A slender form marked by blood and bruises hung, waiting for the blow to fall. The slave’s hands were tied above his head, high enough to leave him stretched and barely balanced on his toes. Golden hair hung around a bowed head, leaving his back bare and face hidden. A tattooed rose of a blue so light it was barely distinguishable hugged his skin from nape to tailbone.

“You hate me don’t you?” the voice was slow and lazy, almost gently in the aftermath. The slight figure jerked as if it had been dealt a harsh blow.

“Look at me.”

Frantic, terror filled eyes darted up. Crystal like tears made tracks down a face pale with pain and terror. A hand reached out and ruthlessly pulled the head back by the hair. A pained wince and strangled hopeless sob were the only reactions.

“You are so pretty when you cry.”

A single finger traced the path of one of the tears leaving a trail of blood in its wake. As suddenly as he had been grabbed the slave was released and the master lounged back onto the pillows sated and generous.

“I have a parting gift for you.”

Again the reply was a desolate whimper but this time the delicate face remained visible.

“An interesting bit of information on your new master.” The master smiled cruelly at the flicker of interest in the soulful blue eyes. “Yes I know who he is.” Negligently he sipped his drink. “A war hero. In the favor of the king himself.”

He stopped, frowning at an imaginary flaw in the fine crystal of his goblet. “He has an interesting reputation.” The master was almost lazy in his feigned indifference as he paused appreciating the sight of fresh bruises and blood on top of those that already marked the small pale body.

“He’s known as the Black Knight.”

The figure started in shock.

“Oh? I see you recognize the name. Been listening to gossip have we? What a naughty boy I’ll just have to punish you.” The master leaned forward feeling a stir of arousal as he drank in the renewed fear.

“To bad we don’t have the time to continue this pet but I have to go.” Pulling out his knife he cut the bindings watching as the slender boy collapsed at his feet.

“Goodbye pet.” Tenderly he kissed the beaten slave and then drove the knife into the soft skin of the bound boy’s belly, still kissing him, he twisted the knife swallowing the slave’s tortured screams. Lingeringly he pulled back leaving the knife then without a backward glance turned and left.

The door shut with a thud.

Whisper winced in pain as he pulled out the knife. He moved, pressing what was left of his once white pants into the wound to slow the bleeding. It might not kill him thanks to his gift, or curse as he chose to think of it, but it would hurt and take many painful days to heal completely.

Now there was an irony, what saves you damns you! It would take more than this to kill him. He knew, he’d tried and he’d had worse done to him. Slowly he dragged himself onto the cushioned window seat seeking something to distract himself from the pain.

Below tiny figures bustled like ants moving to and fro in their miserable little lives. And gloriously free. He had had a life once, a family and kindness. Kay-lee had been a prince; he had been happy and loved and brave and proud, with the luxury to worrying about what the honorable decision would have been. He had been strong and noble, but now those feelings of strength where long dead, along with the name he once held. Sacrificed to that greedy god of necessity.

Now there was only Whisper.

This is what you are and what you will always be.

Sometimes he thought that that is all he had ever been. If it weren’t for…

In a graceful motion whisper raised his hand to brush the back of his neck He winced as torn and strained muscles protested the motion. Then gasped as the liquid fire of pain from his belly intensified. Damn it! Tears fell down his face as he curled up instinctively and tried to breath around the pain.

A grin that was more a grimace of pain broke across his face. This was bad real bad and gut wounds took long to heal, even for him. THEY would have give him a week or two, instead of a day or two, at the least to recover before giving him to his next master.

A shiver of hate mixed with fear ran through Whisper at the thought. Gods above have you no mercy? The Black Knight? This was going to be a hard run. How bad was it going to be? What kind of kink would HIS be? Fingers flexed and sweat began to break out on Whisper’s body. What if he was worse than the last? What if he….

No enough! Taking a deep breath he forced the trembling to slow and stop. He’s not here yet! Stop it! Enjoy what peace you have. Take what you can get and work with it. At least I have my books and for a time, myself. Turning he looked back out the window his face the picture of calm.

Inside the little voice continued to scream.

Heatless, soulless, half-breed demon

The whispers and rumors swirled around him as cloth rustled and eyes turned. Some with hate, some with contempt and others with greedy fascination, all evaluating, all measuring. The royal court tittered and spun, a glittering body of silk, velvet and jewel clad vultures cawing and hunting for a kill. How he hated it.

Carefully Adrian kept his face blank as he placed one foot in front of the other looking neither right nor left as he strode toward the throne, watching what he could from the corners of his eyes, the flowing liquid gold color of which where a mark of his mixed heritage.

“My king.” Adrian went down on one knee bowing his head.

“Oh my black knight! You have returned from glorious battle."

So says one who has never fought.

“We are pleased with you. You have won great honor for your country.”

Yaha yaha yada.

“As a token of my appreciation I wish for you to accept this gift.” The king turned and gestured.

A blank faced steward came forward carrying an ornate box. Bowing low to the king he turned and knelt facing Adrian. With great ceremony he opened the box, bowed, rose and stood back. Gasps of surprised, some feigned some not, greeted the revealed contents.

“For my most trusted and valiant vassal who has suffered great hardship and shown great loyalty.”

“A Key?” Adrian glanced at the contents of the box unimpressed.

As if you’d know blood or hardship or true valor if it came up and bit you on the…

“Your majesty is most kind.”

What of the others who have served you as well as I! What of those that lie dead or crippled? What of them? What of their families? What of those that beg on the street this very moment?

None of his thoughts showed on his face, Adrian merely bowed, took the open box closed it, tucking it under his arm and with another slight bow from his kneeling position, rose and backed away.

Ignoring the courtiers that tried to gain his attention he pushed by with brutal arrogance and contempt. A young girl squeaked and looked panicky as she was suddenly pushed in his way. Pausing the knight considered her for a moment.

Pale and trembling she was a plain thing, unremarkable and unlikely to attract suitors. Without a change in expression he brushed by her, sending her staggering into the arms of a handsome and earnest looking young man. Adrian continued his course to the garden, passing out of the oppressive sea of humanity.

Leaning against the wall he watched the fountain as water fell and danced.

“You! Knight.”

The hissed accusation came from his right. A young lieutenant stood there eyes dripping with hate body rigid with tension. “You think you’re so much better than us you arrogant shit! You cover yourself with glory as you cover yourself with blood. What of my men that died on those battle fields? Will they be forgotten so easily?”

A brief glance was the only reaction to his accusations.

Goaded the young lieutenant continued. “I’ve heard you meet no one on the field of honor.”

Again he was ignored.

“I’ve heard it’s because you have no honor. You a gutless piece of scum! You reap the reward of other’s deaths and loyalty. Your whore of a mother should have strangled you when you where born! I heard you killed Lord Redric, the one who took you though you where not of his blood! Then as if that was not enough you killed your sister as well!”

This got a reaction and suddenly the lieutenant was pinned against the wall a gloved hand at his throat.

“Perhaps then, I should kill you as well.”

The words were all the more horrible for the lack of emotion in them, the comment almost pleasant in tone.

Sweat beaded on the lieutenant’s forehead and his feet kicked uselessly in the air as he gasped for breath his hands braced against Adrian’s arm.

“Still killing children are we? Or is that your attempt at a seduction?” The dry voice cut through the night like a knife, rife with contempt.

Ahh commander right on time.

Without turning Adrian commented. “Your discipline is pathetic if this is an example.”

“My apologizes it seems that some of my men have consciences.”

“My sympathy.”

With a slight smile Adrian allowed the lieutenant to slide down the column clutching his throat. With a glare the commander gestured the gasping man away.

Menacingly he glided forward a step, the sharp click of his boots an ominous sound. Through he was shorter and slightly smaller of build the commander was toned from a lifetime in the military. A slight breeze left the close cropped hair unruffled and the hard grey eyes remainded unfliching and full of contempt. A weathered hand rested on the worn hilt of his sword as he faced Adrian.

“You will leave my men alone black one.”

“I do as I will.”

With a snarl the commander spat at his feet, spun and left. “I pity the poor key who is at your mercy!”

So do I commander so do I.

With a sigh Adrian leaned back allowing himself a brief moment of weakness as he grieved for the death of the one person who had looked at him with anything other than contempt.

Gods, he was tired of the hate and the blood and the misunderstandings.

He was so tired.