AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Two and a half years later…
Crown prince Sebastian leaned out the window of the west tower, trying not to appear too eager as he watched the royal guardsmen training. Shirtless and clad only in linen undergarments, dozens of muscular men dedicated to protecting his family grabbed and rolled, tussling and sparring with one another in vigorous and stimulating ways beneath his interested gaze.
Prince Sebastian’s curious eyes fell on one knight in particular, just as it always had.
Sir Lucan.
Whenever he saw the man, he felt a fresh rush of guilty arousal. The rough handling he’d received at Lucan’s hands all those years ago had faded into a distant admiration, an intense, long-lasting crush that could be more accurately described as quiet obsession.
Seb looked on, feeling a pang of jealousy as Lucan reached out to swat one of the squires on the ass, congratulating him on a well executed sword form. For two and a half years, he had reminisced about the time Lucan thrashed him. The pain of the event had turned into a warmth, and then an arousal from which he could not easily recover.
There were at least forty men down there, squires, soldiers, guards, and knights. They were loud, emitting grunts and shouts. From time to time, stern commanders issued barked orders. Each and every time they did, Sebastian felt a little thrill running through him. In comparison to the rough and rowdy training going on down below, Sebastian’s little nook was very quiet, and very lonely.
He allowed himself to daydream, wondering how it might feel to be a soldier, and to be strong. He wondered even more how it might feel to have the flesh of other strong men press against his, to experience the friction of combat, the charge of virile encounters. He wondered these things and felt himself stirring very much as his imagination began to run riot at the idea of throwing off his fine attire, then going down and inserting himself into the masculine rough and tumble that took place among the guard.
Having tried that once, maiming some poor peasant and receiving the thrashing of a lifetime, he knew better than to try that twice. Besides, he was more recognizable than ever. His portrait hung on practically every wall of the castle, adorned banners in the castle town, and smaller versions with less accurate likenesses hung in the houses of the common folk. He was a tall, slender young man with wide blue eyes and a shock of pale hair. His features were slightly angular, but in a way that made people comment on how lovely his bone structure was. People thought he was pretty, but he didn’t want to be pretty. He wanted to be strong and impressive, like his father the king.
The creaking of the door opening behind him made him turn from the window swiftly and redirect his eyes to the book he had been pretending to read.
“I’ve told you not to leer at the soldiers, Sebastian. It is unbecoming.” His mother’s cold tones cut through him from the doorway.
“I’m not!” Sebastian snapped in reply, humiliated by her awareness of his foibles. It was bad enough that he should have to experience unrequited longing. It was made much worse by having it observed and remarked upon by his own mother.
“I do not leer, Mother. If I happened to look in their direction while in thought, that is neither here nor there.”
His attempt at deception failed before it began. Melinda Force was a tall, golden haired woman with severe, sharp features. She was widely regarded as an exquisite beauty. Women of the Kingdom of Force copied her hair, her makeup, and her mannerisms. These little fashions filtered down through the court and emerged into the marketplace after a period of weeks to months. Less commonly copied was her ruthless intellect. Most were unaware of it, but Sebastian had always been squarely in the laser beam of her awareness. It felt to him as though his mother knew everything, past, present, and future. She seemed to be able to read his mind and look into his heart.
He tried his very best to appear innocent, but his expressive blue eyes were now shaded with guilt while his mother’s very similar gaze was accusatory.
“You know you are banned from any window overlooking the training grounds while they are in use. Your perversions will not be tolerated, Sebastian. You will marry a strong woman from a powerful lineage. She will bear an heir. This”—his mother’s long, painted fingernail swirled about in midair—“will not be tolerated.”
Sebastian said nothing. Arguing would only make his mother angrier, and it was true enough that he had been banned from the towers surrounding the training grounds.
Prince Sebastian, only son of Melinda and Thadecus Force, sole heir to the throne, could not be gay. It was not an option. The word was never mentioned in the royal home, and certainly not with reference to Sebastian directly. It was too shameful a moniker. Anybody daring to put it and the prince’s name in the same sentence had their tongue involuntarily removed. Thadecus and Melinda were very protective parents, at least when it came to matters of reputation.
