36

Kind Ferdolt looked out over his keep from the balcony, his bare belly still red from the scratching he had just given it, his fingernails gouging at the ancient flesh as he had slid from the bed to watch the coming dawn.

His old body was aching from his nighttime romp and he knew his son champed at the bit for him to hurry up and die. The boy was up to something, the whispers about the palace unsettling as they hinted of war.

Once upon a time he would have ignored them but something was happening lately, many realms had broken ties and he had an uneasy feeling in his waters.

He flicked his slippers back at the bed and grinned as they hit with soft thuds, then let his bare feet sink in the rug. The slave whimpered and cowered in the bedding, still asleep but used to violence at any given time.

The king turned back to the balcony and toddled forward to feel the coming sun on his bare front as his robe flapped open and he pissed over the edge with a soft snigger.

He would watch the new day come, then go and bugger the boy some more. God but his screams were gorgeous, and the way his face twisted with agony as he squeezed and twisted was so satisfying.

He could smell the sweet bread in the ovens below, smacking his lips as he envisioned the dobs of butter that would be slathered over the loaf before it was presented. Soft for his worn teeth.

Gods, but he was hungry now.

He scratched at his ball sack, feeling crusty from the activities of the previous night and called over his shoulder for a bath.

The slave slid from the bed to the floor, the soft thud as the boy stifled a groan of pain made the old man snort and the boy dragged himself towards the bell ringer.

Blood had dried on his thighs and he was in considerable pain as he whimpered softly, reaching up to pull for the bell for a bath, hoping the bastard might drown in it.

The King snorted as he watched the salve's agonized movements, "Rest while you can. I will have you screaming again while it fills, little worm"

The slave groaned as he collapsed onto the cold floor, ready to subject himself to his master. The king waddled back to stand over the boy, looking gleefully at the pert arse.

"Now get into …" the man's voice faded as he felt a chill entering the room and he turned to look at the rising sun, finding a dark cloud covering it.

"Blast it all, I wanted to ride this afternoon!" he bellowed, striking out with his foot.

The slave cried out softly as the foot sank into his gut and shivered with cold and pain.

"Fergos" the King roared and his son entered the room.

Impeccably dressed, the man stood before his elderly father with a look of undisguised distain, looking at the slave who was moaning with pain.

"Gods, can you not get a new one? This one is stale" he said with disgust.

"I like this one!" the king snorted, "Have him broken in, like a pair of slippers."

Both men laughed and then the king motioned towards the window, "See the oncoming storm?"

"Really?" the young man stepped onto the balcony, "We didn't except rain today."

The younger eyes saw what the old ones did not and the prince stumbled back into the room yelling for the guards.

As he fled the room, screaming for guards the slave found his feet, watching the old man wander back to the balcony to squint into the sun.

"What the bloody hell did he see?" he muttered.

The slave let his head drop as he breathed deeply and felt a faint stirring of something in his blood.

Something called to him.

He raised his head enough to look through his lashes at the man who had tortured him for almost two years.

He took a step towards him.

"Stupid boy, should have explained himself" the king huffed angrily, pulling his robe closed as he felt a chill in the air.

"What the bloody hell is that smell" he said louder, "Smells like something burning."

"It's hell" the boy snarled as he slowly pulled the knife from the fruit platter and stepped in behind the king, sliding the blade between two ribs and using his bodyweight to push it in to the hilt. "Get used to it."

The king gave a soft bark of shock as he stepped forward, turning to look at the boy with horror.

His lips peeled back from his teeth as the boy leered at his former master and he felt the thrum of freedom, heard the call of the one true king.

He watched the king overbalance against the guard rail and for the first time the king saw his slave smile.

He was so shocked at the beauty that his fall was silent.

The slave moved quickly, dressing in the robes he found in the wardrobe as he hurried to join the battle, pausing to strike a guard and watch him tumble down the staircase.

Slaves and pets left their posts as the Ianto's roars echoed in the keep, followed by the bellow of a dragon.

It was time.

Freedom was at hand.

They rampaged.