A/N: This takes place between chapters three and four of Dog, after the banquet scene when Shandar asks to ‘borrow’ the Fool and before Puppy goes looking for the source of the crying. It won’t fit into the novel, unfortunately, so it’s sort of stuck as a bit of a supplement, I guess. I dunno.

“Let me go! Let me go, let me GO!”

He didn’t want this. He didn’t, he didn’t. He hadn’t meant for the boy to take him seriously. He’d meant to embarrass him. He’d meant to humiliate him in front of the rest of the court. He hadn’t meant for Shandar to confirm the rumors using him!

“Please, for the gods’ sakes, let me GO!”

He was shaking. He was terrified. He was desperate.

The grip on his arm did not loosen as that horrible voice murmured, “Now, whyever would I want to do something like that?” The noble’s lips caressed the Fool’s cheek, trailing down to his neck. The Fool whimpered and struggled. On a purely physical level, the gentle touch felt nice. Strange, but nice. On other levels... it made him angry, frightened, confused, sick, more frightened, and just generally upset and off-balance.

Shandar probably intended it that way, too. Damn him.

“Please, please... you don’t want me... you want... Julius or... or...”

“Today, tonight, this very moment, I want you.” The noble smiled and pulled the Fool against him in a little alcove off the main hall. “Don’t forget that you issued the invitation, not the other way around.”

“No, no, that... it wasn’t an invitation... please, let me go...” His voice was barely above a whisper now and he was nearly limp in Shandar’s grip.

“Shh... shh...” A full, mouth-on-mouth kiss, with the noble’s tongue flicking against the Fool’s closed lips. He started to cry, silent tears trailing down his cheeks, slowly at first, then faster. Shandar broke the kiss, looking faintly bemused.

“You surely don’t think I mean to hurt you, do you? I’m not like that.” He kissed and licked the tears away, running a hand up and down the Fool’s back and below. The older man—yes, the Fool is older than Shandar, by approximately ten years. Yes, I know he doesn’t act it—shivered and made an effort to stop the tears. They weren’t doing him any good, after all.

“I... I... please. Please.”

Shandar laughed and tapped the Fool’s nose.

“Poor little fool. Come along, my rooms will be much more comfortable.” He lifted the Fool as easily as he would carry a child, and strode down the halls. The Fool didn’t resist, because it had finally gotten through his head that there was nothing he could do. Shandar would have him, and the Fool had no say in it.

That was, he supposed, one of the bad things about being a possession, rather than a person. Usually he didn’t mind...

He contemplated this as Shandar carried him, probably solely to distract himself from what awaited him in the noble’s chambers. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t know what to think about that; he had never had any experience of his own, despite rumors to the contrary. He’d never even kissed someone who wanted him to kiss them, rather than were humiliated by it.

And then they were there.

The door was opened for Shandar by a servant of about fifty, who didn’t look at all surprised by this turn of events. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have looked surprised if Shandar had walked in on his hands; that was the sort of servant the Evrens employed.

“Run along,” the young man told the servant, who obeyed with a perfectly blank expression, though no doubt this would be all over the palace by morning. Assuming that it wasn’t already, considering Shandar’s public request of Alicia...

The Fool protested softly in a language that Shandar didn’t know, as he was laid down upon the enormous bed. Shandar ignored this and ran his hands over the Fool’s clothing, in an attempt to find the fastenings of it. (They were, as it happens, hidden, under the collar and the ‘skirt’ of fluttering cloth.) When Shandar didn’t find them immediately, he left the bed for a moment, and the Fool dared to hope that maybe the lord had lost interest and...

Shandar returned with a knife and proceeded to cut the garment very carefully away, while the Fool watched the knife and did not squirm, as much as he wanted to. He hated pain, and he feared that the knife would slip, and cut him instead of his clothing.

Then he was naked, and the knife was tossed carelessly aside, onto the floor. The Fool watched it land, since he wouldn’t want to step on it later and cut his foot. It occurred to him that he could use it against Shandar, but it wouldn’t be wise. Better to let revenge wait until the noble wouldn’t expect it...

A hand touched him in a place that no one had ever touched him and he sucked in his breath, tensing all over and expecting any moment for Shandar to hit him, to hurt him, to...

“Relax, little fool,” came Shandar’s voice, laughter on the edge of his tone. While the Fool’s eyes had been off him, he had removed his own clothing, and now moved atop the older man, kissing him on the lips, on the jaw, on the neck, and working his way even further down. Despite his fear, the Fool couldn’t help but find this much, at least, pleasant. Shandar’s lips and hands were skilled and he seemed to enjoy evoking little surprised gasps and moans of pleasure. By the time he rolled the Fool onto his stomach, he was almost pleading for something else altogether.

A wet sound that the Fool didn’t recognize. Then a shock of pain, and he screamed, though his voice was muffled by the bedclothes, and fisted his hands, trying not to cry and failing. Shandar kissed the side of his neck and murmured, “Now, you stop that. You’re going to give me a bad reputation.”

“You’re hurting me!” cried the Fool, tensing as Shandar hurt him again and again and again...

The noble murmured in his ear, “Relax, silly. It won’t hurt as much. You might even learn to enjoy it.” Then he didn’t say anything else for a long time. Eventually, he rolled off the Fool, who promptly curled on his side and sobbed silently to himself. Shandar put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently with his thumb.

“I want to go now,” said the Fool, in a small voice, as if he were unsure of the answer. What if Shandar wanted to do it all over again?

“Oh, all right. You can’t go wandering around naked, though. Take my dressing gown, the one over there. Make sure you return it.”

The Fool crawled out of the bed, hissing in pain as he stood, wrapped himself in the tawny silk dressing gown, and slunk out the door. Shandar rolled over and went to sleep.