Chapter 4

The First Day

Part 3

The dining room was a long room lit by 3 chandeliers. The long table sat 100 people, 50 on each side. Regularly along the sides of the room were swinging doors for servers to bring and take away food.

The head of the table was wide enough for two places and Justin could see they were the best; they were the Princes' places.

The table was full. There were both straight and gay couples interspersed. The room was noisy with conversation.

"It's not always like this. Usually it's just Michael, me and a few courtiers. You caught us on a good night," Brian said, close to Justin's ear. "Every week we have these public dinners. Courtiers, heads of state that are visiting, businessmen and women who apply to come. The rest we raffle off to townspeople and countrymen who enter the draw and depending on how many seats we have left. Tonight, we have about 25 countrymen from all over Liberty Kingdom."

Justin nodded his understanding and smiled at Brian to show his admiration.

They walked down the table, admiring the flowers, place settings, and candles. Justin noticed the closer they got to the head of the table, the fancier the things and people became.

About halfway down the table, Michael met them, bustling up from the other direction. He wore a wine-red suit and a foppish, ridiculous hat with a feather sticking out of it.

"Hello, darling!!" he gushed, giving Brian a proprietary kiss. "Hello...uhhh...you," he greeted Justin, lamely but a bit more respectfully.

"Michael..." growled Brian, menacingly.

"What?" whispered Michael, as if Justin couldn't hear them, "I still don't know his name."

"Call him sir, then, just as you would anybody else!"

'That'll be the day!' thought Michael.

"Anyway...I hope you appreciate the work I did with the arrangements and placing all the guests. It took me nearly half the day. I even gave everybody their own place cards. Ummmm....and... well, since, as I said, I didn't know your name..." he trailed off and ignored a warning glare from Brian, "...well, here's your seat."

They stopped about 15 people away from the head of the table where an empty place was with a card that read simply: NEW GUEST.

"Michael...we are going to have a serious talk about this," Brian ground out.

"What? You said to treat him like a guest. So I did."

"Uh huh. And did you have to place him so far down? He's a stranger, alone, and mute. I wanted him near me. Near us."

"I thought you didn't want me to treat him like he was disabled," answered Michael, glibly.

"That's not what I said, and you know it!"

"Besides," Michael continued, as if Brian hadn't said anything, "I put the delegate from Koffikstan next to you. But if YOU want to ask him to switch...be my guest."

Brian sighed. Koffikstan was the most sensitive, trigger-happy, piss-off-able neighboring kingdom. Asking their delegate to move would practically be an act of war.

"Will you be all right here?" Brian asked Justin earnestly, "If not, I'm sure there's something..."

Justin patted Brian's forearm comfortingly and nodded reassuringly. He wished more than ever he could just say the words: I'll be all right, my love.

But he had paid the price to be here and he knew he would pay it again in a heartbeat.

"I'll keep an eye on you," Brian said.

He took Michael's arm a little too firmly. As they walked off to the head of the table, Justin heard him say, "We are going to have a VERY serious talk about this..."

Justin shook his head and gave a silent chuckle. Then he turned his attention to his seat. Hoo boy! Michael had really done a number on him, all right.

Michael had placed him between the two fattest people at the table, possibly the fattest people in Liberty Kingdom.

It turned out that the two men were identical twins, each 7 feet tall, and together almost the same as wide. They had the same jowled chins, same red hair, same noses, same blue eyes, and same wire rimmed glasses.

Justin meekly tapped a twin on the shoulder and the twin tapped his brother. "Move!" he told his brother.

The other twin tapped back. "You move! Where's your manners?"

What ensued was a friendly tapping match and an almost scuffle to move back and let Justin in.

Justin sat down and moved his chair in and then...OOOOFFFF!!!...was crammed and wedged in tightly by these two enormous men.

"I'm Fred," said the twin on the right.

"I'm Red," said the twin on the left.

"You might not have guessed it..." said Fred.

"...but we're twins!" finished Red.

"The Remington Twins!" they said in unison, with a flair.

Justin crossed his arms and shook hands with both of them at the same time.

At the head of the table, Justin could see Brian's concerned gaze turn relieved. Turning to Michael, he poked him in the ribs. Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, but stood nevertheless.

"Excuse me everybody!" The room quieted. "Before we start dinner, I have something to say. This morning, my fiancé, Brian pulled out a young shipwreck victim from the sea who turned out to be mute. I regret to say I was....rude and I just wanted to say to him....I'm sorry."

There was a murmur and everyone looked around for this wronged young man. Justin looked at Michael and raised his glass. Nobody but Michael and Brian recognized this.

"Uuuhhhgggh...boring speeches!" Fred rolled his eyes. "So...what's your name!?" Fred and Red asked in unison.

Justin patted his throat and shook his head sadly.

"Oh, so you're the mute boy, he was just talking about! A shipwreck eh? That's rough! Hey everybody! We've got the mute boy! We've got the mute boy!"

Everybody swung round to look. The murmur rose to an excited babble as Justin was catapulted to instant celeb status. Justin blushed.

"Awww, he's blushing!" somebody yelled and everybody laughed and clapped. Everyone within a 6 person radius wanted to touch him or pat his shoulder or shake his hand."

"But I'm sorry....I'm very SORRY!!" repeated Michael desperately, trying to regain attention.

Nobody cared.

Nobody heard him. At last, Brian just yanked him back down into his chair by the back of his collar.

Everybody hooted and cheered some more and Justin waved some more and shook a couple of hands but he really didn't know how to stop this. He threw a desperate look at Brian.

Brian understood. He got up and raised his glass. "To courage in the face of danger!" he toasted. Everyone agreed, even Michael, although barely. "And now, let's eat!"

Everybody cheered and dug in.

The dinner was really lovely. Roast beef, fried chicken, braised fish, potatoes, baked, boiled and mashed, salads, roasted vegetables, and toasted and fresh buns. All the hot food was kept in steam trays and replenished regularly. Justin ate until he thought he would burst but it was nothing compared as to what the Remington twins ate. Each twin ate no less that 3 enormous plates of food.

"So, how old are you, boy?" Fred asked.

Justin held up 10 fingers, then 8.

"Eighteen! Start of life, me boy, start of life!" Red said, "We're 35! Of course, I'm the better looking one, because I'm the eldest!"

"By 3 minutes!" Fred objected, "And we're exactly alike!"

"Don't mind us," Red said, with a wink. "We've been arguing about this our entire lives."

Justin loved it. The Remington twins were loud, jolly, and considerate. They asked him mostly yes or no questions so he could be part of the conversation.

However, it turned out that they were in the most boring line of work known to man.

The Remington twins were owners of a box factory that made everything from large packing crates down to those little boxes that Chinese take-away comes in, to egg cartons. They made boxes, recycled boxes and had a stationery line.

And three quarters of the way through the main course, they began to talk shop. They easily talked over Justin, as they were about 2 feet taller than him. And there was Justin, wedged in firmly between them, trapped.

Idly, Justin looked over at the head of the table where Brian was deep in discussion with the delegate of Koffikstan. The chandelier's light shone down on Brian's crown, making his whole head and face light up and glow. God....he was so beautiful. It was looking....at the face of God.

Without thinking, Justin took the small pad and pencil out of his pocket and started sketching, almost without thinking about it.

He picked at his food with his other hand but he was almost done anyway. The Remingtons droned on overhead. All he saw was Brian.

He managed to keep what he was doing a secret until dessert. He was nearly done when the dishes were cleared and everyone was being served crystal goblets full of chocolate pudding topped with sliced strawberries.

Justin was sketching, sketching, half covering the pad when suddenly he was aware that the droning above him had stopped.

He froze. Slowly, oh, so slowly, with dread, he looked up.

Both twins were looking at him owlishly through their glasses.

"What-cha doooo - 'in?" asked Fred.

"What do you got there?" asked Red.

Justin covered the pad, too late. Red snagged it.

"Hey, it's a drawing!

"Let me see it, brother!"

Red ripped it off the pad and passed it over. Justin made a grab for it but he might as well have been grabbing for the moon.

"It's the Prince!"

"It's good!"

"It's VERY good!"

Justin pulled at their arms, made violent shushing signs but to no avail. And then it was too late. Strains of the same refrain:

"Oh, that's lovely!"

Oh, it's Prince Brian!"

"Hey, look at this!"

Oh, my! I DO like this!"...sounded over and over again as his small picture went allllll the way around the table.

Justin wanted to fall through the floor. He was humiliated, embarrassed beyond belief. His sketches were just that, sketches, scribblings, nothing special. Besides, they were his feelings made bare, the equivalent of a diary entry. To have anybody look upon them....Ohhhh God! And it wasn't lovely...it wasn't even done! His eyes were in his lap, his face was burning and hot. He knew he was as red as a beet. Silent tears rained down into his lap.

Closer and closer it got to Brian, who was waiting. Closer and closer was his doom.

Three people, two, Michael, who barely looked, Brian.

Breathing deeply, Justin staunched the flow of tears and looked up. Oh, God, he was going to laugh. He was going to laugh at that stupid, ass-puke, drawing and he was going to die. His heart would stop instantly, right there, and he'd just die right there, wedged in between Frick and Frack and there wasn't anything he could...

Brian smiled at it, leaned back, enjoyed it. He showed it to his new friend from Koffikstan, who nodded. He leaned over and whispered something to Brian who laughed and nodded. A thoughtful look came into his eyes. He looked at his small portrait again. He looked up at Justin and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. He slowly rolled it up and slipped it into his breast pocket.

And that was it. If Prince Brian liked it, it MUST be art! Suddenly, Justin found his seatmates clamoring for small sketches too.

Justin looked over at Brian for help. The cheeky bastard did nothing except smile slowly with his tongue in his cheek and wink, slowly and deliberately.

Justin gasped and looked away in a jerk, his face blushing terribly again.

His first new sketch was of a Remington twin.

When it was done, they both yelled:

"This one can be YOU!!"

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Two hours later, Justin was still at it. His pencil flew, he smudged, shaded, drew some more. Suddenly, he tore the sheet from the pad and slammed it down.

"Six and a half minutes!" Red roared. Everybody yelled, whistled, stamped and cheered.

Justin's face was cracked into a permanent smile. Brian's eyes shone. Michael's face was purple.

Over the course of the evening, as Justin sketched, he garnered more and more attention. Eventually, everybody beyond a six-person radius left their seats, watching as someone's face grew out of nothing on the page.

And somewhere along the way, Red said, "Hey! That one took him faster!"

"But it's just as good!" Fred said.

They looked at each other.

"Do it again!" hey said together.

And that's how Justin got his start as a speed sketch artist. Each one was a little different, one more detailed, another more angular, and each one took him a little faster. 15 minutes...12...10...8...

"Five minutes! " screamed Red, "A new record!"

The hall erupted in deafening cheers and applause, whistles and stamping. Justin was filled with pride and joy. Michael's face grew even purpler, if that was possible. It looked like a blueberry.

The applause died down and wearily Justin prepared for yet another sketch. But before he could start, a large, familiar hand closed over his wrist. His pulse began to thrum in his veins.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming and making this a most memorable evening! But I think the time has come for all good little artistes...to get ready for bed," said a deep, sexy voice.

Brian bent low right next to his ear and Justin felt a single warm breath on his neck and knew he'd remember it always.

"I know I am," he whispered in his ear.

Justin gasped and his pulse sped up even more. A shudder raced through his body and his pencil dropped with a clink that could be heard throughout the dining room. Damn that man! What was he doing to him? Wasn't he aware of what he could do to him?

There was a collective groan of disappointment. Justin turned to the crowd and expressively shrugged and then jerked a thumb at Brian. What are you gonna do? He's the Boss! He seemed to say. Everyone clapped and laughed as if Justin had said the funniest thing in the world. They all started to wind down and disperse.

Justin looked up at Brian whose eyes were shining with admiration and love. Justin slid his wrist back until he felt his hand slide into Brian's palm and their fingers linked together. He got up from the table, hugged Fred and Red good night, and followed Brian from the room, still hand in hand.

At the door, Justin looked back, and waved to everybody. Everybody cheered and waved back.

Well, everybody except Michael, who was still sitting, seething, and bending all the spoons he could get his hands on.

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When they were at the foot of the staircase, Justin held out his hand and waggled his fingers. Give it back.

"Why Sunshine, I have no idea what you're talking about," Brian said, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

Justin signed again, more urgently.

"Let's talk about it more when I get you home. May I see you to your door, my sea sprite?"

Justin shivered slightly with pleasure as he always did when Brian used that nickname.

He nodded.

They made their way to his bedroom leisurely, both of them not really wanting their time together to end.

"I'm really proud of you, Sunshine," Brian said, "That was amazing,"

Justin gave no reaction except sighing wearily. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off he was getting tired.

When they reached his bedroom, Justin leaned against his door, held out his hand and gestured again.

"Oh, you mean this?" Brian held up the rolled up paper at last. "You know, it's really good. I'd really like to keep it."

Justin tapped his chin with a forefinger, and then held out his hand.

I'll think about it. Now give.

Brian sighed hugely and handed it over.

Justin reached behind him, found the knob, and opened the door. Brian turned to go.

Justin grabbed his hand. He pulled gently.

"I have to get back," Brian said

Justin pulled again. He held out his palm flat, fingers spread. He considered. Flashed his hand twice.

"Ten minutes?" Brian guessed.

Justin nodded, pulled gently, and this time Brian let himself be pulled inside.

As Hobbs had promised, the bed now had wine-red sheets and there was a cozy fire in the fireplace.

"So, Sunshine...now that you have me...what will you do with me?" Brian drawled, smokily.

Justin's look said, "You're incorrigible."

Then he pulled him over to the red chaise longue and sat him down.

Brian took off his blazer and lay full length down on the seat.

Justin quickly got another pencil and the larger pad and flattened his small sketch of Brian. He sat down across from Brian in the leather armchair and did what he had REALLY wanted to do ALL NIGHT.

He finished the sketch of his beloved.

Brian shifted onto his side and watched Justin squint in concentration, glance at him, and then sketch. On one glance up, Brian gave him another patented long, slow wink. Justin pointed his pencil sternly at Brian. Behave!

Justin perfected the hair, finished the crown, shaded here, smudged there, defined his cheekbone, his chin and...there! It was done.

Justin looked up into Brian's hazel eyes flickering specks of gold in the firelight. They were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He was hypnotized.

"So, is that why you wanted it back? So you could finish it?"

A nod.

"Does that mean I can keep it?"

Justin rolled it up and held it out. When Brian reached for it, he pulled it away.

"What?" Brian asked.

Justin stood up. He held up the paper, waving it tantalizing in front of Brian.

Brian also stood. He put on his blazer and followed Justin.

Justin moved toward the door, still beckoning with the paper.

"I don't understand."

Justin tapped his lips twice and held out the paper. He paused, and then did it again.

"Ahhh...You want a kiss." It wasn't a question.

A slow nod and a sultry smile.

"So, this portrait...comes with a price."

Justin nodded again, slowly.

Brian moved closer. "That seems...a fair payment."

Justin had reached the door. He smiled and his tongue snaked out and licked his lips.

Brian caught up with him placed his palms on the door on either side of Justin, effectively trapping him in place.

"My little sea sprite. My little celebrity!"

Brian lowered his head to brush his lips with a soft, sweet kiss but again, passion exploded and there was no way to stop it. Again, Brian had a strange feeling of time out of mind, as if he'd done this before in another life. And God, how he missed it. He heard Justin moan and he deepened the kiss, trying desperately to slake his thirst for the young artist, without success.

Justin was in sensory overload. He groaned, again tasting the sweet taste of his sunshine. But also there was that sweet scent that was uniquely Brian, all male, all-powerful, all-consuming. He never wanted it to end and now he wanted more. He had no idea what that was, but he wanted it.

Brian framed Justin's face with both his palms and cupped his face and Justin leaned into it. They kissed deeply for a few more minutes before Brian finally slowed things down and broke it off.

"Oh God, what a mess!" he gasped.

When Justin asked with his eyes, he explained, "Michael. He's already jealous of you and now with good reason. I wanted to keep things paternal with you, but I don't think that's possible any longer. Justin, he rescued me. I owe him my life. I love him. Well, I did, very much. Part of me still does. We're engaged. I - I promised. I can't go back on that. I'm sorry."

He didn't rescue you! I did! You owe him nothing! Justin wanted to scream.

But he couldn't. He was helpless. All he could do was gaze up into now sad brown eyes, with tears starting to leak humiliating down his cheeks and hold out the precious paper.

Brian took it, his large hand covering Justin's in a final caress before leaving the room.

Justin shut the door and locked it, heartbroken. Hot tears streamed down his face as he shed his clothes and sat in front of the fire. Oh God, this is what Emmett and his mother and even the sea witch had warned him about. Complications. Third parties. Magic. The hook of love that still had complete power over him. Only now, Brian was hooked too, and it was tearing him apart. What had he done? Oh God, what had he done!?

Brian stood outside the door and leaned back into it. He had told Michael he could handle his attraction to his sea sprite. That was a lie. Brian knew now the chemistry between them was bigger than both of them could handle. What had happened? It was just one day! How could everything get so mixed up in just one day? He took a few shuddering breaths and tried to calm his raging emotions and his hormones. He had to get back to the party soon. He took a few more minutes and tried to think about what to do with the situation. He came up empty. Turning to leave, he ran a hand over the door reverently and whispered, "Good night, Sunshine,"

Inside, Justin's head lifted. He thought he had heard his name. He listened, straining. No, there was nothing. His imagination must be going into overdrive. He wanted Brian. His body cried out with a longing that he didn't know was there before. His lips still tingled from his kiss. Oh, this was not fair! Michael was the interloper, not him! What could he do? Naked, he walked over to the window and looked out on the dark night and the darker ocean. He fingered the silver conch around his neck. No, it was too soon to use this yet. This was his mess and he had to fix it. He just had to figure out how.

He washed up and slipped into bed. The excitement of the evening had worn off and he was bone weary. He thought of everyone at the party. The elderly but distinguished dowager who had a thing for pink. Brian. That man with the muttonchops. Brian. The delegate from Koffikstan. Brian. Fred and Red. Brian. Brian...Brian...And then there was only Brian.

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When got back downstairs, many of the guests had already left. The delegate of Koffikstan was still waiting around and Brian summoned his coach and put him into it and sent to the delegate's inn personally. (The delegate had got a little drunk) There were a few others, countrymen and dignitaries alike, who just wanted to shake Brian's hand and thank him for the most fun they'd had in years. And of course, the same phrase kept popping up over and over again like a tired refrain. Michael had disappeared, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.

Last on the end were Fred and Red Remington and as Brian held out his hand, he instead felt himself being pulled into the well meaning but crushing embrace of both twins.

"We can't tell you how much fun we had," said Fred?

"That was the dearest, most charming seat companion we ever met!" said Red...uh, maybe.

Then they spoke the popular phrase. "He will be here again next week, won't he? We can't wait too see what he does next."

"Yes," Brian answered, for what seemed the thousandth time. "He'll be here."

"Oh good," said Fred and Red, "Tell him, we'll miss him, won't you? Oh and expect a little token from us tomorrow. Good night!"

"Good night," waved Brian before finally he was able to go to bed at last.

He went in search of Michael. He surveyed the many bent spoons at his place setting. He followed an upended steam tray to a door. Passing through, he saw the kitchen inside was a shambles. Every dish and glass was broken into smithereens. Pots and pans were all over the floors and the ones that were being used had flung their contents all over the floor, walls, and ceiling. There was an exceptionally ugly green soup display and there was pasta hanging from the ceiling. A few chefs and waiting staff still cowered under counters, and someone poked their head out of the cupboard under the sink.

"Is it over?" he quavered.

"Yes, Brian said, kindly, "It's all over. You can all go to bed. Assemble a cleaning crew tomorrow to take care of this. Oh, which way did he go?"

They all pointed to the door at the opposite end of the room where he had entered and then they all stampeded out of there before the Prince could change his mind.

Brian went through the indicated door and encountered a storeroom with a door at the end of it. Through this door he encountered a deserted, carpeted hallway, stretching off to the left and the right. Brian chose right. He walked until he reached another T. He chose right and came to a door. Through this was a billiards room with another door to the right. Brian went through this and found three hallways, left, right, and straight on. He chose straight. The hall was full of doors on either side. Brian held his head. He forgot sometimes what a maze this castle was and that wasn't even counting the many secret passages, many of which, Brian didn't know about. He gave up. Michael could be anywhere.

Brian walked down opening doors at random. Solarium...sitting room...small bedroom...ahhh, here we go. Brian recognized the book-lined study he and Michael had argued in this morning. He passed through, noticing it was freezing. That's when he noticed the window had been smashed out. Hmmm, Michael strikes again, most likely. Ahh well, Brian was too tired to care. He went out and back into the great hall, into familiar territory again and went up to bed.

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Night passed into midnight, midnight passed into deep night, and deep night passed into dawn. The first day passed away and the first week began.

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Much later, in the dead of night, deep within the maze of corridors and inter-connecting rooms of the castle was a sparse sitting room, with only a fireplace and two armchairs. A man was waiting in one of the armchairs before a low fire.

A second man entered. He bowed low.

"Hello Master," he said.

"Never mind that! What did you learn? Were you watching? Were you listening?"

The man sat in the second armchair. "Yes, Master. I obey. I am watching him 24 hours a day. He is asleep now. I have a full report for you."

The Master leaned forward. His face was fanged and feral in the firelight.

"Tell me...everything...." He rasped.

TBC