A duel for the throne

Uncle Gaius had Marcus by the shoulder still, marching the young prince beside him down the empty corridors of the Castle. That soldier was still with them too, walking behind with his sword drawn at the ready. The rooms they passed were empty, the passages quiet apart from the heavy tread of armored boots and his own bare feet shuffling along the carpet. Marcus was sniffling softly, his heart pounding in his chest no matter how hard he tried to calm himself. That it was kind and handsome Gaius doing this to him, attacking his home, trying to overthrow his Father and now dragging him away, still didn't make any sense! He knew he should be strong and at least stop crying, but he couldn't! It was all too scary and happening too fast.

They were in the corridor leading to the throne room now, and Marcus shrank back as he saw more soldiers rushing about, all of them in armor and wearing scarlet capes marked with Gaius' own coat of arms, the fearsome emblem of two spears crossed over the head of a snarling bear. Each man saluted his uncle in turn, but just stared at the young prince in lingering ways that made him very conscious how thin and almost see-through his silky shift was. Didn't they know who he was? These were his Kingdom's own soldiers, sworn by oath to defend the throne, but they'd turned against his Father! How could they? Gaius dragged him over to the throne room door, where an older man in plate armor was waiting, his plumed helmet under his arm.

"How many casualties, Captain Titus?" Gaius asked the man, holding Marcus firmly beside him.

"Seven of ours injured, milord." The soldier replied, bowing his head respectfully. "One young lad took a bad cut to the leg before the Castle guards surrendered. Even if he makes it through the night, he'll probably have to lose the limb."

"Have the surgeon on standby." Gaius ordered, in a stern voice that seemed to rumble with authority and made the young prince's skin tingle just listening. "He should amputate if it'll save the boy, and arrange to have five hundred crowns sent to the family to support them in their time of need. I'll not have any man who fought for me left crippled and destitute. If he doesn't make it, triple that."

"Yes milord." The soldier saluted. His eyes flickered to the young prince, darting down over his bare, pale legs. Marcus felt a little sick at that obvious leer, and found himself shuffling closer to his uncle's big, armored body, like part of him hadn't even realized Gaius wouldn't protect him anymore. He knew his Uncle was the enemy now...but somehow it still felt safer with him than these awful soldiers.

"Now, time to see to our King." Gaius nodded to the door. The old soldier leant in and pushed it open, standing to one side to let them through. Marcus thought about digging in his heels and trying to resist at last as his Uncle shoved him forward, but that seemed even more hopeless now. Besides, he needed to see his Father! The King could make Gaius understand how wrong this way and make him stop his treachery. Shivering fearfully, Marcus padded on bare feet onto the cold tiles of the throne room. His anxious gaze flickered over the large hallway, and when he saw a group of soldiers standing near the throne around a kneeling, bleeding figure he felt his heart nearly stop in his chest.

"Father!" He yelped shrilly. When he tried to dart forward, his Uncle's hand tightened on his shoulder, yanking him back into the older man's armored body. The young prince wriggled frantically, trying to get away. No! His Father was hurt!

"Not so fast, Marcus." Gaius breathed above him, pinning him with one big hand. He stepped forward, keeping Marcus close to him no matter how much the young prince tried to fight that grip. The King glanced wearily up, his dull, bleary gaze finding them as they stepped up to the end of the throne room. There was a blackening bruise around one eye, and blood trickled down his cheek from a wound in his hair. He took in a long, shuddering breath, then his eyes narrowed with rage.

"Gaius." He snarled, trembling with anger unlike anything the young prince had seen from his Father. "Let go of my son, you fucking animal! This is treason!"

"Call it what you like, brother." Gaius shrugged under his armor. "I'm saving this Kingdom and that takes hard choices. You've always been too weak to understand that." Marcus' frantic gaze flickered between the two of them. He couldn't believe this! His Uncle and Father had always gotten on well! They used to go hunting and feasting together whenever Gaius visited, now it suddenly seemed like they hated each other.

"I am the King!" His Father snapped viciously. "The throne is my birthright, passed down from our Father, to me and then my son. You swore by oath to defend my family! Does none of that mean anything to you?"

"You just don't get it, do you Castor?" Gaius sneered "Honor, oaths, loyalty. Those are pretty words from a King, but they're all meaningless when you can't even defend your crown. If not me, then someone else would have taken the throne from you soon enough. At least this way it stays in the family, right?" He laughed again, but it was a cold and lifeless sound.

"You treacherous snake!" The King tried to struggle to his feet, but two of Gaius' soldiers darted in and seized him by the shoulders, pinning him back to the ground on his knees.

"Let him go." Gaius ordered. The soldiers obeyed immediately, backing off from the gasping King. "Stand up, Castor. In honor of the bond of blood we once shared, I'm going to give you one last chance to defend your right to the crown." Marcus watched, heart in his mouth, as his Father struggled up onto his feet. Even injured he managed to raise himself to his full height, a fierce scowl on his face. He was wearing only a silk jacket and trousers, but even still he looked every inch the brave hero, and just staring at him now the young prince felt a small flicker of hope. Please, let the King do something amazing and fix this! "Stand to one side, nephew, and watch." Gaius snapped in Marcus' ear. "Don't try anything stupid. We both know you're too weak to fight me." With a sharp shove, he pushed the young prince away from him. Marcus yelped in shock, barely managing to catch himself from falling flat on his face across the tiles. He spun hurriedly, fighting to keep his silky shift from slipping any further up his bare thighs. "Give him a sword." Gaius waved a hand towards one of his soldiers. The man drew a gleaming longsword from his own belt and held it out to the King. Marcus watched his Father take the blade by the hilt, slipping it up into a practiced stance. That tiny flicker of hope inside his chest grew a little bigger at the sight, but how could even the King fight off so many?

"You call this a fair fight, Gaius?" The King sneered, weighing the blade in his hand. "Me injured and you in full armor?"

"You should be grateful I'm giving you a chance at all, brother." Gaius replied, smiling thinly. He drew his own sword with a menacing hiss as it slipped from the scabbard. Then he tossed it to his other hand, turning that side to face the King and holding the blade out in front of him. "And I'll use my left hand."

"And when I win, what's to stop your thugs slaughtering me and my family anyway?" The King snapped.

"Men, should Castor kill me you are not to harm him." Gaius ordered, glancing over his assembled soldiers. "You're fighting for my claim. If I die, the throne goes back to him. Is that understood?"

"Yes, milord!" The soldiers barked. They stepped to one side, clearing the greater part of the hall around the two men. The King didn't look entirely convinced, but he stalked forward anyway with his sword up. Marcus watched, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Were they really going to fight? His Father and his Uncle, in a duel to the ****! It all felt like some horrible nightmare, only no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't wake up.

The two men advanced on each other, their swords steady. Marcus knew his Father was a great warrior, but Gaius was bigger and taller, seeming even more so in his heavy plate armor. Could the King really win like this? He had to hope so!