A bedroom, where the young prince learns to squire for his uncle

Gaius sat in front of the glowing fireplace, staring into the flames, his ornate longsword across his armored lap. He was wiping the blade with a dirty cloth, cleaning off his brother's blood with a frown on his face. His scarlet surcoat lay neatly folded on the shelf near him, where he'd taken it off as soon as he entered the room. Marcus stood anxiously beside the chair, shivering under his thin silk shift, right where his uncle had told him to stay with a gruff command he didn't dare disobey. His head was spinning after that horrible duel and its shocking ending. When he tried to think about what had happened to his Father his stomach turned, and he felt light-headed, visions of a bloody, mangled hand flickering through his mind. How...how could Gaius do that? Worse even, he'd been going to kill the King...he would have done it if Marcus hadn't thrown himself between them. Did he really hate his own brother that much?

None of this made any sense, even as minutes passed with him struggling to understand. There was a more pressing question though, one which kept returning to his mind the longer he waited here behind his handsome uncle in this thin, silk shift. Why was he here? Why hadn't he been tossed in the dungeon with his father? As horrible as it would have been for him, surely that was the safest thing to do with a rival claimant to the throne?

Instead, Gaius had taken him to the same guest bedroom the older man usually stayed when he visited the Castle. The young prince's eyes flickered over the sparse wooden furniture, just a few cupboards, a desk, a set of crossed swords hanging on the wall, and of course, the large double bed looming beside him. Marcus shivered, gazing anxiously at the fresh white sheets and fluffy goosefeather pillows. What was he doing here? In his Uncle's bedroom, wearing this tiny shift that suddenly seemed way too short and thin. What was Gaius...going to do to him? Just wondering about that question made his skin tingle, and he found his hands working nervously over each other in front of his fluttering belly.

"Marcus." Gaius glanced up suddenly, turning his head to stare at the young prince. "Did Castor ever end up having you squiring for anyone?" Marcus froze at the utterly unexpected question, gazing limply back into his uncle's handsome face. "A knight, nephew." Gaius continued, a hint of impatience straying into his deep, rumbling voice. "Did Castor ever choose to have you squiring for one."

"No...uncle." The young prince stammered out, his voice sounding small and whimpering even to him. A squire? He knew many noble boys his age and younger were often taken on as one in preparation for their own knighthood, but he was a prince, wasn't he? Why would he ever need to be a squire?

"Of course he didn't." Gaius curled his lips in obvious distaste. "Don't suppose it would have helped in the slightest, but he could have tried to make a man of you at least." He rose from the chair, flipping his now clean sword over and sliding it back into the sheath, before setting down it to one side. Marcus shivered, staring up at the older man in steel armor now towering over him. He barely even stood up to his uncle's chest, and right now he was more aware of it than ever. Gaius could probably pick him up with one of those big, mailed hands and toss him over a shoulder. As anxious and afraid as he was, the young prince felt his cheeks flush at that thought, only he hardly understood why. "Well, no time like the present I suppose." Gaius continued. "Get me out of this armor."

"What?" Marcus gasped. He didn't quite know what he'd been expecting his uncle to order him to do...but it certainly wasn't this!

"You heard me." Gaius snapped, just the hint of anger in his low voice making Marcus want to cower and hide under that bed. "Never had a squire before myself, but you'll do. So, take off my armor for me."

"Yes uncle." The young prince nodded frantically. He darted forward, stepping right up to his the older man's side. Gaius...was tall and broad-shouldered and really, really handsome, he'd always known that, but right now his uncle seemed even bigger, towering above him like an armored giant. His hands were trembling as he reached for the steel breastplate covering up the older man's huge chest. He didn't even know where to start with this.

"There's straps on the side, holding it in place." Gaius rumbled. "Start with those first, nephew." He didn't sound that angry anymore, but Marcus couldn't stop the squeak of shock escaping his lips. The young prince hurriedly reached for his uncle's armored flank. His shivering fingers soon found the leather straps holding the two halves of the breastplate together, four of them on each side. He fumbled over each in turn, biting his lip in anxious concentration. If he managed to do...this right, would Gaius be nicer to him? He really hoped so. Even after all the horrible things that had happened, he just wanted his kind uncle back.

After finishing with one side, he scurried round to the other, unfastening those straps too. The two halves of the breastplate were held together to the shoulders of the armor too, and he had to stand on tiptoes and reach to unfasten those. Gaius stood there the whole while, dark eyes following him as he scurried about in his tiny shift. The hem of the stupid thing kept riding way too high up his smooth, bare thighs, and he had to hurriedly fight it down each time, blushing furiously even through his nervousness.

Then, with the breastplate unfastened, the young prince awkwardly lifted the steel armor from his uncle's chest, staggering under the weight of it. He could hardly believe his uncle even walked around wearing something like this, let alone the way he'd moved so fluidly during that horrid duel. Gaius must...be even stronger than he looked, and he looked really strong. Following his uncle's terse instructions, Marcus laid the plate on a shelf to one side, then took off each other piece of armor in turn. Those on his uncle's shoulders, knees and back followed, with the young prince having to awkwardly kneel and stand on tiptoes to reach. When he crouched down to pull the pieces from Gaius' knees, he felt so tiny, his anxious gaze flickering up his uncle's muscled legs and another hot blush coloring his cheeks. The way the older man looked down at him the whole time too...the lingering stare and slight curl of Gaius' lips, both making him feel...hot and fluttery.

The last piece was a tunic of oiled chainmail, easily the heaviest of all. Marcus tried, he really did, awkwardly lifting the suit up from his uncle's thighs and struggling to lift it up over the older man's broad chest, but it was just too heavy...and Gaius too tall for him to manage. At last, his uncle's hand grabbed him firmly by the wrist, making him squeal in shrill panic. His anxious eyes flickered to the older man's face, those dark eyes seeming to smolder like glowing coals as they looked right back at him. Was Gaius...angry with him now? Just the thought made his throat clench tighter, tears stinging in his fluttering lashes

"Enough, Marcus." His uncle grunted. "I'll do the rest myself." The young prince nodded frantically, his voice caught in his throat. When Gaius let his hand go, he stumbled back, gasping and sniffling. He felt...so raw and fragile, his heart aching like a cold fist had grabbed it in his chest. This whole awful night...none of it made any sense. This was Uncle Gaius, wasn't it? He'd have happily squired for the older man any other time...it would have made him so excited to even have the chance to help his handsome uncle. Only now, he was being **** into it by the man who'd just maimed his father and stolen the throne!

Marcus watched, tears blurring his vision, as Gaius grabbed the mail tunic in both hands and lifted it up off himself in one smooth motion, lowering the pile of steel in his arms. The young prince froze, a hoarse little sob dying in his throat as he gazed in stunned surprise at his uncle. Gaius stood there by the fire, wearing just a thin long-sleeved tunic, pulled tight over his muscled torso and shoulders. Underneath, Marcus could make out the bulges of his rippling arms and barrel chest. Gaius just looked so strong...his body underneath that tunic like a sculpted statue. The young prince just stared for a few long moments, his hoarse little sobs easing away and his tear-filled gaze drifting over his uncle's muscled body. His cheeks were glowing, fingers twitching by his sides as he imagined running them along those bulging arms. Underneath his thin shift, his bare legs shivered, and he felt a certain hot tightness between his pale thighs.

"Marcus." Gaius rumbled, his low voice seeming to shake the air. Marcus tore his longing gaze from his uncle's chest, his eyes flickering up to the older man's handsome face and sculpted jaw instead. Gaius was gazing back at him too, and something about that heated stare made the young prince shiver and gasp. He'd never...had anyone look at him that way before. "Come here." His uncle growled, raising a hand to beckon the shivering, blushing boy over to him.