Chapter 9

"Oh my god!" Dean heard Sam yell from the sitting room. A second later, his little brother came storming into his room and barrelled into him in a bone crushing hug. The Royal surgeon had confined him to bed-rest for the past two weeks, and he was going stir crazy.

"Woha Sammy - I don't really know what you're thanking me for..."

"For everything," Sam mumbled.

"Uh?"

"For raising me, supporting my dreams -" Sam looked up with tears in his eyes, "For teaching me to read and write, for the internship at Mr. Berwin's and just being the best big brother anyone could ever wish for!"

Dean though Samy looked each and every one of his seventeen and six months that moment. He was tall for his age, but now he looked so young. "Care to tell me what brought this on?"

"It's a letter from the University of Cambridge," he said, "It says that while I did not personally submit an application, a 'glowing' letter of recommendation was given for me and they have decided to grant me a formal interview!"

Dean's eyes widened. "That's amazing," he said, "When is it?"

"In two weeks," Sam replied. "Though, it also says it is awaiting another reference from my summer internship- I don't have a summer internship."

"Keep reading -" Dean hurried him.

"Oh my god - it's at the Royal Court! Mr. Berwin arranged for me to sit in on actual court cases and I get to spend two weeks with the king's own lawyers!"

Dean's smile faltered for a brief second, but he plastered it back on, "I am so proud of you Sammy," he said and hugged his baby brother.

"I haven't gotten in, Dean," Sam said, his voice muffled by the hug, "It's only an interview."

"It doesn't matter," Dean replied, "You've worked so hard and done so well that Mr. Berwin thought you deserved this chance, and the University agrees. No matter how the interview goes, know you have my full support and that letter will be framed and put up on the wall," he spoke into Sam's hair. "In fact, these news made me feel much better." Because he had a bone to pick with one self important pompous asshatted king of England.

~*~...

Actually standing outside the king's office, Dean felt much less energised by his anger than he had when he left. He was fully aware of that despite his bath, he looked half dead. His hair was longer than what he considered acceptable and the ticked the base of his neck.

Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door. It was immediately briskly opened by a man dressed in full red, "Cardinal," Dean greeted.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied, "I'm here to speak with the king."

The Cardinal looked him up and down, "Do you have an appointment?"

Dean raised a brow, "No -"

"Let him in Tomas," he heard the smooth baritone of the king. "We can continue our conversation later."

"Over dinner, sire?"

"I'll be otherwise engaged, supper would be suitable," Henry replied and came to the door, "Dean, please to come in."

Dean stepped past the Cardinal, feeling only just slightly underdressed and into the king's office.

Cardinal Wosley narrowed his gaze. Perhaps this was one of those occasions where he should practice his eavesdropping skills.

~*~...

"How can I help, you, Dean?" Henry asked as he closed the door.

"How about you tell me what you're up to by offering Sammy a scholarship to university." Dean said darkly.

"Please sit down," Henry said, "I'd say you looked well, but you seem to have lost much weight." Dean glowered at him, "I offered your brother the scholarship to get your attention," he stated plainly.

"Do you actually intent on giving it to him?"

"Of course," Henry said, "Dean, I only set things in motion. I spoke with Mr. Berwin, who assured me that Samuel was not only capable, but destined to be a lawyer. That he is hardworking, intelligent and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. Mr. Berwin gave him a reference, based on that I gave him two weeks on the coattails of my lawyers. Based on his reference and practical experience, the university decided to grant him an interview. He would not have got that interview of not as capable as he is. And from the moment on it's all on him."

"And the 'scholarship?" Dean asked, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Is conditional on him achieving at least a 2.i in his first year, and final grade being a 1st degree honours. It is very hard," the king said, "I won't hide that. But if he fails, he will receive references that will no doubt assist him greatly in entering another school."

"And what do you want for this?" Dean asked, not fooled by the king's friendly smile. And right he was, as the 'friendly smile' spread into a predatory grin.

"Dinner," the king said.

"Excuse me?" Dean blinked.

"I want dinner," Henry repeated. "Every evening, just you and me." He sat back and folded his hands over his - Dean cringed - too perfectly sculpted abs. It should be illegal for a thirty-something year old man to be so fit. "Well, principally, just you and I. I will want to meet your brother -and your uncle. I've been told he was an outstanding academic before retiring to breed horses, which by your mare, I can see he is also exceptionally good at." Henry said casually, "And your father, of course, when he returns from his work abroad."

Dean gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tried to push down the nausea rising form his rebellious stomach. "And if I refuse?"

The king paused. He had not really considered that Dean would refuse after, well, everything. His father's theory about cause and effect was definitely flawed, he decided. Eventually he did a very un-kinglike thing; he shrugged. He crossed his arms over his chest, more defensively that the sprawled position he'd held a moment before. "Nothing... I guess." he said quietly. He had an odd feeling in his stomach. It felt sour and it made him want to stab something. Was he now feeling that awful feeling of rejection he'd read and heard so much of? The one, as king, he had not dealt with all that much.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?"Dean asked, "Nothing as in 'leave me alone' or nothing as in 'make my life hell'?" The king seemed to deflate under his gaze, pierced by his words.

"The former," Henry replied. "You obviously want nothing to do with me..."

"Can you really blame me?" Dean yelled.

"No," the king said, "I-"

"You forced yourself on me," Dean whispered, as if saying it louder would make it more real. He cleared his throat, "And then you kissed me -"

"And I'm sorry," Henry said and got up and walked around his desk. With a heavy sigh he sat down on it, facing Dean. He bit his lip. Swallowed. Sucked his cheeks in, then he took a deep breath... and got on his knees.

Dean's pulled in a shaky breath as he saw the king of England get on his knees in front of him, brown eyes boring into him.

"You don't have to forgive me. I have no right to ask for it," he said softly, "But I beg of you, not as Henry VIII, king of England, but Henry, the man who can't handle a bow to save his life, and is deeply sorry for the hurt I've caused you, to accept, if you can find it in your heart, my most sincere apologies."

Dean was shaking. Even with the king on his knees, the older man made him feel so small. As the seconds passed, the king looked away, but did not move. "I..." he king looked back up at him, he king's eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "I accept..." he said, his voice shaking.

~*~