stabbed him before I got there. I was trying to save him. Please believe me!" he cried as he struggled against the hands that held him.

"Shut him up and get him out of here!" the king shouted, incredulous that the slave actually had the audacity to defend himself.

Foyet, upon hearing the king's instructions, took his free hand and crushed it over the boy's lips, "Quiet, filth! If you so much as utter another word I will break your jaw."

Derek, upset at his lover's treatment, took a step forth to rescue him from the two knights, but his father flung out his arm and stopped him.

"You will remain here and allow them to do their duty," the king ordered as he fisted the prince's shirt in order to keep him in place.

"But father, you can't kill him…please!" the prince pleaded pitifully knowing that his father wasn't going to change his mind.

William, fed up with his son's argument, ordered, "It's done, son. Now go put on your clothes for the banquet. We are already late for your engagement party and the kingdom is waiting to find the identity of your fiancée."

The two boys kept their gazes locked on each other until the doors closed on the retreating figures.

Spencer barely registered the trip down to the dungeons. He was too distraught over being falsely accused of murder, the loss of his father figure, and seeing the horrified look that marred Derek's face as he was being hauled away.

The young man didn't snap out of his thoughts until the trio jerked to a stop at the bottom of a dank stairwell. Spencer looked up from the stone floor and observed his surroundings.

The room that they were standing in was dimly lit by a few candles resting on a wooden table in the center. They were placed there by the guards, who used the meager light in order to play card games while they were passing time on their shift. The walls and floor were all made out of an unpolished granite that had mold flourishing in the corners due to the high level of moisture in the air. Behind the table was a large wooden doorway with a small barred window at the top. Moans of pain and discomfort radiated through the little opening, signaling the misery of the occupants hidden behind the barrier.

At the table sat a fat man that may have once been a mighty knight who had let his appearance go over time. The obese guard didn't even bother to get up from the table when the three entered the room, "Brought me another one, boys? What's this one in for?"

Foyet's face crunched up in disdain for the disgusting slob sitting in front of him, "Murdered his owner. Now get up off your fat ass and unlock the door."

The man grumbled as he hauled his massive weight off of the tiny chair he was occupying. He grabbed a candle and walked to the wooden door. He unlocked the fortified locks with an iron key and tugged the access open for the knights. Spencer peered into the darkness beyond the man and felt fear flow through him when he realized that he couldn't make anything out. He had to stifle a terrified whimper that his body longed to release as he was yanked deeper into the prison.

The guard started walking down the chilly passage leading the group with the only light source. A musty scent overwhelmed their nostrils as they passed by countless doors that were identical to the entryway. The moans and groans became more pronounced now that the prisoners knew someone was outside of their doors.

After they passed by at least ten cells the guard halted their journey. He pulled out his key ring and selected the one he needed and unlocked the foreboding door. He pushed it open and revealed a cell that had a wooden hammock hanging off the wall via metal chains, a threadbare blanket, and a bucket in the back corner, "Here you go. Home sweet home."

Breitkopf and Foyet looked into the room and then at each other. Frank spoke up and said, "I think this is too good for scum like him. Tell me, is there a more appropriate place for this murder?"

The guard let a creepy toothless smile grace his face as he shut the door on the luxury cell, "I think I have just what you're looking for. Follow me."

The prisoner was taken deeper into the endless pitch black hallway and then steered down another set of stairs. When they reached the bottom a yellow glow reached their eyes and illuminated the room. The radiance originated from the large fire that must be stoked periodically by the guards throughout the day. Spencer immediately recognized the room as the infamous torture chamber that King William had constructed to extract information from prisoners. His eyes instantly took in the Iron Maiden, the Rack, the Brazen Bull, and other various tools of the trade. But it was the floor that sent shudders through his frame. For it was covered with dark brown streaks that used to be ruby red when they first exited some prisoner's unfortunate body.

"Will we be using any of this stuff on him?" the guard inquired hopefully.

"Unfortunately no. The king has already sentenced him to being drawn and quartered on Friday," Foyet said with disappointment. "So where are we taking this filth?"

"Over here," the man said as he walked into the shadowed alcove of the large room. "This is where we keep the vermin until it's time for them to experience the pain."

The man was referring to a set of cells that were built into the wall. The doors that enclosed each one were solid oak and allowed no light through to the occupant. There were no locks on the wooden barrier. Instead, each door was sealed shut by a thick wooden bar that when set on the metal hooks prevented it from being opened from the inside. Additionally, each cell was no bigger than a water closet and had a set of chains hanging down from the ceiling. The floor was covered by a thin layer of straw that had dried blood, rat dung, and human excrement mixed throughout it. As a consequence of the grotesque mixture, the smell coming from the cubical could best be described as death and decay.

"This is perfect," gushed Breitkopf. "I know you'll be very happy here. Won't you, filth?"

Spencer's body was shaking in terror at the thought of being locked away in such a small dark space. His eyes were wide with fear and his nostrils were overwhelmed with the rancid odor. "No…I didn't do anything to deserve this. I was trying to help Master Gideon. Someone else killed him! I'm innocent!"

The two knights laughed at the slave's outburst and shoved him into the tiny cell.

"We know. It was Breitkopf here that killed him," Foyet confessed as they started to attach the shackles to the boy's wiry wrists.

"What?" Spencer uttered incredulously.

"I killed him with his own sword. I lured him out into the hallway to discuss something with him on his way to the engagement ceremony. I pulled his sword from its hilt and stabbed him through with it. He never saw it coming," Frank bragged.

"No…wh…why did you kill him?" the boy asked as teardrops started to well back up in his eyes.

"So we could frame you," Frank spilled out accidentally.

"You idiot!" Foyet barked at his comrade. "He doesn't need to know everything!"

"Why does it matter? Who is he going to talk to that would believe him? He should go to his death knowing that he was set-up and that there is no way to save himself," Frank defended.

Foyet thought about what his partner was saying, "Well I suppose that going to the grave being unable to convince anyone of your innocence is an ingenious form of mental torture."

"I don't understand…what did I do?" came the meek voice cutting through the men's conversation.

"Should we tell him?" Frank asked.

"Why not? Like you said, who is he going to tell," George answered.

Turning back to the boy, who was now hanging from his wrists with his feet only grazing the ground, Frank teased, "Let's just say that there are a few parties interested in separating you and your lover permanently."

Understanding dawned on Spencer's face when he realized that his relationship with Derek had been discovered by the wrong people.

"That's right…you get it now, don't ya?" Foyet said as he grabbed the boy's chin and laughed in his face.

Breitkopf laughed along with his friend and taunted, "You didn't really think that you, a slave, could be with the prince?"

Spencer inverted his gaze away from the knights in an effort to hide the anguish that was shining through his glassy orbs.

"Awww, he did. How naïve! You know what gorgeous, let me help you get over your sorrow," Sir Foyet offered as he put his hands on the kid's boney waist.

The knight's unwanted touch spurned revulsion through Spencer's body and he started to lash out with his legs trying to push the man off of him, "No! Don't!"

"Actually, I think you owe me. Especially since we were rudely interrupted the first two times we tried this," the knight said with a leer. "You two, leave us. I've got a loose end I need to tie up."

"I'll come back in a bit to guide you back up," the fat man said as he and Knight Breitkopf both backed out of the tiny cell leaving the prisoner and his tormentor alone. The boy's cries of anguish followed them all the way back up the stairs and down the gloomy hall.

Hours later Spencer hung from his chains in utter despair contemplating how his life had been completely turned upside-down. How had he gone from having the best night of his life to the worst in less than a day? His mentor was dead, he was being framed for the murder, it was all part of a plot to tear him away from his best friend and lover, and he had just been….he had just been…no he couldn't even think about that right now.

So there he was suspended with vile shackles that had already cut through his paper-thin skin awaiting his ghastly execution sentence. It was that moment the weight of everything that had happened finally crashed down on him like a slab of granite. His chest started throbbing in pain as he tried to keep the gut-wrenching sobs from escaping his body. The slave was able to keep it inside for a few minutes but eventually the emotions broke free in one gigantic tormented howl.

The boy gave in to his feelings and let himself cry. He cried for every wrong that had been done to him. He cried over the loss of his mentor and father figure. And he cried over the future he would never get to live out with Derek. By the end of the emotional upheaval he was a heaving mess of salty tears and snot.

Why did his life have to turn out this way?

He had just about given in to the sleepiness that came with an emotional dam break when the door to his cell creaked open. The brown-eyed doe looked up in fright, expecting to see his tormentor coming back for more.

There in the doorway was the silhouette of a tall muscular man. The light from the fireplace casted the stranger's face in shadow and caused Spencer to ask quietly, "Who are you?"

The man stepped forth and crushed his lips against the suspended slave.

"Derek?"

I know it seems like Spencer will never be happy, but eventually he will. He's just got alot of stuff to go through to get there. So I wonder how Derek is going to help his lover out? Oh wait...I already know. Till next time!