Rating: FRT
Characters: Jim /Blair, Simon/OMC
Genres: Pre-slash
Warnings: m/m, Pre-slash, AU set in Medieval Times
Summary: The first story is mainly Jim/Blair, with some of Saimon and Donal. This one is, obviously, more S/D centric. It takes place in Medieval times and all the guys (and girls) have more old fashioned names.
Beta: Bobbie
Disclaimers: I don't own them. Petfly and SciFi own them.

Chapter 3

“Raff, Henroai, you are given my leave to have a space of three days of time to yourselves. You have both been excellent guards for this last month and certainly deserve the rest.”

Both soldiers nodded their thanks to Prince J’em.

Raff watched his retreating prince and the man’s Sentinel, until he was fairly certain J’em wouldn’t be able to overhear him. He turned to Henroai and gave a quick nod.

Looking around, to make certain that no one stood close by, Raff casually stated, “I am going to take advantage of my respite and seek a little companionship.”

Henroai smiled at the blush that was creeping up the Sandrium man’s pale face. Being blessed with a darker complexion, Henroai’s slight embarrassment wasn’t quite as obvious. He too felt the need for some companionship. A man’s hand was no substitute for the warm touch of another body.

“I agree, my friend.”

Henroai slung an arm around Raff’s back and clapped him on the shoulder. Raff seemed surprised for a moment, and then he too put his arm around Hanroai’s shoulder.

“What say we go find some of that companionship?” Henroai grinned brightly.

“And perhaps some food and drink, as well,” Raff offered.

“That is an outstanding idea, Raff, my boy.”

Raff mock-frowned at the other man. “I am only half a season younger than you, so not a boy.”

Henroai shook his head sadly. “Raff, Raff. That matters not. What is important is that you are the younger one.”

The two men laughed and headed off to the local pub, where companionship, in both the female and the male variety, awaited to be sampled.

 

"Saimon."

The called out greeting stopped the big man, who turned to face his friend. "J’em. When did you return?"

"Last evening."

“Ah.” The lord nodded sagely; he knew that they had been expected back any day. "It is good to have you back; you have been sorely missed." At J’em's raised eyebrow he hastily added. "B’Lare also, of course."

J’em nodded. "How have things been during my absence?"

Saimon shrugged, the smile staying determinedly on his face. "The kingdom is fine. There have been no major problems with any of the warriors."

The Sentinel gazed at his friend for several seconds and was amused when the bigger man started to squirm. Deciding that he should have pity on Saimon, J’em looked away, breaking the visual hold he had.

“That is an interesting non-answer,” he replied dryly.

Saimon looked down at the ground, apparently finding the grass fascinating. “Things have been tense with Darryle,” he admitted.

“What is the problem?” J’em thought of how close Saimon, Darryle and Donal all were.

“I am not certain.” Saimon ran a hand over his closely shorn hair. “Darryle has been so angry as of late.”

“At you?” J’em inquired.

“No…towards Donal,” Saimon said uneasily.

“Donal?” J’em wouldn’t have been more surprised if Saimon had stated his intention of marrying Lady Eleanor of Edwards, B’Lare’s former chancellor.

The Sentinel felt slightly nauseous at that idea. Luckily, the lady in question—and the term “lady” was up for interpretation—had returned to Sandrium, along with most of B’Lare’s retinue, months ago.

“Yes, I am not sure why.”

“Have you talked with Darryle?” J’em turned around and the two men walked toward the stables.

“Of course. I even took him out camping, just like we used to. Things were great, until we got back. The moment he saw Donal, Darryle was back to his snarly self.”

J’em gave Saimon an unbelieving look. “You left Donal behind?”

Saimon blushed. “Yes, I did. I thought that Darryle and I needed the time alone. I…I am sorry to admit that I took the coward’s way out.”

The Sentinel frowned, thinking that over. He had never known his second-in-command to be cowardly, so he wasn’t certain what the phrase meant. “What do you mean?” he queried finally.

“I left him a note.”

“You snuck out?” J’em’s eyebrows shot up at that.

Saimon’s blush deepened. He nodded, refusing to look his prince directly in the face.

“That…must have been painful for Donal.”

The bigger man stumbled and he gave a quick glance over at J’em. “You’re probably right,” he admitted.

In truth, Saimon knew how upset his lover had been. He realized that he’d let Darryle’s attitude affect the way he treated Donal.

“Did your trip at least make things better with Darryle?” the Sentinel asked.

Saimon shrugged. “Not really. Oh, while we were out by ourselves things got better. It took a day or so, but Darryle was back to his usual self. But as soon as we got home, he was angry again. I…I let my disappointment over Darryle color my interactions with Donal.”

J’em nodded. “Did you not miss him?” the Sentinel asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

“Of course!” Saimon frowned. “Without Donal by my side it felt like a section of my body was missing. Right about here,” Saimon rubbed a hand over his chest.

“And so?” J’em waved a hand and tilted his head.

“And so I need to make things right, sire,” Saimon said resignedly.

J’em nodded and clapped his friend on the back. “Good man,” he said with a grin.

 

“Ooof,” B’Lare grunted out, an armload of books falling from his arms.

Donal tried to catch the tomes, but only ended up getting thumped on his arms by the books for his effort. “I am sorry, your majesty,” the young page said apologetically. “I was not watching where I was going.”

“It is alright, Donal. I was not paying attention to where I was going either.”

B’Lare smiled at the younger man, as both men bent over to pick up the books. Donal was too upset and preoccupied to see the friendly overture. B'Lare not only saw how upset his new friend was, he also felt it empathically.

"How was your Bonding Month?" Donal asked politely.

"It was wonderful," B'Lare admitted with a smile.

He blushed when the page nodded knowingly. It felt strange knowing that the much younger man was more knowledgeable where lovemaking was concerned. He and Saimon had been together for several years, whereas B'Lare had been untouched when he and J'em had married the month before.

"Yes, l-love can be magnificent," Donal's voice trembled. He slumped down onto the stone rim of a well, his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

'Ah, problems with Saimon then,' B'Lare mused. He was surprised, because the two men were normally so close.

B’Lare sat down beside Donal. Although he appeared to be calm and serene, in reality the empathic man’s mind was awhirl. Thoughts of ideas germinated, blossomed and died in his head, living only seconds at a time, as B’Lare tried to think of something, anything, to help his young friend.

“Donal,” he began, as one thought lived long enough to form a plan. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

The young man turned quickly to face his prince, his pale face losing some of its sadness in his eagerness. “Of course, your majesty. What can I do for you?”

B’Lare wasn’t surprised, because Donal always tried to please. The Sandrium man smiled and was happy to see a tentative smile in return.

“I need…” B’Lare trailed off, swallowing hard; this wasn’t easy to say. “I have decided that it is time to dispose of Meaghan’s things.”

Tears welled up in B’Lare’s eyes when he said his former bodyguard’s name. Even with her treachery in the end, Meaghan had been one of his best friends for years. The idea of getting rid of her things, and thereby finally, totally and irrevocably, getting rid of Meaghan, was as painful as the arrow to his stomach had been.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Donal intoned, a sad look on his expressive face. “I know how much Lady Meaghan meant to you.”

B’Lare nodded, not trusting himself to speak; unsure if his voice could fight its way past the lump of pain blocking his throat. After a couple of minutes, where Donal waited patiently, giving B’Lare’s arm a comforting pat once in a while, the Guide tried again.

“I would like to put her things into storage, and right at this moment, I do not believe myself up to the task,” he admitted.

Donal nodded in agreement. “It would be an honor,” the young, red-haired man said seriously.

“Thank you,” B’Lare said sincerely. What had started off as a plan to take Donal’s mind off his problems with Saimon and Darryle was really a blessing in disguise.

 

Donal stepped into the dark room and shivered at the cold, damp air. It was easy to tell that no one had lived in the room for a while now; it felt abandoned and ignored.

Georgi, Donal’s little dog, followed behind his master meekly, tail drooped and quivering. The Cairn Terrier could also sense the overwhelming sense of gloom in the atmosphere and whimpered softly.

“We need some light in here,” Donal said. He flinched at the seemingly loud words in the still room. Georgi jumped and gave an emphatic bark.

Donal laughed. It was hard to have a funereal atmosphere with a hyper little dog running around yipping. He strode over to the windows and pulled the curtains back. Dust puffed off the heavy, blue velvet drapes and floated in the sunlight from the window. The young man wiped his hands together to remove the grime gathering there. Donal could see a heavy coating of dust on every flat surface in the room. That was hardly surprising.

The Sandriums had felt betrayed by their fellow warrior and many of the Cascadians had taken a liking to their new prince and were outraged on his behalf. The upshot was that Meaghan’s room had been avoided like someone had died from the plague there.

“Let’s get busy,” Donal told Georgi, who wagged his tail in agreement.

 

It didn’t take the young page that long to pack up Meaghan’s belongings for storage. After all, the Sandrium woman had only arrived in Cascadius a few days before she died. Due to traveling constraints, she would have been carrying little more than the bare necessities. Added to that, Meaghan had taken some of her things with her when she escaped from Cascadius after the attempt on B’Lare’s life.

So, in less than an hour, Donal had all but her toiletries packed away. While not a vain woman, Meaghan still liked to look, smell and feel pleasing to the senses, so there were a few bottles of lotions, perfumes, etc. Using soft cloths, Donal carefully wrapped the fragile jars and vials, not wanting them to be broken in their storage box.

The stopper on one bottle was sitting askew. Donal picked it up to straighten the piece of cork, not wanting the perfume to leak into the container. Just as he was pushing against the closure to straighten it, Georgi barked and jumped on his leg, startling Donal who dropped the bottle.

Amazingly enough, the pot didn’t break when it landed on the hard rock floor, but the stubborn stopper chose that moment to pop open, splashing perfume on the little dog who barked again. Donal quickly grabbed up the vial and restoppered it. Luckily, not that much perfume had poured out. He set the bottle down and scooped up his dog, which was shaking his body all over in irritation; drops of perfume splattered in all directions. Donal grinned.

“If you hadn’t startled me, this would have never happened.”

Sitting on the edge of the carpet, Donal used one of the cloths he was wrapping things up in to wipe the excess perfume off the small animal. Donal wrinkled up his nose at the cloying scent. It was very floral and too sweet, not anything that Donal would have pictured Meaghan wanting to wear.

“Of course, she wouldn’t have been doused with it,” he told Georgi with a smile.

The young man closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He didn’t notice that his normally hyper little dog had stilled under his hands. Standing up unsteadily, Donal staggered to one side and fell against the thick bedpost. Even the pain from that blow wasn’t enough to penetrate the fog around his brain.

“We should get some clear air,” he muttered.

Stumbling over to the window in a daze, Donal was only slightly aware of his actions. However, the window hadn’t been opened in months, possibly even years, and Donal’s slight stature, and confused brain, were no match for it. He tugged ineffectually on the latch, unable to comprehend why it wouldn’t open. Dimly, at the far, back edge of his mind, Donal knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Georgi gave a confused whimper. Donal looked down at the dog who looked as lost as he felt.

“The door,” he said, with no intonation in his voice at all.

The main door to the chamber opened to his touch and Donal walked out. His pet, used to following his master everywhere, followed Donal.

 

It was only luck that got the pair safely out of the castle and across the courtyard. Donal was in such a confused state that he walked right by the edge of the moat and didn’t realize he was in danger. Not even when one foot slid on the slippery edge.

As he walked forward in a daze, Donal attracted the attention of Prince B’Lare. The Guide had taken a walk to settle his nerves. Talking about Meaghan earlier had upset the sensitive man and a slow walk through the woods often calmed him down.

“Donal,” he called out in greeting. “How did your job fare?”

“Fine, my lord.”

B’Lare tilted his head to one side and gave the red-haired man a curious look. The subdued, almost flat way he was speaking wasn’t anything at all like the young man that B’Lare was used to.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, my lord.”

B’Lare frowned and was about to question him more when their conversation was interrupted. “Hello, Prince B’Lare, Donal.” Raff nodded to them both.

The empathic man was distracted by the arrival of the demi-Sentinel. The handsome man strode over confidently and stood beside the two of them. The timing of his arrival was enough that B’Lare’s empathic abilities weren’t able to tell that something was seriously wrong with Donal.

B’Lare and Raff began talking. They noticed that Donal didn’t join in, but since he was such a shy person normally, they weren’t really that concerned.

Donal, for his part, was barely aware of the other two men and their conversation floated around his head like a cloud; never going away, but not getting any closer either. The soft sounds of women’s voices penetrated his mind. Ever the gentleman, Donal was always aware when women were close by.

“Just kiss him,” the young woman instructed her friend. She gave a giggle, one that only a very young person could get away with.

Her friend blushed and ducked her head in embarrassment. The young lady-in waiting glanced over, saw that Raff, B’Lare and Donal had overheard, and turned a bright red herself. The two women hurried off, much to B’Lare and Raff’s amusement.

Donal heard the whispered words and his muddled brain took them as a command. He blinked his eyes and there, right in front of him, was Raff. With no conscious control, and totally unaware, he stood on tiptoe and kissed Raff on the cheek. Somewhere in his brain, at least a small part of Donal must have been in control, otherwise the kiss would have been less brotherly and more passionate.

Raff stopped talking, mid-word, and turned a stunned look over at Donal. B’Lare was wide-eyed himself. Donal was once again standing quietly, staring off, looking at nothing particular.

“Uhm, Donal?”

“Yes, Raff?” The younger man’s voice was soft and hesitant.

“What just happened?”

Donal frowned and looked over at the handsome Cascadian soldier. “What do you mean? Nothing has happened.”

 

Darryle’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes were bulged out in a very unattractive manner. The young man had been walking across the grounds when he’d spotted Donal talking with B’Lare and Raff. He’d hesitated, wanting to talk to B’Lare, who was very nice, and Raff, who was teaching sword play to the teenager, but that meant he’d have to converse with Donal too.

As he was trying to decide if it was worth the ridicule from his friends, the unthinkable happened; Donal kissed Raff.

Darryle was in shock. Even as mad as he’d been with his father’s lover, Darryle never thought Donal would betray Saimon.

A feeling of justification swept over Darryle. He’d been right to be angry with Donal! Hurrying off to find his father, Darryle ignored the hurt he felt in his own gut over the infidelity.

 

“I am afraid it has,” B’Lare told Donal softly.

“I do not understand,” Donal said, rubbing his forehead. I cannot remember anything untoward happening.”

Raff gave a brief, quick look down at Donal’s little dog, Georgi. The tiny brown and black animal was acting strangely, running around in a circle, barking and then barring his little teeth. Sparing Donal a quick glance, Raff privately hoped that the little pet hadn’t gone mad. Putting Georgi down would devastate Donal.

B’Lare put a supportive hand on Donal’s shoulder. He exchanged a quick look with Raff and both of them frowned at the way the page was starting to sway.

“You kissed Raff.”

Donal gasped and took a step back. His feet were uncoordinated and he would have fallen if Raff hadn’t grabbed hold of one arm while B’Lare retook the other one.

“Th-that’s not true,” Donal said indignantly. “I have only ever kissed my lord, Saimon.”

“I know, Donal. But, be that as it may, you did kiss him. I was right here.”

Donal looked from B’Lare, who looked sincerely sorry, to Raff, who gave a small nod in confirmation. He swallowed hard and started to hyperventilate.

“I do not remember doing that,” he said in a small voice.

“What do you remember?” B’Lare asked, using his soothing Guide voice, the one that brought J’em back from his fade-aways…and kept him hard most of the time.

“I…”

Donal swayed alarmingly, prompting his two friends to lead him over to a stone bench and sit him down. The young page put a hand to his mouth, uncertain if he was going to be ill or not. Georgi whimpered and rubbed his head against Donal’s ankle. In the next second, the dog jumped up and started snapping at an innocent blade of grass.

“Is something wrong with Georgi?” He leaned over to peer at his pet, but decided that wouldn’t be a good idea when his head protested the maneuver.

“Hmmm.” B’Lare looked from the dog to his owner and back again. “What is the last thing you remember?” he repeated.

Donal closed his eyes to think. “I was in Meaghan’s room, like you asked.” He frowned, biting his lip in frustration as he tried to think. “I-I dropped a bottle of perfume, spilling some on Georgi. I remember washing it off and then…nothing.”

“Her perfume?” B’Lare asked intently. The prince had always known that his good friend, Meaghan, wouldn’t purposely betray him and there might be a good explanation, along with whatever was making Donal and Georgi act differently.

“I will check it out, sire,” Raff stated. He gave B’Lare and the upset Donal a nod before heading into the palace.

“I kissed him?” Donal asked.

“Yes,” B’Lare said with a nod. He sat down on the bench and put his arms around Donal when the other man started to cry. “It will be alright,” he promised, not knowing that more problems were already arising, even before this crisis was finished.

 

B’Lare, Henroai, and Raff went to Meaghan’s room, to find out why Donal acted like he did. It was the first time since his trusted friend had betrayed him that B’Lare had been anywhere near her room; the pain had been too intense.

Henroai opened the heavy wooden door and started into the room. Raff immediately began to cough and waved a hand in front of his face. The other two men turned to the demi-Sentinel in worry. One of Raff’s enhanced senses was that of smell.

“There is something suspicious in here,” Raff said. His eyes were watering. “I…” he began, but started to gag.

“Go.” B’Lare turned him around and gave the handsome man a push on the back. “Quickly, before your senses are overwhelmed.”

Henroai was torn. He could hear his new friend still coughing down the hallway, but he could not in all good conscience leave his prince alone.

“You should go as well,” B’Lare told him. “I do not want you overtaken either.”

The bodyguard nodded at his prince. “Yes, sire.” Henroai still was not happy, but he followed the command.

B’Lare began to peruse the room. He was relieved to see that Donal was able to get Meaghan’s belongings packed before he was stricken with this mysterious malady. The Guide wasn’t sure if he could have stood to be among her things for any amount of time.

Meaghan had been a very good friend of his and he still missed her, supposed betrayer or not. B’Lare had even taken in her favorite pet, the dog, Belynda, a Norwich Terrier, because the small animal felt safer with B’Lare than any other person in Cascadius.

The only things in the room to examine were the packed bags and a bottle of perfume. The stopper was only partially in the bottle and the heady smell of the scent was rather overpowering.

B’Lare flinched back as he got a nose full of the odor when he pressed the bit of cork in the bottle more firmly. He recognized it as the perfume Meaghan had taken to wearing not long before she died.

The Guide stepped back and swayed. “Oh my,” he said faintly, feeling light headed himself. In spite of feeling woozy, B’Lare smiled in realization.

 

Wham!

Yoel, B’Lare’s advisor, mentor, and good friend was startled by the loud noise. He quickly walked around the corner and stared down the next corridor.

Pilled up outside of Lord Saimon’s rooms stood a stack of boxes and other containers, making Yoel wonder if that’s where the noise had come from. Some of the contents of the containers were spilling out onto the floor. Even as Yoel was standing there, the door opened and another box was slammed down onto the rest of the things. Yoel heard something break in the middle of the pile.

Saimon didn’t see Yoel, probably because he was so intent on throwing things out. The big lord slammed the door shut and went back inside the room.

Yoel stepped a little closer. What he could see of the things lying there seemed to consist of Donal’s belongings.

Giving the closed door an uneasy stare, Yoel hurried down the hallway, intent on finding B’Lare and informing him of the situation. The Guide was excellent at handling sensitive situations like this one.

 

Raff was sitting on the floor, among the dirty rushes. That alone, considering how fastidious the handsome man was, showed how poorly he was feeling.

B’Lare slid to the ground beside Raff and Henroai, who was sitting beside him. After a few moments, the prince turned to his two trusted friends and smiled.

“I know what happened with Meaghan,” he said happily.

 

B’Lare’s good mood lasted only as long as it took him to get back to his and J’em’s living quarters. Sitting on the floor by the door, almost in the same position that Raff had been earlier, was a teary-eyed Donal. The young man was surrounded by the debris of his life.

“Donal?” B’Lare squatted down next to the smaller man. “What has happened?”

“S-sire.”

One young man poured out his soul to another, slightly older young man.

 

The Sentinel had to fight the urge to mutter under his breath.

He was mad. Mad at all the people and problems that kept him from meeting up with his husband back in their rooms and renewing their love. They had been back from their Bonding Month for less than a day and already he and B’Lare were embroiled in several crises’. He was certainly mad at whatever drama that Saimon was up to that had sent him out this late in the evening.

J’em stopped outside of his friend’s door and stared at the mess in astonishment. Yoel, bless him, had not been exaggerating when he had expressed his worry about the Sandrium man.

The stink of anger and pain permeated the air outside of the door. Donal’s things absolutely reeked of anger and the bitterness of disappointment. He quickly pushed down his sense of smell, before it could overwhelm his senses

The Sentinel knocked on the door. Inside, he could hear Saimon prowling around the room, presumably looking for more things to catapult out of the room.

“What?!” he yelled.

“Saimon, it is I, J’em.”

There was a pause. The prince could hear his advisor take a calming breath.

“Come in.”

The inside of the main sitting room was even more chaotic than the mess outside had been. The disarray showed where Saimon had searched for anything pertaining to Donal, and when found, said items were summarily tossed out.

“What, in all that is holy, has happened here?” J’em asked, looking around, open mouthed.

“Not a damned thing!” Saimon yelled.

He threw a fine, embossed leather, scabbard holder against the far wall. J’em knew for a fact that Donal had personally worked for months to make that present for the fortieth celebration of Saimon’s birth.

The Sentinel merely raised one patrician eyebrow at his second-in-command. The older man winced and lowered his head in deference to his prince.

“Forgive me, my lord.”

“Hmmmm,” was J’em’s noncommittal answer.

Saimon gave a heartfelt sigh and slumped down in his favorite chair. The dark skinned man stared at the fire for a few moments. J’em didn’t say anything, giving his friend time to regain his composure.

“Darryle was just here,” Saimon began.

 

... to be continued