He only took a few breaks and knew Lillith was at the ropes by the time they twisted around the roads near his farm--he didn't stop to drop the kids over at their homes like he ordinarily did. And he could hear the kids clutching the side of the wagon as he sped on home.
It was deep into the night with several hours having gone by and cool air of the night chilling his perspiring skin. He gave his snacks and food to the horse hoping to fuel her for a longer trip but could feel his own body start to tire but he couldn't stop until he was there.
They reached the bend at his home and heard the shrill sounds of Khuri crying as Anna hummed shakily. He could hear from the distance the sounds of her voice following Khuri--she sounded as if she were crying--and twisted around the entrance of his farm to the kitchen quarters where apples poured out of a basket spilling over the floor. A boiling misshapen pot of water steamed over a rushed fire as Anna prodded it into keeping lit.
And a small puddle of blood stained the grass.
"Where's Jai?" He said as Anna stood up with her hands blocking him. There was candlelight coming from his cabin and unfamiliar voices. "Move Anna!"
"Wait--I--he's in labor--there was blood--and--" Anna broke off when Erich grabbed her shoulders.
He hissed, "Explain! What happened, Anna?" and his eyes searched her own for any explanation, any reason. Jai wasn't due for labor for a few weeks, at least. "Speak up!"
"Stop yelling at the child," a sharp voice snapped.
The cabin door opened and a dark-skinned woman with cheeks sharper than her voice but not nearly as sharp as her brows spoke again, "He was poisoned by a particularly virulent apple, as if he were a prince in a fairy tale. To kill him and the baby by how much it was dipped in."
He noticed then that woman was dressed in white robes.
It was painted in red and he could smell the iron soaking her robes.
He fell to his knees, clutching the grass, as if the very Earth had become unsteady.
Anna hiccupped as tears fell down her cheeks. She stuttered out, "I--there was a Pastor--I thought he was a nice man--I never--he dropped off fruits--he said he was a friend--and I--I didn't know! I'm sorry!" and she crumpled to her knees clutching Khuri close, whose own cries escalated into screams.
Noise muffled into silence.
He couldn't hear the cries of Khuri or the tearful wails of Anna and clenched his fists into his hands until he felt blood pool in his palms.
"The girl left the basket of apples rather innocuously on the table and then your husband ate one. I imagine to try out the grade of apples to see if they were worth adding to the farm. Hence," the woman continued on. "Why we're here now."
The noiselessness ended and then he breathed out, shakily. For all his years of training and building a form of musculature that could handle the burden of a farm and protect his family, he thought, it was a waste.
"Is he," Erich tried forming the words but they caught in his throat, "can I see him? Please."
It had been decades since he had even thought a feeling could provoke tears. Much less surface on his eyes.
"You don't need to beg me."
He had been alone for years. For so many years, he stumbled in ego-drive arrogance wanting to fight in wars he never had any business being in. Arguing with neighbors to puff out his chest and inflate his pride. Not even his brother could convince him that there was anything of more value than himself and his brother as an extension until fifteen years ago, he met Jai Loh, a third his size, trip him up in a hand to hand fight. Years of fighting, scrapping, and tussling rivalhood that turned into respect, passion, romance, and then love.
His fingertips felt the cold door and then pushed it open. It opened with a rough slow squeal as his eyes ran over bowls of bloodied water, washclothes stained with red, and Jai's near motionless form with a motionless baby on his chest. String stuck out against his lover's belly in a thick zigzag. And the woman snuck up behind him, snatching the bowls and wash clothes, shouting for the kids to move out of the way, before she returned with ease, sweeping the mess of bodily fluids away as if it had never been.
Then, as if by magic or some godly request, he heard the rattling of his lover's breathing and the soft cooing of the baby as if sound had been chipping away at an unbearable silence, finally breaking through. His hands brushed over Jai's coarse fringes and over the baby's soft tufts of hair as that serrated ice of fear stuck in his chest melted.
He clenched his teeth and swore that they would pay for this. There was never supposed to be an aggressive act of violence from him or any of his people. There was never a need to do so.
Now, it seemed they took his refusal of force as a sign of weakness, of lack.
As the woman, a doctor, he presumed, swept back in, he said, "May I ask your name?"
"Surgeon Imane al-Khouri, those children you brought along in the wagon, I offered to drop them off as you stay here, since I have done all I can for now," she said and then sighed. "As you can see, I was able to save them both but--"
"But--?"
"He will never be able to carry another child," she admitted. "I had to seal away the infection and spread of poison to save them but this was the only way to save them both."
"You--you are a radical doctor indeed," Erich breathed out. "Few doctors, none that I can think of, would do such a thing. They wouldn't see his life as worth doing all that work--the ends meet in their eyes."
"I am glad to see you understand," Imane said as she pursed her lips. "If you had thought otherwise, I would've had to use the intensely concentrated poison that I removed and prick you with a needle immersed in it. You might not have died, but it would've certainly hurt."
"And I would've deserved it."
He always believed he was born with good looks and good luck.
Relief had never been so powerful.
"Besides, if I wasn't such a doctor, then Maximus wouldn't have sent me to offer aid," she said before sliding into a chair and then leaning over to read the omega's pulse. "A bit shaky but let him rest and things should be fine. Wipe the wounds with saltwater. And yes, I have provided a rather expensive bag of it. You will owe me a favor. It will burn a little but most of the injury has been sealed. It will be fine. I wouldn't let him try to feed the babe with milk--the poison, clearly, will be an issue. I suggest buying almonds and making almond milk as an alternative. Cow's milk is too easy to dilute and similarly poison but almond milk can be made in the privacy of your home with little ways to poison the actual almond since you can taste it as they react rather obviously to changes. Bitter almonds are poisonous. Sweet almonds are safe. And they should always be the same sort of sweet. A sharp change in sweetness may also, but unlikely, be poison. As an adult man of your size, it's unlikely to cause any relative or serious injury either way. And yes, I have also brought a small amount of almonds for the almond milk that Anna has been fitfully but faithfully making for the last few hours."
"Maximus--?" Erich hesitated to ask.
It couldn't possibly be the Minister of War? Besides, he had a new name. It must be some other--
"The Minister of war," Imane pointed out. "Perhaps you know him by his name Clement III?"
"Why?"
"Your brother heard through the grapevine that you may not be as thrilled with the idea of taking the throne as he had heard," Imane added before bringing over a clean bowl with small granules of salt floating about. "He requested a favor of the Commander, who requested a favor of his grandfather, and you can see how this goes. They requested a favor of me. To ensure, depending on your choice, to keep you alive long enough for the Prince to return. Here, take this washcloth, you can do the rest now."
"And who are you?"
"A traveling medicine doctor who specializes in herbal remedies from all over the world, and I already told you my name," Imane clarified. "Why? You're surprised the Minister of War would request a favor out of me."
Erich dabbed his lover's injury before he gently lifted his son from his chest and cradled him against his own and then continued carefully dabbing the sewlines. He said, "It's not surprise but that you are quite young."
"Ah, my family, the al-Khouri broke off from the El Mahdy over five hundred years ago over whether herbal medicine or shamanistic medicine was better. We became a clan that focused on the healing of the body before the healing of the soul. Sometimes, the two are the same thing but not always and, arguably, not often. The knowledge that I carry is that of four hundred and more years of records."
"And you have no elders?"
The doctor paused then and then sighed. "I am the last of my clan. Something that is becoming more and more common it seems."
His son's small wrinkled hands opened and closed as he yawned--too young to open his eyes yet. He couldn't help but be enamored by his little pink fingers and his sleepy yawn.
"I have been trying to get in contact with a good friend of mine, Hamza Ferhat Brock," He told her. "But it seems there's someone more imperative I need to get in contact with that you may be able to help me with."
"And that would be?"
"Leonard French."
Imane's brows raised but she nodded. "Ah, well, it seems you have a couple plans already up your sleeve. Do you even need the Prince's help?"
"No, but there's no reason he needs to know that."
The two shared a look and she agreed.
It seemed he had gained more than a few things this night. He has now gained another valuable ally.
His room was softened with furs covering every block and a curtained raised bed with a lounge chaise and table for midday meals. Shuffled off to the corner was a wide bookcase full of the Prince's old alchemy books and math tables. Beckett had never been smart or clever in that way an educated man should be but he found some of the things in the book interesting. There were aspects of human beings that offered him ideas on what he should be endeavoring to live as. He felt fulfilled as is but he knew at any moment his feelings could change.
Crumpled missives in the corner of his bedroom with notices of the Emperor confiscating their land deed's, their accounts, anything else that was openly in the Carolingian Empire but owned by the Berman family. Only his inheritance was safe because it related to his aunt, a French by marriage.
The re-building of the temporary housing in the corridors opened up some of the vents covered by vines above ground. Now that there was spotting of lights falling through, he could feel warmth on his skin even in the cool nights of the desert.
"Ma aigre-doux," whispered in his ear as tight, heavy hands gripped his hips, sliding his underclothes below his ass with a snap. Fingers splayed over his expanding, stretched smooth belly before rolling his thumbs up. "You're staring up at the moon late at night, waiting for who? Thinking about what?"
His cock popped in and bottomed out, as his lips trailed along his jugular with slow, measured but greedy drawn out kisses. Thick and swollen, his cock filled every orifice before piercing his insides again. His sack squeezed between his ass cheeks as fingers plucked at his chest, gripping it with more than just greedy hunger as his kisses turned to nibbling turned to nips and turned to bites. His groans turned to sighs as he rolled his head back and let the biting turn back to soothing, almost apologetic kisses.
"Are you pleased?"
The Prince chuckled in-between the kisses as his cock pulled out slow and then rammed in, leaving his cock in like it was sheathed. Cum, wet and leaking, opening his insides. "I am more than pleased." His cock drew out and then thrusted in again. "So pleased in fact that I could just sit in here all night." The Prince's fingers rubbed against his cock still stuck beneath the underclothes. The shape of his cock through the now wet, translucent fabric. "So obedient still, aren't you? You won't even touch your cock unless I tell you to and now you're fat with my child. You follow all my commands so well."
He swallowed down his moans, letting none escape.
The Prince's grip tightened enough that he could feel bruises form on his hips before he drew out and thrusted in again. His body trembled at the strike of the thrusts. With his lips trailing up his neck to his own lips, a tongue shoved in his mouth, twisting, stealing his breath. A hand grips his chest and flicks his nipple with his thumb until he shivers. But the flicks turn to pinches and the pinches start to hurt.
"Except when it's sending letters back home, leaking out information that isn't yours to give," the Prince said against his lips, crushing his lips against his, squeezing his chest until he squirmed in his hands. "You're mine before you're a Berman. And I don't like hearing the things you've done after you've done them." His cock thrusted in and out, smacking against his ass, his body swinging in the imbalanced weight, until his cock thickened, quickening his thrusts. His hips stuttered and his sack swung up, emptying and spilling down his thighs. "Repeat it in mind, sweetheart, I'm not furious but I'm close to it."
"I was worried," Beckett said breathlessly as the Prince's hands inked up his neck, tightening against it before drawing lazy invisible figures on his skin instead. "About my sister, the land, and the manor."
"Then you ask me."
"You weren't here."
Beckett hadn't seen him in weeks with only Julianna for company once in a while until she could move into the corridors fully without suspicion. Even as his cock softened, the Prince's shoulders slumped forward and his interlocking hands cradled his belly.
"You said as if you have complaints," the Prince's voice hisses. "Now, tell me, before I hear it elsewhere, what is your gripe?"
He gripped his hands over the Prince's and said, "I'm already rounded with child while my marriage to Julianna has no legitimacy. It needs verification. Keaton hasn't been added to the Berman registry--still. If the babies are born before then, before those things, with the Church ramping up in power and the Emperor is razing any laws with flexibility, their illegitimacy will cut their futures down before it even starts."
The Prince snorted. "Enzo agrees, is that right? You're both joining hands to hurry the announcement and make my father notice but the letters lack all the subtlety of Enzo's work. It had to be yours."
He turned around and ran his hands under the Prince's tunic, but over then around the Prince's shoulders repeatedly grazing his nails against his skin like a massage. The Prince slumped over his shoulder. He told the royal, "Isn't this why you chose Enzo? To make the hard choices, even when you don't want to."
The Prince mumbled before he spoke again.
"I will intercede on the confiscation of the Berman mansion," the Prince said and then sighed. "It will be a Saint's day celebration soon. The seasonal amnesty should include the deeds as an option. I will attach certification of your marriage to her then."
Hands knocked on the door.
"Sire, welcome to the residence. Lord Berman, the pool has been filled with warm water," his maid said. "We will be in the midst of laundry but please, sire, my lord, call us if you have need.."
The Prince wrapped an arm around his waist before dragging him out the door and into the bath area, where a squared, dug-in lined by geometric cuts of granite, sat with steaming water. Lanterns reflected off the granite like lightning bugs in the night next to a pile of towels and oils.
He kneeled on the stone and swallowed the Prince's cock as the royal undressed. His tongue lapped around his length leaning forward as he licked around his thickness. His mouth wrapped around it, his hands jerking up and down as his throat swallowed the length of it. The Prince palmed his head and said, "Your curls are growing out. They'll reach below your ears before long." as his fingers twisted around his locks before leisurely thrusting his cock in and out. "You look pretty like this--round bellied, on your haunches, hips spread, and your eyes drawing up."
He could feel the rigid cock spasm in his mouth as it drowned his throat. Cum dripped out of his mouth and leaked down his chest.
The Prince added, mischievously, "I can't reach down but squeeze your breasts for me."
Beckett flushed red as he wrapped his hands around his chest and began squeezing them as his mouth sucked his cock in and out between his lips again as the length re-hardened before the Prince moaned. He leaned back and spread his legs, using his arm to hold his heavier body up as his fingers shoved his cock in and out of his mouth until his cock was thick enough for his tongue to slide around it, licking up any drippings, switching his fingers to rub his chest in a manner the Prince often did, swallowing his sputtering release again.
The Prince drew out his cock and helped him stand as his fingers tucked around his sleeping garment and lifted it over his head, leading him into the bath, and on his lap.
"You're still--" when the Prince's hard cock twitched against his hip. "You shouldn't have been staying pent up like that."
"I'm not a man that can be ruled solely by his sex."
The Prince hummed and began wiping him clean with one of the cottonsilk washclothes. His fingers gripping and squeezing his chest as his lips trailed kisses and nipped the nape of his neck until he felt his cock twitch in his lap. This wayward washcloth rubbed his cock, slick with the bathing oil as the Prince spread his legs open, holding him up on the stretch of his arm as his fingers fisted around his cock. His thumb squeezed and circled around his tip until the soldier's hips shook into release. His arms wrapped around the man nuzzling his hair.
Beckett was unsure what this was but was soaking in the outpour of affection. When the Prince muttered against his neck, "May I ask for advice? In regards to the noble families and their on-goings? My father sold my sister. Princess Elizabeth Marie to that undeserving vulgar man, Lord Ziegler. And then Ziegler sold her to someone else. He tries to kill me and replace me with my brother. Then, ridiculously enough, tries to kill my bastard brother's lover and child! Do you imagine--that noble families experience such a thing?"
"Not on such a scale but I can say when multiple noble families meet that it can be similar, if not worse."
"May I ask then, how similar are we? Me and my father," as his palm thumbed his belly. "That I understand why he did it, every action, but that the only reason I disagree is because he failed and now that I must do something about it."
The Prince poured more oil and water, massaging it into his scalp, and carefully pouring water over his head as his fingers tilted his head back, allowing the rivulets dripping down to fall over his back.
"You worry that you might be a cruel father."
The Prince laughed. "I worry that power will make me a fiend unlike any other, because I know very well what I'm capable of. Enzo is well aware of what I'm capable of. Are you?"
He was neither naive nor foolish. His father was a cruel taskmaster who used others as a cover for his meanness. If he was whipped, beaten, or scolded, it was all under his direct supervision. The elder man thought it would make him embittered and violent--just as he wanted the Berman family head to be.
But there was also a reason why he once loved Enzo in such a way. He said, honestly, "Enzo was raised by a brother who loves him. A sister in law like a mother who loved him. He doesn't know what it's like to trapped in your own body by the people who are supposed to care about you--who pretend to care about you."
"I thought--" the Prince said with narrowed eyes, "you said you would never forgive us. You're over his death now? So easily."
"No, but he wasn't a good man."
"That truly makes a difference to you?"
Beckett realized then why the Prince was acting so odd.
He was guilty.
How many times has such a man ever felt that way?
Raising his leg, he slid his hips over the alpha's cock sinking inch by inch until the Prince winced. The water was still hotter than warm. He had an idea how this worked now and leaned over, as his belly wasn't so large yet, and said, with his chest pressed up against the Prince's body, his hand splayed by his jaw with his thumb hooked underneath, "You'll take good care of us, won't you?" and felt the Prince's cock throb as he continued on, "You'll guard the borders to keep out our adversaries. Dress us in vestemants that gives us dignity but easy for you to flip over and sink in our bodies. You'll never let us lack. You'll be a good husband to Enzo and a satisfying lover for me."
The Prince gripped his ass but didn't move yet so Beckett leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "You'll always fill me up so full until I can't remember what it's like to be empty," and the Prince shuddered as his hips snapped up, thrusting in and out, like the waves of an ocean, the water splashed around them. "And you want everyone to know why my belly's gotten so large, don't you? An alpha bred by another alpha. And I would tell them the truth, he's the kind of alpha with a thick, veiny cock that always knows how to stuff my insides. It's something he's particularly good at."
The Prince cursed as he clutched him close, groaning as cum filled him again, his sack bounced up but Beckett wasn't done yet. He twisted around and leaned forward on the spa bath and spread his legs wide with only a glance over his shoulders. The Prince slid his twitching cock between his ass, thumbing his dimples as he coated it with his dribbling cock.
"I think--I missed you," the Prince said against his nape before kissing his skin and sinking his cock deeply with hands clutching his hips. The royal's eyes glinted under the moonlight, licking his lips as each thrust bounced his entire body forward, including his belly. "And your thighs. Your lips. I don't know how I didn't notice it before."
"Because I've always been enough," Beckett groaned as his hands clutched the Prince's tight grip on his hips. His body swung forward and back with each strike, slick sounded as his thrusts sped up. "You never--needed more."
"Perhaps I've gotten greedy, then," the Prince mumbled, slowing his thrusts, leaving Beckett trembling in the air with only his legs and the Prince holding his weight. "Did you know I used to describe your eyes like coal, hair like tumbleweed, and a voice like a crow? I can't imagine how you listened to me." His hips thrust forward. "To mistake twilight for coal, silk for weeds, and a siren's song for discord." And then dragged out, pulling against Beckett's insides.
He whimpered as each thrust prodded his now sensitive insides when the Prince paused, shifting, before fingers rubbed over his cock with his now cum-drenched garments. His cock suctioned between the fabric. He cried, "Please! Please can I--!"
"Oh, sweetheart," and the Prince said as his fingers tightened and twisted, his palm sliding over his cock. "Of course you can cum."
Beckett shuddered, his whole body shook as his release yanked from his body. The Prince must have released then too as he felt his insides slosh as he slid off his cock and sat on the bathtubs edge. A few splashes later, the Prince brought a clean cloth and began wiping him down again, in earnest.
His eyes didn't catch it in the moonlight of his room earlier but now under the lanterns he could see the fresh marks of sword scratches on his chest, shoulders, and hands. The marks were thick and he could only think of one person whose sword would cause such a mark. Trailing the marks with his fingers, Beckett said, "You're training with Luciano now?"
"The surprise in your voice is offensive."
"I didn't know you were that well-practiced."
Water splashed as the wash clothes dropped in the buckets.
"The last few months," the Prince paused before wringing out a new clean cloth in a bucket and returning to sweep his thighs and calves clean. "I've had to make up for lost time. I rarely trained as a youth."
"So you've already planned when you'll be leaving. Is it soon?"
"Enzo planned a time."
"Ah, and that's why you're avoiding him," Beckett sighed. "Not that I didn't miss some of this, but, you should find better ways to handle your marital disagreements."
"I would've found my way to you, either way," the Prince said as the cloth began sweeping across his other leg. "Do you think I only see you in relative to Enzo?"
"Of course."
The Prince paused and then shook his head as he said, "I do deserve that."
"You do."
They shared a mutual smile before Beckett leaned back as the Prince rubbed soothing oils over his hips and stomach.
The Prince grumbled, after a moment, shaking his head, "We're not married--yet. And that's--I'm not avoiding him for the war. It's--it's out of concern. Have you seen him these past weeks? He doesn't--I don't think he wants to be--"
"You've both been too busy for me to--"
Knuckles knocked at the door, again.
He thought about the question as the water splashed in the Prince's movement out of the bath. Maids and servants had been sending him requests or messages from Enzo, but he hadn't seen him in nearly a month. Over a month has past since the ships departed, they should've reached harbor by now.
Why was Enzo being avoidant?
"An emergency missive was sent for your eyes only, your Highness," the maid said. "In due course, Lord Enzo requested that I inform you that the Princess wants to begin co-opted training tomorrow."
"Message received," The Prince sighed and then stood up, opening the door slightly for the maid's outstretched hand clutching a folded piece of paper. He grabbed the slip of paper and let the door close by the maid's hands. "It seems the real training begins tomorrow. We'll be putting together our soldiers and recruits into proper legions. Father has already been going door to door to nobility to set up their land armies to bulwark our entrance but the nobility with the largest armies are, contrary to his knowledge, supporting our side, except--"
"Except?"
"The Minister of War never replied to Akhutenan's subtle questioning," the Prince paced back and forth. "He will likely need more convincing."
"Oh," Beckett said easily. "I would leave that for Enzo. And I remember the War Minister having a soft spot for him when we were children and visited here often. He's like a nephew to the man."
The Prince exhaled sharply and Beckett noted his hesitance again.
"What brings you worry?"
"I imagine," the Prince paused. "He hasn't told you. There won't be a sitdown between the two of them for awhile yet."
"No, I haven't heard a whisper," Beckett said slowly, emerging from the water as the Prince avoided his gaze. "Is it about Enzo? Is he alright?"
"He's--"the Prince laughed but it was a rattling laugh. It concerned Beckett. "--he's carrying twins. Carolingian medicine is not so good with that."
"You're going to need the help of Sonhrai."
"Do I not already owe them more than I should? Have they not already given me everything? I will be an Emperor who has been handed the throne and not earned it," The Prince admitted. "But I will have to owe more so that Enzo can live and those children can--I only wondered if this all was the result of my sins, my curiosity. My cruelty. Things that I share with my father."
Lantern lights flickered upon their faces and the shrouded lighting couldn't hide the Prince's guilt, as his gaze broke line moving from wall to wall, floor to wall, as if thinking too fast, and, for the first time that Beckett has ever seen, his blue eyes openly reflective. His mouth was pursed and twisted in anger, his shoulders tightened like a readied bowstring, but his eyes--the Prince was afraid.
He thought about the ways he wished to be comforted and said, "Your ways are self-centered, greedy, and aggressive but--this knowledge you curate could change every alpha's and omega's life for good or for evil. The world will have the choice to change. It could be the sacrifice needed to push forward all people. The Emperor placed the whims of disaster on nobles who hoarded medicine, food, shelter, and safety for themselves. He murders his blood. I don't think there's even a line to compare. If you must sacrifice, it wouldn't be out of a weak resistance or poor choice."
"And if Enzo is that sacrifice?"
The words settled in the air like poison. Their gazes met cold for warmth, fear for concern, and Beckett returned, "It wouldn't be something you could choose for him."
"Yes," the Prince said under his breath and his taut shoulders loosened. "Yes, it wouldn't be."