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nickngregTitle: The Highlander And His English Lord
Author: prettiful_pout
Rating: PG. Varies between NC-17
Summary: Nicols woke the next morning -or what he hoped was the next morning, to find himself curled up around the warm body of Gregory Sanders...
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
The Highlander And His English Lord
Chapter 2: Escape
Nicolas woke the next morning, or what he hoped was the next morning, to find himself released from his bindings and curled up around the warm, lithe body of Gregory Sanders. The Englishman snuggled into the heat of the soft, naked flesh against his own nudity before he released a yelp and sat up, fighting with the covers to be free of the bed, trying desperately to get away from the completely exposed blond man. Nicolas released an uncharacteristic shriek as a solid arm snaked tightly around his waist, pulling him once again back beneath the covers. “Are you barking mad?! You daft fool, let me go this instant!”
“And a very fond good morning to you too my English spy.” Gregory murmured from where his face was buried within the soft folds of the smooth linens. The young Prince was far from being an early riser and the way that he had been so suddenly awoken wasn’t helping his now ill growing mood.
Nicolas groaned in pain as he felt a deep throbbing in the back of his head and a raw itching feeling at his wrists and ankles. The brunette growled low at the now waking blond man beside him, pushing away from him and ignoring the aching pain that stalked him. Nicolas leapt up from the bed only to fall backwards in pain as he realized that one of his ankles was swollen. “Bleeding idiot.” He grumbled to himself, his eyes widening in fear as the obviously taller man sat up in bed and glared at him, his hair messy and his features sleepy yet fully alert. Jutting his chin out in defiance, Nicolas stated boldly, “I am not a spy either, so do not refer to me as such ever again!”
Gregory’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and he rose from the bed slowly with definite grace. “Pardon? I’m sorry my friend, but was it not you whom was caught snooping around during a private meeting between my fathers men? Is it not you whose father just happens to be one of King Henry IV’s (1) favoured spies? Are you trying to tell me, young ladie, that your father never bestowed upon you any secret spy tactics? Answer to me at least one of these questions!” Gregory’s voice had taken on a cutting edge to it but remained quite, just above a near whisper.
“My father never told me anything that had to do with his work alright! ‘Twas not my place and shall never be it! I respect the bravery my father shows in his line of work but I would never become a part of it!” Nicolas attempted to rise on shaky legs and even as he stood proudly with his head held high, the young Highlander Prince towered a good foot above him.
Gregory stalked upon the feisty Englishman, gripping him by the shoulders forcefully and shaking him none to gently. “Get it into you man! Your father is not to be trusted and neither are you!”
“Than let me go and you won’t have to deal with me any further! I don’t even bloody well know where the bleeding hell I am!” Nicolas screamed, rallying against the tall blond and shoving at the hard chest as best he could in his weakened state. It wasn’t like Nicolas was a small man yet this man seemed to tower above him and his strength of both body and will most evidently overpowered that of Nicolas’.
Greg took a calming breathe and smiled softly at the shorter man, mocha eyes meeting black, pleading orbs. “Nicolas, I’ve already told you that you cannot and will not be released from here. You can either join us or fight us, yet this is not a battle that you will win. Us highlanders are natural warriors and I by my own can and will if need be keep you on a very short leash.”
“Don’t refer to me as a mutt who requires special attentions!” Nicolas ordered. Then, drawing his lips back in an angry snarl he growled, “And it is Nick not Nicolas dammit!” Nicolas made a sound in his throat and than spat right in the Prince’s face, smiling for a victorious moment at the look of surprise that crossed the flawless features, yet as soon as those features contorted to those of rage Nicolas gulped, just realizing that spitting in the highlanders face was not one of the best or smartest things to do.
Gasping, Nicolas soon found himself upon his back on the cold stone floor and released a howl of pain as his already battered head struck the ground with great power. Greg hissed at the man restrained beneath him. “Watch it Nicolas Stokes. I know things about your family and if you anger me just enough I may have to find myself a new captive if worst comes to worst.”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in fear. “You wouldn’t harm my family. Tis not possible. Father and Mother both have Henry IV as their protection and my elder siblings are all married off to high powered people. You can’t touch my family.” Nicolas smirked cockily yet only got lifted from the floor slightly and then slammed back down upon it once again till his features contorted from smug to painful.
Leaning down low enough that his hot breath tickled the shell of the English lord’s ear, Gregory whispered, “Believe me, my dark beauty, I do have my ways. And my father will, if requested,” Gregory ran a skilled hand up Nicolas’ naked side, trailing a feather caress from his hip to be placed firmly yet gently upon his both hard and soft chest. Greg chuckled at Nicolas’ sharp intake of breathe as his hips involuntarily bucked up at the touch, “If requested, make certain arrangements to ensure my own happiness. And with a little teaching and some firm lessons, you my young lad, could bring me vas amounts of happiness.”
The brown haired teen gulped, unused to such intimate predicaments. In all his eighteen years of life he had never been with either man nor woman, for his mother and father both had demanded he stay as pure and innocent as possible until the day their youngest son –himself- be wed. “What do you-you mean by tha-that?”
Gregory’s eyes were dark and serious as he captured Nicolas’ own gaze in a deep penetration of soul gazing. “You can not be serious. Do you take me for a fool to believe you know not of the pleasures to be found in another’s embrace? Are you as pure as they made you out to be back in England? Or is that some tall tale made by your father and the King to be sure that you be married off to a wealthy family?”
“I have never experienced the sin of the flesh if that is what you mean. Yet you didn’t answer my-my question.” Nicolas said shakily yet returned Gregory’s serious stare with one of equaled intensity.
Greg narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If you do not behave than I will have no choice but to make better use of you. When I say that I will arrange for you to be that of my own personal love slave. They are not unknown. Uncommon yes, but far from unknown. Nevertheless there is still the fact thatI fear I don’t believe you my young Englishman. Someone with your beauty doesn’t just waste away his virility just because someone tells them to. Be you really that obedient?”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in outrage. “Are you calling me a common tart?! Get off of me this instant you Scottish pig! I hate you! I said GET OFF!!” Nicolas screamed and pushed, kicking and lashing out, not below the use of his teeth as they sank deep into the creamy shoulder of the man above him who was grudgingly doing a good job of restraining the wild brunette. Gregory seemed to be even doing it with amused ease.
“You take offense easily my love, quite defensive for someone who insists they don’t enjoy the simple pleasures of the skin, do you not agree?” Gregory mocked, chuckling as Nicolas exploded into an angry and insulted fit.
“I don’t sleep around! And I am not your love! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” Nicolas was going wild and finally brought his knee up to connect with the Scotsman’s groin area, causing the blond man to groan and slacken his hold on his captive just a touch. Yet that was all that Nick needed to shove the heavier weight off of him and roll nimbly out from under him.
Leaping to his feet and ignoring both the biting pain in his ankle and nausea from his abused skull, Nicolas raced clumsily away from the now rising and most definitely pissed off Highlander. Reaching the door and throwing back a desperate look at the limping Scotsman, Nicolas fumbled with the latch on the door, and released a cry of happiness as the latch was lifted and the door was swung open with much ease. Nicolas darted from the room, curses strewn from the angry and hastily pursuing Prince of the Highlanders not to far behind him. The young Englishman panted as he raced down long corridors that seemed to continue on forever, lined with stone walls and rich coloured tapestries. He knew that the blond man was gaining on him yet refused to give up and sped up his running, sprinting as fast as he ever had before.
“Halt!” Nicolas gasped as he spotted several men heavily armed, blocking off his path.
“Nicolas!” Gregory called out angrily from behind him, not to far away now.
“Dammit,” Nicolas growled in frustration, the pain in his ankle nearly unbearable, and the ache in his skull blurring his vision as he ran blindly in another direction down another long corridor, lined with yet more rich and fine tapestries. Nicolas swallowed back bile that rose in his throat and just as he approached a fleet of stairs he stopped dead in his tracks, open mouth gaping at the portrait hanging in all its majesty above him. “What the hell…” He trailed off in absolute wonder, reaching out a hand unconsciously, a whisper upon his lips, “Jude?” And then everything went black as a stiffening pain was suddenly felt on the back of his head, causing him to lurch and black out instantly.
~*~
“Good morning Sunshine.” Nicolas moaned, rolling his head lightly from side to side, wincing in pain and feeling the hot sting of tears prick his eyes. Opening his eyes slowly, he blinked a few times, his eyes taking time to adjust to the intense light. Rolling his gaze around the room which he had been held in before he sought out a familiar face, hell even seeing Gregory would be better than this freaky unfamiliarity. The young man moved his gaze to that of the blond woman who seemed to register in Nicolas’ head as someone he had already met, although he couldn’t recall actually meeting her.
He tried to remember how he had gotten back into Gregory’s room but everything since his bashing to the skull was still a bit of a blur to him. One moment he was racing down the hallways, coming face to face with a giant portrait of Jude, and the next he was back in his prison, be waiting on as if he were an actual guest. Ha! Nicolas laughed inwardly at that thought. Yet there was still the matter of how the beautiful blond woman was.
“Who,” Nicolas coughed harshly, his throat sore and parched. Within a moment a flask of ale was held to his cracked lips and the liquid was burning a trail down his swollen throat. He looked up at the woman from his vantage point on what he knew was a bed of furs, and felt frustration for not knowing where it was that he had seen this woman before. “Who are you?”
The blond woman chuckled softly, a kind look in her eyes as she spoke, her Scottish brogue pronounced and evident. “My name is Catherine, but I am not important. What is important is getting you all healed up. Your head has taking quite the beating and your ankle isn’t in very much better condition.” She stroked his forehead tenderly, cooing softly as he whimpered at the touch, pain blanketing his features. “No need to worry sweeting, soon you’ll be all healed up and happily bonded to the Prince.”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in shock, the young man instantly bolting up in the bed only to be forced back down by the strong yet gentle hands of Catherine. “What are you talking about? Are you all barking mad?! First you kidnap me and now you all claim that I must be bonded to that Scottish pig?! It’s preposterous! I refuse, and even if I knew what you were talking about I wouldn’t care because I’d still refuse it! You hear me? I want nothing to do with any of you!” Nicolas screamed, yet it all came out as only a mere, hoarse whisper, his voice shaky and far from the normal sturdy edge it usually held.
“Shhh now love, everything will work itself out. Now what’s this about you not knowing about bonding? Did your mother and father never teach you of these areas of understanding?” Catherine’s voice was still soft and calm, unfazed by the insults that had been strewn out about her, her brilliant blue eyes telling a tale of their own. Their haunted look reading into her dark and pain shrouded soul.
Gulping Nicolas clenched his eyes shut tight before panting out an exhausted, “My parents wanted me to be both pure of body and mind for when I would be wed off. They didn’t want to taint my innocence with knowledge better off suited for those who had a more dominant nature about them.”
Tilting her head in silent thought, the pretty, blond woman pondered out loud, “So then, you’re more taken to men than women I would suppose?”
Not feeling in the least embarrassed about this Nicolas merely nodded his head slightly, even the slightest motion making acrid bile rise in his throat only to be swallowed back down with a hard gulp. Nicolas didn’t understand what it was that this woman was talking about yet he was intrigued nonetheless. Furrowing a suspicious brow he asked hesitantly, “What is this, ‘bonding’ you speak of? What exactly is it that it-it requires?”
Catherine gave him a bright smile, her white teeth glistening. “Ah, the bonding ceremony. Well,” She perched herself on the corner of his makeshift mattress, running her hands tenderly up and down his abused ankle, soothing the throbbing muscles and swollen area. “A bonding ceremony is all the same as a marriage ceremony except for one main clause, it ensures that peace will be made between two fighting or disagreeing families, kingdoms, tribes, and so on and so forth. Currently at the moment your betrothed, the Prince Gregory Hojem Sanders, is in a meeting amongst his father’s and your father’s men. You see, after you took that bashing to your skull you feel into a restorative slumber. Why, you never woke for a good four weeks, which has given your father enough time to find and track you down, and for the King of the Highlanders to return home and arrange some sort of arrangement with your father. It’s already being made into a contract as we speak. Why, you’ve been intended to marry the Prince of the Highlanders for two weeks this very day.”
Nicolas’ jaw nearly hit the ground. ‘No… It isn’t possible… Father would never pawn me off like a piece of furniture to the highest bidder. My parents love me! They’d never give me up! This cannot be happening to me!’ “No…Please say this is all a dream. Make it all just go away now please. I’ve had enough of this nightmare. It’s gone to far and I just want to wake up now.” Tears streamed freely down the young eighteen year olds face, his big black eyes pleading. “This can’t be happening. Father would never do this to me. He and mother love me! And so does the king! I’ve been hunting with him plenty a fine autumn and he’s never once mentioned the notion of having me wed without my consent first!” Nicolas’ breathing hitched and he began to shake as his eyes rolled back into his head. No… He wouldn’t allow his mother and father to just abandon him like this. They loved him to much. They did, didn’t they?
In the background Catherine could be heard barking orders for warm towels and heated water along with cooled water. Nicolas continued to convulse with a severe anxiety attack, nothing seemingly able to calm him. That was until he felt a strong and reassuring hand upon his shoulder and another cupping his face gently. “Hang in their Nicolas. Come on sweeting, just take deep breaths with me and everything will be just fine. Come on baby do this for you. Come on, just breath in slow and even breathes.”
Nicolas slowly started to stop shaking, his breathing evening out. His eyes which had sometime during his seizure clenched tightly shut, opened slowly and tired eyes met concerned mocha. “Gre-Gregory?”
Gregory smiled softly and nodded, rubbing a thumb up and down the length of Nicolas’ cheek, mapping out the expanse from his jaw line to his cheek bones. “It’s just me love, nothing is wrong. You’re going to be fine although you gave us quite the scare there young ladie. Don’t go off thinking you can do that whenever you feel the urge to or you might just cause me to burst out into one of those… Well whatever it was that you were having.”
Nicolas clenched his hand in Gregory’s for a moment before pushing it away, turning only to catch his breath at the sight before him. Standing at a glorious 6’3 stood Nicolas’ father, Gerald Stokes. Nicolas’ vision swam in tears and he stared directly at his father, the man that he had grown to admire and love with all his heart over the years. The man that had betrayed him and bid him off to the enemy. “Why?” But it wasn’t really a question and when the aging man made to approach the sprawled out teen, Nicolas whimpered, curling up into himself and looking away, the pain of what his father had done too fresh, the wound too deep to ever really heal completely.
“I love you son, know that, and carry that knowledge with you wherever you go.” Nicolas listened as he heard the latch open and then drop once again after the hinges screeched in protest at Gerald Bill Stokes departure. Nicolas shuddered at the thoughts of what was next to come in his life, unknowing of what was to become of him and his obvious future with his mysterious Prince Gregory of the Scottish Highlanders.
TBC
(1) King Henry IV was in all honesty the actual King of England at that time and the IV is the Roman numeral for 4.
Oh, and also, I made it so that Nick preferred to be called Nick but still gets referred to as Nicolas for a reason. Sorry if it confuses anyone but ‘Nick’ is a more intimate nickname and I want to save that for when Nick and Greg get together further on in the story so like ‘Nick’ is used as an endearment by Greg, you know?
Reviews would be very much appreciated! And constructive criticism too! : )
Author: prettiful_pout
Rating: PG. Varies between NC-17
Summary: Nicols woke the next morning -or what he hoped was the next morning, to find himself curled up around the warm body of Gregory Sanders...
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Chapter 2: Escape
Nicolas woke the next morning, or what he hoped was the next morning, to find himself released from his bindings and curled up around the warm, lithe body of Gregory Sanders. The Englishman snuggled into the heat of the soft, naked flesh against his own nudity before he released a yelp and sat up, fighting with the covers to be free of the bed, trying desperately to get away from the completely exposed blond man. Nicolas released an uncharacteristic shriek as a solid arm snaked tightly around his waist, pulling him once again back beneath the covers. “Are you barking mad?! You daft fool, let me go this instant!”
“And a very fond good morning to you too my English spy.” Gregory murmured from where his face was buried within the soft folds of the smooth linens. The young Prince was far from being an early riser and the way that he had been so suddenly awoken wasn’t helping his now ill growing mood.
Nicolas groaned in pain as he felt a deep throbbing in the back of his head and a raw itching feeling at his wrists and ankles. The brunette growled low at the now waking blond man beside him, pushing away from him and ignoring the aching pain that stalked him. Nicolas leapt up from the bed only to fall backwards in pain as he realized that one of his ankles was swollen. “Bleeding idiot.” He grumbled to himself, his eyes widening in fear as the obviously taller man sat up in bed and glared at him, his hair messy and his features sleepy yet fully alert. Jutting his chin out in defiance, Nicolas stated boldly, “I am not a spy either, so do not refer to me as such ever again!”
Gregory’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and he rose from the bed slowly with definite grace. “Pardon? I’m sorry my friend, but was it not you whom was caught snooping around during a private meeting between my fathers men? Is it not you whose father just happens to be one of King Henry IV’s (1) favoured spies? Are you trying to tell me, young ladie, that your father never bestowed upon you any secret spy tactics? Answer to me at least one of these questions!” Gregory’s voice had taken on a cutting edge to it but remained quite, just above a near whisper.
“My father never told me anything that had to do with his work alright! ‘Twas not my place and shall never be it! I respect the bravery my father shows in his line of work but I would never become a part of it!” Nicolas attempted to rise on shaky legs and even as he stood proudly with his head held high, the young Highlander Prince towered a good foot above him.
Gregory stalked upon the feisty Englishman, gripping him by the shoulders forcefully and shaking him none to gently. “Get it into you man! Your father is not to be trusted and neither are you!”
“Than let me go and you won’t have to deal with me any further! I don’t even bloody well know where the bleeding hell I am!” Nicolas screamed, rallying against the tall blond and shoving at the hard chest as best he could in his weakened state. It wasn’t like Nicolas was a small man yet this man seemed to tower above him and his strength of both body and will most evidently overpowered that of Nicolas’.
Greg took a calming breathe and smiled softly at the shorter man, mocha eyes meeting black, pleading orbs. “Nicolas, I’ve already told you that you cannot and will not be released from here. You can either join us or fight us, yet this is not a battle that you will win. Us highlanders are natural warriors and I by my own can and will if need be keep you on a very short leash.”
“Don’t refer to me as a mutt who requires special attentions!” Nicolas ordered. Then, drawing his lips back in an angry snarl he growled, “And it is Nick not Nicolas dammit!” Nicolas made a sound in his throat and than spat right in the Prince’s face, smiling for a victorious moment at the look of surprise that crossed the flawless features, yet as soon as those features contorted to those of rage Nicolas gulped, just realizing that spitting in the highlanders face was not one of the best or smartest things to do.
Gasping, Nicolas soon found himself upon his back on the cold stone floor and released a howl of pain as his already battered head struck the ground with great power. Greg hissed at the man restrained beneath him. “Watch it Nicolas Stokes. I know things about your family and if you anger me just enough I may have to find myself a new captive if worst comes to worst.”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in fear. “You wouldn’t harm my family. Tis not possible. Father and Mother both have Henry IV as their protection and my elder siblings are all married off to high powered people. You can’t touch my family.” Nicolas smirked cockily yet only got lifted from the floor slightly and then slammed back down upon it once again till his features contorted from smug to painful.
Leaning down low enough that his hot breath tickled the shell of the English lord’s ear, Gregory whispered, “Believe me, my dark beauty, I do have my ways. And my father will, if requested,” Gregory ran a skilled hand up Nicolas’ naked side, trailing a feather caress from his hip to be placed firmly yet gently upon his both hard and soft chest. Greg chuckled at Nicolas’ sharp intake of breathe as his hips involuntarily bucked up at the touch, “If requested, make certain arrangements to ensure my own happiness. And with a little teaching and some firm lessons, you my young lad, could bring me vas amounts of happiness.”
The brown haired teen gulped, unused to such intimate predicaments. In all his eighteen years of life he had never been with either man nor woman, for his mother and father both had demanded he stay as pure and innocent as possible until the day their youngest son –himself- be wed. “What do you-you mean by tha-that?”
Gregory’s eyes were dark and serious as he captured Nicolas’ own gaze in a deep penetration of soul gazing. “You can not be serious. Do you take me for a fool to believe you know not of the pleasures to be found in another’s embrace? Are you as pure as they made you out to be back in England? Or is that some tall tale made by your father and the King to be sure that you be married off to a wealthy family?”
“I have never experienced the sin of the flesh if that is what you mean. Yet you didn’t answer my-my question.” Nicolas said shakily yet returned Gregory’s serious stare with one of equaled intensity.
Greg narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If you do not behave than I will have no choice but to make better use of you. When I say that I will arrange for you to be that of my own personal love slave. They are not unknown. Uncommon yes, but far from unknown. Nevertheless there is still the fact thatI fear I don’t believe you my young Englishman. Someone with your beauty doesn’t just waste away his virility just because someone tells them to. Be you really that obedient?”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in outrage. “Are you calling me a common tart?! Get off of me this instant you Scottish pig! I hate you! I said GET OFF!!” Nicolas screamed and pushed, kicking and lashing out, not below the use of his teeth as they sank deep into the creamy shoulder of the man above him who was grudgingly doing a good job of restraining the wild brunette. Gregory seemed to be even doing it with amused ease.
“You take offense easily my love, quite defensive for someone who insists they don’t enjoy the simple pleasures of the skin, do you not agree?” Gregory mocked, chuckling as Nicolas exploded into an angry and insulted fit.
“I don’t sleep around! And I am not your love! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” Nicolas was going wild and finally brought his knee up to connect with the Scotsman’s groin area, causing the blond man to groan and slacken his hold on his captive just a touch. Yet that was all that Nick needed to shove the heavier weight off of him and roll nimbly out from under him.
Leaping to his feet and ignoring both the biting pain in his ankle and nausea from his abused skull, Nicolas raced clumsily away from the now rising and most definitely pissed off Highlander. Reaching the door and throwing back a desperate look at the limping Scotsman, Nicolas fumbled with the latch on the door, and released a cry of happiness as the latch was lifted and the door was swung open with much ease. Nicolas darted from the room, curses strewn from the angry and hastily pursuing Prince of the Highlanders not to far behind him. The young Englishman panted as he raced down long corridors that seemed to continue on forever, lined with stone walls and rich coloured tapestries. He knew that the blond man was gaining on him yet refused to give up and sped up his running, sprinting as fast as he ever had before.
“Halt!” Nicolas gasped as he spotted several men heavily armed, blocking off his path.
“Nicolas!” Gregory called out angrily from behind him, not to far away now.
“Dammit,” Nicolas growled in frustration, the pain in his ankle nearly unbearable, and the ache in his skull blurring his vision as he ran blindly in another direction down another long corridor, lined with yet more rich and fine tapestries. Nicolas swallowed back bile that rose in his throat and just as he approached a fleet of stairs he stopped dead in his tracks, open mouth gaping at the portrait hanging in all its majesty above him. “What the hell…” He trailed off in absolute wonder, reaching out a hand unconsciously, a whisper upon his lips, “Jude?” And then everything went black as a stiffening pain was suddenly felt on the back of his head, causing him to lurch and black out instantly.
~*~
“Good morning Sunshine.” Nicolas moaned, rolling his head lightly from side to side, wincing in pain and feeling the hot sting of tears prick his eyes. Opening his eyes slowly, he blinked a few times, his eyes taking time to adjust to the intense light. Rolling his gaze around the room which he had been held in before he sought out a familiar face, hell even seeing Gregory would be better than this freaky unfamiliarity. The young man moved his gaze to that of the blond woman who seemed to register in Nicolas’ head as someone he had already met, although he couldn’t recall actually meeting her.
He tried to remember how he had gotten back into Gregory’s room but everything since his bashing to the skull was still a bit of a blur to him. One moment he was racing down the hallways, coming face to face with a giant portrait of Jude, and the next he was back in his prison, be waiting on as if he were an actual guest. Ha! Nicolas laughed inwardly at that thought. Yet there was still the matter of how the beautiful blond woman was.
“Who,” Nicolas coughed harshly, his throat sore and parched. Within a moment a flask of ale was held to his cracked lips and the liquid was burning a trail down his swollen throat. He looked up at the woman from his vantage point on what he knew was a bed of furs, and felt frustration for not knowing where it was that he had seen this woman before. “Who are you?”
The blond woman chuckled softly, a kind look in her eyes as she spoke, her Scottish brogue pronounced and evident. “My name is Catherine, but I am not important. What is important is getting you all healed up. Your head has taking quite the beating and your ankle isn’t in very much better condition.” She stroked his forehead tenderly, cooing softly as he whimpered at the touch, pain blanketing his features. “No need to worry sweeting, soon you’ll be all healed up and happily bonded to the Prince.”
Nicolas’ eyes widened in shock, the young man instantly bolting up in the bed only to be forced back down by the strong yet gentle hands of Catherine. “What are you talking about? Are you all barking mad?! First you kidnap me and now you all claim that I must be bonded to that Scottish pig?! It’s preposterous! I refuse, and even if I knew what you were talking about I wouldn’t care because I’d still refuse it! You hear me? I want nothing to do with any of you!” Nicolas screamed, yet it all came out as only a mere, hoarse whisper, his voice shaky and far from the normal sturdy edge it usually held.
“Shhh now love, everything will work itself out. Now what’s this about you not knowing about bonding? Did your mother and father never teach you of these areas of understanding?” Catherine’s voice was still soft and calm, unfazed by the insults that had been strewn out about her, her brilliant blue eyes telling a tale of their own. Their haunted look reading into her dark and pain shrouded soul.
Gulping Nicolas clenched his eyes shut tight before panting out an exhausted, “My parents wanted me to be both pure of body and mind for when I would be wed off. They didn’t want to taint my innocence with knowledge better off suited for those who had a more dominant nature about them.”
Tilting her head in silent thought, the pretty, blond woman pondered out loud, “So then, you’re more taken to men than women I would suppose?”
Not feeling in the least embarrassed about this Nicolas merely nodded his head slightly, even the slightest motion making acrid bile rise in his throat only to be swallowed back down with a hard gulp. Nicolas didn’t understand what it was that this woman was talking about yet he was intrigued nonetheless. Furrowing a suspicious brow he asked hesitantly, “What is this, ‘bonding’ you speak of? What exactly is it that it-it requires?”
Catherine gave him a bright smile, her white teeth glistening. “Ah, the bonding ceremony. Well,” She perched herself on the corner of his makeshift mattress, running her hands tenderly up and down his abused ankle, soothing the throbbing muscles and swollen area. “A bonding ceremony is all the same as a marriage ceremony except for one main clause, it ensures that peace will be made between two fighting or disagreeing families, kingdoms, tribes, and so on and so forth. Currently at the moment your betrothed, the Prince Gregory Hojem Sanders, is in a meeting amongst his father’s and your father’s men. You see, after you took that bashing to your skull you feel into a restorative slumber. Why, you never woke for a good four weeks, which has given your father enough time to find and track you down, and for the King of the Highlanders to return home and arrange some sort of arrangement with your father. It’s already being made into a contract as we speak. Why, you’ve been intended to marry the Prince of the Highlanders for two weeks this very day.”
Nicolas’ jaw nearly hit the ground. ‘No… It isn’t possible… Father would never pawn me off like a piece of furniture to the highest bidder. My parents love me! They’d never give me up! This cannot be happening to me!’ “No…Please say this is all a dream. Make it all just go away now please. I’ve had enough of this nightmare. It’s gone to far and I just want to wake up now.” Tears streamed freely down the young eighteen year olds face, his big black eyes pleading. “This can’t be happening. Father would never do this to me. He and mother love me! And so does the king! I’ve been hunting with him plenty a fine autumn and he’s never once mentioned the notion of having me wed without my consent first!” Nicolas’ breathing hitched and he began to shake as his eyes rolled back into his head. No… He wouldn’t allow his mother and father to just abandon him like this. They loved him to much. They did, didn’t they?
In the background Catherine could be heard barking orders for warm towels and heated water along with cooled water. Nicolas continued to convulse with a severe anxiety attack, nothing seemingly able to calm him. That was until he felt a strong and reassuring hand upon his shoulder and another cupping his face gently. “Hang in their Nicolas. Come on sweeting, just take deep breaths with me and everything will be just fine. Come on baby do this for you. Come on, just breath in slow and even breathes.”
Nicolas slowly started to stop shaking, his breathing evening out. His eyes which had sometime during his seizure clenched tightly shut, opened slowly and tired eyes met concerned mocha. “Gre-Gregory?”
Gregory smiled softly and nodded, rubbing a thumb up and down the length of Nicolas’ cheek, mapping out the expanse from his jaw line to his cheek bones. “It’s just me love, nothing is wrong. You’re going to be fine although you gave us quite the scare there young ladie. Don’t go off thinking you can do that whenever you feel the urge to or you might just cause me to burst out into one of those… Well whatever it was that you were having.”
Nicolas clenched his hand in Gregory’s for a moment before pushing it away, turning only to catch his breath at the sight before him. Standing at a glorious 6’3 stood Nicolas’ father, Gerald Stokes. Nicolas’ vision swam in tears and he stared directly at his father, the man that he had grown to admire and love with all his heart over the years. The man that had betrayed him and bid him off to the enemy. “Why?” But it wasn’t really a question and when the aging man made to approach the sprawled out teen, Nicolas whimpered, curling up into himself and looking away, the pain of what his father had done too fresh, the wound too deep to ever really heal completely.
“I love you son, know that, and carry that knowledge with you wherever you go.” Nicolas listened as he heard the latch open and then drop once again after the hinges screeched in protest at Gerald Bill Stokes departure. Nicolas shuddered at the thoughts of what was next to come in his life, unknowing of what was to become of him and his obvious future with his mysterious Prince Gregory of the Scottish Highlanders.
TBC
(1) King Henry IV was in all honesty the actual King of England at that time and the IV is the Roman numeral for 4.
Oh, and also, I made it so that Nick preferred to be called Nick but still gets referred to as Nicolas for a reason. Sorry if it confuses anyone but ‘Nick’ is a more intimate nickname and I want to save that for when Nick and Greg get together further on in the story so like ‘Nick’ is used as an endearment by Greg, you know?
Reviews would be very much appreciated! And constructive criticism too! : )
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