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Don't Go

Chapter 2

Donica didn't know Etienne was aware, but he knew there was an entire archive under the castle, an endless corridor of file cabinets containing record documents of every prisoner ever to set foot in the castle dungeons. The cabinets not only contained documents of executions but of all deaths to ever occur at Wychowl, from kings to courtiers to the lowest slave. It was a tradition as old as Varimore itself and one over which even Queen Donica had little power. WychowlCastle was considered holy ground, and those who died on holy ground were preserved in the form of a document and a small box of their most treasured possessions.

The church had sanctioned the law after the death of Etienne's ancestor King Antony in the guise of honoring the "holy dead," but Etienne knew the truth behind the practice was to preserve evidence of foul play. Too many kings had died of "accidents" in Varimore, including King Antony himself, who drank a poisoned goblet not long after his shameless execution of his fox wife. Queen Nadheertia's death took its toll on dogs around the world, for the fox queen had become beloved in their eyes, a holy icon and living proof that divine providence had ordained dog rule. Records of King Antony's murder still existed, and in the deep darkness of the archives, Etienne knew he would find records of Dr. Ellert's arrest and execution.

It was Dr. Ellert who told Etienne about the archives. He wanted the prince to be informed, to have the tools to best Queen Donica if need be. Etienne - a young boy of seven at the time - was shocked and refused to believe he would ever have to "best" his mother. They were not at odds. They loved each other! But Dr. Ellert insisted. He told Etienne many things that Donica would have kept from him, and there was no doubt in Etienne's mind that he would have told him something very important if not for his execution. Whatever Dr. Ellert had to tell Etienne, it was possible some clue had been recorded and was in his file.

Etienne made his way to the archives, hood drawn up and face dark with determination. He told the guard that he had never seen him, and for good measure, gave him a purse incase he was in Donica's pocket. The mastiff could purchase a small farm with the ring Etienne also gave him, and the eager shine in his eye told Etienne he would be keeping his mouth shut about the prince's late night visit to the archives.

Etienne entered the dusty corridor and didn't know where to begin. Each cabinet was labeled by century and alphabetized for that age, the most recent records being nearest the front of the drawer. The first drawer he pulled was labeled E-F, A.A (After Antony). Like every drawer in the archive, it was incredibly wide, and inside he found several tightly packed files, to which little boxes were tightly tied and labeled, containing the meager possessions of the dead. He found Ellert's file quickly enough, but the record was frustratingly brief and vague - no doubt Donica's doing.

Dr. François Ellert. Executed the summer of 1598 A.A. Crime: Treason. Sentence: Beheading. Ordered By: Queen Donica IV of Varimore, wife of the late King Bastian Emerald of Varimore, former princess of Curith.

Frustrated, Etienne flicked the file back and forth, shut the drawer, and opened another. Surely there was something. Anything, dammit. Ellert's personal belongings - such as diaries, letters, awarded ribbons for his accomplishments - should have been in a small box tied to his file. But there was nothing. Etienne wondered if the queen didn't skirt the law and have his effects burned. He glowered. It would be very like her.

His fingers passed over another file labeled Cpt. Lenard & Eldon Chocley from twenty or so years ago. The box tied to the file rattled when he shoved it aside. He pulled drawer K-L and found another file labeled Princess Ct. Evelyn Lorraine Kingsley with a box that rattled as if with marbles_._ But there was nothing more regarding Dr. Ellert. Not even a note. That bitch.

Lips tight, Etienne shut the drawer and was turning back up the corridor when it suddenly occurred to him that he should look at his father's files. The thought had crossed his mind before, but he'd never dared to venture down here, and even during those rare moments when he wanted to, something always happened to prevent him. After his mother's tantrum that afternoon, he knew he might never have another opportunity. She would be watching him closely from now on, and it was only a matter of time before she discovered he was well aware of the archives.

Etienne turned back to the cabinet and pulled the E-F drawer again. He flipped past Ellert's file and found his father's easily enough. The folder was tied to a small, gold ornamental box. Etienne slowly pulled the string loose, and after it fell away, he searched through the folder to find his father's death certificate and records.

King Bastian Alec Donavan Emerald, 71st King of Established Varimore. Date of Passing: the winter of 1588, A.A. Manner of Death: Poison. Manner of Burial: Cremation. Ordered By: Queen Donica IV of Varimore, wife of the late King Bastian Emerald of Varimore, former princess of Curith.

"Poison?" Etienne muttered. A thrill of horror went through him: Queen Donica had told him his father died of pneumonia.

Etienne swallowed hard and with shaking paws, opened the ornamental box the file had been tied to. Inside was a ring -- which Etienne did not hesitate to slip on - as well as a few stained and wrinkled letters. Etienne was surprised to find the letters there. If there had really been foul play, wouldn't the guilty party have made certain the letters were burned?

Etienne opened the first letter and his blue eyes scanned over it.

My dearest Charles,

How is everything at Howlester? It was with earnest that I sent you and Richie from my summer home in Midborough. Sometimes I swear Donica's anger frightens and disturbs me. Had she discovered that you and I were visiting, it would have been the end of you. Perhaps not literally, but your reputations would have been on the pyre. Poor Richie has already suffered enough what with Donica spreading her vicious rumors of you and he. Banning you from my court was for the best. The two of you remain my dearest friends, I want you to know that. Even if all evidence speaks to the contrary.

Now that our darling Evelyn is gone, I sometimes look at Donica and shudder to think that she now stands as a mother to my son. I can not sleep for the thought of it. You will call me a fool, but when you love someone, you can not look at them and see a monster. Yet as the years pass and little Etienne grows bigger, I look at her . . . and I see a monster. How did I ever condemn Evelyn for her treachery? Evelyn lied to me, but she would never do the things I have witnessed Donica do.

And I am just a witness, aren't I? I am just as much to blame. I sat in silence and allowed her full reign, never deigning to stop her machinations. She killed those foxes to spite Evelyn, to spite me for loving her, and to claim our child as her own. She could not have dug the dagger more deeply by teaching Etienne to call her Mother, even as I know it isn't true. She has sworn me to secrecy regarding Evelyn and the manner of her death, and I, in my spinelessness, have allowed it, which is the other reason why you and Richard are banned from my court. It pained me to ban you, but the fear of Etienne discovering the truth of his mother's death . . . it is too great a burden to bear. I would rather he go on never knowing the dismal truth, even if that means the pain of lying to my son's face everyday. Etienne is a boy and does not understand, but each time he calls her Mother, I cringe inside. And Donica knows it.

I think she suspects that my love for her has waned. She has become vicious. Her taunts are subtle and so passive-aggressive that only I understand them. Which makes it all the worse when she does it before the court. How the hatred glitters in her eyes! And I know. I know the love our marriage thrived upon is now rotten and gone. As I am rotten and gone.

I expect you shall hear from me no longer in the days to come. I grow weary of this world. I try to hold on for Etienne, but he doesn't need me. He is a strong lad and I believe he could master Donica far better than his father. Because he is better than his father.

Charles, it is my dying wish that you would allow Etienne to meet Jonathan when they are grown. My son needs a companion. Someone not tied to my court like Corene. Would you do this for me? I thank you in advance and bid you farewell. I hope we meet one day in paradise. I beg your forgiveness in advance, for I can not go on.

Forever your love,

Bastian.

"Forever your love?" Etienne muttered and his brows shot up. Did his father have a secret lover? And who was Jonathan? Etienne wasn't sure he wanted to know. He looked at the other letter and tried to peal it open, but it was so wrinkled and smudged that he couldn't make it out, only the name "Charles" in the opening sentence. The letters had never made it to this apparent Charles. But why? Guilt? Shame? Sudden tears sprang to Etienne's eyes when he realized: his father had committed suicide . . . and Donica wasn't his mother. In fact, Donica had probably killed his mother.

Etienne was fuming when it suddenly hit him that other names had been mentioned in the letter. Richard and Evelyn. . . . Evelyn! He pulled the K-L drawer again, pushed through the files, and halted when he came to it again:

Princess Ct. Evelyn Lorraine __Kingsley. Princess Consort. His mother had been a princess consort.

Etienne slowly opened the file and read:

Princess Consort Evelyn Lorraine Kingsley, former duchess of Howlester, crowned Favorite and beloved of King Bastian Emerald. Date of Passing: the fall of 1578, A.A. Manner of Death: Strawberry Tarts. Manner of Burial: Cremation. Ordered By: Queen Donica IV of Varimore, wife of King Bastian Emerald of Varimore, former princess of Curith.

"Strawberry tarts," Etienne muttered angrily. The cause of death was so undignified that every fiber in his being knew Donica had told the scribe to put it there. Did she hate his mother so much as to even mock her death? Without thinking, he crumpled the death certificate, and it suddenly hit him that he had been in the archives for an hour. He had to return. Decius would wonder where he was. He started to put Evelyn's file away, but the shabby little box it had been tied to caught his eye. He slowly opened it - expecting to find what he didn't know - and smiled to see nothing inside except a shell necklace, woven with pearls. He didn't know why, but he cried when he saw the necklace. With careful fingers, he gathered it and slipped it in his pocket, then returned to his chambers.

Decius was waiting up when Etienne returned. The beautiful black Beauceron was sitting up in the wide four poster bed, naked as all the slaves were naked, with the sheets tangled across his lap. Corene and Flavia were naturally long gone. Decius had attempted to sleep but apparently hadn't been able to.

The prince's eyes scanned the room and he was pleased to see a bag had been packed for him. It stood waiting under the window, out which he intended to climb. But first a nap. He needed it.

"Decius," Etienne moaned as he entered the room and slipped off his coat. "Don't look like that . . ."

Decius was twice Etienne's age and had been the prince's personal slave since he was a boy. When the prince turned sixteen, he insisted on taking Decius to his bed. Since that first time, Etienne had further insisted that Decius sleep in his bed with him each night, though it was considered undignified for a noble to allow their slave to do so.

Decius never spoke - none of the Beaucerons did - but his eyes conveyed his sadness and fear as Etienne entered the room. He started to get up, but Etienne waved for him to stay where he was and instead removed his own boots. The slave watched him sadly from the bed, his paw resting in a gesture of worry on the sculpted roundness of his pectorals. God, Decius was beautiful. And so soft - not only in his fur but in his soul. His eyes traced over Etienne, coaxing him to stay.

The slave's eyes were so sad. He feared for Etienne all the time and made it known in his looks and pleading embraces. One day it hit Etienne that Decius might just love him. He couldn't say he felt the same. There were some days when he didn't think he'd ever love anyone.

Etienne smiled sadly as he stepped out of his pants. "I'd take you with me if I could. Best you stay here, though."

Decius slowly shook his head.

Etienne came to the bed, and leaning down, he kissed Decius on the lips. "Stop worrying," he whispered, lips brushing the slave's.

Decius didn't stop worrying but pulled back the coverlet for Etienne to climb in. He did and closed his eyes as Decius cuddled up to him from behind and stroked his golden mane. He felt the sudden hot slap when Decius stiffened. The slave pulled away apologetically, but Etienne caught his paw and kissed it.

"It's alright. I had . . ." Etienne sighed, thinking angrily of all he had discovered that night. ". . . things to do."

Decius touched his shoulder, as if to ask, "What things?"

Etienne wanted to tell him but didn't think he had the heart to. It was his intention to find out where Howlester was and to go there. His mother's death certificate said she was once Duchess of Howlester. And the letter implied that "Charles" lived in Howlester and that he had known Evelyn.

Etienne turned over. "Come. This is our last night together. Let's make it a good one," he whispered, and cupping the slave's cheek, he kissed him tenderly.

The slave's eyes softened. He trailed careful kisses down his master's jaw, his neck and chest, then pushed the coverlet back and kissed the rippling muscles of Etienne's belly. Etienne lay on his back, watching with a thudding heart as that wet, hungry mouth kissed until it reached his soft penis. With a careful tongue, Decius gave him pleasure, his eager sucks, kisses, and slurps loud in the silence. The wet slap of his tongue made Etienne swell hard and strong, and he moaned softly as Decius slowly and wetly devoured him.