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Post by Seek on Jul 27, 2010 4:31:39 GMT 10
Title: Backwards Betrayal Rating: R for safety and implied Things. Length: 3405 words Summary: Because betrayal progresses in so many ways; from desire, from subject to Prince, and from Prince to subject. And few people see the darker side of Prince Jonathan.
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v.
He pounded on the door. He almost didn’t care that he was making a din the whole palace could hear – maybe even Alanna, wherever she was.
“Open the damned door, Jonathan.” He whispered angrily under his breath. Finally, the door opened, the briefest of cracks.
“Tirragen.” Jonathan’s voice was cold and clear; like a starless winter night. He folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want?”
“Jonathan – “
“Have you gone crawling to him already, Tirragen? Begging because you were bested by a girl? Or because you couldn’t face your prince like a man?”
“You used to be something far better.” Alex whispered savagely. “You used to care about the pages, until you got too caught up with your litle Court and your newest page to care about the rest of us.”
“I cared, damn you – “ Jon’s voice almost broke for a moment, before he reasserted control over it and his trembling fists. The opening widened as Jon leaned against the door.
“I really don’t understand.” Alex said, almost conversationally. He was a born fencer, and now he felt the conversation heading his way. He had the advantage, and he pressed it. “Us stopping the bullies – that was fine at first. Then it got out of hand. You made your little Court, your little coterie. We became the bullies. And you haven’t grown up.”
They had been stepping closer, almost unconsciously, every moment, and now they were face to face, close enough to hit, or close enough to kiss. He remembered the first time Jon had ordered them to his room – and the first time Jon had taken liberties; stolen them, as it was.
But the magnetism, the mysterious allure of their previous encounters had long vanished.
Alex read the bleak answer in icy blue eyes; cold and dead, they held nothing for him any longer. He was not welcome.
He said, no, pleaded, “Jonathan, please – “
Jon said nothing.
Something in Alex died in that moment.
“As you wish,” He said, coldly. He turned, strode away, and heard Jon slam the door shut. Inside, he raged. But whatever regret, whatever guilt he had felt about talking to Roger and agreeing to the plan was gone.
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Post by Seek on Jul 27, 2010 4:37:13 GMT 10
iv.
He rapped on the door, lightly with his knuckles. The door opened; the first thing he caught sight of were two eyes of a brilliant sapphire blue.
“What do you want, Alex?” Jonathan demanded, voice cold.
“Jon – “
“My friends call me Jon.” It was eerie, this intensity that seemed to be concentrated in Jon, and especially in the remarkable burning blue of his eyes. “Are you one of them?”
“I’ve always been.” He snarled. “You were the one who chose her – “
Alex wasn’t sure what was worse, the sharp, stinging slap that landed on his cheek, forcing him aside from the force of the blow – or the contempt in Jon’s eyes. Or perhaps it was the next moment where Jon grabbed him and kisses him with a rough, fierce passion that sends flames of desire racing across his skin where Jon touched him.
The moment ended.
Alex pulled away, wrenching himself out of Jon’s grasp. Damn him, damn him to the gods – Jon has always been good at knowing people, and knowing just how to bind them to him, and Alex will be damned because he’s nothing but a third wheel now that there’s Alan-Alanna and hasn’t Jon spent all those years in secret with his squire whispering the same damned things, kissing her and touching her in the same damned way –
He shouldn’t expect fidelity, not from the Prince. He is nothing more than a noble son, and Tortall has too many fiefs.
But damn you, Black God rot your bones, I wanted you to mean it –
“You’re making her your Champion.”
“She has the skills to do so.” Jon said, with a casual, cruel shrug. Alex did not fail to notice the distance between them yawned – just as large a gulf as it had been since the page Alan of Trebond had first come along.
What about me? He wanted to ask – except he’d never really fenced Alan before, and neither had he really fenced Alanna. He could beat her, except to Jon, it wasn’t even a question. He trusted Alanna without question, nevermind that she'd been lying all along.
“But she can’t fence worth a damn,” He hissed. “She’s too flashy and wastes too much time on her passes.”
Damn him, for being as cool as a cucumber, as if he hadn’t just been kissed senseless by a Prince who is a damned good kisser.
“Are you jealous, Alex?” Jon asked, almost amused, a smirk playing around the edges of his lips. In the same moment – the smile vanished, and the lion showed his claws. “You will remember who is to be King.”
Then the flash of menace was gone, replaced by the affable smirk; save that Alex knew what lay beneath.
“You’re blind.” He snapped, wanting to throttle Jonathan for being so cursedly annoying. “You let the Trebond brother raise the dead, just because he is the brother of your precious squire.” He grabbed Jon’s shoulders, and swallowed at the proximity. “Do you remember who he raised? He won’t rest until he has your throne!”
“I remember who Roger’s squire was.” Jon shouted, wrenching himself free of Alex’s grip. “Unhand me, Tirragen, or I will teach you better manners.” There was something in the gleam of his eyes, menacing and dark that Alex did not like. It was a side of Jon he had seen directed at bullies like Ralon – and never himself. “Why don’t you run back to your master and offer him your help at taking my throne?”
“You want me to do it?” Alex sneered.
The second sound was Jon’s punch hitting home. He feinted and as Alex’s raised forearm blocked the first blow, Jon’s knee crunched home into Alex’s stomach and Alex staggered backwards, holding his stomach, face contorted in agony.
“I don’t care if you slink away like a whipped dog towards your master, but you will watch your tone!”
Alex stared at Jon furiously, but knew better than to raise a hand to the prince. Instead, he thought, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, each line like spitting a mouthful of blood. He was full of suppressed rage, hate, and jealousy, and any of those would destroy him.
“To think I admired you,” He spat out, fists balled at his side. “Well, now I see you for what you are. I despise you, Prince Jonathan.” He was perversely delighted to see Jon’s frame go tense with rigid rage. “You’re exactly like him. Both of you Contés are nothing but ambition.”
Jon’s control, even now, was superb. Although he practically quivered with anger, when he spoke, there was no sign of his rage, except in his eyes. “We have settled every possibility of this discussion. Touch Alanna,” The Prince declared icily, “And I will take this to the courts. We will settle our philosophical discussion by the lance, Sir Alexander.” He practically flung Alex out and Alex flipped over in training-turned-reflex to take the fall on his hands.
The door slammed shut.
Alex stared at the door, raising himself on his hands. The corridor was thankfully silent and empty. His stomach hurt, his hands ached, and his back hurt, but most of all, he felt terribly diminished and weary.
I would have done anything for you…
I hate him.
He picked himself up, and stumbled away. He was just barely aware he was sobbing quietly and convulsively; with the broken quality that can only come from the destruction of illusions – or the final destruction of a friendship.
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Post by Seek on Jul 27, 2010 4:39:39 GMT 10
iii.
“This has to end here.” Jon whispered.
Alex blinked sleepily. “Jon?”
Jon levered himself up on an elbow, regarding Alex lazily. “This has to end, Alex.”
Alex exhaled. He felt as if someone had struck a point past his guard – not that he had been outfenced in quite a while. The last person to do that had been Jon. “Why?” He tried to ask, reasonably.
You didn’t want this at first, his mind reminded him. You’re fickle.
“We’re going to be knights. Tomorrow.”
That was why Jon had come, the night before his Ordeal night. He said nothing as he slid into Alex’s bed, and Alex just held him. If it was a night of talk, and just mindless pleasure that Jon needed, he was more than willing and able to supply that.
“Your Ordeal is tomorrow.”
“Yes, and after that, I’m taking a squire. You’re taking a squire. And I think Roger knows.”
“About us?”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “You mean he turns a blind eye to what his cousin and his squire do at night?”
Alex wisely chose not to answer the question, and accepted it with a wry shrug. “He’s never said anything.” He said. It wasn’t exactly true. Roger had seemed a little distant at first, but it soon passed; it was certainly true his knight-master turned a blind eye to what his squire did on his own time.
It wasn’t as if Jon was dallying with a girl.
“But it’s going to be harder to hide it from a squire.”
Alex nodded in answer to that. That, at least, was true. He knew of Roger’s liasons with at least three ladies at Court, although he would never speak of them.
“And…Alan’s going to be my squire.”
“Alan?” Alex mused, with a frown. He recalled him – the tiny page with fiery red hair, who had only recently discovered a talent for fencing. ‘Perhaps you’ll one day beat Alex,’ Raoul had said, laughing. Alex knew that wasn’t going to happen. Alan needed many more years to come. And Alex was only going to keep improving.
“We’re only in the Book of Silver, boy,” His father would always say, a deep frown creasing his eyebrows. “But we’re better than half of those Book of Gold families. Never forget, boy, if you are the best, no one will ever forget you.”
“Interesting choice,” He said.
“He’s good.” Jon said, smugly. “He’s going to be a terror with a blade someday. And right now, he’s good enough at every other lesson. But a very bad wrestler,” He added, almost as an afterthought.
Alex laughed. “I think it’s his size. You can’t fault his spirit though.” The boy had guts, he would give him that. Especially after he’d seen Alan finally beat up Ralon of Malven – Alex was only sorry it hadn’t been him who had finally chased Malven away from Court. Alan was nowhere near to the only person whom Malven had beaten up or bullied some way or another.
“Yes,” Jon mused. “He does.”
He wasn’t inclined to say more, and Alex left it at that.
“Are you going to pick a squire?”
“No.” Alex decided. “I haven’t really made up my mind yet.”
“You weren’t going to pick Alan?” Jon asked, nudging Alex a little with his elbow. “I mean, from one good swordsman to another – “
“He’s good, I’d give him that. But you already picked him.”
“But before that?” Jon rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through the shutters into the room. Part of it was surreal, and yet perfectly ordinary – just another night together, and their last.
Alex shrugged. “I really hadn’t given it much thought.” He admitted. “I just wanted to survive my Ordeal.”
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
Jon’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Liar,” He whispered into Alex’s ear, pulling the smaller boy closer to him.
Later, as they lay down, exhausted, spooned against each other, Alex finally admitted, “I’m scared.”
“I am too.” Jon whispered. “I’ve seen Uncle Gareth’s eyes when he talks about the Chamber. No one wants to go in there. And each time they come out, it’s like some part of them…has died in there.”
“They all survived.” Alex said confidently. He wished he felt as confident as he sounded – although he would never admit it. “We will, too.”
As they waited for the morning to arrive in companionable silence, part of Alex’s mind kept whispering, this is the end, this is the beginning. If Jon’s hand tightened, just a little possessively, none of them said anything.
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Post by Seek on Jul 27, 2010 4:41:08 GMT 10
ii.
“Alex.”
“Go away,” Alex muttered, muffled beneath the blankets.
“Alex – “
“Go ‘way.”
“Alex. Open the door.” There was no resisting the clear, firm command in Prince Jonathan’s voice. Dimly, a nasty little voice at the back of Alex’s mind reminded him of all the things a prince could do to a boy from a Book of Silver family who ignored him.
Reluctantly, Alex opened the door to see Prince Jonathan standing there, clad in a loose white shirt and faded breeches.
“Your Highness,” Alex said, helplessly. What was one to say when the Prince of the realm barged into one’s quarters except a polite, ‘Your Highness’ and hope that whatever it was, it wasn’t bad? Jonathan was a year younger than him, and yet he had already thrown the pages into a stir upon his arrival, and his very presence. Jonathan was every inch a prince, every inch born to command men, and even as young pages – all of them felt it.
“I’m sorry.” Jonathan said, quietly.
“Your Highness?”
“I shouldn’t have tried to take liberties.” Jonathan explained. He wedged his foot between the door and doorframe, just in case Alex decided to close the door.
What was he supposed to say? “Yes, you damned well shouldn’t have tried to kiss me”?
“I’m not a Court lady.” Alex chose to say. He folded his arms across his chest, trying to sound serious. It sounded woefully, pitifully defiant to himself. “I’m training to be a knight.”
“Cousin Roger had something with a mage.” Jonathan pointed out. “It isn’t about – flower-sellers.” He said, quickly. He was starting to flush. “It’s – “
“About taking what you want.” Alex said, annoyed. “From me. I’m not a market whore, Highness.” He knew that his father would have birched him for his words – hastily chosen, and from the look on Jonathan’s face, they struck home.
“It…it isn’t about that at all.” Jonathan finally said. It was a sight Ralon would have probably paid gold to see, the self-possessed page stuttering, except that Alex hated Ralon’s guts and would have died before ever letting Ralon catch wind of this.
It was Jonathan who broke the silence and the staring first, by taking a step forward and kissing Alex – hard on the lips. Startled, Alex found himself responding before he wrenched himself away, gasping.
“I’ve never bedded anyone.” Jon said, quietly. “And I’ve never taken liberties with girls, except what they’re willing to give.” He turned his face upwards, expectant. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy that – not even a little, and I’ll go. But if you did – “
Alex said nothing. Jon turned to leave, when finally, the croak burst out from Alex’s throat. “Stay.”
He realised he was commanding the Prince, and added hastily. “Stay, please. If you want to.”
Jonathan turned around – he’d known, and he’d hardly budged from the door. Or perhaps it had just happened so quickly. The next moment, Alex quickly shut the door before anyone else could take notice.
He hesitated; it was Jon who started things again, with a tentative kiss, but that grew fiercer, as Alex discovered that there was something about the way he finally yielded to his prince and desires that was – interesting. Perhaps even vaguely enjoyable.
“Alex?” Jon asked, later that night.
“Highness?”
“My friends call me Jon.”
Alex propped himself upwards. “Am I your friend, Highness?” He asked, almost grinning coyly.
Jon smirked. “Of course you are.”
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Post by Seek on Jul 27, 2010 4:43:15 GMT 10
i.
Ralon of Malven, Alex knew, was a right bastard. It was an insult he didn’t care to make, because he didn’t want to face Ralon down the courts with a practice sword. He was good at this thing called fencing, but Ralon still had the advantage in size and weight – for now. And Ralon could make things terribly unpleasant, so they settled into an uneasy truce that lasted on and off when Ralon beat on Alex – and then Alex went after him on the practice courts, beating him black and blue and practically dancing circles around him.
And this time, Ralon had cornered the page Gareth was sponsoring – the Prince himself. Alex sucked in a breath. Ralon had balls, but little sense.
“See to my horse, page.” Ralon snapped.
He met calm, determined blue eyes. “No,” Jonathan of Conté said, with an eerie calm. “You take care of your own horse, Malven. That’s why they give you lessons.”
“I’m not taking cheek from a new page,” Ralon sneered. “Even the Prince.” He spat the last word out, practically looming over the young page, when some part of Alex decided that was probably enough.
He’s your prince, he thought, as Ralon struck a stinging backhand blow that cuffed Jonathan to the ground, even though the page had tried to block it.
And above all, his father’s words weaved through his mind. It’s work, boy, that makes us what we are. Work, and being the best. If you show the Court you’re the best, that you’re better than any Book of Gold family…
“Malven.” Alex said, almost conversationally. “I’m surprised you’re not picking on someone else. Are you stupid, blind, or ugly?”
Ralon turned almost immediately, and then his eyes narrowed as he glared at Alex. “Mind your own business, Tirragen.” He spat. “You think even the Prince is exempt from hazing?”
Alex placed a hand – just a hand on the hilt of his practice sword, thanking the gods that Arram Sklaw made them wear the blade or they would be severely punished. It was nowhere near sharp, but it would inflict terrible bruising on Ralon, and Ralon knew that. He hadn’t forgotten their last match. It was in the way he siddled just a little further away from Jonathan, and in the way he fairly glared daggers at Alex. Ralon was all talk and little action; he blustered when he was afraid, and Alex knew it.
“Do you want to take it to the courts, Malven?” He demanded.
“Tirragen and Naxen won’t be around to protect you forever.” Ralon sneered. “And watch yourself, Tirragen. Think you can push around your betters just because you fight better with that toy of yours?”
“Shut up or answer me by the sword,” Alex snapped at Ralon. He was sick and tired of Ralon prodding his nose in business that didn’t belong to him. It worked, at any rate. Ralon paled and ran away as fast as he could do so without appearing to actually be doing the dishonorable retreat.
“I could handle him.” The Prince told Alex, and Alex sighed at his own stupidity, wondering how he had gone from being almost unnoticeable to challenging Ralon for the Prince.
“Malven does it to everyone.” He said, tiredly. He turned to leave when the Prince called after him.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Alexander of Tirragen, Highness.”
“I’m Jonathan. Jonathan of Conté.”
Alex didn’t say, ‘I know.’ He didn’t turn his back to the Prince either. “Pleased to meet you, your Highness.”
“I’ve heard of you from Gary,” Jonathan said, musing. “He says you’re the best fencer in your class.”
“I am good, yes, your Highness.” Alex said proudly. It was true. Arram Sklaw and Duke Gareth both took regular notice of his skills and agreed that with more practice, he would become a promising swordsman.
The bell rang, startling both of them. “Archery!” Alex gasped, knowing he was late. “Your Highness – “
“I know where the range is,” Jonathan half-panted, as they both started running at almost the same time. They slowed down when they reached the practice courts, and the other boys were still streaming in. Alex made a face. He didn’t particularly like archery like he did swordplay, but he knew he needed to be as good at everything as he could possibly be – if he ever wanted to be the best.
Gareth of Naxen came in, looking thoroughly anxious, and began scanning the milling pages for Jonathan. The prince noticed.
“Gary’s there.” Jonathan said, casually, moving off to join his worried sponsor. “I look forward to hearing more from you, Alex.”
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