Sagon was in a foul mood. Somewhat unusual for a man about to receive the full attention and devotion of a trained pleasure slave. The queen was manipulating him, and he hated that. He felt like an old dog who was thrown a bone before being taken out back to be disposed of.

He growled at the front desk clerk. He grunted at the page. He scowled at the ornately carved doorway bearing the image of a gryphon in full flight.

Sagon stepped through the door and caught his breath. The boy kneeling on the floor was beautiful. Even though Sagon had been married, he had spent most of his time in the field fighting. He was no stranger to love between men, which in fact was encouraged by the army. If one had a lover among the men, one would fight all the harder to protect his mate. Or so it was believed.

But this youth was as different from the rough and tumble fighting men he had known as was possible to be. He was wearing a purple and silver robe, which fell about his shoulders and back, but was completely open in front. Kneeling on the rug, his knees were splayed wide to expose himself to his Master for inspection. His hands rested lightly on his thighs, and although the posture was submissive, the boy kept his face up so that Sagon could see him in all his beauty.

Sagon was immediately intrigued, although not yet aroused. He had not found himself interested in sex at all since his injury, and suspected that the queen knew this as well. He was also irritated at this blatant attempt to soothe his conscience, which had been greatly disturbed since his last battle. Sagon frowned.

He noticed the subtle shift of the slave's face, from eager anticipation to wariness and uncertainty. He sighed. He did not want the boy to be afraid of him. In fact, he really didn't want the boy at all. But he was… pretty. And appealing.

"Master?" A tentative voice caught his attention. The slave was looking at him in confusion. Sagon realized he had not moved, he was still standing just in front of the door. Making an impatient gesture, he bid the slave to rise.

The young man stood up and approached him carefully. "Master," he began again, in a diffident voice. "You look tired. Would you like to lie down? Or perhaps have something to eat? Or maybe a nice warm bath? I can…"

Impatiently, Sagon cut him off with a curt hand gesture. "No, nothing. Just… leave me alone for a while. I'll call if I need you."

Sagon couldn't miss the hurt that flashed across the young face, gone almost before he could see it. But he was a trained warrior, and even the subtlest shift in expression could signal an attack from an enemy. He closed his eyes wearily. This boy was no enemy. Gods, what was he doing here?

A gentle touch on his arm almost brought an automatic defensive reaction, but Sagon controlled himself in time. He opened his eyes to see the slave's concerned face staring at him.

"I'm sorry, Master. But you swayed, I was afraid you would fall. Please, come to the bed and lie down for a few minutes, rest after your journey."

Sagon grunted, but allowed the slave to lead him to the bed, which was massive, taking up most of the wall. It was covered with a rich green crushed velvet cover and matching canopy. Sagon sat down and patiently endured the slave's attentions as the young man pulled off his boots then stripped him of most of his clothing.

To his vast relief, the slave simply undressed him quickly and efficiently, then stepped away as Sagon laid down to rest. The boy pulled the heavy curtains to block out the bright morning sun and settled down on the floor to wait.

Lio sighed in relief as he saw the man's eyes close. This Master was certainly not what he had expected, but then again, he should have learned by now not to expect. Expectations brought him nothing but pain and sorrow. He sat back and studied the man sleeping in his bed.

The first thing he had noticed was the slight limp; the way the man favored his right leg. Although he had the powerful build of a warrior, his skin seemed sallow and dry, as if he had not been eating properly. He might have been ill, or recovering from a grievous wound. His gray eyes were dark and sunken beneath the heavy brows. The dark hair, pulled back in the traditional warrior's knot, was dull and lank.

As Lio continued to watch the sleeping man, he got an impression of infinite weariness. This man had been wounded, Lio decided, both in body and spirit. His soul was exhausted beyond its capacity to repair itself. He needed to rest, to be cared for tenderly and gently. Now it only remained to be seen if he would allow it.

Lio had started to drift off when the strangled sound from the bed caught his attention. His Master was muttering something in his sleep, moving his hands and turning his head this way and that. Lio stood up and leaned over to see what he could do to help. The man was still asleep, but was obviously dreaming, and not pleasantly.

Reaching out his hand, Lio shook the man's shoulder, calling to him softly. A blur of motion, and Lio found himself on the floor, his Master's hand around his throat and a knee on his chest. Instinctively, Lio held himself very still, submitting completely to the man who held his life in his hands.

Gray eyes bored into his, burning with anger. "What do you think you are doing?" the man demanded. "Don't you know better that to wake someone up like that? I could have killed you!" He punctuated his last remark by tightening his hand, then abruptly released the slave and stood up.

Lio rose to his knees and bowed his head to his Master. "I'm sorry, Master. Please forgive me. You were having a nightmare, and I only sought to wake you from it."

"Well, be more careful next time," Sagon snapped. He winced slightly as he straightened up, carefully easing his weight onto his bad leg. Sagon climbed back into the bed and tried to will himself back to sleep. After a moment, he felt the bed shift as another weight was added to it.

Sagon opened his eyes irritably, scowling at the slave who had settled himself at the end of the bed. The young man was sitting there, looking at him. He was still wearing only the robe, which he had at least pulled around the front of his body somewhat.

"What are you doing?" Sagon demanded.

"I am watching you," replied the slave, "to make sure you don't have any more bad dreams."

"Well don't. I don't like to be watched. It makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get grumpy. You won't like me when I'm grumpy," Sagon warned him.

Lio thought for a moment. "Then don't think of it as being watched," he said simply. "Think of it as being watched over. I'll stand watch while you rest," Lio tried to use a military term that Sagon might be more comfortable with.

He kept his expression neutral when his Master grunted at him, but did not move from the bed. After a minute, the man turned on his side, back to Lio, and closed his eyes. Lio sat still, and was finally rewarded when his Master's breathing began to even out. Soon, he was snoring gently, and Lio dared to stretch out beside the sleeping man.

Twice, his Master's sleep was disturbed. Lio, very carefully, stroked his arm and murmured soothing sounds. He was able to ease the man back to peaceful sleep both times, and Lio felt a tiny thrill of victory. He had taken the first step toward winning the trust of his Master.

As morning lengthened toward afternoon, Lio's stomach began to grumble. Quietly, he slipped from the bed and used the bell pull to summon a page. He ordered a plate of cold sliced meat, cheese, bread, and fresh fruit, along with some wine for his master.

The page brought the food and Lio took it from him at the door. Lio carried the tray to the small table on the south wall of the room. Sighing, he looked at the tempting treats, then turned away. Lio knelt down beside the bed and, as a good slave should, waited.

Sagon held himself very still. His warrior's training allowed him to wake instantly, completely, ready for whatever might be waiting for him. He was not in his usual tent, nor was he in his room at the castle. He was in a strange room, in a strange bed, and he was not alone. Someone was beside the bed; he could hear their breathing. As soon as he registered these details, Sagon knew where he was.

His annoyance returned as he thought about the slave who had been assigned to him. The boy, for he was no more than sixteen or seventeen, had the audacity to presume to keep watch over him! Why, when he was that age, he was already assigned to his first patrol, not living in a luxurious pleasure palace frittering away his time in fun and games.

Grunting, he heaved himself up and looked around for the slave. His eyes lit on the figure kneeling beside the bed. Sagon's eyes narrowed as he pulled the curtains back, noting by the light in the room that he had slept for several hours.

"How long have you been there?" he demanded.

The slave raised his eyes to meet Sagon's. "Until you awoke, Master," he replied.

Sagon snorted at the non-answer and climbed out of the bed. He moved carefully at first, not wanting the slave to see him display any weakness. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the slave rose somewhat stiffly. The boy must have been there for quite some time, he surmised.

For some reason, that just made Sagon more irritable. He realized that it was not the slave's fault, that was the way he had been trained. But that anyone should have to suffer at all at the whim of another went against his very nature. Sagon looked around the room as the slave came up beside him.

"I took the liberty of ordering some food for you," he said. "I hope it meets with your approval." The boy's stomach rumbled, and Sagon turned in surprise. The boy looked absolutely mortified and dropped to his knees immediately, head bowed. "I'm sorry, Master," he apologized.

Sagon had to stifle a laugh at the poor boy. He was trying to hard to be a good slave and respect his Master's wishes. Even if his Master wished to be left alone to brood. Abruptly, his mood softened.

"Oh, get up from there. I hate all that kneeling business. And don't call me Master, my name is Sagon."

Startled, Lio looked up. He was surprised to see that Sagon's entire appearance had changed. Gone was the scowl that Lio had begun to think was his permanent expression. Instead, he saw a simple man, a tired, weary man who only wished to rest.

"As you wish, Sagon." Lio tried out the name, rising to his feet. He still wore only the robe he had on before, and the matching purple cloth wound around his arm. Lio waited for another command from his… Sagon.

"Well, I guess if I'm going to be stuck with you I ought to know what I'm getting. Take off your robe." Lio repressed his smile. Beneath the man's gruff attitude, he detected a hint of interest. But he wouldn't push anything; he would let his Master set the pace.

Lio casually shrugged off his robe, letting it fall around his feet on the floor. He held his head up proudly as Sagon walked around him, studying his form. Lio was proud of his looks, and let that pride show in his straight back and squared shoulders. Sagon came back around in front of him, raking him from head to foot with his eyes. Lio felt himself flush.

"What is that?" Sagon asked, pointing to the wrapped arm.

Dropping his eyes to the floor, Lio answered. "Nothing. Just a piece of cloth." He resisted the urge to hide his hand behind his back.

"Let me see." When Lio didn't immediately hold his arm out, Sagon narrowed his eyes. "I am a warrior, a trained fighter. I don't like things being hidden from me. You could be concealing any number of lethal items beneath that covering."

Astonished, Lio gaped at him. "No, Master. I would never do such a thing!"

Sagon just stared at him, waiting. Finally, Lio sighed and began to unwrap his arm. When he was done, he let the cloth fall to the floor and remained standing with his head down. He felt Sagon step up next to him, and shuddered when the man took his scarred hand and raised it up to look at it closely.

"What is your name?" Lio was startled by the question. He looked up. Sagon still had hold of his hand but was looking at his face. The disgust Lio had feared to see was not there. Instead, his Master was simply curious.

"Lio," he answered.

Sagon stared at the young man. The scars spoke of a serious injury, but were nothing to be ashamed of. They didn't detract from his appeal; in fact, they were a pointed reminder of how beautiful the rest of him was.

Suddenly Sagon was ashamed of his previous attitude. Far from lounging around living a life of luxury, Lio was no more than a prisoner. This young man was locked in these rooms every day, never allowed out to do the things a young man should be doing with his life. He was subject to the whims of whoever stepped through that door, whoever had the money to buy his time. Regardless of how rudely Sagon might speak to him, or how badly he might be treated, he had no choice but to accept whatever his Master chose to give him.

Dropping the scared limb, Sagon sighed. "Lio, I'm sorry. I've been very rude to you, and you don't deserve it."

Lio raised his head, and Sagon saw a small flicker of hope shining in his eyes. "Its all right, M… Sagon. I could see that you are troubled."

"Oh, you could, could you?" Sagon questioned, lifting his brows. He wasn't sure he liked this turn of the conversation.

"Yes," Lio replied. "But if you'll allow me, I will try to help you forget all that troubles you."