Hi Friends!

Thanks for all the support for the first chapter of the story. It seems like you guys are ready for this ride...and boy am I taking you on one in this chapter.

Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and adds! Please feel free to leave a note! I love hearing your thoughts!

Please forgive my mistakes. I do try to edit but things do slip by.

Enjoy!

Spencer softly slid his hand over the lush green grass that was framing his body as he lay on his back by the shore of a small unnamed creek. He relished in the trickling sound that the water made as it stumbled over the rocks on its journey to the mighty Potomac River. Above him the sky was a beautiful cerulean blue and spotted with puffy white clouds that seemed to form objects when he put his imagination to use. His body was swathed in thin white cotton shirt that was quickly accumulating stains due to the grass beneath him. On his bottom half he wore a simple pair of breeches that were supple and flexible when compared to his usual kingly attire. Overall it was most unusual outfit for him to be wearing but he was too comfortable to care.

The sun was three-quarters of its way through its daily journey, signaling the coming end to Spencer's favorite day, Sunday. He enjoyed the seventh day of the week so much due to the fact that he had no courtly obligations to fulfill. It was the one day he could just relax and enjoy himself, especially since Derek had gone away.

Derek.

Spencer sighed heavily at the thought of his absent lover.

It had been over four months since the morning Derek had galloped off into the sunrise alongside Sir Hotchner and the majority of Quantico's army right on his heels. Since then Spencer had been running the everyday dealings of the kingdom with the help of his mother and Lord Rossi.

He wished he could say that his days had been so frantic that he hadn't had a chance to miss Derek, but that was not the case. While his mornings and afternoons were taken up with checking the castle fortifications, holding court, and organizing caravans to take supplies to the troops, his nights were long and lonely. The young man's lonesomeness had gotten so bad that he found himself wishing that the sun would not set and that the day would just last forever. That way he would never have to spend the overnight hours all alone in the gigantic bed that the two of them had christened four years ago.

The former slave gave an annoyed groan as he propped himself up on his elbows and watched the clear water meander past his position. His eyes may have been focused on the course of the stream but his mind was contemplating how much longer he would have to rule on his own.

According to the letters that he sporadically received from his husband it could be another year before the two were reunited again. From what details Derek was able to write, Spencer had gleaned that King Charles had split his army into three divisions and sent them off to attack a different parts of Quantico. Luckily, Derek and Sir Hotchner had sat down before they left and mapped out potential regions that would be vulnerable to attack. Once they identified the cities that were the most susceptible they divided their own army into three units and sent them out to fortify and prepare the citizens for a possible attack.

The issue that Derek was now facing was trying to take down King Charles main force, rumored to be led by the king himself, with an army that was spread thin. He couldn't call the troops in from their positions throughout the country and he was reluctant to force the civilians into serving. So for now Derek and Sir Hotchner were doing their best to strategize and hold off the opposing forces with the manpower they had. And whatever they ended up planning Spencer desperately hoped that it would cut down on the amount of time Derek would have to spend in the field.

Spencer's musings were suddenly cut short by the sound of galloping hooves coming over the hill behind him. He stood up quickly; his hand immediately reached toward his waistband where he usually kept his sword but found it barren. He cursed out loud at his own stupidity for not bringing a weapon with him during wartime. Deciding that being up on his horse would at least allow him to run if needed, he mounted he steed, Abacus, and turned her to face his unwanted visitor.

The tension in the monarch's shoulders relaxed slightly when he saw the bright colors of Lady Penelope Garcia bouncing up and down as the horse raced closer and closer to his location.

Spencer immediately registered her panicked look on her face when she reared her horse to stop before him.

"Your Highness," she addressed him breathlessly. "You must come quickly."

"What is it? What's wrong?" he instantly inquired.

"It's the Georgians. The guards on the watchtower spotted a large contingent of them headed for the castle…too many to defend against. Everyone is running around in a panic and the dowager queen refuses to go into hiding," she spilled out in a rush.

Panic sizzled through his veins when he realized how poorly prepared the castle was for an attack. They had gambled on Charles being preoccupied with the troops out in the field that they only left a skeleton crew behind to man the palace.

Spencer swore a vicious curse as he gripped the reigns of his horse tighter in his hands. "Come on! We have no time to waste," he shouted before digging his heels into Abacus's sides and galloping off toward his home.

Derek was sitting atop his brilliant black stallion, Thunderhead, examining a map along with Sir Hotchner. Off in the distance they could see the billowing of dust being thrown up from the invading army that was soon to come over the rise. A major battle was about to start and the two were trying their best to devise a plan of attack that would give them a decent advantage over their enemy.

"So, Sir Kassmeyer and his troops have already left?" Derek asked Aaron.

"Yes sire. I dispatched them an hour ago. They should be down in the valley right now."

Derek gave a small nod of approval, "Good. If all goes as planned then they should be in the perfect position to pop up behind Charles's soldiers by the time the battle starts."

"They'll never see them coming," Hotchner said, pleased with the plan.

"Do we know who's leading the army yet?"

"No. I sent out scouts a few days ago but I haven't received any word back yet," the knight replied.

The king let out a grunt of frustration, "I hope Charles is leading his own army. I want to get a chance to meet this foul man before I run him and his forces out of my country."

Amazingly, Derek had never met Charles or any of his family. The neighboring monarch hadn't been to Quantico since before the young king had been born and since then he had only sent representatives to talk in his stead. According to his mother the last time Charles had stepped foot in town was to celebrate her marriage to William. She had described him as a particularly vile and conceited man who wouldn't deign to talk to anyone with of a rank of duke or lower.

Sir Hotchner went to respond but was interrupted by the shouts of young man coming through the throng of knights surrounding the two. "Make way! Make way! I have news for the king!"

The young monarch turned in his saddle toward the frantically approaching knight. The man came to a halt in front of his superiors and gave a slight bow from his perch on his horse. "Your Highness. Sir Hotcher," he said respectfully from behind his shiny metal helm.

"Sir Anderson, is that you?"

The young man pulled his headdress off and said, "Yes, Sire."

"What are you doing here? I left you at the outpost a few miles from the castle."

"I'm sorry Sire, but I had to come. T-there's trouble back at the castle –"

"What do you mean by trouble?" the king asked, he voice deep with concern.

"A huge faction of troops led by King Charles was fast approaching the castle. Even with all the men from the outpost the soldiers defending the gate are going to be outnumbered by at least two to one. The commander sent me here to get you and tell you to send help immediately," Anderson explained.

Derek's eyes immediately went to horizon where he could start to see the opposing army materialize. "This was a decoy. Charles set us up!"

"What do you want to do, Your Highness?" Hotchner asked in a calm and cool voice.

The king couldn't keep his alarm from creeping into his words, "We've got to get back to the castle…but we can't just retreat."

"No…we can't, Your Highness. We must tackle this foe first before we can go help the others," Hotchner agreed.

"How long have you been on the road, Anderson?"

"I've ridden nonstop for two days, Your Majesty."

"Two days…two days," Derek muttered, shutting his eyes with a grimace. "They could all very well be dead by now…"

"You mustn't think like that, Your Highness," Hotchner chided the younger man. "Charles's goal is to take over the kingdom. He wouldn't want to kill off all of his potential subjects. His wants to weaken you by hitting you where it hurts. My guess is that he is going to take the royal family as prisoners and use them as bargaining tools to get what he wants."

Derek's dark pools searched the other man's face and took comfort in the strength he found there. "You're right. He would be a fool to kill…to kill everyone. It would only make me…make us fight against him even harder." The king turned and faced the oncoming army, "We must take down this sect and reduce his force first. What's done at the castle…is done…we'll head there after this fight is over."

As much as those words hurt Derek to say, he knew it was their only choice at the moment. There was no way that he could turn his whole unit around and run back to defend the castle; a castle that could very well have already fallen to the enemy.

No. He had to stay strong for his men and show his opponents that he and his army was a force to be reckoned with. For now, he would just have to hope Spencer and the rest of his family were safe and that the defenders he had left behind were strong enough to hold the gates.

Saying a silent prayer, one that was beseeching the powers above to protect the love of his life, Derek drew his sword and prepared to lead his army into battle.

Spencer and Penelope made record time back to the castle. As they approached the stone fortress they noticed that the back gate was minimally manned. They quickly went up to the entrance and the guards let them in, explaining that most of the soldiers were at the front gate preparing for battle. Spencer could only nod his approval and told them to keep their wits about them in case the back was attacked too.

As they emerged into the courtyard the two companions were greeted with complete and utter chaos. There were soldiers rushing around doing their best to herd the citizens into secure locations, others were running to man the front gates, and some were still donning their gear and getting ready for battle.

The courtyard was in such a state of pandemonium that no one even noticed that the king was in their midst; not that Spencer could have been bothered with formalities at the moment anyways. He trotted his horse right up to the front steps and dismounted her there. Unfortunately, he was in such a harried state that his descent off of Abacus was anything but graceful. His foot left foot ended up getting caught in the stirrup causing him to end up strewn on the ground in the mud and dust.

"Your Highness," Penelope squeaked as she jumped down from her mount. "Are you alright?"

Spencer didn't have any time to be embarrassed and stood up immediately, ignoring his now torn and soiled clothing. "I'm fine."

"But your bleeding," she protested.

"Never mind that now. You must go and find everyone. Get them to one of the hidden shelters and don't come out," he ordered.

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to go get the queen mother and convince her to go into hiding. Once I do, we will meet you all in the hideaway," he explained. "Now get going! We don't have much time."

She nodded her head and picked up her skirts in preparation to run. "Be careful Spencer," Penelope bade him before she took off to find their friends, not realizing that she was so distress that she allowed his given name to skate pass her lips.

He smiled at her slip of the tongue and called to her retreating form, "You too!"

The former slave turned and ran up the steps and through the large oak doors. He sprinted off down the corridors on a path that led straight to the throne room. Along the way he ignored anyone stupid enough to stop and pay respect to him and just shouted at them to find shelter.

Soon he found himself skidding around a corner and straight into the throne room. Unsurprisingly, at the front of the room sat his mother in her chair of honor looking calm and regal as if this was a perfectly normal day. Standing by her side was her newly betrothed husband, Lord Rossi. His hand was placed on her shoulder and he was bent over whispering in her ear.

There was no one else in the room, so Spencer didn't hesitate to shout out, "Mother! You must come with me immediately. We've got to get you to one of the shelters." He ran further into the room and stopped at the bottom of the staircase leading to the top of the dais.

Diana just smiled at her son and beckoned him to come closer. "Nonsense my son. I will not run and hide from an enemy like a small child. I will meet them here in a dignified manner and represent our kingdom for you."

When Spencer reached the top of the stairs he knelt down in front of the queen mother and grabbed her fair hands in his. "Please mama," he beseeched with worry shining through his honey-brown windows, "It's for your own safety. We have no idea who is out there and what their orders might be. I can't let you stay in here and be a sitting duck."

She curled her fingers around his and squeezed his hands, "Oh my dear boy…whomever is out there isn't after me…it's you they want. You need to be more concerned about your own welfare right now. This country cannot afford to lose one of their kings. I will stay here in your stead; it is you that must leave now and go into hiding."

"But ma – "

"No buts, Spencer. Listen to reason. We cannot have you falling into their hands. If they don't kill you than they will use you to force Derek into negotiations. That or you will be bait in a trap for Derek and when they seize him you will both end up dead and Quantico will become theirs anyways. Now I order you to get out of here!" Diana said with all the conviction in the world.

"Listen to her, Your Highness. I will stay here and protect her. You have nothing to worry about," Lord Rossi said, supporting his betrothed.

Spencer, still clutching his mother's hands, realized that she was right. "Promise me that you will take care –"

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise!" cut a venomous voice through the hall.

Diana's head snapped up from her son's gaze and a bitter smile played on her lips at the sight before her, "My dear King Charles, it has been ages but the years have been kind to you. So, to what do I owe this great pleasure of your presence?"

Spencer went to turn in order to confront his foe when he felt his mother tighten her grip on his hands. He looked up at her and caught Diana almost imperceptibly shake her head.

"Ah…the lovely Diana…thank you my dear. I wish I could return the compliment but it looks like you've had a rough go of it since last I've seen you," Charles quipped insolently.

Behind the dowager queen Lord Rossi let out a vicious growl, "You will be respectful to the queen mother, sir."

"Oh…if it isn't doddering fool Lord Rossi. Tell me, have you always been old? I seem to remember you looking exactly the same twenty-five years ago," Charles replied.

Rossi, unable to maintain his usual calm demeanor, took a step forth with his hand on his sword's hilt. However, he was stopped by Diana's quick fingers clutching his sword arm.

"Come now Charles, you didn't come here after all these years to entertain me with your barbarous wit. Why don't you have a seat and we'll get down to business, shall we?" she asked, taking control of the precarious situation.

Charles flashed her a sinister smile, "Funny you should say that Diana…for I am here on business, just not with you."

"Oh? Whoever else might you want to talk to?" Diana asked, feigning surprise.

Anger flash in Charles's eyes, "Don't play dumb with me, woman. Where is the king?"

Though Diana did not show it, Spencer could feel the one hand he still had in his grasp go taut at the man's question. He was dying to turn around and announce his presence to the pompous man but he decided to let his mother continue to lead the delicate situation.

"My son? He is out on the battlefield right now. Where a proper king should be…with his troops," she answered, deliberately taking a shot at the man.

Charles bristled at her veiled insult, "I didn't mean King Derek and you know it. I want to meet his mate, the former urchin that you all elevated to a king."

"Ah…Spencer…why didn't you say so?" the dowager asked innocently, choosing to ignore his goading.

"Woman –"

"Unfortunately, you are out of luck Charles. King Spencer is not here right now. He is out in the field, like his husband, leading one of the other units. I'm sure he's taking down one of your contingents as we speak," she lied flawlessly.

"You and I both know that's untrue. According to my spies he has been here the whole time, playing at kingly duties. So where is the coward?" Charles demanded.

Spencer was seething at the man's insult and started to turn around, intent upon defending his good name, when Diana's voice cut through the storm that had formed in his mind, "Boy, go and get King Charles a chair. We cannot keep him standing any longer."

The former slave looked up at his mother in disbelief. Did she really think that this scheme was going to work? "But –"

A crack sounded throughout the hollow room as Spencer fell over onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"Do as you're told boy!" Charles roared, shaking his hand after the forceful smack he planted on the side of the young king's face. "What kind of country are you running here? Your slaves don't even listen to you?"

Diana sat up straighter and gestured to Rossi to help her son up off the floor. "We treat all of our subjects with respect Charles, and I expect you to do the same!"

"Treat a slave with respect? Not bloody likely."

Spencer rolled over and wiped the side of his mouth in an effort to remove the blood trickling from the corner. He looked over at the man that had just struck him and shivered at his daunting appearance. He was a towering man with dark hair and a beard trailing down his face. His visage was scarred with years of abuse; wrinkles ravaged every corner and blemishes disfiguring what was probably once a handsome looking man.

Behind him were an army of guards and two men that held a remarkable resemblance to the king. The first man was nearly identical to Charles in looks and age, except he seemed to be in better shape and slightly taller. On his hip he wore an intimidating broadsword that had a unique black blade mounted on a silver hilt embedded with rubies. His hair was the same jet black as the monarchs but it was longer and pulled back at his neck in a ponytail.

The other figure was much younger than the other two, closer to Spencer and Derek's age if the young king had to guess. He was sporting a scruffy unkempt beard that he was probably growing in order to make him look older. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable with that Charles was doing for his fingers were fidgeting as he looked around the room as if he expected something to jump out at him.

"Get up off the ground you piece of filth and get me that chair," the man ordered, pulling Spencer out of his observations.

Rossi stretched out his hand and helped Spencer up off the floor. He stood up and brushed himself off, realizing for the first time how his soiled clothes were helping to support the illusion of his rank. He squared his shoulders and looked to his mother. He nodded his head at her and went to grab an extra chair that was sitting off in a corner.

Spencer quickly brought the chair back, more than aware that all the eyes in the room were on him. He placed the wooden seat on the stage next to his mother and stepped back with a bow.

He held his bent position, intent on keeping his face toward the floor until the rival king had sat down. What he didn't expect was a ruff finger to be placed under his chin and it lifted up to stare right into the eyes of the man he was now trying to avoid.

"He may not mind your orders but he sure is good to look at," Charles remarked, his piercing orbs scrutinizing the boy's appearance.

"Really now Charles, I'm sure you have plenty of pleasing people surrounding you on a daily basis," Diana said, trying to divert his attention.

The man chuckled, "That I do…and yet…"

"So where were we?" Diana questioned sternly.

The country's nemesis pulled his finger from Spencer's chin and turned back to the dowager queen. "I was asking you where I can find this spineless slave that had been turned into a king."

"And I told you –"

Before the queen mother could even finish her sentence Charles snapped his finger and his right-hand man drew his sword and aimed to straight at Diana's chest.

"Think carefully about your answer, m'lady."

Spencer's mother stayed strong under the point of the sword, "I will not compromise his location. Surely even you can respect that, sir."

"I do, my dear lady…I do. But I'm afraid you are forcing my hand with your refusal to talk."

"Raze the castle then! You could turn it upside down and set fire all our crops, I still won't reveal His Grace's whereabouts," she said fearlessly.

"That's what I thought you'd say," Charles said, sitting back comfortably in his chair as he signaled to his man.

At the same time that Charles was speaking, Spencer, unable to stay silent any longer, stepped forth with every intent to reveal himself.

"Enou-" the boy stopped short as he watched with horrified eyes as the sleek black blade glided effortlessly through his mother's heart and pulled back out with the sheen of blood glinting in the light.

"NO!" he screamed as he watched Diana's eyes go wide in surprise. Her mouth formed a small "o" shape before she slumped over the arm of her seat, lifeless and bloody.

"You bastards! Mo-"

Out of nowhere one hand wrapped around his waist while another enveloped his mouth, silencing his cry for his mother. He thrashed about in the hands of his captor, struggling to free himself from the vicelike grip. He watched helplessly as Lord Rossi cried out his own lament and collapsed to his knees in front of his beloved.

Spencer was still fighting with the arms as he watched Charles stand up from his seat and pull his own sword out of its sheath. He then stepped forth wordlessly and stabbed Lord Rossi straight through the back. The old man straightened up momentarily in shock and then tumbled down into a heap on the floor.

The young king knew he was shouting out obscenities behind the strong hand that gripped his face and he could feel his uncontrollable tears streaming down his face.

The hold on him tightened and forced him to turn with the strong body behind him.

"Raphael, get that slave out of here and secure him back in my tent. He will make an excellent addition to my household," Charles directed as he brushed a stray tear away from Spencer's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Then get back in here and I want you and Tobias to search every nook and cranny of this castle. Annihilate everything and everyone in your path until that pathetic excuse for a king is found."

Raphael, the man that must have been holding his body captive, pulled Spencer backwards and out the door. The boy was kicking and clawing the whole way, trying with all his might to get back to his mother and her lifeless body that was now sprawled out dead upon her ceremonial throne.

Surprised?