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It took fifteen minutes for Derek to come out of his shocked stupor. During that time Sir Hotchner watched as he went from being inconsolably distraught to extremely irate. The knight wanted to go put a hand on his friend's shoulder but he knew that any gesture he made would not be welcomed right now. So he let the young king be and waited out the emotional torrent.

Derek was having a hard time processing his emotions. He wanted badly to crawl back into the wagon and cry his eyes out in mourning over his mother's death. But on the other hand he had an intense desire to drop everything, commandeer the nearest horse and go galloping off to the castle to enact his revenge.

He was about to do just that when the image of brown eyes sparkling with mirth and milky white skin fluttered through his memory.

Spencer!

He grabbed the spyglass that he had flung down in anguish earlier and peered through it once again. He skimmed the ramparts once again as he tried to steel himself for the possibility of his dear lover's head on skewer much like his mother's.

He felt guilty at the relief that coursed through him when he found the parapets empty of a second spike. He was still deeply saddened and angry about his mother but the possibility that Spencer was still alive allayed some of that pain.

The king dropped the hand clutching the spyglass to his side and wiped his face with the other. He took a deep breath and turned toward his loyal knights. "What are we waiting for?"

Sir Hotchner observed the young man's face as it transitioned from that of a grieving son to the stoic face of a resilient monarch. He had to give the boy credit for being able to push his emotions down at a time like this. "Your Highness, the plan at the moment is to keep everyone back and out of sight of the watchmen. As of right now it doesn't look like we have been spotted and I'd like to keep it that way."

"What? Why? We need to get down there and take back what is ours!" he exclaimed incredulously. His troubled mind couldn't process why Sir Hotchner would want to bide his time when lives – Aaron's own loved ones included – could be in mortal danger. "Our family and friends are counting on us! We can't leave them down there another second with those trespassers!"

"Believe me, Your Highness, I understand your sense of urgency…but if we go storming the castle right now we will likely be defeated. We must keep our heads about us and observe our enemies. That way when we do attack we will come out victorious," the middle-aged man said wisely.

Derek hung his head. "…I know you're right…it's just that I can't stop picturing what else may be happening in there as we sit around cooling our heels. What if by the end of the day another h-hea…someone else joins my m-m-moth…someone else is up on a spike? How can we sit here and put the lives of all those innocent people in jeopardy like that?" the king asked.

Unable to maintain his distance any longer, Sir Hotchner reached out a sturdy hand and placed it on the youngster's shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "Because it's our duty. We would do more harm than good if we go rushing down there. What would happen to all of those innocent people if we are defeated and their king is –you are – killed? Then they would forever be at the mercy of a tyrant who is more interested in power than the well-being of his people – our people."

Derek brought up his own hand clasped Sir Hotchner's, clutching it back tightly in a nonverbal gesture of appreciation. He looked up toward the castle and answered the knight's question, "The effect on their lives would be cataclysmic. This country would be ravaged by Charles's armies and left to pick up the pieces while trying to abide by that fanatical man's rules. Alright…you win. What's the plan?"

Spencer didn't come out of his depressed daze until the body that had been holding him steady on the horse all day dismounted. Sufficiently jostled awake, the young king blinked his eyes and looked at his surroundings.

The invading army had chosen to set up camp in a secluded green valley on the bank of a wandering stream. The expansive caravan spread out far and wide throughout the land and started to pitch their tents and build fires. Close to the captive king there were foot soldiers getting to work on setting up King Charles's massive shelter. The echoes of grunts and groans coming from the belabored men infiltrated Spencer's ears and made him thankful that he wasn't being forced to help.

"My father doesn't know how to travel lightly."

Surprised by the unexpected comment, the young man tilted his head down and saw the prince looking up at him. The genius gave Tobias a wry smile before he averted his eyes toward his bound hands. He wiggled his fingers back and forth, encouraging blood circulation in the numb flesh.

"I-I'm sorry about that. My father insisted that you stay restrained after…especially after that girl escaped. But honestly, I don't know where he thought you would go while we were riding," Tobias said with a hesitant laugh, his gaze steadied on the course rope that was chafing Spencer's wrists. "I-I can't undo them completely but I can release you from the horse. Would you like to get down? I could get you something to eat and take you into the bushes so you can relieve yourself?"

Spencer silently bristled at the thought of having to be escorted to the bathroom, even though he was used to it by now. He hadn't been allowed to do anything on his own since he had been taken from the castle. Either he was tied up or heavily guarded. He found it very strange that Charles was so possessive over someone – a slave especially – that he had barely even known for a week.

Putting aside his discomfort at the unavoidable intrusion of his privacy, the young king nodded his head to signal that he did indeed want to get down to take care of his bodily functions.

Tobias reached up and unknotted the end of the rope attached to the saddle's pommel. He then placed Spencer's right foot in the stirrup and helped him dismount from the horse. Unfortunately, the king's lanky body had too much momentum and it caused him to practically fall backwards off of the horse. He could feel his body plummeting downward but his descent was abruptly halted by the embrace of two strong arms.

"I got you," the prince exclaimed as he pulled the slave's lithe body up and assisted him in planting his feet firmly on the ground.

Spencer pushed the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes aside and said a meek, "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Eww, enough of that. My father is the king, not I. When he's not around just call me Tobias...," the monarch entreated.

The young king raised his eyebrow at the prince. The only people that were permitted to use Derek and his given names were their close friends and family. The fact that this young man was so quick to have a supposed slave call him by his Christian name was very telling.

Tobias, seeing the slave's wariness, followed up his request, "Please…it makes me feel a little more human to have someone out there that doesn't feel the need to address me properly. And I feel less like my father's son and more like my own person."

The genius decided to test his theory and quietly inquired, "Surely there is someone more deserving than I that deserves that honor. I'm but a spoil of war that your father confiscated from his enemy. I should be the last person you'd think to reach out to."

Tobias sighed heavily, "No one wants to be the friend of King Charles's greatest disappointment. I'm a leper that is to be given a wide berth by all. I…I probably shouldn't be telling you all of this." The prince grabbed Spencer's left forearm with his hand and started steering him toward the shrubs that were scattered along the bank of the stream. "Come on. There is much to do and my father will be expecting you once his tent is erect."

The brown-eyed captive remained silent and allowed himself to be led along by the sullen prince. He knew that he had pushed the other man too far but he really didn't care. He had his own demons to contend with right now – namely the haunting memories of his dearly departed Derek – and he wasn't interested in being this troubled young man's sounding board.

Tobias didn't say anything else as he led Spencer over to some bushes that were on the edge of camp. He didn't leave his captive completely alone but he did give the other boy some privacy. Once the co-king was done taking care of his business, the prince wordlessly tugged on the rope attached to his wrists and took him over to one of the flourishing fires.

When the two arrived the atmosphere around the heat source was lively and jovial. The soldiers were relaxing with drinks in their hands and plates full of food. One of the men had even gotten out a lute and was strumming an animated tune that had quite a few of the fighters tapping their feet along with the beat.

Spencer was surprised to see how quickly the mood shifted when Tobias walked up to the group. The music abruptly stopped and the boisterous conversations dulled to a low murmur. The young man watched as the prince shifted from foot to foot as all the men inspected him with a sharp eye as he sat down on a large log positioned near the fire. The second his butt was planted firmly on the rotting wood a chorus of excuses rose up into the air as the men quickly vacated the area.

The genius, who was still standing next to the prince, looked down at the other when the open space had completely cleared out.

"Don't look so surprised. I told you," Tobias said wryly, "no one wants to be associated with me. Why don't you have a seat while I go and fetch us something to eat?" He didn't wait for an answer as he got up and guided the slave over to a tree. He then took the length of rope he was still holding in his hands and wound it around the trunk a few times, tying it off when he felt the segment was short enough. "I'm sorry that I've got to take these precautions but if my father found you free to roam he'd have my head…Anyways, you should be close enough to the fire to feel some of its warmth. I won't be gone too long and when I get back I'll untie you and we can sit closer to the flames."

Spencer's discerning eyes watched as the prince walked off into the maze of carts, his shoulders slumped and his gait unsure. The young man was definitely uncomfortable in this environment, even though he was surrounded by his own people. The genius's wheels started turning at the thought that he may be able to use Tobias's excommunication to his advantage. Perhaps he could even talk the vulnerable boy into helping him escape. Then he could go home and…and…

And what?

There wasn't anything for him at home anymore.

The sovereign's legs collapsed underneath him as the bitter realization cut him down to his core. His mother was dead. Lord Rossi was dead.

Derek was dead.

He curled up into a ball and moaned out the anguish that had been sitting heavy on his heart for days. He cradled his head in the palms of his hands, the heels of which became damp while unfettered tears started flowing down his cheeks. Meanwhile, his mournful thoughts carried him deeper and deeper into his mind's abyss, forcing him to confront the emotions he had hidden away from his captors. The dam that had been holding everything back had finally broken causing him to sob so violently that he started choking on the air that his beloved could no longer breathe.

His soul felt so empty – so black – and no matter how much he searched it, even into its darkest recesses, he couldn't find one reason to fight against this hell that his life had become.

How was he supposed to keep on going – supposed to fight – when his reason for living was gone?

All throughout his life it seemed as though Fortune's Wheel had never turned in his favor. But then briefly, for a few shining years, Spencer's whole world had turned around. He was given everything he could have ever hoped for, a mother, friends, a father-figure, and a soulmate.

But now the wheel had turned back in the other direction and taken away everything faster than the blink of an eye, leaving his world devoid of any color and Spencer damaged beyond repair.

The forlorn lover tilted his head back and looked up. He knew that the universe was stretched out above him but he couldn't even see it through the dreary clouds that distorted the night sky.

"How could you leave me?" he implored his love, whom he was sure was looking down on him from somewhere far above. "I-I can't do this…live this life without you in it…God…I…I can't even breathe…"

He sniffled a bit and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his worn-out shirt. He suddenly found himself overwhelmed with anger and before he knew it his voice was crying out, "And you-you promised that you would come home!" A half sob mingled with a growl tore its way out of his throat. "You always keep your promises! Why was this the one you chose to break?"

"Who are you talking to?" Tobias's timid voice asked, cutting off Spencer's emotional tirade.

"…I-I…no one."

The prince handed his prisoner a chunk of bread and a bowl of stew. Then he sat down in the grass next to Spencer and ate a few bites of his own meal. He chewed slowly while his mind decided on the best way to get his father's newest victim to open up.

"Did you love him?"

Spencer, who was in the process of bringing a piece of bread up to his mouth, froze at the question.

"Did you love him?"

"H-him who?"

"The man that broke his promise."

"W-why do you think it's a m-man?"

"Because you said, 'You promised to come home.' I just figured that it's not normal for a woman to be wandering the roads alone during wartime…so I took a guess that it was a man."

Spencer looked away, amazed at the prince's sound reasoning.

"So?"

"So what?" the co-king asked, trying unsuccessfully to avoiding the question.

"Did you love him?"

Spencer looked back up into the sky and saw a little section where a patch of clouds had cleared away, allowing a few stars to shine through. "Y-yes, I loved him."

"What happened to him?"

"H-he was killed."

It was Tobias's turn to hang his head. "It was by my father's army…wasn't it?"

Tears welled in the captive's eyes at the reminder of his lover's demise. He knew that his voice wouldn't work if he tried to answer so he settled for nodding his head.

"I'm so sorry."

Spencer just shrugged. There was nothing that the prince's sorry could do for him or Derek and it didn't make him feel any better.

"I…God…I hate my father," the prince admitted after having witnessed enough of the other boy's heartbreak. "I swear, if there was anything that I could do…I would."

"Y-you could let me go," Spencer suggested with a small spark of hope glistening in his brown pools.

"I can't…"

"But you could…a-and if you hate him so much you could just come with me," Spencer pleaded, hoping to appeal to the boy's hatred of his father.

"It wouldn't work. He'd find us and then he'd punish me and kill you," Tobias said with a finality that the monarch couldn't ignore.

"…then just kill me now."

"What? N-no! I couldn't do that," Tobias stuttered.

"Please? If you leave me alive you are dooming me to whatever torture your father has planned. J-just take me out of this world and let me join the ones I love that are waiting for me on the other side. If you do, than we would both win this game your father seems so intent upon playing with our lives."

Tobias suddenly stood up, discarding his unfinished meal without a second thought, and uttered gravely, "My father always wins in the end." He then made his way over to the bindings that were keeping Spencer attached to the tree and unfastened them. "Come on, my father is probably looking for us as we speak…and we don't want to keep him waiting."

Next time: Spencer finally reaches King Charles's castle and Derek finds out the fate of his lover.