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A/N: I was so pumped by the enthusiastic reviews last night that I actually managed to make good on my promise :) I hope you enjoy. And I am really pumped with this story right now...ahem...lemme know what ya think...sorry if you hate me after this
Marek woke alone in the center of his bed. Covers were tucked around his chin and a tray of porridge and juice was resting on the bedside table. He closed his eyes again and for a moment is seemed like he hadn’t woken yet. The sweet warmth of dreams lingered on shi skin and a rich sweet tang filled his mouth making him drunk on the memory. The late afternoon pull was insistent, though, and as he tossed aside the covers and revealed the last evidence fo his morning activities Marek frowned deeply and wished he could just disappear into the city’s degenerate docks. Unfortunately, with his father either dead or imprisoned and his sister likely trying to handle the crown he had no time for self-indulgent frivolities.
The porridge was thick and clumpy but Marek made sure all of it sank into his stomach and chased it with a long swig of juice. Finally sated, at least for the time being, Marek used the cold water filling a pitcher in the wash room to scrub his skin until it was pink with irritation but utterly clean. Artek rushed in through the chamber doors just as he was digging through the closet for clothe to wear to court. He jerked sharply as his bare backside was suddenly pressed against her soft dress skirts and her arms pressed him close to her, “Marek! Marek! Oh, are you ok? You’ve been asleep for so long! Prince Daniil was in here watching you and I only just rushed out to get some hot food for you.”
“Don’t mention that name,” Marek snarled.
Artek released him and stepped back, a worried line creasing between her eyebrows, “Prince Daniil? Why not? He’s been really worried about you. He even figured out where you were.”
“Artek, please.” Marek looked at her and tried to soften his voice, “Just help me get dressed. I should be at court.”
“Oh, I don’t think – “
“Artek, I’m going to court. Either help me or get out!”
Artek swallowed hard and stepped around Marek to dig out a pair of soft gray trousers, a thick belt, a bright ruffled shirt with a black vest, and a pair of back, heeled boots. Marek slipped into the clothes, perturbed to find the trousers didn’t fit quite as snug as they had before and the shirt slipped easily off his shoulders until the vest was fitted over his chest and tightened in the back.
When all his laces were tightened and the belt had been fastened tight, though it still hung on his hips, Marek brushed his hair back, not bothering with a comb, and collected his sword before leaving the confines of his room. Artek stayed behind and stared out the balcony window as she rocked slowly in her chair. Something had gone terribly wrong and she was at a loss as to how to help.
The court room was sparsely filled with courtiers milling about with glasses of wine and brandy. At the head of the room his sister sat at a makeshift desk piled with papers. her clothing was dark, a thick protective armor top giving way to full flowing skirts. Her long thick hair was bundled behind her head and thin circlet was just visible high on her forehead. His presence was quickly noted and the courtiers moved almost simultaneously to give deep bows and curtsies. Marek was taken aback by the gesture but quickly returned it with a grave nod of his own. The room was silent but for the clacking of his heels. His sister rose to a stand behind the desk and rested one hand on the edge of the table. She leaned forward the slightest bit to fix him with a stern look, “You’ve let this become quite the mess, you know.”
“Yes, I am quite aware of the situation.”
“Still, I suppose it could have been much worse. I am glad to see you up and about.”
It was as much a sign of affection he could expect from her and it relaxed him the slightest bit.
The noise of people moving and speaking softly began to fill the room again as Juliana took her seat and continued reading through the papers surrounding her. Marek remained standing next to her and read through military reports from campaigns still in operation as well as those that had been complete with a brutal efficiency. Some reports he happily filed away as they had been subverted already, however far too many stood witness to the horror that now encompassed his country.
Marek was halfway through an account of a young girl, accused of stealing, having her hands coated in hot oil so that she might stand as an example, when the heavy doors at the far end of the room opened with a violent intensity.
Marek glanced up to see the pale blue and gold of Prince Daniil at the far end. By the time Marek finished the report Daniil had made it nearly to their table. Something tightened inside Marek and though eh picked up another report he didn’t read it. The paper crinkled in the grip of his hands as Daniil sketched a bow. However when he straightened those deep eyes only skidded over to Marek briefly, a static comment falling from his lips, “I’m glad to see you’re well, Prince.”
Then Daniil focused on Juliana, “I have sent off a missive to my father. I should receive a response in no more than a few days. I will of course keep you posted. Also, with the help of my Captain I have managed to thin down the city and palace guards to those who are loyal to shift of power and those who are loyal to the late King.”
“Thank you, Prince. I believe you have been quite busy all day. If you would like to retire now there is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow. I fear this mess will not be easy to sort out.”
“Certainly, Lady. Well then, Thank you, and good evening.”
Marek watched him out of the corner of his eye but didn't return a bow of the small one Daniil offered upon his departure.
“Marek,” His sister’s voice drew his face, a soft note drifted through her words, “If you too would like to retire I don’ t think there is much left to do. Please get some more rest.”
Marek gave a small negative gesture and said, “No, I’d rather not. I’ve been in bed for days. It is refreshing to be up an about.” He looked around the room to see many of the courtiers had left after Daniil. “However I do believe I will pace a bit. Standing still is cramping my legs.” Juliana made a noise of assent and continued with her paperwork.
Marek frowned down at his newest report and discarded it into a loose pile. His heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor. He tried to keep his thoughts on the mounds of indiscretions and violence that would have to be corrected in the wake of his father’s reign but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t escape the feel of hot breath and exploring tongue. He didn’t think he’d wake up to another cold bed. Daniil had not even seemed to notice him during the reports. Sure, Marek was pissed, but he would have forgiven him for scampering off. Still would. The cold of his watery dungeon still creaked in his bones. The slimy memory of it was chased away only by those warm arms and soft kisses. And if he was honest then there were other, deeper, wounds that were healed by Daniil’s soft affection.
Suddenly Marek didn't want to pace, and he didn't’ want to read anymore repots about his father. The court room, big as it was, became stifling and Marek stormed out. His clipped walk stalked through the hallways, servants and stray courtiers and soldiers moved out of his way with per functionary bows. He didn’t notice.
Finally he was standing outside the room that had been assigned to Daniil and his Guard. Marek had made sure to note where they had placed the foreign prince upon his arrival. It was one of guest rooms farthest from the royal wing. He didn’t take time to think it out or worry. His heat ricocheted off his ribs as he arrived but the rap on the door was strong and sure.
Immediately the guard, Lord Black, Marek thought, swung the door outward nearly catching Marek’s face in the motion.
“Lord Black, I apologize for the hour.”
“Not at all, highness. How may I be of assistance?”
“Is Prince Daniil in at the moment? There is something I would like to discuss with him.”
“Ah, I am sorry highness, he has not returned. I expect him shortly. Would you care to wait? Or leave a message?”
“I will wait, if it is not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
Black stepped aside and Marek entered the small ante-chamber. It was lightly decorated with two small but plush chairs and a fat little couch. The rug was a deep burgundy which clashed with the patterned furniture but Marek made no comment and took a seat in one of the small chairs. Black placed a cup of fresh tea at his elbow. Marek nodded his thanks and sipped the slightly sweet mixture while they waited.
It was only after several minutes that Marek became anxious enough to glance around the room, searching for a topic of conversation. Then he noticed the trunks stacked neatly in the corner. Alone they were inconspicuous and he might have dismissed them but for the tale tell missive resting on top of them, bound with twine.
“I see you are already preparing your departure, Lord Black,” Marek stated without taking his eyes from the offending corner.
Black glanced to where to prince’s eyes pointed and gave a small nod, “Yes. We have been away from home for quite some time. I feel we shall be returning quite soon. The Prince’s family is anxious to see him, I’m sure.”
“Quite. Well I am sorry you were present for such an unattractive display by my country.”
“Not at all. I am sorry we could offer no more help. Of course our country will be happy to have improved relations with yours.”
Marek let out a huff of air, “When did you pack you’re things?”
“Ah, the Prince ordered it this morning. In the confusion it took longer than it perhaps should have. I believe we will make our departure in morning or perhaps tomorrow afternoon. I cannot be sure. The Prince has not shared his plans with me thus far.”
Marek fiddled with his teacup a moment before standing again, “I am sorry but would you not mention my visit to Prince Daniil? I do not wish to bother him further. I will handle this matter myself.”
Black paused, taken aback by the abrupt statement, “Of course, my lord.”
“Thank you. Perhaps I will see you before you leave. If you need anything further, please put the request to my sister, lady Juliana.”
“Thank you. You’re hospitality is quite generous.”
Marek nodded slightly before stalking out of the room. The halls had cleared but he took the servant passages anyway.
His room was empty, Artek left a note on the letter table but he didn't bother to read it. The bed was neatly made and it smelled fresh and clean. Still a cold nausea rolled through Marek as eh looked over his rooms.
So Daniil hadn’t thought to tell him he was leaving? No, that wasn’t it. Daniil was leaving /because/ of Marek. That thought hurt too much so he shoved it away. It would have been better if Daniil had left before all this unfolded. Marek had warned him, had ordered him to leave even. Still, Marek was at fault for reading more to it than there was. So Daniil had stayed, had even helped find him again. That wasn’t a reason to tether the man to his kingdom. After all, hadn’t that guard said it clearly enough? Daniil had a family that wanted him back. One snotty prince that had just performed a coup on his own father was not adequate reason to stay.
Marek grasped the front of his vest close to his heart and coughed hard against the blossoming pain there. Maybe he was still sick, or had breathed in some bad air form the dungeon, what other reason was there for suck overwhelming pain? But even if he was sick he couldn’t stay in this room.
Turning sharply, Marek left his rooms, left the castle entirely. Abandoned even his horse and walked from the high walls of the castle into the muddy back alleys of the city. What difference did it make now? Anyone would recognize him no matter how he dressed. But he met no one in the streets or alleys, the pubs were quiet and windows stayed dark and silent. The only place loud enough to drown out his thoughts was the dock, so Marek sat on the farthest edge out where waved crashed incessantly against the banisters and moored ships and waited for morning to bring an escape.
