Gaius explains himself

"I've been wondering what I should do with you since I first started planning this attack." Gaius drawled, his cold, mailed hand still digging into the young prince's shoulder. Marcus was sobbing hoarsely, his heart pounding with panic. He just couldn't believe this was happening! It all just felt like some crazy nightmare. How could this be his funny, handsome Uncle who he'd always looked up to so much? "Castor has to be dealt with, unfortunately, but you I was never quite sure. You are a threat to my claim, but not a very serious one. Which of the great lords of the Kingdom would raise their forces in support of a weakling like you? None of them I suspect." He paused, his dark eyes drifting down the young prince's body.

"Uncle Gaius..." Marcus sniffled, forcing the words up a throat that seemed way too tight. "What...why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" His Uncle sneered, deep voice rumbling. "A king who can't defend his throne is no king at all. Castor has let this country rot, and then relied on me to protect him from his own stupidity. Do you even know how many uprisings my men have had to put down over the past few years? Peasant uprisings, some minor lords deciding they're done swearing fealty to a King who thinks he can just tax them dry and offer nothing in return. I've had to put down each and every one, I bled for him, lost friends for him, and again and again he's spat in my face." His face flushed with bitter rage, and Marcus gasped in pain as the vicious fingers gripping his shoulders dug deeper. "My men died so Castor could feast and hunt and hide in your cunt Mother's skirts, pretending like everything was fine because he was just too weak to face the fucking truth about what he was doing to our Father's kingdom. Well, no longer. This country deserves a real king, one who'll make the hard choices and defend her from enemies within and without. That's going to be me." He leant forward as he spat those words, that slight movement sending a flood of panic through the terrified young prince.

"Please, don't hurt me!" The frantic words burst from from Marcus' lips, as he wriggled frantically in his uncle's vicious grip. Gaius laughed again, a cold, bitter sound, that made Marcus whimper in panic.

"You want to know the worst mistake my brother made?" He growled, looming over the shivering young prince like a giant in silver steel. "Having you as his heir. As soon as he realized how pathetic you are he should have set you aside. No matter how many times I told him you'd never be fit to rule, he never listened. He kept saying you'd grow into it, but he never did anything to make sure of that. Instead he let your Mother pour poison in his ear, listening to some foreign whore over his own brother. A wife who only ever bore him a delinquent daughter and a son who looks nothing like him, a son who can't even lift a sword. What kind of Queen is that? He should have set her aside as well, and found himself a proper wife, who'd bear him many strong sons as a good woman should. Well, now he's left me ****, and because of you and her many of the great lords support my claim. They know as well as I do that as terrible as Castor's reign has been for this country, having a pathetic weakling like you on the throne would be even worse."

"No..." Marcus sobbed hoarsely, fresh, painful tears dribbling down his cheeks. Hearing these horrible things from about him and his Mother hurt so much because it was Gaius saying them. Of course he knew some people in the Kingdom thought he was weak and girly, no matter how much the Queen had tried to hide it from him, but he'd never imagined his handsome, kind Uncle would be one of them! Now it turned out Gaius hated him so much he was willing to overthrow the kingdom because of it. How could that be? How could the man who'd always been so kind to him, who'd saved his life even, treat him this way?

"I'm not going to kill you, Marcus." Gaius sighed, loosening his grip at last. The young prince was too frightened to try and struggle away even then. His Uncle was so much bigger and stronger than he was. There was nothing he could do. "I admit, I've always had something of a soft spot for you, in spite of everything. Perhaps there's some other use I can find for you, a more suitable one for a boy who looks like you." His hand moved slowly up the young prince's shoulder. Marcus shuddered as he felt cold mail on the skin of his neck, his uncle's fingers brushing gently, almost tenderly, over his throat.

The young prince was so confused. His head spun with happy memories he had of his Uncle's rare visits to the castle. Laughing and joking with him, teaching him how to ride, carrying him on broad shoulders when he was younger. And then one memory above all the others, slashing through his panicked mind with searing, painful clarity. Even as he stood here twitching and sobbing, he could still feel how the leather saddle had felt between his legs as the frothing stallion carried him to safety, his Uncle's huge, muscled arm wrapped around his slender body, that rough voice in his ear telling him he was safe, really making him feel as much, even as sheets of cold rain lashed down on the pair of them. How could that same man hate him so much now?

"Milord!" There was a sudden rapping of an armored fist on the door.

"What is it?" Gaius turned his head, his hand darting back down to grip Marcus firmly by the shoulder again. Peering tearfully around his Uncle, the prince saw a young soldier in a red cloak and armor stood in the corridor just outside, his breastplate spattered with drops of scarlet.

"We've found the King, milord." The soldier announced. "You wanted to be told as soon as we did. He's been cornered in the throne room and disarmed."

"Well done, Sergeant Castus." Gaius nodded. He turned back to Marcus, lips curling into a cold smile. "Come with me, nephew, let's go and see your Father."