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Rossi slowly shuffled the sobbing young man over to the rickety cot and sat down with him. He then wrapped his arms around the youth and quietly rocked him. They sat like that for over ten minutes until the boy's sobs turned into random whimpers and sniffles.

Dave felt the death grip that Spencer had on his doublet weaken and took that as a sign that the boy was ready to talk. He gently seized the kid's biceps and pushed him into an upright position. When the genius was steady the older man removed one hand and used it to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket. He pressed the cloth into his friend's hands and watched as the boy wiped his face.

"Thank you," Spencer whispered before he blew his nose into the fabric.

"Anytime," Rossi responded. He reached a hand up and cupped the side of the young man's face in his hand. "I'd ask how you are holding up but I think it's obvious."

The captive king forced a wry smile at his mentor's comment. "I've seen better days," was all he could think of to say.

"Of that, I'm sure," he said, dropping his hand down to his lap.

A small whine escape Spencer's throat at the loss of the familiar man's contact.

Upon hearing his reaction, Dave reached out and clasped Spencer's hands tightly in his own.

The secret sovereign looked down at the gnarled fingers that were interwoven with his own. He used his thumbs to massage the older man's wrinkled skin in an effort to smooth it out. "H-how are you here? I-I saw him k-kill you."

Rossi smiled, "I'm tougher than I look."

"And Derek?"

"He's really alive and well, kiddo. And anxious to see you, I might add."

Spencer wanted to celebrate over Rossi's words but another question pushed past his lips before he could. "How about my mom?" he asked with anticipation, hoping against hope that she too somehow miraculously survived.

Dave's smile vanished almost instantly as tears welled up in his squinted eyes. "I'm sorry, Spencer. She never had a chance."

The youth nodded his head almost imperceptibly and allowed his own sorrow to drip down his cheeks. "I-I figured…I-I was just hoping that maybe…maybe she -"

Rossi didn't allow him to finish his sentence; instead the older man wrapped his arms around the kid's boney body again and squeezed him tight.

Surprised and unprepared for the man's embrace, Spencer let out a squeak of pain as Rossi's hands accidently upset his wounds.

Dave pulled back and gave the youth a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Spencer wiped his eyes and pushed back the grief he was feeling over the loss of his mother. "It's ah…it's just the cuts on my back. They're still healing."

"Cuts on your back?" Rossi inquired before he stood up and tried to peer over the king's shoulder.

Spencer shifted in an effort to deter the man. "It's nothing…they're nothing…a-actually they've started to heal nicely."

"The fact that you're trying to downplay them tells me that they're not nothing," the older man said with a scolding tone.

Knowing that he wasn't going to win this fight, Spencer leaned forward and allowed his father-figure to examine his back.

Rossi hissed in anger the second he laid eyes on the crisscrossing slashes littering the boy's pale skin. "They whipped you?" he asked with a hint of fury behind his words as he sat back down on the cot.

"Yes," Spencer said meekly, refusing to meet Dave's eyes.

"Why?"

The boy picked at the skin around his fingernails. "I-it was my punishment for talking to you when the king told me not to," he nearly whispered, afraid that his friend would feel guilty for the abuse he brought on himself the other day.

"So this is why I haven't seen you since then? You've been recovering?"

"Yes."

"That bastard!" Dave roared, shooting up from his sitting position and reaching for the doorknob.

A gentle hand landed on Rossi's arm and squeezed it urgently. "Lord Rossi, stop! Please…you can't do anything about it now and…and you can't blow your cover over something so trivial."

The Italian allowed his eyes to wander down to the slim fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm. He saw the bits of blood tinging the nailbed of the kid's fingers. His gaze continued down past the bleeding phalanges to the wiry wrist that was enveloped by a golden manacle. Rossi closed his eyes slowly and took in a few deep breaths, forcing down the anger that had boiled to the surface. The boy was right; if he flew off the handle now he'd expose them both and jeopardize their lives.

Dave gnashed his teeth together before forcing out, "Fine. I'll leave it for now. But that bastardo is going to pay for how he's treated you! And just wait until Derek finds out…"

Spencer's hand fell away from his friends. "I-is he really going to be here soon?"

"He's on his way now," Rossi said, looking down at son with a smile. "He's excited to see you."

"I-I can't wait to see him too," he said, glancing away with a blush. His eyes fell onto the golden chain linking his two hands together and realized that he wouldn't even be able to get near Derek when he did arrive. Charles had him on a short leash and wasn't about to let him go. His happy reunion with his husband would have to wait until he was freed from captivity. "Uh…how are you guys – how are we – how am I…" the slave trailed off, feeling slightly helpless and useless by the fact that he needed to be rescued.

"Going to escape?" Rossi finished for him.

The genius just nodded; his shame at the situation was keeping his tongue quiet.

"Well, I'm not going to go into too much detail because the less you know the better."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Spencer thought about it for a moment. "Because even the smallest change in my behavior may alert King Charles that something is wrong."

"Exactly, kiddo. All you need to know is that we do have a plan and that it's already underway. Now, I'm assuming that I'll be seeing more of you over the next couple of weeks. You are going to hear and see me acting funny. Just understand that everything that I say and do is all part of the plan," Rossi explained.

"I understand," Spencer said.

"Good, because the type of man I have to be around Charles is quite deplorable," Dave said with a shudder before glancing up toward one of the narrow windows. "Looks like the morning is getting away from us. We need to get going. Are you okay to walk?"

Spencer stood up slowly, "It still hurts but I don't have much of a choice. It's not like you can carry me down to the armory."

"We'll go slowly," Rossi assured him as he pulled his knife from the doorjamb.

"Thanks…for everything," the boy said softly.

"Don't thank me yet…we've got a long way to go."

The blacksmith's tents weren't very far from the castle but the journey felt like hours to the injured king. Each step he took upset his wounds, pulling on the tender flesh that was fighting to heal. Spencer never once let on that he was in pain, having learned a long time ago how to keep it hidden.

The young man started to shiver as the sound of metal being forged with a hammer assaulted his ears. He halted his steps a few yards away from the smithy as the memories of his last experience inside a similar tent started to spring forth inside his mind.

Rossi was a few steps away before he realized his charge wasn't with him anymore. He turned around and saw the panic-stricken look on his son's face. "You can do this. I'll be right with you the whole time."

Spencer let out a sardonic little laugh. "Yeah…so was Lord Gideon last time…and I still came away with this," he said, gesturing to his collar.

Dave walked back over to the youth and said in a soothing voice, "I'm not Jason and I promise you that I won't let anything like that happen to you again."

"You can't guarantee that. If the king ordered – "

"The king's not here and by now you should know that I have a way with words. I'll figure something out. Trust me," he assured. "Now let's get this over with."

"Alright," he said reluctantly and started shuffling forth once again.

The tent flaps were pulled back and tied to the posts, allowing the cool morning air to waft into the workspace. Like the last time, the blacksmith was positioned over an anvil walloping his hammer down on a piece of steel, forming it into a sword. The hulking man glanced up from his work briefly but said nothing to the two intruders. He continued to pound away for a few more minutes before he picked up the iron hilt and dipped the metal into water to cool. A cloud of steam burst upward from the liquid at the same time as a hissing sound emanated throughout the tent.

The blacksmith pulled the sword out of its bath and set it back on the anvil. He then propped his hammer up and turned toward the men. "What can I do for today, m'lord?" he ask Rossi, purposefully ignoring the slave.

"I'm here on King Charles's orders. I was told to bring his newest toy down here to you for a fitting," Dave said without missing a beat.

The muscular man grunted, "Yeah, I got a letter yesterday with my instructions. But I thought the prince was supposed to bring him down."

"There was a change in plans. That fucking pansy woke up late and figured he couldn't get to his own fitting and this one before noon…so, guess who got stuck with the job?"

"Heh, pansy…that's one of the nicer words I've heard him called. It's amazing to me that someone as hard-assed as King Charles could have such a wimp for a son," the man commented. "Alright then…bring the whore over here."

Rossi directed Spencer over to a spot near the smith's tool bench. "So, what is the kid down here for today?"

"A fitting," he stated as he rifled through his a drawer.

Rossi made an exasperated face, "I know that. What's he getting fitted for?"

"Nosey, ain't cha, m'lord?" the smith said, turning around with a measuring tape.

Instead of rising to the insult, Dave shrugged it off. "Eh…just wondering what a slave would need hand-crafted just for him."

The blacksmith grinned, "Well we both know that this isn't just any slave to King Charles." The man kicked apart Spencer's legs and took his arms and positioned them so that they were parallel to the ground. He then wrapped the measuring device around the kid's waist, chest, upper thighs, and biceps. While he was writing down the boy's sizes on a piece of parchment paper he told the two of them, "The king designed a new outfit that he wants the boy to wear for King Derek's arrival. It's made completely out of gold – golden chainmail to be exact. He even commissioned a headpiece to go along with it."

"Interesting…could I see the design?"

"No. The king said it was for my eyes only. He wants it to be a surprise…for everyone," the smithy said, shooting Rossi down.

"I see. So are we done then?"

"Not quite. I need to get his head measurements," the man said, turning back to the young man and wrapping the tape measure around his skull in multiple places. He then turned and grabbed a flat thin piece of metal and said, "Open wide."

Spencer scrunched his brow but did as he was told. The tradesman stuck the rod into his mouth slowly and pulled it back when the boy gagged. He did it again, but this time stopped right before the kid's reflexes kicked in. "Alright, I'm all done."

"What was that last measurement for?" Rossi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, you'll just have to wait and see," the man said mysteriously before turning his back on the two.

Realizing that he wasn't going to get any more information from the man, Dave said, "Come on, boy. Let's get a move on. I have things to do today."

The genius didn't have to be told twice. He made a beeline for the exit. Once he got outside of the stifling tent he leaned over and put his hands on his knees, inhaling the fresh air. Moments later he felt the ghosting of fingers along his neckline and murmured, "Just give me a second."

"No problem, kiddo," Rossi said in a low voice. "That was pretty intense."

Spencer nodded his agreement, "Yeah…and I can only imagine what Charles has concocted."

"Me too," the mentor said warily before changing the subject. "Hey, that didn't take as long as I thought it would. What do you say to a quick walk through the gardens…if your back is holding up, that is?"

"I-I'd like that," the young man said, standing erect once again.

"And your back?"

"It's not too bad."

Rossi gave the boy a skeptical look.

"Really, I'll be fine. And it's been so long since I've been allowed outside..."

"Well then let's make the most of it," Rossi suggested, letting the subject of the kid's pain drop.

The older man led the way, making Spencer walk behind him as was proper for his station. But once the two of them disappeared into the hedge maze they resumed walking side by side.

They exchanged few words as they admired the greenery around them. Rather, they kept their pace slow and enjoyed the brief respite from the hustle and bustle of the busy court.

At the center of the hedge maze was a lovely little courtyard with a white gazebo and bench seating. A little pond encircled the quaint shelter, forcing the visitors to cross a little wooden bridge to access it. Once they walked over the water the two men sat down across from each other and admired the view.

Rossi allowed let the young man relax for a few minutes before breaking the peace. "We'll have to get going soon...," he started, quickly registering the small frown that tugged at Spencer's lips, "but before we do, I have something for you."

A curious look spread across the kid's face, dispelling the scowl he had worn just moments ago. "You do?"

Rossi didn't say anything else; instead he reached a hand into his doublet and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it over to the genius and said, "I think I'll go take a closer look at those roses. I want to see if any of them have a perfect spiral."

Spencer didn't even listen to Dave's excuse as he unfolded the parchment. His hands were shaking again as he opened it up and found a letter from his beloved penned inside.

My Dearest Starshine,

I cannot find the words to express how much I miss you and the ache I feel deep in my heart as I long to hold you again. I cannot believe that fortune's wheel has decided to separate us in such a cruel manner. I'm not sure what we may have done to deserve this horrible punishment but I must assure you that we will both endure. And when we meet again it will be that much sweeter.

And we will.

We will see each other again.

By the time you read this letter I'll probably already be on my way.

And I'm sorry that you had to wait so long for me to come. I promise you that it was necessary.

Oh my love, I cannot wait to see those expressive eyes of yours once again. The only thing getting me through right now is picturing how perfect you looked the morning that I left – laid out on the bed, a beautiful blush coloring your cheeks, your hair all disheveled after our morning escapades and your lips slightly swollen after our frantic kissing.

God, I never pictured a time in my life when you wouldn't be in it. It's funny because I think this separation is slowly driving me insane. Sometimes I just see you standing by the fire or I imagine that your body is hiding underneath our sheets. But alas, it's just a ghost of a memory…

Soon though, soon, I will not have to rely upon that ghost to bring me comfort. Soon I will wrap you in my embrace and I swear to you that I will never let go.

So whatever has happened since we last parted - whatever you've had to endure - know that it is almost over and we will take comfort in one another's arms again.

Until then remember that you are never alone. I have been with you all along as you have been with me.

I am following your light and I will bring you home.

- Your Faithful Telescope

Spencer read the letter three times regardless of the fact that he had it committed to memory after the first time. When he had finished the final read through he squeezed it in his hand and clutched it to his chest in the hopes of imbuing the words into his heart.

Out of nowhere, a forced cough disrupted his actions. "Spencer, we're going to have to get going before you are missed."

The young king grimaced but nodded in agreement.

"And I hate to do this but I think it would be best if I held onto that letter for you," Rossi kindly suggested.

Spencer's honeyed eyes dulled at his mentor's words, "I know…b-but do you think maybe I could write him a letter back?"

Dave shook his head, "It wouldn't be safe. Everything I send out to Derek is inspected by King Charles's men. They'd report it to him immediately."

"That's what I thought," he said forlornly.

"But perhaps I could weasel something inconspicuous into a missive for you…"

The young man perked up at the older man's idea. "Would you?"

"Of course."

Rossi watched as Spencer's eyes got a faraway look in them. He could tell the wheels were turning in the kid's brain, trying to churn out something that only the two kings would understand.

After a few minutes of silence, Spencer spoke quietly, "T-tell him that while his star seems dim for now it will surely shine brightly again in the future."

Ah...finally Derek's arrival will be in the next chapter and we can get this rescue really underway!

Till then!