Hi Friends!

I know it's been some time between updates but I'm suffering from a bit of writer's block...which is weird because I have this whole story outlined but writing out the chapters has been tough.

Please forgive any mistakes/errors.

Enjoy!

Derek was a bundle of nerves as he sat in the camp waiting to hear about the outcome of their meticulously planned night frontal attack.

It had been decided two days ago that Sir Hotchner would lead the troops in under the cover of darkness and attack the front gates when the invading army's troops were at their weakest. Once they laid siege to the gates they were then going to infiltrate the courtyard, climb up the battlements and take out the men defending the ramparts. If all went well they were then supposed to sneak up on the sleeping soldiers in the barracks and take them out before they could even crack their eyes open.

A loud booming echo reverberated through the valley where the camp was erected. Derek, who was sitting in his makeshift litter at the top of the hill quickly grabbed the spyglass and searched through the dark night to see the source of the noise.

It took him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the dim light but eventually he was able to train the instrument on the castle. He ran the spyglass back and forth over the brick and mortar until he found a gaping hole at the top of the tower where Spencer's science laboratory had been located. He saw licks of flames reaching out through the black sky as the fire inside destroyed all of his lover's hard work.

"Damn…," he muttered under his breath. "I'll just have to requisition the architects to design him a bigger and better laboratory when this is all said and done."

He lowered his instrument and grabbed the crude crutches that had been created out of a few large tree branches for him. He used them to hobble carefully down the hill and over to the community fire. There were only a few soldiers left in camp with him, some of them injured like himself, and they all looked just as sullen as he felt.

As he approached the fire the men that could stand up did and paid their respects to him. He waved off their attempts at formalities and hunkered himself down on a thick log that was stationed close to the flames.

Out of nowhere a bowl of stew was thrust into his hands. The king mumbled his thanks and even though his appetite was lacking he tucked into his meal.

He was halfway through the bowl when the pounding of hooved feet could be heard throughout the area. Derek set aside his meal and immediately snatched his crutches, using them to prop himself up into a standing positon. He turned toward the sound and was pleasantly surprised to find his good friend, Sir Hotchner, towering above him on his horse.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, though he did take in his friend's appearance in order to make sure he wasn't injured.

"It was a success," Hotchner answered solemnly.

A smile broke out on Derek's face, "Excellent! You, my friend, are amazing! And you and your men are going to go down in the history books as a force to be reckoned with. Now, let's get the cart hooked up so I can go home. How is Spencer? Did you find him? What about everyone else? Was there alot of damage to the castle? What did you do with all of Charles's men? We couldn't possibly fit them all in the dungeons…can we?"

Sir Hotchner, overwhelmed by all of the young king's questions, held up his hands in a placating gesture, "All in good time, Your Grace. I'll answer all of your questions once we get you home."

Derek nodded his acceptance and started hobbling toward his cart. He was almost there when he stopped, realizing that the knight had glossed over the most important question.

"Your Highness?" Aaron called down from his mount, curious as to why the monarch stopped.

The king looked up to his friend, realizing there was only one reason why Sir Hotchner wouldn't tell him about his beloved's fate. "Spencer's dead, isn't he."

The slight flinch of the knight's face told Derek all he needed to know. The young man's resolve crumbled as he fell to his knees and started sobbing. What good was a kingdom when he had no one to share it with?

Sir Hotchner jumped off his horse and crouched on the ground next to his sovereign. He laid a gentle hand on Derek's shaking shoulder and squeezed it tightly, "Your Grace…Derek…we haven't found him thus far. We…we don't know if he's dead or alive. I didn't want to tell you yet because I was hoping that he and the others would have been located by the time we got back to the castle. Don't start thinking the worst until we have proof."

"You…you don't know if he's alive?"

"No, I'm sorry," Hotchner said, slightly ashamed at his lack of knowledge. "But we will find out soon."

Derek wiped his face and pushed his emotions down, "Get me down there. I need to know what happened it him."

"At once, Your Highness."

A few days later Spencer's journey to King Charles's castle was almost at an end. It was midafternoon when they entered the town and a multitude of villagers were out lining the streets to celebrate their king's return.

Spencer, from his perch on Tobias's horse, observed the townsfolk in disbelief. The men, women, and children were extremely downtrodden and sullen. They all appeared dirty and grubby, as if they had no money with which to take care of themselves. Their cheers and accolades were shouted with little to no emotion. The young king reasoned that most of them were probably only out there greeting their king out of fear and not happiness.

"They don't look that happy to see us," Tobias commented from his position behind Spencer. The two had been together for the whole journey and unsurprisingly they had grown closer, commiserating with one another over their lots in life.

The young king was pleased to discover that he didn't mind the prince's presence. He really needed an ally to lean on right now and Tobias seemed like the perfect companion. And while he still resented the fact that his new acquaintance didn't have the strength of character to help him out by setting him free or ending his misery, Spencer wasn't going to reject the offered friendship when he needed it the most.

"I was just thinking that," Spencer agreed. "Tobias, if your father is so wealthy than why do his people look so poor? Doesn't he share his wealth with his citizens?"

The prince burst out in laughter, shocking a few of the peasants that were pretending to celebrating at his feet. "My father share? Surely you jest. My father would sooner give one of his dogs a gilt collar than he would a copper coin to a worker. No, no, no…the king has no concept of generosity, only greed. He believes that denying his people money will force them to work harder to earn it."

"Doesn't he realize that downtrodden people will rebel quicker than happy people? He needs to nurture their growth and aid them in the hard times. A kingdom with content citizens is richer than any other," Spencer said wisely.

"When you put it that way, I'm pretty sure Georgia must be penniless because there is not a single villager out there that would vouch for being satisfied with their living conditions. Of course, I'm not including the vile courtiers when I say that…they're just as bad as my father," Tobias informed his new friend bitterly.

Spencer didn't respond to the prince's comment, his mind focused on the small child that he saw on the route up ahead. The little boy couldn't have been older than five or six years old. He had shaggy black hair and his clothes were tattered rags hanging limply from his emaciated body. The boy was standing right on the edge of the road with his big eyes turned up to look at all the passing knights. The king's horse was soon to cross his path and he had stretched out his palm into the sky in order to beg for a small token from his sovereign.

The captive king watched with dismay as Charles's horse walked right past the boy and instead of giving the poor kid some money or a crust of bread the king aimed a swift kick right to his face. The little boy crumpled down to the ground and howled in pain at the monarch's cruel treatment. A woman, who must have been his mother, rushed to his side and pulled him back away from the road, trying to comfort him after his assault.

Spencer couldn't help but stare as their horse made its way past the child and his mother. He longed to jump off the horse and apologize for Charles's behavior but it wasn't his place to make amends for his captor's deeds. This was just another example of the treatment he was sure to endure at the hands of King Charles.

The youth shook his head and tried to dispel the image of cruelty that he had just witnessed and instead focused his mind on the castle that was looming in the distance. It was a hulking structure that took up the skyline from their position down in the village. It was made out of gray mortar and brick and rose higher into the sky than any structure Spencer had ever seen. It must have taken years upon years to construct by an innumerable amount of workers.

There were four towers; each one constructed in one of the directional corners of the castle. They reached high up into the air where their roofs seemed to scratch the blue sky with their pointed spires. The central building was composed of multiple floors with expansive balconies stretching out from large arching windows that led indoors.

As they got closer and closer to the fortress the drawbridge and portcullis started to materialize. The wooden barrier was down and laid across the deep gulch that was cut into the ground surrounding the castle. The iron bars were pulled up and there were guards standing before them in order to make sure the riffraff didn't sneak into the king's lair. The young monarch was able to see the bottom spikes of the gate sticking out from above their heads, almost like the teeth of an alligator gaping down from the top of its jaw.

A shudder racked Spencer's body as feelings of foreboding clouded his mind. What was going to happen to him in this godforsaken place? Would he ever leave this land and get back home where he belonged? Did he even want to go back home when he knew there was nothing left for him there?

Those questions and more swirled through is head as Tobias's horse took them through the gates and into the courtyard of the castle. The atmosphere of the open aired quad was exactly the same as the one throughout the town, subdued and dreary. There were courtiers milling about all over the place but their welcome was lackluster. Reid could tell that the wealthy citizens didn't want to be there any more than he did and that they were probably worried about displeasing their cantankerous sovereign with their absence.

The forearms containing his body tightened as the horse beneath him came to a stop in front of the stables. Tobias dropped the reigns and placed his hands on top of Spencer's bound ones. He squeezed his friend's willowy fingers firmly and pressed his arms into Spencer's sides. The gesture reminded the monarch of Derek and how they used to go riding on Thunderhead, his husband holding him securely in his strong arms as they galloped through the countryside.

"What happens to me now?" Spencer whispered quietly to Tobias as the two of them remained seated on the horse.

The prince sighed at the question and stopped embracing the lithe youth in front of him. He continued to avoid answering his friend and chose to dismount from the steed instead. Once he was down on the ground he looked up at his friend and said in dismay, "Now I take you to my father and…and he'll…he'll make use of you." Tobias had a hard time finishing his sentence due to the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders because he knew the fate that was in store for Spencer.

The captive king didn't respond to his friend's statement, knowing deep inside what the words entailed. Instead he hung his head in defeat and waited patiently for Tobias to untie his hands from the pommel. Once the rope was no longer fastened to the saddle, Spencer pushed up in the stirrups and brought his right leg up and around, descending from the horse and into Tobias's waiting arms.

The prince then grabbed the rope lead coming off of Spencer's wrists and used it to guide the slave to the king. The two boys slowly circumvented the bustling activities of the soldiers and servants that were running all around the castle's perimeter. Unfortunately, no matter how slow their steps were they eventually made it to the king's parked carriage.

The pair cautiously approached the menacing monarch, who was standing around in front of his horses discussing something with his brother. Charles didn't notice their existence until they were about five feet away from him. When he did finally see them he stopped talking and turned his intimidating glare in their direction. Tobias immediately bowed down to his father and addressed him properly while Spencer fell to his knees and pressed his forehead into the dirt, like he had been forced to multiple times over the past week.

The king grunted at his son, a nonverbal way of telling Tobias that he could rise.

The apprehensive prince stood erect and stated, "I trust you had a good trip, Your Highness."

Charles, never one for small talk, didn't respond to his son's attempt at pleasantries and ordered gruffly, "Get him up off the ground. He's filthy enough as it is."

Tobias pulled on the leash attached to Spencer's hands and Reid pushed himself upright. He continued to angle his chin down and kept his eyes glued on a pebble that was lodged in the soil. He never looked up but he could sense Charles's eyes were inspecting his body with his penetrative stare. Spencer shifted on his fawnlike legs, anxiously awaiting the result of this intense examination.

Soon there was a pair of soft leather shoes positioned on the ground where the pebble laid.
He felt a strong grip grab his chin and tip his head up, forcing him to meet the king's gaze. Charles turned Spencer's head from side to side and traced his jawline with his thumb. Without looking at his son the monarch instructed, "Take him upstairs and give him to my grooms. He is to have the full treatment and new clothes more becoming of his new station. He is to be ready and waiting for me by dinner."

"Yes, father," Tobias said obediently.

The king released Spencer from his grasp and walked away without another word.

Derek thought he was going to be sick when he saw the floor of the throne room. There was a large puddle of blood pooled at the bottom of the throne and then a long smear of it trailing across the ground.

He looked over to Sir Hotchner, "This must have been where my mother…where my mother was killed."

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness," Hotchner said compassionately.

The king closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind away from his mother's death.

"Were there any other bodies?" Derek finally asked the knight after he composed himself.

"What?"

"Did your men find any other bodies in here? My mother wouldn't have been alone. Lord Rossi would have been with her."

"We didn't find anyone else in here, Your Grace."

"Then where is he? He wouldn't have left her side if he could have helped it," Derek pondered, looking around the room for clues.

"Perhaps he went into hiding with King Spencer?" Hotchner ventured.

"I doubt it…" Derek trailed off as he stepped behind the throne and noticed a trail of red droplets leading to the tapestry on the wall behind it. "Look, there's blood! It's leading toward the wall."

Both men ran over to the arras and studied the floor.

"You're right."

The king looked over to his friend and pulled aside the wall-hanging, fully revealing the stone wall. Derek ran his hand over the gray rocks and smiled when he felt the recess in the seam that he was looking for. He curled his fingers into the hidden nook and pulled with all his might, causing the concealed door to swing open. "This passage comes out upstairs, right across from my bedroom. There's a secret room at the end of the hallway that was constructed years ago when my ancestors were at war. I bet Spencer's in there with everybody else. Come on! I bet they don't even know that the castle is in our hands once again. Let's go give them the good news," Derek gushed, excited at the prospect of seeing his lover safe and sound.

Sir Hotchner stepped forth and unsheathed his sword as he called for a torch. His squire quickly produced the required light source, placing it into the knight's free hand. "I hope you're right, Your Grace. But we mustn't go rushing up there. We have no idea if there are any enemies lying in wait. I'll go first and clear the way. Follow behind me."

The young monarch longed to charge up the stairs but, as always, he heeded his friend's words.

Moments later the two men were slowly creeping up the shadowy stairs, completely on guard and hyper-vigilant the whole way to the top.

When they reached the end of the passage, Sir Hotchner pressed his ear to the wall and listened for any signs of the enemy.

"I thought your men cleared the castle?" Derek whispered impatiently.

The knight pulled back from the concealed door and looked at the king's face, which was covered in flickering shadows due to the light of the torch. "They did, but like I said before we can't be certain that everyone was caught in the first pass through the castle. We can't afford to let our guard down and be caught unaware," he explained, dropping the king's formal title since they were all alone.

"Well, did you hear anything?"

"No. I think it's clear."

"Then let's go!" Derek ordered, his words sounding high-strung in anticipation.

Aaron didn't wait to be told twice and pulled the handle on the inside of the door toward him, exposing the silent hallway. Derek, allowing his emotions to get the best of him, pushed past his friend and into the open. He looked both ways, happy to see that there wasn't any sign of the enemy, and ran toward the hidden room at the end of the hall.

Once he got to the suit of armor that blocked the access to the room he pulled down its shiny left arm and watched in satisfaction as it opened.

A shriek immediately greeted Derek upon his entrance into the room.

"Oh my God! You're alive!" squealed the shrill voice of one of Derek's best friends, Lady Penelope Garcia.

A large smile broke out on the king's face as a blur of royal purple satin skirts ran straight at him and enveloped him in a crushing hug. "I-I can't believe that it's you! We heard that you were dead!"

Derek winced when his friend's embraced irritated his injury but instead of stopping her hug he squeezed her back affectionately. "I'm alright sweetness. I'm alright…I just got cut a little bit, but nothing too serious."

She pulled back from the hug with tears streaming down her face. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you!"

"And I, you." He smiled at her and planted a small kiss on her forehead. He then looked back up and let his eyes search the crowd for his beloved. "Is Spencer in here with you? Or how about Lord Rossi?"

The room that had been chattering in excitement upon the king's appearance suddenly became hushed. Penelope let out a little yelp and covered her mouth with her hand.

The king turned toward her, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I…um…"

"Lady Penelope, if you know anything about the king's whereabouts or Lord Rossi's please let us know," Sir Hotchner requested from his spot near the door.

"Lord Rossi is over here," announced a strong feminine voice from behind a wall of people toward the back of the room. The bodies blocking the speaker parted to reveal a disheveled JJ in a tattered blue gown kneeling beside a cot. On the makeshift bed was the haggard pale body belonging to Lord Rossi. His eyes were closed and his face was screwed up in pain. Derek could tell that his breathing was labored and the man's shoulder was wrapped up in white bandages tinged with blood.

"What happened?" Derek demanded as he marched over toward his injured mentor.

"We don't know," JJ said. "We were hidden in here when the Georgian army raided the castle. Your mother and Lord Rossi opted to stay in the throne room to meet the opposition head on. We're not sure what happened but at some point they ran him through. We found him abandoned on the floor after dark when we were out scouting the damages and scrounging for food. Luckily, the soldiers that were on watch were preoccupied with something and Will and I were able to drag him back here. We've been taking care of him ever since. He hasn't fully woken up yet but sometimes he opens his eyes and mutters incoherently."

"Will he-will he survive?"

JJ nodded her head, "I think so…but I really don't know…"

Derek stooped down next to the cot and captured the old man's hand in his. He squeezed the gnarled appendage then brought it up to rub it against his cheek. "Hang on old man. You can beat this…it's what mom would have wanted you to do."

After a brief moment of silence, the distraught king twisted his head and asked JJ, "Do you know where Spencer is?"

A look of sadness painted her porcelain features as tears pooled in her sapphire orbs, "I'm so sorry, Derek...but King Charles took Spencer with him…and it's all my fault.

Surprise! Rossi is alive!

I just didn't have the heart to actually kill both Diana and Rossi. Spencer needs at least one parental figure to be alive and Rossi needs to avenge Diana's death!