Hi Friends!

Ugh! Was this chapter ever a $& ( to write. It was weird...I knew exactly what I wanted to happen but I was having one hell of a time getting all of the words out. I'm really sorry if this chapter feels overworked and in need of improvement, but at this point I feel like any more editing on my part will do more harm than good.

Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed! I would love to respond to all of you but my little girl seems to think she should take up all of my spare time :)

Ah..FYI - Zeldawolf2000 was kind enough to bring up the skewed timelines. Yes, Derek and Spencer are not on the same exact day. For the purposes of this chapter, the majority of Spencer's storyline is occurring on Wednesday night and Derek's part of the story is occurring on Thursday. I will be bringing the timelines together in the next chapter. Sorry if this was confusing for anyone!

Please forgive my mistakes...I'm sure there are a few.

Enjoy!

The man's threat resonated in Spencer's ear as he sat trembling on the cold hard ground, still helplessly tied to the bed. He desperately wished the handkerchief wasn't lodged in his mouth because he wanted to shout out and proclaim his innocence against the other man's charges. Although, deep down he knew that he could protest Charles's allegations all he wanted and it wouldn't make a difference. The other king had already made up his mind and wasn't open to hearing anything that would contradict his beliefs. So instead of debasing himself further with muffled pleas that would be ignored he gathered his courage and tried to maintain an expressionless face.

Unfortunately, his attempt at controlling his features was a failure. For he knew his countenance took on an alarmed appearance when the hardhearted king went over to the small pile of wood that sat by the fire and picked up a log the size of Derek's forearm. What was this mad man planning to do to him?

Charles, who had been keenly observing his prey, chuckled as the boy's eyes grew wide at the sight of the wooden bludgeon gripped tightly in his hands. His gut stirred in delight at the vision of unadulterated fear that swept over the slave's visage. The king closed his eyes and basked in the rush of power that flowed through his body at the thought that he had caused such a delicious reaction in his captive.

A small sniffle caused him to crack his eyes open and behold the gorgeous boy's form once again. A sardonic smile formed on his lips as he crouched down and grabbed his captive's ankles. He untied the rope that was holding them together and tossed it off to the side. His prey gave him a confused look in an effort to discern his intentions, but Charles's face gave nothing away.

He was about to drop the kid's feet back down to the ground when a hint of green caught his eye. He let go of Spencer's left foot and tightened his grip on the right. He brought the appendage in question up higher and inspected the shoe that housed it.

"These are some really nice shoes…especially for a slave," Charles stated, squinting his eyes at the hand-stitched leather that had been decorated with hunter green accents. The king looked back up at his prisoner and allowed his eyes to rove over the rest of his clothing.

Spencer worried about being scrutinized too closely, tried to jerk his foot out of the man's grasp in a desperate attempt to distract those dark discerning eyes away from his apparel. For he knew without a doubt that he had to maintain the slave ruse or else Charles would make good on his threat from last night and kill him.

The king was surprised when the slave's foot was yanked from his fingers. He furrowed his brow and emitted a low rumble from his throat. The usurping monarch did not like the defiant streak that he saw developing in the boy and knew just how to take care of it. He quickly reached out and snatched the youth's left ankle and removed the fancy shoe, tossing it to the ground without any further regard for the fancy fabric it was made out of.

"Didn't your previous masters teach you obedience?" he growled, pulling the boy's leg straight out and tightening his grip around the scrawny ankle. He then gave the slave a self-satisfied smile and drew back his hand.

Spencer gnashed his teeth against the cloth filling his mouth and tried to give the man the most submissive look he could muster.

Charles didn't buy the captive's expression. "Well, you will learn to mind me," he stonily stated as he brought the wood down and stuck the center of his prisoner's bare foot.

Unable to maintain his silence, the young sovereign let out an animalistic yelp of pain. Tears immediately welled in his eyes as his mind brought up facts about the human body and how the foot contained some of the largest bundles of sensitive nerve endings. It was a fact he was surprised to learn while he was studying human anatomy years ago with Lord Gideon. And with that knowledge he knew that any more smacks from King Charles's wooden torture tool would cause him to feel pain comparable to his collar being fused shut around his neck.

"That was for trying to get free from my brother earlier," the king explained, raising his instrument of pain once again. "Now this one is for lying, something that you should avoid doing ever again in the presence of myself or my men."

The young man on the floor clenched his eyes shut upon hearing those words and tried to force his mind to another place, one where the strong arms of his husband were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

Another loud snore perforated the silence of the tent as Charles slept deeply on the bed behind the bound co-king. It had been three days since the Georgian's had attacked the castle and Spencer had spent them all on the floor, tied to the king's bed.

He was only allowed up to answer the call of nature and it was never unsupervised. Other than that he had pretty much become a fixture of the room, ignored and overlooked as the king and his men searched for the one person that kept alluding their clutches, him.

One more snore assaulted his ears as the young monarch stretched out his left foot and stared at the black and blue appendage. Charles had given him at ten swats with the wooden log, each one stronger than the one preceding it. At the time the punishment was occurring the young man had thought his foot was being broken but now he could see that it was only deeply bruised and incredibly swollen. Based upon the sight before him, he knew that the simple act of walking was going to be painful for weeks to come.

The genius let out a heavy breath through his nose and stared at the dwindling fire as he allowed his mind to reflect upon the past few days.

He had discovered quite a bit of information about his captors while he was forced into his position as a fly on the wall. For instance, Spencer had learned all about the Georgian's war strategies and their plans for Quantico's resources and land. Though by far, the most valuable piece of information he was able to discern were the family dynamics. It didn't take long for him to learn that Raphael was just as sinister and malicious as his brother while the son, Tobias, was generally ridiculed by the other two and ostracized for his weak demeanor. Overall, it was pretty clear that the king hated his son and resented his inability to live up to the monarch's standards.

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air immediately outside the cloth tent door. The shrill sound caused the slumbering king behind Spencer to shoot upright in the bed and fling the covers off of his body.

"What the hell?" he practically shouted as he grabbed a robe and tied it around his waist.

The youth on the floor was just as surprised by the sound and craned his neck to follow the king's movements with his wide owlish eyes.

The angry ruler stomped over to the door and ripped it open, revealing billowing blue skirts with tiny heel clad feet kicking up a fuss.

"Let me go!" a familiar feminine voice shrieked as she was carried into the tent by Raphael.

"What is the meaning of this?" Charles bellowed, stepping away from the woman's wild movements.

The king's brother dropped the struggling female to the ground and she landed with an "Oof!"

Spencer fought against his bonds, straining his neck in an effort to see above the ruffles that blocked a view of the girl's face. He watched with bated breath as her creamy white hands pushed down the skirts that seemed to have swallowed her whole. She then planted her palms on the ground next to her and shoved her body up off the ground and into a sitting position, her blonde hair hiding her features from sight.

"The night's watch found her scrounging around in the kitchen and brought her to me," Raphael explained, kneeling down next to the newest captive. "She must have been hiding out somewhere in the castle with the rest of the missing courtiers. I figured that we could force her to lead us to their hideout and see if that coward of a king is hiding there amongst them," he ventured, grabbing her neck and forcing her to look up at the king.

The tendrils of hair that had been masking her appearance from Spencer fell away and revealed the lovely, yet currently distressed, visage of Lady Jennifer. Spencer felt himself shout out to his friend against his better judgment. "Jennifer!" came the stifled call, sounding more like a loud moan than her name.

All eyes turned toward the trussed young man, one pair curious, one annoyed, and the girl's beautiful blue set were surprised.

"Shut the hell up, boy!" Charles snarled as he stepped over to the slave and gave him another vicious slap.

The sharp smack turned Spencer's head to the side, splitting his lip and tearing his cheek on the ornate wood frame of the bed.

Lady Jennifer cried out in surprise, "No!" She made to get up off the ground but Raphael tightened his grip on her neck, keeping her in place.

"I'd hold your tongue too, if I were you, m'lady," he sneered.

She snapped her jaw shut and looked at her friend with a worried look fixed on her features.

The young man blinked his eyes in an effort to dispel the stars that were monopolizing his vision. He shook his head back and forth and slowly brought his gaze upward to meet his friends. He gave her a weak smile around the gag in order to reassure her that he would be alright.

She nodded her head slightly at his gesture and looked back up at Charles, "Let us go!"

The man scoffed at her demands, "Us? I only see you. And no, my brother is right…you could prove to be quite useful."

"There is no way that I'm going to help you. You're crazy –"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Charles backhanded Spencer.

Outrage showed on her face as she tried to scramble toward her friend, "What did you do that for? He didn't say anything!"

Charles grinned with pleasure and laughed out loud, "You, my dear, are being incredibly disrespectful to your new sovereign. And you seem to be genuinely invested in the condition of this slave, so what better way to teach you manners than to take it out on him."

"I-I'm not-"

"Don't play dumb with my, my lady. You've only been in here three minutes and I can tell you are dying to go to his side."

Jennifer ceased her protests, realizing that the man had a point.

"Now be polite and answer a few questions for me. Why don't we start with something simple? Like, what is you name?"

Spencer watched his friend struggle internally as she decided whether or not to answer the man. Her delicate hands wrapped around her stomach as if she was hugging herself and she looked off to the side.

"Jennifer," she murmured.

"What was that? Speak louder and address me appropriately," Charles demanded.

A spark of fire flashed in her eyes as she turned her icy blue star toward the formidable man, "I said my name is Jennifer, but if you think I'm going to address you as my king you are quite mistaken!"

A burst of pride erupted in Spencer's chest at his friend's outright defiance of the usurper.

In contrast, Charles let out a roar and jumped to his feet. He kicked his bare foot into the boy's stomach as he marched over to the girl and grabbed her by her forearms, hauling her up off the ground. "I am not above hurting you too, Lady Jennifer. But before I do I will make sure that piece of dirt slave behind me suffers everything coming to you twofold. Am I making myself clear?"

Panic gripped the captive woman as the man's gravelly voice barked in her face. The terrified blonde knew that the man wasn't bluffing and that if she wanted her and Spencer to come out of this in one piece she was going to have to tone down her insolence. "Y-yes, Y-your Grace," she stuttered out, doing her best to placate the beast she had awoken.

"That's more like it," the king said smugly, releasing his grip on her arms.

She crashed back down to the ground in a heap and rubbed her abused backside. She looked over to Spencer and saw how upset he was at her harsh treatment. "I'm alright," she mouthed before wrapping her arms back around her midsection.

Charles, aware of their little exchange of assurances, decided to use their friendship against them. "Now, let's try this again. In fact, to be nice I'll start with an extremely easy question and work my way up from there." He paused and looked down at the girl to make sure she was listening. "What is my new slave's name?"

Silence reigned throughout the room as Jennifer scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn't reveal Spencer's identity. She wasn't sure how but the pompous king that was towering above her had yet to realize that he had one of Quantico's co-kings in his clutches and she didn't want to be the one to bring that to his attention.

"Well, my lady? I'm waiting," he said, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Uh-I…"

"This shouldn't be so hard. I just want to know his name. I haven't had enough time to bother to ask him yet and since you seem to be his friend…well?" Charles prompted, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"It…it's Reid."

To say Derek was pissed would have been a gross understatement. It had been two whole days since his altercation without Buford out on the battlefield and the army had yet to pack up and leave. According to Sir Hotchner they had misjudged the amount of wounded that needed to be transported back to the castle and every man that wasn't injured was busy trying to create makeshift carts to haul all the incapacitated soldiers and dead bodies.

Of course, the king understood the importance of going home as a unit and bringing back the deceased to their loved ones for a proper burial but he couldn't help but selfishly want to leave them behind. For his mind was swirling with possible scenarios as to what might have happened to the poorly defended castle and he desperately wanted to get home in order to check on his loved ones. Unfortunately, there was no way that wish was going to come true; he was utterly useless due to his wounds and all he could do is sit and wait for the army to be ready to march.

Currently, the king was sitting by a fire on a stool that was backed up against a tree eating some stew. There were a few other soldiers were seated around him but none of them felt up for a conversation. It wasn't until Derek caught a glimpse of Sir Hotchner walking by, discussing something with Sir Kassmeyer that the young man broke the veil of silence that had settled over the assembled fighters.

"Sir Hotcher, any news?"

Aaron turned immediately at the sound of the king's voice and bowed to him, "Actually, you were just the man I was looking for, Your Highness. It looks like the carts will be ready by tonight. Would you like to set off immediately or wait till the light of dawn?"

Derek gave the man a look of utter incredulity, "At once, of course!"

Hotchner nodded his head; he would have been surprised if the sovereign's answer would have been any different. "Alright, Your Grace. I will have the men start loading up the supplies and the injured. Why don't you finish your meal get everything set and then we'll come back and load you up into your wagon?"

Frustrated that he couldn't be more useful, Derek just grumbled his acceptance and watched his men go about their work. He would give anything to be able to get up and help them out. As king of the realm it was his duty to pull his weight and be a good example for his men. If it wasn't for his damn injury he would be running all over the field, giving orders and lending a hand. As it were, all he could do was sit back and observe the bustle of his homesick soldiers.

Moodily, he placed his half empty stew bowl off to the side; his appetite had vanished because of the knots that had formed in his stomach from the anticipation of their departure.

Soon he would discover what awaited him back home and finally find out the fate of his beloved.

Spencer's head twisted around to see Charles's reaction.

"Reid? Like Derek Reid? Are you telling me that this young man is a member of the royal family?" the man asked with greed twinkling in his eyes.

"No…not like that, You Highness," she quickly corrected. "We call him Reid because of how tall and willowy he is. You know…like those plants you see growing near the river."

The king sat down on the bed next to his captive and carded his fingers through the boy's hair. "Reed…how fitting. You do slightly resemble those weeds with your scrawny body and unshorn hair." His thick fingers seized Spencer's honey locks tightly and pulled his head back. "Which is something that I'll have to do fix when we get home. No member of my household is allowed to look as unkempt as you."

Jennifer, feeling ill at the thought of this man taking her friend back to his country, cleared her throat to divert his attention.

The monarch looked back at her while he maintained a firm grip on the boy's hair, "What were you doing down in the kitchen?"

Pleased that she had successfully distracted him, the lady gladly answered, "I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since you invaded our castle."

"Just you were hungry or were your friends too?"

Knowing that she had been backed into another corner and rather than earning Spencer more pain by lying she told the truth, "Everyone was hungry."

He nodded smugly at her answer, almost like he was pleased with the simple deduction he made. "One last question, my lady. Is the king among your friends?"

"No," she answered swiftly with conviction.

"Don't lie to me. You wouldn't want me to mar this boy's perfect complexion," he threatened as he traced a finger down Spencer's sharp cheekbone.

"No, he wasn't among us," she reiterated, just as confidently as before.

Charles's eyes hardened as they searched her face. It almost felt like the man's beady orbs were trying to bore beneath the layers of her skin to find the truth.

Jennifer jerked back a little when Charles suddenly released his hold on the co-king's hair and stood up from the bed. With carefully placed steps he stalked over to her seated form and snapped his fingers at his brother. Raphael didn't miss a beat as he pulled out his sword and handed it hilt first to Charles.

Spencer started to thrash against his bonds in desperation. He couldn't bear to watch another family member fall to King Charles's blade.

The king, ignoring the boy's feeble writhing, aimed the tip of the steel blade straight at her swanlike neck, "Do you know, my lady, what I do to a woman who lies?"

Jennifer silently shook her head, keeping her gaze trained on the monarch's scowling face.

"I cut out her treacherous tongue and feed it to the dogs," he sneered.

Her eyes bulged in horror at the implication of his words. Behind the invading king Spencer was tugging fruitlessly against the ropes as his mind was assailed with flashbacks of his mother's and Lord Rossi's deaths.

"Lucky for you, I believe you," Charles said tersely, surprising the boy and his friend. He lowered the weapon and handed it back to his brother.

Raphael, who had been a silent observer up until then said, "I'll take her back to the castle tonight and have her show me their hiding spot. Perhaps we can take a few more courtiers prisoner and use them as bargaining chips against King Derek."

Charles nodded as he turned away from the girl on the floor, "Excellent idea, brother. I knew there was a reason I put you in charge of my army. I'll go wake my good for nothing son and have him get the dogs ready while you gather the men. Then I'll come back here and grab the lovely Lady Jennifer so she can assist us in our search. Won't you, girl?"

Jennifer averted her gaze away from the man, deigning not to answer his questions.

He laughed at her sudden meek demeanor, pleased to find that some of the fire she had when they first met had dimmed. "Oh, you'll be showing us every nook and cranny of that pile of bricks. The king must be hiding somewhere in that castle. I can picture him now, cowering in some darkened corner. His body shivering in fear as he cries for his lover. The look on his face when he sees me instead of his dear Derek will be priceless!"

Raphael grinned, "I'm sure the only thing that will top that is watching him piss himself as we separate his head from his neck."

"Ha! How right you are! Alright, what are we waiting for? Go get the men. I'm going to secure her and then I'll be on my way."

Raphael saluted appropriately and walked out of the tent.

The king turned back to his newest captive and hauled her over to the bed. He sat her next to Spencer and went to work fastening her delicate wrists to the part of the footboard that was above her head.

"Don't go anywhere my dear. I will be back for you soon," the two heard King Charles call before he walked out the door.

The second the tent flap closed the lady turned toward her friend and said, "Spence, are you alright?" The use of the king's nickname was commonplace among the two when they were alone.

Spencer spoke through the cloth, "I'll be okay."

Jennifer, upset that the gag was preventing him from speaking clearly, scooted her body right next to his and said, "Don't move." She leaned in as close as her bindings would allow and snapped her teeth around the cloth resting against Spencer's cheek. She gave it a few hefty tugs and loosened it enough to get it to drop down around his neck.

The youth instantly darted his tongue out of his mouth and moistened his dry lips, "Thank you."

"Spence…what is going on?"

He looked over at his friend and dropped his eyes, "He thinks I'm a slave. He intends on taking me back to Georgia with him and forcing me to…to…work in his household."

There were a few moments of silence as the two occupants of the tent contemplated what Spencer's new role would entail. When her thoughts on the matter went to places that were too dark to handle, Jennifer changed the subject, "Why does he think you're a slave?"

His fragile face crumbled at her question. "I-I was with the dowager queen and Lord Rossi in the great hall. I-I was kneeling before her begging her to go into hiding but she refused. He found us like that and the queen m-mother decided to address me as a slave to hide my identity. He never figured it out…but he…he…Oh God…JJ…he had his brother kill her…and then he turned his sword on Lord Rossi and ran him through."

The girl's heart broke at the utter anguish that was oozing in her friend's voice. She continued to struggle against the cords, longing to break free so she could gather him into a warm comforting embrace.

"Oh Spence…there's something you have to –," her words were cut off when the ropes around her right appendage loosened.

"What?"

Jennifer looked up at her wrist, whatever she had been going to say was now completely forgotten. "It's loose," she said in awe.

"Can you get free?"

"Maybe…if I...," JJ didn't finish her sentence and instead gathered her legs beneath her body. She pushed up on her knees and found herself level with her wrists. Using the same method she employed with Spencer's gag, she attacked the knot with her teeth.

In a matter of seconds the rough twine was fell to the ground and she was using her newly free limb to work on her left hand.

"Yes!" she exclaimed when she was completely liberated from the bed. She scrambled over to him and pushed him forward so that she could start to work on his fastenings.

Spencer felt a fleeting moment of hope before the reality of the situation slammed back into him, "No! Stop! You don't have enough time to free me too."

Jennifer bridled at his demand, "I can't just leave you here!"

"We don't have a choice. He could be back any second."

"No, there is no way I'm going without you," she said with tears in her eyes as she came to the realization that he was right.

Spencer gave her a broken smile, "I'll be alright. I promise. Anyways, you have to escape in order to tell Derek what happened to me."

"Spence…"

"I swear, I'll be okay. Please…please just tell Derek I love him and that I won't give up on him," his said with a cracked voice.

Jennifer bit her lip as she flung her arms around him in a quick embrace, "I'll tell him." She sat back on her heels and looked deep into his sorrowful honey-brown eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Come on now, you've got to get out of here. Look, over there," he nodded to the back of the tent. "Lift the bottom up. You should be able to slip out underneath it and run out into the forest without being seen."

She dashed over to where he indicated and started pulling up the fabric. Panic flowed through her when she heard the sound of boot clad feet crunching on the gravely ground right outside of the tent.

"Go!" Spencer hissed fervently.

Jennifer lugged the rest of the heavy fabric up and looked back one last time at her friend. She quickly whispered, "Goodbye," and disappeared out into the night.

The wonderful woman's escape was perfectly timed. For as the last vestiges of her blue silk dress vanished from sight Charles flung the flap open and took in the pile of ropes that lay abandoned on the floor.

Coming up on our next installment:

Derek finally gets home and has to come to terms with the destruction that was left in Charles's wake.

Spencer deals with the aftermath of JJ escaping.