Breached Defenses

Author's Note: Okay, so now I'm doing spin-offs of my spin-offs. Wow. Anywho! If you're confused, try starting here: "Pawn En Prise"  and then moving on to "Outside Pawn" . And then if you're still confused... sorry, can't help you more than that!

The bed creaked as the young man sprawled across the top shifted to watch his companion's fastidious grooming and elaborate attire. The movement drew the other man's eyes in the full-length mirror and the boy smiled -- a slow, mischievous stretching of full, red lips. With deliberate, sensual care he stretched, rolling onto his back, arching upwards, and openly luxuriating in the feel of the silken sheets against his bare skin. He didn't need to glance back again to know that the dark gaze had not left him, and the thought of it brought a tiny mewl of pleasure to his throat just as his muscles reached their full tension. For a second he hung there, taut as a bowstring... and then his breath whooshed out in a gusty sigh as he collapsed back onto the mattress with a groan, limbs akimbo and a happy, sleepy expression on his face. There was no mistaking the invitation in those dreamy blue eyes when they again sought those of his companion.

Lord Darmos' lips twitched into an involuntary grin at his lover's attempt to entice him back to bed, but while the prospect held definite appeal -- damnit, now the boy was nipping suggestively at his lips, making them even redder and more pouty than before! -- he had important business to attend to and...

"Alexei, if you don't stop that I shall be late for my appointment and--" he narrowed his eyes at the boy's triumphant smirk "--and you will not have time to adequately dress yourself and be gone by the time my guests arrive."

"What guests?" Alexei asked in genuine surprise. Then, with mingled hurt and indignation, "You're sending me away?"

This was not a conversation that could possibly end well, but Darmos pasted a smile on his face and said, with a credible attempt at patience, "For now. There will be some changes to my household soon, and it will go smoother for all involved if you could find other occupations until things settle down once more."

"What changes? Who are these guests?"

"My son and his tutor."

Alexei gaped at him, open-mouthed. Finally, "You have a son?" he spluttered.

Darmos pinched the bridge of his nose. "Has no one ever told you not to sleep with men about whom you know nothing?" he growled, reaching for his waistcoat.

"No, I... I mean... How?"

"What an absurd question," Darmos said with a snort. "Surely you've had the birds-and-the-bees talk at some point?"

Alexei coloured and scowled at the other's amused look. "Yes but... but I thought you didn't... that is, that you like..." He trailed off, his eyes darting to the rumpled sheets.

Darmos raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror as he tugged his cravat into place. "After everything we've done -- after last night -- you only think?"

"Oh. But then... how come you have a son?"

It was times like this when he remembered why he disliked taking lovers who had been raised outside of court. As irresistible as he found Alexei -- as much as he enjoyed teaching the boy the finer arts of the bedroom and as eager as his pupil was to learn and to please -- there were some things -- those connected with politics, for example -- which such innocents had a difficult time grasping.

"A son can inherit. A son can carry on the family name. A son is why my father did not disown me for my... inclinations ere his unlamented demise."

"But... that's it? You had a son just so you could keep your property and have an heir?"

"There is no 'just' about it, but yes."

"How old is he?"

"Six." Wait, hadn't the boy been born in the fall? "Er, seven."

Alexei mulled this for a brief moment, worrying at his lower lip. Darmos tried not to be distracted by the sight. He could practically see the wheels turning under those tousled brown locks, and was unsurprised at the next question. "Then... you have a wife?"

"Sweetheart, no matter how great you believe me to be, even I am not capable of asexual reproduction."

"But she doesn't live with you?"

"Since you have yet to run into her in the halls, I think that's fairly safe to assume," Darmos said, his patience wearing thin. He had just discovered that the ruffles on his cravat did not quite match those on his sleeves, and was rather put out by his valet's carelessness.

"Where is she then?"

"My estate at Corum."

"Does... does she know...?"

"Saints help us, Alexei. It's not as though I've worked particularly hard on preserving my reputation."

"Then she knows about us," Alexei stated, with stubborn persistence.

At least that buffoon of a valet had managed to select and polish the right pair of shoes for his attire. "Us?"

"Yes, us. You and I."

Darmos gave his completed image in the mirror a final, satisfied glance before turning back to the bed. So it was time for that conversation was it? A pity. His little pets were always so devastated afterwards, and he really did not need to deal with any unpleasant scenes at the moment. Though on the other hand... perhaps it would serve to convince the boy to make himself scarce as he should have agreed to do in the first place.

Amused condescension quirked one corner of his lip upwards. Darmos leaned over and cupped his lover's face in his hand, tilting it up so that their eyes met. "Alexei... sweetheart... you light up my world and I've thoroughly enjoyed our little relationship, but let's not get too carried away here." He paused and watched the dawning disbelief in those blue eyes. "There is no us, m'dear. There is you and me and a lot of really good sex, but there is no us. Do try to keep that in mind from now on, hmm?" Ah yes, there was that lip-quivering reaction he had expected. Darmos suppressed a sigh as he released the boy. It was all so predictable, but better that he should establish the ground rules now, rather than wait until the lad embarrassed them both with some sort of public declaration that he would then have to refute.

"Now then," Darmos said, straightening as though nothing had happened. "You'll find a purse in the dresser. That should be enough to see you through a few days in the city, which should be enough time for everything to settle down once more. Go enjoy yourself, sweetheart, and do try to keep out of trouble for a day or two, hmm?"

Darmos tugged the door closed behind him, then waited, adjusting his lapels and counting the seconds. A moment later, something hit the other side of the door with a dull thud, and a muffled wail reached his ears, as though Alexei had tried to bury the sound in the pillows. Ah well, at least he had not threatened to kill himself as others before him had done. Darmos had no doubts now that the boy would be gone by the time he returned.

Chuckling to himself, Darmos headed for one of the morning rooms that faced out onto the courtyard where his son's entourage would presumably arrive. He had equally few misgivings about Alexei returning when his purse ran out. It was why, despite the inconvenience of their ignorance, he generally preferred lovers who were new to court and not of noble birth; he was their passport into the world of riches and splendor, and their patron within it. Once here, lifted from whatever squalid conditions he had discovered them in, they were almost wholly dependent upon his whims, and few if any had the fortitude to forsake their new life voluntarily. Nor did they have any choice but to leave it once he tired of their presence and withdrew his support. If they were wise, they accepted his severance purse for the gift it was and quietly betook themselves elsewhere; if they were not... well, the results were much the same, except that their purse was distributed to whomever he had hired to convince them of the error of their ways.

Which would it be for Alexei? he wondered. The lad didn't strike Darmos as the type to stand up for himself, but perhaps he would surprise his noble lover by growing a spine. Those scenes were always the most entertaining, but this time he would have to make sure it was conducted out of the hearing of young, impressionable ears; however little he cared for the presence of his son, having the child repeat back whatever he had heard in the wrong company would provide far too much fodder for court gossip.

Speaking of which... Darmos paused in the entryway of his destination, surprised to find it already occupied.

"Are you really a prince?" asked a child's voice, the dubious tones distinctly at odds with the high tenor.

"Why yes, I do believe I am," replied the recipient of the question, deeply amused. "Don't I look the part?"

"No," came the candid answer. "Where's your crown? Where's your sword?"

"Hmm..." A thoughtful pause. "My crown... gives me a headache. And my sword... well, I didn't think I would need it this morning."

"I'm going to have a sword," the boy declared, drawing himself up proudly. "A big one." He held his arms out to provide a visual demonstration.

"My goodness, that is big. Are you sure it won't be taller than you are?"

The boy scoffed. "No! That only happens in the pantomimes!"

"Ah, I see..." The man looked up to where Darmos stood transfixed and grinned. "How clever."

"Prince Liam," Darmos said with a hasty bow.

"Lord Darmos," the prince replied. His eyes slanted to the crest embroidered onto the boy's tunic. "Your son, I presume?"

"Indeed, your highness." The boy shot him a wide-eyed look. Darmos glanced out the window and grimaced at the sight of porters unloading a train of carriages. He was going to flay that tutor alive for allowing the boy to stray away. "I hope Gavin has not made himself a nuisance?"

"On the contrary. I take it he will be fostering at the palace then?"

"Yes, your highness." Thank goodness it had been Liam the boy had disturbed and not some other prince. There were a few at court who would have taken offense at the boy's questions and never mind his age. In an Imperial family constantly on edge due to both open and covert struggles for power, Liam was an anomaly, a prince who was on good terms with nearly everyone and yet who did not exert himself to gain favor. Darmos had even seen him conversing with Alexei, where most others preferred to ignore his lover as though he didn't exist.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, young master Gavin," Liam said with a solemn nod. "I look forward to seeing you around the palace in future."

"Thank you, m'lord."

"Your highness," Darmos corrected out of the corner of his mouth.

Liam grinned again. "And a good day to you, Lord Darmos."

"And to you, Prince Liam."

A moment later they were alone. Darmos stared at the boy, who returned his gaze with equally frank fascination. Darmos suppressed a sigh. Had Lira taught the boy nothing of courtly manners?

A clatter of footsteps interrupted his thoughts, preceding the appearance of a harried-looking man who burst into the room in a panic. "M-Master Gavin! Mast-- There you are!" He caught sight of Darmos and his raised eyebrow and paled. "Lord D-Darmos! I, uh..."

"Master Neish," Darmos said. Damn, he had forgotten how annoying that stutter could be. "Do you often lose sight of your charges like this?"

"N-No, my lord! I'm s-sorry, my lord!" He snatched the boy's hand. "It won't h-happen again, sir!"

"See to it that it doesn't." He let the man sweat a moment more before relenting. "Very well. Is there aught else out there that would require your attention?"

"N-No, my lord." Most of it was the usual trade goods from Corum anyway, and so under the auspices of Darmos' factor.

"Come along then," Darmos said, hoping that enough time had elapsed that Alexei would be gone from his suite. He slanted a sideways glance at Gavin and frowned at the way the boy shrank closer to his tutor. It was true that he had not seen his son since the boy was little more than a babe, and perhaps the child did not remember him, but it would not do to have the boy be afraid of him. While Gavin was too young by far to comprehend his role in the family dynamic, Darmos could not risk having the boy grow to resent him.

What did the child already know about him? Having spent all his years at Corum, would he have heard any of the multitudes of rumors concerning his father? Or would Lira and Master Neish have tried to shield him from the worst of the gossip? Not that it mattered now that he was at court; sooner or later, he would encounter the stories. But perhaps Darmos should prepare him for the shock himself?

Oh, saints preserve us, Darmos thought, grinding his teeth. What a bother children could be! If it hadn't been for the need to mollify his father and so keep the estate away from the greedy clutches of his dear younger brother Astor -- the damn puppy would have tossed him out on his ear the first chance he had -- Darmos would never have considered the prospect. Life was so much simpler without the little urchins underfoot, demanding time and attention that could be spent in other, more pleasurable pursuits. Now he was saddled with the boy's presence, and would have to take at least a fleeting interest in his doings.

But not today, he decided. Surely he could be excused for delaying such matters for one day? Today it would be enough to get the boy settled, let him become accustomed to his new surroundings before Darmos introduced him to court. It would be a week or so yet before the rest of the new batch of palace pages arrived. There would be time enough, in the interim, to arrange for their little chat.

***

Darmos turned another page of his book and resisted the urge to look up at the small figure surveying him with solemn curiosity. The day had been enough of a trial, what with dealing with the distribution and storage of the goods from Corum, and he did not need his evening disturbed any furth--

"Whacha reading?"

"Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure."

"Oh." Silence. "Is it a story?"

"Yes. About what happens to little boys who ask too many questions."

"Really? What?"

Darmos ground his teeth. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"But it's early!"

"You've had a very tiring day and you need your rest. Master Neish?"

"C-Come along, young m-master. You don't want to b-be too t-tired tomorrow, d-do you?"

"Why? What's happening tomorrow?" Gavin asked, distracted enough that he made no more objections to being led to his room.

"Well, you wanted to explore the p-palace, didn't you?"

Darmos snorted as the door closed on his son's eager response. Alexei had been like that when he had first arrived. He wondered where his lover was at that moment and what he was doing. Perhaps he should've told one of his men-at-arms to keep an eye on the lad and ensure that he didn't get into trouble on the city streets? Too late now. He hoped he hadn't been to harsh that morning. Blame it on the stress. Not that he cared, of course. Oh no. It would just be terribly inconvenient to find someone new at this time. Yes, that was it. He cared not at all--

Saints preserve us. Darmos closed his book with a disgusted huff. He needed something else with which to occupy himself. Standing, he crossed to the stack of letters and reports from his estate that had come with his son's escort. He had intended to deal with his business on the morrow, but now seemed as good a time as ever.

Master Neish re-entered in the midst of his sorting. "He's asleep, my lord."

"Wonderful," Darmos muttered, picking up a thick envelope labeled with his steward's neat handwriting. He poured himself a glass of wine and settled back into his chair. "Well?"

"M-My lord?"

"How is my dear wife? Behaving herself at Corum?"

"I... b-believe so, my lord."

"Gentlemen callers?"

"N-No, my lord!"

"Hrm. Really?" Darmos murmured with some surprise, skimming the letter with half-an-ear to Neish. "How unexpected."

"L-Lady Lira wouldn't... I m-mean, she is very f-faithful to you, m-my lord."

"I'm touched. Disappointed in her understanding, but touched."

"My lord?"

Darmos shrugged at the man's bewildered expression. He had hardly expected Lira to be celibate, after all. As long as she demonstrated appropriate discretion, he didn't much care how -- or with whom -- she spent her nights. That he had instructed Neish to keep an eye on his mistress was less due to concern over her virtue than insurance against potential scandal, and now it seemed there was little reason for even that.

"Any news from Halmes?"

"N-No, my lord."

That earned a raised eyebrow. "Really."

"T-Truly, my lord. Things have never been so q-quiet."

"I see." Darmos fell silent, perusing the dry report in his hand and turning over what he had just heard.

While he disliked dealing with politics, it was a necessary part of a landed noble's life, especially one living at court, and Darmos played the game well enough when required. Survival demanded nothing less, and he had learned that one could never be too careful. So if Neish thought that he was his lordship's only spy at Corum, the man was sadly deluded. Word from others at the estate was that something was afoot in Halmes, confirming Darmos' own instinct of his southerly neighbor.

He had never discovered, nor did he particularly care, who had sent that letter a couple of years ago; Darmos was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially as his benefactor had taken such pains to remain unmasked and Darmos appreciated the results too much to begrudge the secrecy. And really, at the time he had been too concerned with what the letter had revealed to question how it had fallen into his hands.

He had almost thrown it aside unread at first. The addressee was some minor cleric in Halmes -- the name escaped him now -- but a chance glance at the signature at the bottom had piqued his interest. Darmos had never gotten along with Archbishop Torbeau; the cleric's judgmental view of his lifestyle was annoying to say the least, and Darmos thought little of reading the man's correspondence. Then he had actually focused on the words themselves and amusement had vanished in light of the message within.

Lazlo Firnik was a brute with little appreciation of life's finer points and a tendency towards believing too well of himself, but at least he found few opportunities for furthering his vague ambitions while confined to managing his military affairs. Their mutual border had been a source of some contention, but that unpleasant business had concluded after an appeal on Darmos' father's part to the Imperial council. Beyond that, the two neighboring estates had had little interaction with each other, which was how both parties preferred to maintain their superficially peaceful relationship.

That balance had existed for years, even after Darmos came into the property, but the misdirected letter which had so mysteriously found its way to the Count of Corum had changed all that. If Halmes were made its own diocese, with all the attendant power and prestige, if Firnik succeeded in securing an alliance with Torbeau and Torbeau succeeded in expanding his own, already considerable, influence in the region...

Darmos knew that he was being used by whoever sent that letter his way, but he did not care. He needed no more trouble from the south, no more reason for his brother Astor to question his competence or -- saints forbid -- ally himself with Darmos' enemies.

And then he had realized why the letter had come to him, rather than any of the other regional nobles who would have been equally dubious of an empowered Firnik.

The river Corum and its primary tributary both passed through his lands on their way south, and their twin blue ribbons formed important trade routes between Litha and the province of Griseveldt to which Halmes belonged. It had cost him a good deal of political capital, but the new, higher river tax had discouraged enough trade going into Halmes that the suffering commerce had put an end to speculation of its promotion. Firnik was furious of course, but since the man had few real friends at court and was easy enough to avoid, Darmos would not have cared.

The constantly shifting power in the region, however, combined with the volatile politics of the times, meant that Darmos needed to pay closer attention than such a situation would have normally warranted.

If the rumors were true... Darmos shot a glance at Neish, perched nervously on a chair and reading a book whose page he had not turned for the past half-hour. There was something amiss here...

Ah, finally, Darmos thought as he turned a page and a small card fell out onto his lap.

It was unfortunate that his best agent at Corum had to pose as the master of the hounds, as it would be a bit odd for such a man to be seen dispatching lengthy missives to the estate's owner. Thankfully, Rory Vance was a resourceful fellow, and almost always managed to slip a small note or a few words into the steward's monthly reports.

Darmos picked the card up between two fingers, checked to see that Neish was still otherwise occupied, and turned it over. He scanned the message in a flash.

Brthr. O. of H. visited Mstr. Nsh. x 3. Long talks at night -- clsd doors. Burnt lttr w/ sig. of L. Astr. -- illgbl. Mstr. Nsh. + Ldy. L. very fr'ndly of late. Susp. some plot. Awaiting ordrs.

Brother Orin. That had been the priest's name...

Saints and demons...

"Master Neish."

The tutor started. "M-My lord?"

"How fares Brother Orin then?"

"B-Brother Or... I-I don't-- who..."

Darmos let him splutter himself into silence, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. When Neish could do nothing more save stare at him in confusion, he took a sip of his wine and gave the man a thin, unfriendly smile. "Well at least you told me one thing that's true. My wife certainly doesn't have any gentlemen callers."

Neish flushed but said nothing. Darmos eyed him with scorn. In all honesty, he shouldn't care that Lira had chosen to replace him with this pathetic excuse of a bumbling fool, but as their... activities had come to the attention of Vance, they could hardly be termed "discreet." And far more importantly, if by chance they managed to produce children... It could form the basis of speculation about Gavin's heritage, and such questions had toppled more than one legitimate lineage. No, this wouldn't do at all. Already he was thinking of ways to ensure the relationship's quick demise, starting and ending with how easily one could dispatch a stuttering tutor.

As though reading his thoughts, Neish paled. Before Darmos could rise, the man had thrown himself at the nobleman's feet. "M-My lord! Please, my lord! M-Mercy!"

"Oh for the love of-- damnit!" Darmos swore as his wineglass tipped, fortunately missing himself and the couch but splattering across the carpet and the kneeling man in a splash of red. "Hellfires, man, get ahold of yourself!"

"I'm s-sorry, my lord," Neish mumbled, climbing back to his feet and brushing at the stains, which only served to set them further into the fabric. "I... I don't know what came over me." He looked apologetic at Darmos' disgruntled glance at the carpet, which was probably ruined beyond repair. "L-Let me get you another g-glass..."

Darmos watched the shaking man rattle his way among the wine service and rolled his eyes. No, it would be too easy; getting rid of Neish would be like kicking a half-drowned puppy -- there was no sport to it. What he did need was to find out what that cleric and Astor wanted and what they had promised Neish in turn. He rescued the refilled wineglass from the man before his trembling could spill it again and took a sip.

There seemed little point in beating around the bush. "Tell me about Orin and Astor," he said.

Neish stared at him like he had suddenly sprouted fangs, then shuddered and dropped his eyes. "What would you like to know, my lord?" he asked, with an almost imperceptible shrug.

"What did they want?"

"What they have always wanted, my lord. Brother Orin wants Halmes to be elevated to its own diocese. Lord Astor wants Corum."

Unimaginative bastards. "Then I'm afraid that they are both doomed for disappointment, as I have no intentions of either relaxing the river tax or abdicating my position."

A slight smile. "No, my lord. I doubt they were quite so hopeful as all that."

"Hrm." Darmos tried to think whether Firnik might have recently negotiated new trade routes with other neighbors, but nothing to that effect presented itself. And yet Halmes was not rich enough in natural resources to make up for the deficit in its economy so quickly... "Do you know how Orin" -- which was to say, Archbishop Torbeau and General Firnik -- "planned on acquiring the capital and the status that would make such a transformation legitimate?"

"Yes, my lord. By using the river, I believe."

"Talk sense, man," Darmos said with a snort. "They'll never convince enough merchants to bring their goods down the river with the current levies."

"True, my lord, but once those levies are gone..." Neish trailed off, shrugging again. His look could almost be one of wry apology.

Darmos stared at him. He suddenly realized that the man was no longer stuttering, his answers quiet but assured. When had that change occurred? A few minutes ago he had been shaking so badly Darmos had been forced to take the wineglass lest--

The wine!

"Ah, you always were a quick one, my lord," Neish said, his mouth forming a queer smile as he noticed Darmos' shocked look at the drink in his hand. "Always quick... but not even the quick can mind everything, can they?" He opened his hand to show a tiny glass ball, empty save for a dusting of dark residue. "Nightshade, with perhaps a trace or two of other poisons as well. An appropriate name, don't you think, my lord?"

The glass fell to the ground, expanding the previous stain. His vision was starting to blur. Darmos fought back the panic and forced a laugh though his mouth felt dry. "And how the devil do you expect to get away with this then? When they catch you, your execution will make my fate seem a sweet repose."

"Ah, but what reason could anyone have of suspecting a poor, witless st-stutterer? Besides, I spent the night in pious contemplation at the palace chapel, my lord, watched over by one of Archbishop Torbeau's most trusted acolytes."

"I drank nightshade by accident then, did I?" There were colored lights dancing on the edges of his vision, distracting him and making him dizzy. Darmos frowned. He didn't remember standing or falling, but there was wet carpet under his hands and Neish's voice came from somewhere high above.

"Nightshade is available in almost any herbalist's store, my lord." There was a rustle, as of someone riffling through papers. Darmos wondered whether he had found the card by Vance. "And after all, who can gauge the desperation of a jilted lover? Especially one who may have been bribed by unscrupulous parties?"

Alexei. Alexei with his purse of gold and his instructions to make himself scarce in the city for a few days...

"Why?" Darmos rasped, feelings his heart beating too quickly and too hard. It was impossible to tell whether what he was seeing was real or not, so he closed his eyes. "Why?"

"Shouldn't have sentenced your pretty young wife to virtual exile, should we have, my lord? Shouldn't have set a watchdog over her who might actually talk to her and spend time with her and come to care for her. Oh, I know; I'm not nobly born or rich, but then that might change, with the favor of the Archbishop and the patronage of my late lord's brother. And a woman can get terribly lonely left by herself. And in a few years, when the scandal has died down and people and events have moved on, who will notice if a noblewoman in the country decides to entertain a male friend?" A sound as of fire flaring; the smell of burning paper. "I'm sorry, my lord. If it's any consolation, your son will not be harmed; young Gavin is at least fortunate in that his mother loves him. And now I'm off to the chapel. Good-bye, my lord."

As the light faded and the door clicked closed, Darmos' shoulders shook one last time with a soundless chuckle. The fool thought his son would be safe? Under the care of his uncle? No one at court escaped the maelstrom of politics. Not Alexei, not Gavin, not even he himself...

***

Author's note: And the fun continues! Check out "Inescapable Birthright"  to follow Liam's story. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!

Word count: 4991