Knight Time in the Realm- Part 2/4 

FEEDBACK NOTE: DiAnn passed away in her sleep on August 23, 2000.
Xanthe has set up a Book of Condolences at:
http://www.xanthe.org/Guest/Diann.htm Please take a moment and sign
the book if you enjoyed this story.

Rating: NC17 - SLASH/ language/ mild violence

Category: AU / Fantasy / BDSM / m/m Slash

Warning: Mulder-Skinner Slash/ Sk/Sc/M

If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go
somewhere else . . . Please! I don't want to hear from you and I don't
want to hear from your Mama.

Spoiler: Through Season 6.

Summary: Alternate Universe - Kings and palaces and handsome soldiers
for hire.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Scully, Skinner,
Krycek or anyone else from the X-Files. I am borrowing them without
permission and am obviously not receiving money for this stuff. We all
know who they really belong to, CC, Fox and lots of other people but
again, not me.

Special thanks to Nicole who corrects my commas and consistently tells
me that I have not gone too far with the smut, she wants more. And she
wants it now!




Chapter 5 Knight Time in the Realm By DiAnn

Royal Palace Sir Walter's Chambers

Sir Walter smiled with anticipation, as he approached the heavy wooden
portals that lead to his private chambers. A room he shared with the
beautiful Prince Fox of Meridiem. A young man who was finally
responding to the steadfast discipline that his stalwart military
advisor had been so diligent in delivering. Fox had been so agreeable
and obedient of late, that the bedtime spankings had turned into
little more than love pats that preceded hot and heavy bouts of sex .
Fox had turned out to be a passionate and innovative lover. The boy
had actually begun to suggest sexual positions that Sir Walter,
himself, had never heard of or thought of trying.

How could he have ever thought the handsome young prince was any
trouble? He was a treasure, a jewel to be cherished and adored. Sir
Walter felt himself to be indeed a fortunate, no more than that, he
was a blessed man. And tonight, he particularly needed some quiet
solitude with his beloved prince. He might even be persuaded to forgo
Fox's nightly spanking this evening. That was, if the boy was open to
some of their other, more pleasurable, bedtime activities.

As the door swung open on it's iron hinges, the big knight lost his
smile and took a step back in shock. The room was teaming with people.
At least, as far as he could tell, most of them were people.

"Well finally," Frohike growled from his chair by the fireplace,
looking straight at Skinner, who still stood rooted in the
entranceway. "Someone who can pound a little sense into the thick,
royal head of Prince Obstinate over there."

"Calm down, Frohike." Byers offered in a placating tone. "Prince Fox
is just trying to protect the rest of us."

"Well now that Sir Walter is here, he can worry about protecting his
own butt and we can come up with a plan that won't get the future king
of the realm killed." Frohike glared at Mulder. "Hell, what am I
saying? It's not like he pays all that much attention to what Sir
Walter says either. Why, just this week he . . ."

The prince hurriedly straightened up from where he had been leaning
against the far wall. "Don't pay any attention to Frohike, sir, he's a
little out of sorts today. Have you met everyone?"

Skinner eyed his sly young charge. "I'll meet everyone <after> you
tell me what he's talking about. And don't lie to me, peasant boy, or
you could cause me to lose my patience." The knight glanced around the
crowded room. "And I'm sure you don't want that to happen right now."

"It's all right, Sliabh. I wasn't going to let Fox go after the Nuvega
by himself."

Sir Walter glanced at Dana in surprise. "Surely you know there is no
such thing as Nuvega, Dana. They're just a myth, a legend. Something
to scare small children into going to bed. The Nuvega don't really
exist."

"Oh they exist, all right." A very small, bearded man spoke up. He
came tottering over to Skinner, with an uncertain smile on his
munchkin face. Sir Walter could only look at him in amazement.

"You're a leprechaun!"

"Oh my heavens, no." The little man laughed self-consciously. "No, no,
no. I'm not an leprechaun. Not at all. I'm an elf." Another anxious
giggle. "My name's Max. Max Fenig." He stuck out his hand to the
knight, who could not move, still frozen in place staring at the
jittery little man.

Max pulled his hand back. "Uh. . .well, that's all right. No problem.
I'll grow on you. Right?" His expressive little face lost it's smile
and became serious. "But you're wrong about the Nuvega. They most
certainly do exist, I've seem them. Lots of people have seen them. The
ruling class tries to cover it up. Well, all except Prince Fox of
course, he's different."

"You can say that again." Skinner mumbled under his breath. He glanced
over at his unruly prince and was astounded to see three flickering
stars hovering about his head. Sir Walter took an instinctive step
forward to get 

a better look at the darting lights above the dark hair.

"Don't mind them, sir knight." Dana rolled her eyes as she whispered
to Sir Walter. "They won't hurt him. They're just besotted fairies.
One of them is named Bambi, of all things." Dana's lips narrowed with
disapproval. "Just ignore them and maybe they'll go away. At least, I
like to think so."

"And the little girl sitting at Fox's feet?" Skinner tried to point
discretely at the child with the rather pointed ears, who was glaring
hatefully at Dana.

"Another of my prince's female conquests, I'm afraid. Orphans and
sluts are drawn to him like flies to honey." She stopped to roll her
eyes again. "That, my dear knight, is a brownie. Lucy Householder. She
bemoans her tragic life and pretends to need Fox to protect her, but
if you ask me, she just has a big crush and a severe attitude
problem."

Skinner took a deep breath and looked around the room. He spotted two
more brownies, three grumpy looking elves or dwarfs or some such
thing, a whole hoard of peasants, a couple of serfs, and surprisingly,
even a few of the royal guard.

Sir Walter looked over to see Mulder in a deep conversation with The
Three and Max Fenig regarding the current position of the Nuvega, as
sighted by peasants across the kingdom.

As Skinner studied his guests, he had a sudden burst of enlightenment.
These were Nuvega Spotters! He couldn't believe it! Meridiem United
Faction in Opposition of Nuvega. He'd heard of the group, but had
never actually seen one of it's supposedly deranged members. Sir
Walter was appalled, he had left the prince alone for just five
minutes, and the little shit had called 

a damned MUFON meeting. In their private chambers, no less!

"Could I have your attention please?" Byers was banging Skinner's
favorite goblet against the table. When everyone began to quiet down,
the well dressed little man addressed the group solemnly. Skinner
quickly grabbed his mug and hid it out of Byers sight.

"As you know, we have reason to believe that the Nuvega intend to
attack Meridiem. When the royal family and the military are all dead,
they will colonize our fair land with their own inhuman kind. We must
stop them."

Prince Fox was shaking his head adamantly. "My father would never
allow that to happen, Byers."

Langley laid his hand on the prince's shoulder. "Mulder, do you know
why your father is called William the Deceiver?"

"Because he . . . he . . . deceives our enemies and wins many
battles." Mulder eyed the tall, blond man, as if he dared him to
dispute his words.

Dana came to stand before the prince. She could not allow him to deny
the truth any longer, it was just too dangerous. "No, Alainn. He's
called William the Deceiver because he deceives his subjects. He uses
subterfuge, on friend and foe alike, to serve his own selfish ends. He
even manipulates his own son with lies and treachery."

"No, it isn't true!" The prince looked suddenly ill. "It can't be."

"You are Fox the Truth Seeker." Dana placed on hands on Fox's upper
arms, forcing him to look into her adoring, blue eyes. "You will be
the most noble and beloved king in the history of Meridiem. You must
believe what I tell you about your father. You must stay strong of
heart and open of mind. You must lead your people out of danger.

<The evil spreads across the land, The King must right the wrong But
all alone he cannot stand, The Circle must hold strong.>

It has been foretold. You are to be that king, Fox. Only you can save
the realm. Sir Walter and I will stand firm at your side, as will many
others, but without you, all is lost and They will win."

"I know my responsibility is to protect the realm or die trying."
Mulder whispered.

"If you die, Alainn, we all die and Meridiem will be lost."

Mulder blinked at her twice, but said nothing more. Dana released his
arms but remained standing at the future king's side. Skinner moved to
join them. A circle of three, unbroken.

Frohike cleared his throat. "Our sources tell us that Sir Spender is
heavily involved in this conspiracy against the crown. We are certain
that he has designs on the kingdom for himself. He will stop at
nothing to have the throne and . . ." He sadly looked over at his
young friend. "capture our Prince Fox as well. He must be stopped. He
is preparing to move on Meridiem, with the help of the Nuvega."

"The Nuvega will trick him."

"You cannot trust the Nuvega!" Shouted from the crowd.

Skinner eyed this bizarre group of people. How could they know whether
it was safe to trust a Nuvega or not. No one had ever really seen one
-because they didn't exist. And that was that!

Frohike held up a placating hand. "I know! I know, good friends. The
Nuvega are an evil and insidious lot. They steal peasants and then
blame in on the innocent werewolves. They cause bright lights to
appear in the night sky with their black magic. They kill and mutilate
our cattle and destroy our crops with their ruinous circles. There is
no end to the atrocities perpetrated by the Nuvega. But stop them we
must!"

"How can we stop them? They have more and better weapons than we do."

Byers stepped up beside his friends. "Yes, their technology is far
more advanced than our own, but we have <right> on our side. We must
protect Meridiem and our prince at all costs."

Frohike nodded in agreement. "Sir Spender has already had King Aaron
the Peace Maker killed to put the shallow and selfish William on the
throne. He wants our realm and our prince for his own!"

"He killed me?" A booming voice sounded from a shadowy corner making
more than one visitor flinch. A man, looking remarkably like Prince
Fox, stalked out into the middle of the room and began to pace
frantically. Raving and ranting at the top of his voice.

It was Skinner's turn to roll his eyes. Oh wonderful, the dead
grandfather was here. Now things should really get interesting. The
knight failed to notice that no one else thought the presence of a
long-dead spirit was unusual in the least.

"I knew it! I just knew it! That was no hunting accident. How could
anyone mistake the king for a common deer. Sir Spender, that sniveling
little weasel! I should have killed him when he was still in his
nanny's arms. I told William not to associate with that boy, but would
he listen to me. Oh no-o-o-o! He had to wait until the little rat-
bastard killed me and then make him chief counsel." The harder the
ghost ranted, the more transparent he became until all that could be
detected were footprints on the hearth rug and his booming, wrathful
voice.

"Uh . . . Grandfather. You're fading out on us. You need to get a
grip, sir."

"Be quiet, Fox!" He glared at the grandson who so closely resembled
himself. "I already heard that brilliant idea you had to sacrifice
yourself for the kingdom. Not real smart, boy. If you didn't have Sir
Walter to take care of you, I'd have to find some way to deal with you
myself." The ghost softened when Mulder's bottom lip popped out in a
wounded pout. "Oh now, don't be doing that, boy, you know I always
give in when you use that lip on me. It isn't like we're going to make
you stay here while we fight the Nuvega. But, you sure as hell aren't
going after them by yourself. Damn fool kid!"

King Aaron turned to Sir Walter. "If he runs off without you, I want
you to tie him to a tree and strap his bottom until he can't walk,
much less ride a horse."

"Yes, sir!" Sir Walter said, nodding his head adamantly and watching
as the prince's pretty face flushed to a bright red. "My sentiments
exactly. You can count on me."

Byers spoke up once more. "I think we've covered all we can for today.
Everyone keep their eyes open for any strangers in the realm. Report
anything unusual to The Three."

Sir Walter stepped forward, "I'm afraid that will be very difficult. I
was chosen to accompany the Lady Diana on an outing today." He
hesitated long enough to scowl at the prince, who was snorting
laughter behind his hand. "Anyway, she told me that she had convinced
the king and queen to host a week long tournament, to be followed by a
royal ball, here at the palace. It's to happen in two weeks time."

"Two weeks!" Frohike shouted. "Why so quickly? The royal runners will
be hard pressed to relay the news to all the surrounding realms by
that time."

"The Lady Diana wishes to return to her own court soon. I know this
because she asked me to accompany her as personal guard on her
journey. I, of course, refused."

Skinner pointed another fierce look at Fox, as the young man again
snickered behind his hand. "Yeah, I bet it would be personal." Fox
snorted just loud enough for the knight to hear.

"This is most curious." Byers said, as the other members of The Three
nodded their heads in agreement. "We will have to discuss this at
length but not today. Prince Fox must go down for last meal or Sir
Spender will become suspicious. He must not know of this group's
existence or purpose."

* * * 

Royal Palace Great Hall

Sir Walter and the prince arrived just as the king was seated. They
rushed to their places at the head table, with the Lady Diana seated
between them.

Mulder ignored his father's latest lecture on being late to the last
meal and Lady Diana's equal scolding for his plain functional clothing
instead of the more princely attire made of satin and lace.

The great hall was filled to capacity. Mulder couldn't remember a time
when he had seen so many people seated for the last meal. And what a
lot they were. Mixed amongst the self-important lords and ladies of
the palace, were common soldiers and dark, evil-looking knights. All
were rough of language and manner. There were some seated at every
table, talking and laughing loudly. Making some of the most
experienced palace courtesans blush like pure maidens.

"Father, who are these men?" Fox watched as his father took another
drink of wine, wondering if he would receive an answer to his question
at all. Finally the king turned to him with a disapproving scowl.

"They are patrons of Sir Spender. They are here to help with
preparations for the jousting tournament and royal ball."

"So it's true. I'd heard rumors that Lady Diana requested a royal
event."

"You're a future king, Fox, it's unseemly for you to listen to common
rumor."

"If you kept me better informed, father, I wouldn't have to rely on
rumor."

"Don't be impertinent, boy," The king hissed, before raising his
goblet to his lips yet again.

Sir Walter was also watching the new arrivals closely. What concerned
him more than their bawdy behavior with the assembled ladies, was the
way a few of them were eyeing the prince with undisguised lust.

Skinner managed to catch the eye of one of the biggest offenders, also
one of the largest warriors Sir Walter had ever seen. He scowled at
the man but received nothing more than a contemptuous smile in return.
The giant man rose from his seat and swaggered toward the royal table,
bowing mockingly as he neared the king.

"Your Majesty, Sir Arnold of Caspion at your service. I have heard
many rumors of your brilliant and handsome son. Would you allow him to
join me at my table, so that I might converse with one of his obvious
intelligence and grace?"

"No!" Fox glared at the man. "I have no desire to converse with the
likes of you. Be gone."

"Oh, I think you will, young prince." He turned to the king who was
drinking deeply from his goblet of wine. "Isn't that right, Your
Highness?"

The king was well into his cups. He took another drink before turning
to his wayward son. "Go with him, Fox, and stop being so disagreeable
all the time."

The foreign knight reached out one immense hand and snagged the
prince's wrist, pulling him up from his bench, to lean precariously
across the table. "Come on boy, me and my friends want a closer look
at you."

Sir Walter stood, attempting to pry the big fingers from around
Mulder's wrist. "The prince has made it very clear that he does not
wish to join you."

The huge knight immediately released the prince, only to form a large
fist and deliver a stunning blow to Sir Walter's jaw. Skinner fell
back, landing hard on the stone floor behind him.

Mulder jumped launched himself across the table and onto Sir Arnold.
The enormous knight staggered from the surprising weight of the
prince, dropping to the floor, Mulder on top of him. The prince
quickly delivered two blows to Sir Arnold's face before Mulder was
turned and held to the floor, immobile beneath a mountain of hard
muscle.

By this time, Sir Walter had righted himself and started to move
forward to rescue his charge, but it was too late. Sir Spender rose
from his chair, the picture of outraged indignity.

"Your Majesty, I demand satisfaction from your son. A future king
fighting in the great hall like a some common peasant. I demand my
right to deal with him for this transgression against my honored
guest."

The king blurrily surveyed the chaos around him, starting to nod at
Sir Spender, when Sir Walter spoke up.

"I will take the prince to our chambers. It is my responsibility to
deal with him when needed." He glared at Spender, daring him to push
this any further.

The king saw a way out. "Yes, Sir Walter, you may deal with my
troublesome son, but you will do so in the entryway, so that both Sir
Spender and his friend may be sure that Fox was throughly chastised
for this undignified display."

"But, Sire . . ." Spender couldn't hide the disappointment in his
voice.

"Sir Walter, attend to my son and make sure it's a memorable lesson. I
don't want anything like this to happen again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Skinner bowed deeply to the intoxicated king.

Sir Walter saw no way out of this one. Drunk or not, William was the
king. He could not be refused. The knight felt somewhat sickened by
the smile that was playing across Lady Diana's cruel lips.

The foreign knight smiled evilly at the prince as he allowed him to
gain his feet. Sir Walter grabbed Mulder's arm, before he could take
another swing at this adversary, and dragged him into a small alcove
just outside the main hall.

He pinned the still struggling prince against a wall. "You don't move
or this could get a lot worse."

He positioned a bench where it would be out of sight of curious eyes
in the main hall and seated himself.

"Come here, Fox."

"Why?" The prince eyed him suspiciously. "That man hit you! He
deserved . . ."

"Yes, he did. But I would have handled it. Since you jumped into the
fray, like a common street urchin, the king has ordered you punished
like one. Now lower your leggings and get over my knee. I'm going to
spank you."

"Spank me?" Mulder hissed. "But they'll hear you! Can't we go to our
chambers?"

"No, the king has given me no choice. Or at least very little. You are
fortunate that he didn't order me to bare your bottom right in the
middle of the hall." Skinner whispered fiercely, grabbing Mulder's arm
in a vice-like grip. "I have to spank your bare bottom hard and
they'll hear every slap, but it will be <your> choice whether they
hear you cry or not."

He pulled the dazed prince over his knees, quickly pulling his
leggings down to his ankles. He was going to have to give the prince a
long, hard spanking or Sir Spender would demand further satisfaction.
He planned to spread the punishment out from butt to knees, although
he doubted the prince would appreciate his compassion overly much.

Sir Walter raised his hand well above the perfectly positioned target
bent over his legs. "I'm going to spank you very hard, peasant boy,
and there is no mistaking the sound of a hand striking bare bottom,
but if I were you, I would try very hard not to make much noise. It
will make it easier for you to face them when we have finished in
here."

Skinner brought his hand down in a devastating blow to the prince's
right cheek and was gratified that his charge did little more than
grunt slightly. He brought his hand down on the other cheek and
watched another scarlet hand print painted itself on the soft, white
skin. He then set to spanking the condemned prince in earnest.

He peppered the bottom with hard smacks until the skin was glowing
scarlet and the prince was kicking his legs wildly. That was the only
way the knight knew just how much he was hurting the young man now at
his mercy, for the prince was completely quiet.

He moved his pistoning hand down to land on the backs of Mulder's
thighs. This first smack received a strangled yelp. He hesitated, to
give the prince time to adjust to the new target area and then
proceeded to redden Fox's legs down to the backs of his knees.

By the time he had sufficiently spanked the tender legs and moved back
up to the prince's unfortunate bottom, he had a wildly squirming, but
softly whimpering young man on his hands.

"Not much more, Fox. I'll spread the rest out over this whole area so
there aren't so many in one spot." He didn't expect gratitude and he
wasn't disappointed. The prince moaned piteously.

Skinner now spanked in a round pattern. Starting at the top of the
blazing bottom cheek and moving down the sensitive thigh. He would
then move to the other leg and work his way up. By the time he had
made three such rounds, the still silent prince lay limply over his
lap, crying softly to himself. His body a throbbing, blistered mass of
fire from bottom to knees.

Sir Walter allowed the prince a few minutes to compose himself before
he pulled him to his feet. The knight took a clean cloth from his
pocket and began to mob at Fox's sweaty, tear stained face.

"Calm down, peasant boy. You don't want those villains to see you cry,
now do you?"

A few minutes later, Sir Walter reentered the great hall trailed by a
stiffly moving, but clear-eyed prince. Head held high.

Skinner bowed to the king. "Prince Fox has been punished as ordered,
Your Majesty."

"I heard no sounds of distress. He isn't even crying!" Sir Spender
sneered. "I demand to punish this boy myself."

"I assure you, Your Majesty, Prince Fox has been throughly chastised."

The king eyed the proud stance of his son. "Bring him up and bend his
across the table, Sir Walter. I would see the condition of his
backside before I make my decision."

Skinner grabbed the reluctant prince's arm, quelling his objections
with a look, as he dragged him up behind the table and bend him over
facing the assembly.

Sir Arnold came forward, as did Sir Spender and the king. All standing
behind the hapless prince as his leggings were again lowered to his
ankles. He couldn't stop the wince that crossed his face as the
material scraped across his sore, burning skin.

Lady Diana sulked angrily as she faced forward. She had been
forbidden, by the king, to look at the damage. Her being the proper
lady and all.

Mulder kept his head and shoulders well up. He would have rather not
faced the curious crowd but he knew that his raised torso would make
it impossible for anyone else in the room to see his bared bottom. And
he refused to close his eyes, instead keeping his reveled face a mask
of indifference as the state of his well punished bottom was debated
behind him.

"I admit," Sir Spender growled. "His bottom is glowing nicely but
there will be absolutely no bruising. This is all just sting and will
be gone in just a day or two."

"I agree," said Sir Arnold. "This butt is just now tenderized enough
to properly feel a good dose of my riding crop. I demand, as the
injured party, to be allowed to whip him." The evil knight was
desperately battling the urge to take the beautiful, young prince
where he lay and be damn Sir Spender's precious plans or whatever
consequences might follow his rash actions. Seldom had he seen such an
erotic sight as the prince presented, with his firm, red bottom so
enticingly displayed.

"I shall whip him." Sir Spender growled ominously, not willing to be
cheated out of his prize.

"Your Majesty," Sir Walter appealed to the king. "I feel Fox has been
sufficiently punished. He will not sit comfortably for some time. If
you disagree, then please allow me to take him to our chambers and
strap him in private as is appropriate for a royal prince."

"Very well, Sir Walter." The king commanded as Sir Spender's face
turned an unpleasant shade of purple. "He is to receive three lashed
before bed and another three before breakfast. He will then present
himself, in the throne room tomorrow morning, to show me his freshly
striped bottom."

Sir Walter quickly reached down and pulled the prince's leggings back
up over his sore bottom. "Thank you, Your Majesty." He bowed and
manhandled his prince out of the great hall and up to their private
chambers.

Mulder stomped into the room and threw himself into a padded chair. He
jumped up immediately with a pained howl, grabbing for his abused
bottom. He then sat down much more gingerly, tears finally rolling
down his smooth cheeks.

"That was so humiliating."

"Yes, I imagine it was. I'm sorry I had to do that down there." Sir
Walter rubbed a hand gently through the thick, tousled brown hair of
his prince.

"It isn't fair."

"Peasant boy, . . ."

"Now everyone in the palace will know that I am ending tonight and,
starting tomorrow with my bare bottom up in the air for your strap."

"I suppose, but . . ."

"And my dear father, who never asks to see me, now wants me to report
to him in the morning so he can assure himself that my butt is
sufficiently red and sore."

"He is the deceiver, Fox. A weak king who is easily led by those more
evil than he is. You must remember that, and use it as an example for
your own rule. Now undress and lean across the foot rail of the bed."

"Oh no, please, couldn't you just wait and give me six in the morning.
My bottom is still on fire."

"No, peasant boy, that would be easily detectable and I don't trust
Sir Spender to not be present for your appointment with your father in
the morning. Now do as I say."

Mulder undressed and threw himself face down across the foot rail, his
bottom high and unprotected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sir
Walter step behind him with the dreaded leather strap.

Mulder closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, preparing himself
for the sting of the strap on his already sore bottom.

"Good heavens, peasant boy, you don't need to make such a face. I'm
not going to kill you."

"Just get it over with, will you?" The prince hissed.

"What is this strapping for?"

Mulder looked up at him as if he had suddenly gone insane. "Because I
attacked that big imbecile in the great hall and angered my father."

"No." Skinner nodded his head at the astounded prince. "This set of
three lashes, and the three tomorrow morning, will be for trying to
defend me. <That> is my job. You are not to get between your protector
and danger. I shouldn't even have to tell you that, let alone strap
you for it."

"But he hit you! You were down. I couldn't let him . . . Ouch!"

The strap flashed down on the tender skin right at the top of the
buttocks, leaving a trail of fire in it's wake. The prince, no longer
required to remain silent, made up for lost time with an ear-piercing
shriek.

"Oh yes you could!" Skinner snapped angrily. "You do not put yourself
in danger, ever, unless you want your butt to pay the price. Is that
clear?"

The lash flashed again and this time the line of fire was painted down
low, right on the delicate skin where bottom met thigh. It was also
accompanied by a full-throated scream from the prince.

"Okay! It's clear! Oh-h-h-h-h! Ah-h-h-h-!"

Skinner rolled his eyes, he wouldn't be surprised if The Three could
hear the prince, from their mountain hide-away, the way he was
screaming. "Will you please stop that, peasant boy? You're hurting my
ears and I'm not even hitting you that hard."

"Oh-h-h-h! It hurts. Sore. So sore! Ah-h-h-h!"

Skinner shook his head and landed the last strip halfway down the
young man's thighs. He then pulled him up and hugged him tightly to
his chest. The prince, for his part, immediately placed a hand on each
buttock and carefully tried to rub some of the sting out of his
flaming bottom. His bare feet prancing frantically on the floor and
his disciplinarian's booted toes.

Skinner kissed the distressed prince's face again and again, rubbing
slow soothing circles on his back. Eventually Fox settled down and
stopped crying. Sir Walter pushed him gently to the bed and laid him
face down on the soft mattress. He took the jar of ointment that Dana
had left and began to rub it into the red and mottled skin.

The first reaction that Mulder had to the salve was another scream. It
felt like someone had poured hot oil on his already scalded skin. Then
after the first blast of heat, the ointment began to cool and bring
relief to the burning skin on his butt and legs. The prince sighed
heavily.

"Are you ready to ask for your bedtime spanking now, peasant boy?"

The prince's head shot up off the bed, his once drowsy, hazel eyes,
wide and blinking at Sir Walter in fear and disbelief. The bottom lip
popped out in 

a full-blown pout and started trembling noticeably.

As the wide eyes began to fill with fresh tears, Sir Walter
immediately felt guilty about his little joke. Pulling the young man
up against his chest in another forceful hug. "I'm sorry. I was just
teasing. I wouldn't spank you again tonight. I thought you would know
that. I was trying to cheer you up."

"It did . . . didn't . . . work."

"So I see. Come here." Not relinquishing his hold on the prince,
Skinner laid down on the bed. He pulled the younger man tightly
against him, still gently rubbing his back in slow circles. "Go to
sleep, Fox. You're safe for now."

* * * 

Sir Skinner's Chambers The Next Morning

Mulder lay naked across the foot rail of the bed, his ill-fated bottom
very precisely situated for another three lashes of that virulent
strap. He had been in this embarrassing position for so long now that
he was fearful the servants were going to come in and see his bare
bottom in the air, dutifully waiting for punishment.

He flinched when he finally heard Skinner speak from behind him. "What
is this whipping for, peasant boy?"

"Endangering my life." Mulder sighed. "You know most princes have a
whipping boy to take this for them."

The strap landed explosively right in the middle of the still red
bottom, filling in the gap caused by last night's stripes. The prince
cried out loudly. He couldn't believe it. Only one stroke and his butt
cheeks were on fire again.

"You keep talking like that, peasant boy, and the next time one of the
stable boys acts up, you'll be taking their place on the whipping
block. Old Carl doesn't often get to work over a backside as handsome
as yours, I'm sure he'd enjoy the experience."

The second lash fell on the upper thighs, between numbers two and
three from last night. The prince did not take it quietly and
continued to kick his legs, trying futilely to ease the sting on his
tender legs.

The last stroke fell just above the back of the knees and sent the
prince into a frenzy of squirming and kicking on his elevated perch.
Skinner watched the pretty dancing bottom for a few minutes and then
pulled the prince down to face him.

"Go show your bottom to your father so we can get started with your
lessons today. You still have a lot to learn and I'm afraid we have
very little time left. And try to stay out of trouble, you're going to
be sore enough for a while."

* * * 

Royal Palace Court Yard

An obviously furious prince stalked out to his military instructor and
drew his sword. "Come on, Sir Walter, let get on with today's lesson.
I have things to do later."

"Like spend a little more time across my knee for that attitude of
yours?" The big knight smiled as his prince blushed. "I take it the
meeting with your father this morning did not go well?"

"How could he?" The prince yelled as he began to pace in front of Sir
Walter. "What kind of father does that to his son? He completely
humiliated me in there. Sir Spender and three of those sleazy knights
he has brought in were there. I had to stay bent over and half naked
for an eternity while they all inspected my ass. I've had it! I've
just had it!"

"Peasant boy, I can't begin to explain what your father is thinking,
but you have to keep the bigger picture in mind here. What I mean is
that . . ."

"You'll be spending the day with us, pretty boy."

Mulder and Sir Walter turned to see Sir Arnold and two other equally
large, dark and smirking knights standing before them.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Your father, the king, has given permission for you to accompany us
on a training mission this morning. Sir Spender feels that you will
benefit from time spent with some real knights." Sir Arnold didn't
bother to glance at Sir Walter. He was much too busy running his
lustful eyes over the prince's body.

"I said no." Mulder took a step forward, invading the giant knight's
personal space, his eyes filled with defiance and determination.

It bothered Sir Walter greatly that not only did Sir Arnold not seem
intimidated by the prince's aggressive behavior, he actually seemed to
like the handsome young man's passionate defiance. Fox, of course,
didn't notice this. The prince considered himself dark and dangerous
instead of merely, dark and adorable. Skinner inwardly shook his head
in despair. But then again, this was one of Fox's hidden strengths.
For the pretty young prince was, under the right circumstances, indeed
very dangerous . . . but still adorable.

Skinner was jerked from his musings as Sir Arnold suddenly grabbed the
prince and kissed him full on his luscious mouth. Sir Walter
immediately drew his sword but he was too late. The prince drove the
hilt of his own weapon deep into the stomach of his attacker. The
giant Sir Arnold was driven back, with a mighty grunt, to fall into
his two surprised companions. All three of the foreign knights went
down in a cloud of dust and profanity.

The prince abruptly turned and fled. Skinner saw two of the royal
guard break formation to pursue their errant prince but Sir Walter
signaled for them to halt.

"Give him a few minutes. He'll not go far."

"You don't know Prince Fox very well if you believe that, Sir Walter."
The older of the two guards said with deep conviction. "The only hope
we have is to try to catch him before he has too much of a head
start."

"I'll take care of him. You can go about your business. The prince is
my responsibility and he knows he doesn't have my permission to leave
the palace grounds."

The two royal guards gave each other a yeah, right' look but returned
to their post without further comment.

"He'll pay for that!" Sir Arnold had righted himself and was angrily
dusting off his clothing.

Skinner glared at the three men. "You would be wise to keep a wide
path of Prince Fox. His protectors are many and fierce."

Sir Arnold took an involuntary step back from the dangerous look in
Sir Walter's eye. When he realized what he had done, Sir Arnold
straightened his shoulders. "This isn't finished."

"Not even close." Sir Walter agreed.

* * * 

Royal Gardens 

Two Hours Later

"You going to stay out here all day? Although I must say that is a
very pretty pout."

"I may just stay here all day. And, I'm not pouting."

"Oka-a-a-y."

Mulder glared at his teacher. "Why can't they just leave me alone? Is
that too much to ask?"

"For someone who looks like you? Yeah, it's too much to ask. Surely
you're used to sexual advances?"

"Sexual! Are you crazy? That was no sexual advance, that was a direct
insult to you. He kissed me to draw you out. Then, they were going to
gang up on you. That's as clear as the nose on your face." Fox eyed
Sir Walter's little turned up snout for a moment. "Well, maybe as
clear as the nose on <my> face anyway."

Skinner rubbed a hand over his head. "There's nothing wrong with your
nose or any other part of you for that matter. Wherein lies the
problem. So you think they weren't interested in getting you alone,
and in your pants?"

"Of course not."

"So you were protecting me?"

Mulder looked up, sensing the trap. "Well . ..not protecting, really.
Just sort of . . ."

The prince caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He instantly
threw himself at Sir Walter, knocking the man back, covering the
larger body with his own.

"What the hell!" Skinner felt the arrow whiz past his head just as
Mulder yelped in pain.

Mulder tried desperately to roll the bigger man out of danger, but was
making little progress, as another arrow landed close beside them and
Sir Walter realized they were under attack. He instantly grabbed his
would-be protector and dragged the young prince behind a nearby
fountain. Two more arrows instantly landed where they had just been
lying only moments before. Another arrow bounced off the carved stone
in front of them and then all was quiet.

They waited several minutes, swords out and ready but it appeared the
attack was over. Mulder started to peek around the corner of the
fountain but was promptly pulled back to land heavily on his sore
butt.

"Damn it, boy, stay down!" Skinner hissed as he cautiously looked
around their barricade. When he was certain that the shooter was gone,
he turned to his rebellious charge who still sat in the grass,
glowering at his teacher.

"They weren't after me, you big stupid knight!" Mulder hissed
fiercely.

"Stupid! Stupid, am I? Let's talk about stupid for a minute. <You> are
a royal crown prince of the realm. <I> am a knight of that same realm!
Do you know what that means, little peasant boy?" Skinner grabbed
Mulder by the front of his shirt and dragged his face up until they
were nose to nose. "It means, you little shit, that <I> protect
<you>." He gave the prince a hard shake. "What's so hard to understand
about that?" Another couple of hard shakes sent the prince's teeth
rattling in his mouth.

"They were tr . . .trying to ki . . .kill you!"

Skinner stopped shaking the prince and let him go. The prince
scrambled back away from the enraged knight, blinking at him with
wide, hazel eyes.

Sir Walter looked up at the sky, making a supreme effort to calm down
before he discussed this any further with the irritating brat in front
of him.

"Fox . . . Your Highness . . ." Skinner started out calmly. He then
abruptly gritted his teeth and lunged for the prince, grabbing his
shirt and shaking him again. "If you don't cut this shit out, boy, I'm
going to make sure you can't sit down until you're a doddering old
man! Do you understand me? DO YOU!?!"

"Ye . . .yes, sir!"

Skinner took another deep, calming breath and grabbed his cringing
prince's arm. "You are restricted to our chambers for the rest of the
day. You will polish every piece of my armor until it sparkles. And
then you will start on yours, although I've never seen you actually
wear it. Oh no, that might lend some protection to your royal hide."
He stopped to shake the prince again. "We wouldn't want that, would
we? Oh no, can't stop the reckless prince," Shake! "the only hope for
Meridiem," Shake! "from taking" Shake! "stupid" Shake! "unnecessary"
Shake!! "chances with his own life!" Shake! Shake! Shake! "Now can
we?"

Mulder didn't dare say a word. He carefully maintained his wary and
obedient silence until they had arrived at their chambers. He didn't
even complain as Skinner shooed the page from the room and sat Mulder
roughly down on the floor with a huge pile of heavily tarnished armor.
Nor did he raise his head as his teacher prepared to leave the room.

"Don't even think about requesting anything but a good dose of my
paddle on your bare butt tonight, peasant boy!"

Mulder winced but remained silent. Sighing with relief as the volatile
knight finally closed the door behind him.

Sir Walter returned several hours later, to find a large pile of
tarnished armor, a much smaller pile of polished armor . . .but no
prince!

Sir Walter immediately panicked. They had made an attempt on the
prince's life and failed. Now, he had been kidnaped and would be
killed somewhere far away from the palace and Sir Walter's protection.

The distraught knight dropped down forlornly on the end of the bed and
held his head in his hands. He had no idea where to start looking for
the prince this time.

* * * 

Royal Palace Armory

Prince Fox was desperate to find another jar of cleaning compound and
get back to Sir Walter's chambers before the man discovered he was
missing. He couldn't believe how long it was taking him to polish all
that stuff. It was obvious that Sir Walter had not had anyone polish
his armor for years, if ever.

"Can I help you with something, milord?"

Mulder smiled down at the small page. Roy was only eight years old.
Young to be working at the palace but the boy was an orphan who needed
the king's protection. Prince Fox made certain that the child was not
worked overly hard and was treated well. Mulder was unaware that in
return, he had earned the life-long loyalty of the small boy.

"I need some armor cleaning compound, Royce. Do you know where Sir
Gordon keeps the supplies?"

"Yes, milord. I'll get a jar for you, but why are you in need of such?
You shouldn't be soiling your hands with such labor. I've finished
with my chores, milord, I could help you with whatever task you may
have."

Mulder smiled, picturing the look on Sir Walter's face if he were to
come back and find the little page doing the task he had assigned the
prince. "No, not today, Royce. The job I'm doing had best be completed
alone." He tousled the boys soft brown hair. "Not that you aren't a
fine worker. I hear good things about you from Sir Gordon. You've made
me very proud of you, Royce."

The little boy blushed deeply but couldn't help the wide smile that
split his face. "Th. . .thank you, milord. I'll just go get that
compound for you now."

The prince smiled as the boy scurried away. He had big plans for
Royce. He hoped that someday he would make a fine member of the royal
guard, maybe even a knight. It would be unusual for a peasant boy but
not unheard of.

"Well, well just look what we have here."

Mulder turned to see Sir Arnold and two of his companion knights
approaching. "It's the pretty little prince, and it would seem he's
all alone now. How's the sore bottom, boy? Need me to rub a little
lineament on it for you?" The three foreign knights laughed loudly as
Mulder blushed.

"If I need your help, I'll be sure to let you know." The prince tried
to push past them to the door. "Now if you would excuse me, I have
work to do."

Sir Arnold moved in closer, blocking any escape for the prince. He
reached out and grasped the prince's arm, receiving a pained hiss. Sir
Arnold quickly tore the simple tunic down off the prince's shoulder to
reveal a bloody cloth wrapped loosely around an injured upper arm.

"What's this?"

Mulder raised his other hand to dislodge the knight's grip on his sore
arm, only to have it grabbed in an iron grip by one of the other
knights.

"It's none of your business. Now get your hands off me or I'll knock
you in the dirt again."

Sir Arnold rubbed his free hand roughly over the exposed chest in
front of him. "You would be wise to be a little nicer to me, boy. I
still owe you one for this morning, but I might go easier on you if
you give me what I want."

Mulder struggled harder but could not throw off the hands of the two
knights who now held him tightly, giving their leader complete access
to the half naked body before them. Mulder felt one of Sir Arnold's
callused hands slide down his chest and into his leggings, roughly
stroking his cock, while the other grasped his butt, squeezing
painfully.

"Let go of me, you bastard. I'm the prince, you can't do this to me."

"Oh, but I can, boy, and you can't do a damned thing about it except
just lay back and enjoy my attentions. You'll get used to it in time."

Mulder kicked out with his foot but stopped with a cry of pain as Sir
Arnold tightened his grip on the prince's wounded arm.

Sir Arnold raised his hand to clasp the prince's jaw tightly, lowering
his face to cover Prince Fox's luscious lips with his own. Mulder
tried futilely to turn his face away but the knight's tongue forced
his teeth apart and began a thorough exploration of the prince's warm,
wet mouth.

"Did you bring enough for everyone to share?" The voice behind Sir
Arnold made him freeze. He looked up into dangerous, sparkling, green
eyes. The tall, dark haired man stood with his sword in front of him,
ready for a fight.

"Who the hell are you? Get out of here and mind your own business."

"I made that," Krycek pointed at the still struggling prince, "my
business a long time ago, and I'm not about to let you sample what I
have yet to take for myself."

Sir Walter burst through the door, followed closely by a terrified and
sobbing Royce. The knight pushed the child over toward a far corner
and moved to stand across from Alex, putting the foreign knights and
the prince between them.

"Get your hands off the crown price or face the consequences of your
actions." Skinner hissed, glaring at Sir Arnold until he withdrew his
hand from the front of Mulder's leggings.

"Now move away from the prince." Skinner commanded, his sword at the
ready. His eyes glinting with poorly contained fury.

The three foreign knights released Mulder, only to quickly draw their
swords and face the two angry men. Sir Arnold was feeling uneasy. He
should not have shown his hand so prematurely. Sir Spender would not
be pleased. But the temptation of the beautiful prince, alone and
unprotected, had been just too good to pass up.

"We have no desire to fight over this little misunderstanding." Sir
Arnold smiled in what he hoped was an amicable manner. "There are
plenty of pretty boys for us here at the palace, we apologize for our
mistake. This one dresses so much like a simple peasant, it's
sometimes hard to remember he's a prince. I'm sure <you> understand."
He smiled at Sir Walter shrewdly.

Even as enraged as he was, Sir Walter knew he should let this end
peacefully. To push these knights now would only escalate whatever was
happening here at the palace. And they were not yet ready for an all
out confrontation with Sir Spender.

Sir Walter lowered his sword. "We accept your. . ."

Just then the prince let out an angry growl and catapulted himself
onto Sir Arnold's back. Sir Walter and Krycek had only a moment to
exchange an exasperated roll of the eyes before they thrust themselves
into the all out brawl that was occurring on the armory floor.

Sir Arnold's two companions had managed to pull the hellish prince off
their leader's back and were now holding him down, while Sir Arnold
exacted his revenge in the form of a solid punch to Fox's midsection.
The prince fought back with a strike to Sir Arnold's right eye that
was sure to leave it blackened. The prince took the opportunity
offered by Sir Arnold's moment of stupor to raise his fist for another
blow. Then the added weight of Sir Walter and Krycek joined the fray
and Mulder found himself on the bottom of a pile of five very large
men, with absolutely no way to draw a breath.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Sir Bentley, commander of the
royal guard, and six of his best knights came crashing through the
door. "I'll have you all thrown in the dungeon for this."

The royal guard began pulling the still flailing bodies apart, cursing
and threatening the combatants with the worst kinds of punishment for
this display on royal property. Each fighting man was pulled from the
floor, bloody and disheveled, to be held firmly by a royal guard.

Sir Bentley reached for the slender young man on the bottom of the
pile. His simple home-spun tunic had been torn from his body. Dirt and
blood covered most of his left arm and part of his bare chest. He
appeared to be a peasant or perhaps one of the stable boys. And
obviously the perpetrator of this fiasco.

"And you, I'll hang you up by the heels and take a lash to your
backside." He pulled the filthy young man up by the nape of his neck
and let him dangle from his muscular right arm. Sir Bentley's eyes
widened in shock as dazed hazel eyes half opened to meet his own.

"Your . . .your majesty, wh . . . what are you . . .?"

Sir Walter had managed to break free from his keeper. "Sir Bentley, if
you would put the prince's feet back on the ground, I'm sure
everything can be explained to your satisfaction."

Bentley abruptly released his hold on the young prince, only to have
to catch him once more as Mulder's knees collapsed under him. Sir
Walter actually felt sorry for the stalwart commander of the guard, as
he nervously held his prince in his arms and looked at Sir Walter with
pleading eyes.

Sir Walter relieved the commander of his unwelcome burden, easily
swinging the prince up into his own arms. "Just a friendly little
skirmish among friends, Sir Bentley. I apologize and I'm sure my
fellow knights feel the same."

"I'll . . .I'll have to report this to the .. ." Sir Bentley eyed the
limp body of his prince. "To the king."

"Of course." Sir Walter smiled at the distressed commander. "I'm sure
he'll be most unhappy to hear that his son has been fighting like a
common peasant again. And he does seem to take his anger out on the
messenger quite often, but then I'm sure you're used to that."

The commander looked decidedly uncomfortable with that thought. The
king did have a violent and unpredictable temper. "Well, if you're
sure it was just a friendly little argument, I suppose I could just
overlook . . ."

"Excellent idea, Sir Bentley. Now, I'll just get the prince back to
his chambers and patch him up." He spared one more dangerous glare for
Sir Arnold. Noticed that Alex Krycek was nowhere to be seen and walked
quickly out of the armory with the prince still lying senseless in his
arms.

* * * 

Royal Palace 

Sir Walter's Chambers

Sir Walter arrived at his chambers to find Dana Scully waiting for
him.

"How do you do that?" Skinner demanded as he lay the prince on the
bed.

"I always know when one of you is hurt. It has always been so. Now
move aside, Sliabh, so I can examine Fox."

"When was he shot?" Dana looked up at the knight with accusing eyes.

"Shot!" Skinner leaned down to get a closer look at the prince.

"Yes, his arm. He was grazed by an arrow and not very long ago by the
looks of it."

"The garden." Skinner said in a whisper. "I heard him yelp but I had
forgotten about . .. why didn't he tell me? We came under attack in
the garden this morning. He saved my life and then didn't tell me he
had been hit himself." He eyed the beautiful man lying so innocently
on the bed. "How long will it be before he wakes up so I can kill
him?"

Dana laughed as she spread salve on the wounded arm and wrapped it
securely in a clean, white bandage. "If you only knew how many times
you've said those very same words over the years!"

"I'm not surprised. Is he always like this?"

"Actually, this lifetime he is a little more docile than usual."

"Docile? He's a complete and utter brat!"

"Well, yes. But in some lifetimes he has been completely unmanageable.
But this time he is well liked by his subjects, who see and appreciate
his special genius. And then, of course, I found him early. He was
only fourteen when 

I first . . ."

"Fourteen! You took him to your bed at fourteen?"

"Sliabh, you are always so sexually inhibited. Fox's is not what he
seems. His enemies are unfailingly deceived by his appearance. He may
look young and innocent, but I assure you he is anything but." She
patted Mulder's smooth chest, high on the left side. "In this lovely
body beats the heart of a dangerous adversary and an ingenious sexual
pervert. And I, for one, enjoy every minute of that perversion. As do
you, when you let yourself go a little."

Sir Walter's retort was lost as a low moan sounded from the bed.
Mulder opened his eyes and looked up into the faces of the two people
he loved and feared most in the world. They both wore identical
expressions of equal parts concern and irritation.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Why would you think that, peasant boy? I mean, after all, you merely
got shot by an arrow and then didn't tell me about it. You left our
chambers against my orders. Almost got raped for your trouble.
Attacked a knight who was at least twice your size, while I was trying
to settle the fight peacefully, I might add. Then you ended up
unconscious at the bottom of the pile. Why would I be angry with you,
you little shit?"

Mulder swallowed hard but didn't take his eyes off the big, peeved
knight.

Any further rant by Sir Walter was cut off by a soft knock at the
door.

"Now what!" Skinner bellowed as he opened the door so forcefully it
almost came loose from its hinges.

"I'm . . .I'm sorry." Max Fenig stood timidly in the doorway. "I . .
.I didn't mean to interrupt but I need to see Prince Fox. Oh! Oh,
there you are." The nervous little man spared one more frightened look
at the intimidating knight and moved quickly to stand by the bed,
where the prince had painfully pulled himself into a sitting position.

The prince tried to sooth the gentle little man's nerves. "It's okay,
Max. He won't hurt you. He saves that for me. Now, what can I do for
you today?"

"It's the Nuvega. They attacked my village last night and took
everyone away." He glanced around the room, running his tongue
nervously over his lips. "I'm afraid they're going to turn them all
into mindless drones like they have the Big Foot. I don't want my
people to march against the palace. We have been loyal to the House of
Mulder for hundreds of years. The Nuvega have no right to mutate the
elves against our will."

Mulder was struggling from the bed, holding his left arm gingerly in
his right hand. "We have to go! Sir Walter, get our horses. Dana, you
need to go back to your home. You'll be safe there!"

He made exactly two steps before a small but strong hand landed on his
shoulder and pulled him back down on his ass. He looked up into
furious blue eyes.

"How many hundreds of years have we fought this battle, Fox?"

"You know I don't remember other past lives, Dana." Mulder whined.
"Not that I don't believe you but . . ."

"Don't you try to use that tired excuse on me again. Just last month,
we had this very same conversation, didn't we? We found that poisonous
snake down by the river, and you pushed me back so I would be out of
danger. You do remember what happened next, don't you, Fox?"

"I remember."

"And who finally killed the snake?"

"You did. But it wasn't my fault, I slipped on that muddy bank. By the
time I found my sword again, you had already sliced and diced it to
pieces."

"Yes, and I can do the same thing to the Nuvega. Now get your ass up
off that bed and let's go. You try to protect me one more time,
Mulder, and someone is going to have to protect you from me!"

She turned and pointed her finger at Sir Walter. "And I don't want to
hear one word from you either. I don't care if you think the Nuvega
are as solid as smoke and as visible as air. Go get the horses and a
battalion of the royal guard. We have to help Max. Now, move it!"

Skinner scrambled for the door, while Mulder dug frantically for his
little used suit of armor. He had no doubt that trying to leave the
palace without said armor would just land him in more trouble with
Dana and Sir Walter.

* * *

Elfin Village of Fenig Four Hours Later

The village was deserted. The prince was slowly circling the
perimeter, looking for any clue that would tell what direction the
captives had been taken.

Skinner watched for several long, agonizing minutes and then turned to
the ever serene sorceress Dana. "What is he doing? We need to move.
They already have a head start on us. We're just wasting time here."

"Calm yourself, Sliabh. His great gift is the solving of puzzles. We
must allow him this time to search for a sign." She looked up and into
the eyes of the impatient knight. "You already know what I say is
true. He is a truth seeker and the truth comes to him in many ways.
Ways you and I cannot even understand, have never understood. Don't
you remember?"

And from somewhere deep inside him, Skinner felt the tickle of long
forgotten memories. Watching that same tall, elegant body walking
slowly, staring intently at the ground, looking for what no one else
could see. Finding the answers that lay hidden from all eyes but his
own. Skinner felt the world begin to spin around his head.

"Yes, I . . ."

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Are you all right, sir?" Skinner
looked up into beautiful, worried hazel eyes. At a man he had many
times, and would many times again, protect with his very life. Somehow
he knew this to be as true as the sun that shown down upon them. As
sure at the darkness that would come with nightfall. This man was
extraordinary. A hero. A savior of the innocent. And was Sir Walter's
responsibility to guard until death separated them once again.

"I'm . . .I'm fine. What did you find, Fox?"

"The Nuvega have bound the elves with their black magic. They are
taking them north into the black hills of the Enorus mountain range.
We have to get to them before they reach their stronghold or all of
the Fenig will be lost.

* * * 

Enorus Mountain Trail Late Afternoon

Three hours into their trek north, Mulder had begun to sense the
location of the elves. Dana used her magic to close the distance
between them and now they lay on a high cliff overlooking the winding
mountain trail.

The prince was fascinated by his first sight of the Nuvega. Sir Walter
was trying desperately to fit what he was seeing into a neat little
category that could be easily explained.

The Nuvega, passing slowly under them, were a sight to behold. Small
grey skinned creatures, hairless, with wide almond shaped eyes. They
looked fine boned, delicate almost, until you looked more closely.
Under the translucent grey skin, strong, corded muscle could be seen.
They were dressed in animal furs and rode atop strange looking beasts
of burden. Their mounts were heavily pelted and horned, walking
upright on their front legs and occasionally calling out to each other
with an ear-splitting scream, sounding somewhere between the roar of a
lion and the bark of a dog.

Their elfin captives were on foot, trailing in the dust kicked up by
the Nevega and their fearsome animals. The Fenig elves seemed
disoriented and sluggish. Moving like zombies behind their evil
masters.

The prince looked back at his tired and dusty battalion. Six strong
men, Sir Walter, Dana, Max and himself making ten. The Nuvega numbered
at least two dozen, maybe more. And who knew whose side the bewitched
elves would take when the battle began.

Dana placed a hand on his arm, gaining his immediate attention.
"Doesn't Clyde live in this area?"

"Ah, Dana, no. Don't make me ask the Bruckman Brothers for help. Ple-
e-ease."

"Call them, Alainn."

"Da-a-a-ana. I'm the Dragon Slayer. How will it look is I ask them for
help? And what do I do next year when they squat on my lands again? I
won't do it. Besides you saw how cowardly Clyde was about that whole
fighting thing. What makes you think he'll come to frighten the
Nuvega?"

"Clyde doesn't want to fight you, Alainn. He's always had a soft spot
in his heart for you."

"For me! It's you he's always lusted after. I'm surprised he hasn't
tried to steal you away to keep in that dingy little cave of his."

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Alainn. And besides, just because he
baits you and predicts horrible ways you're going to die doesn't mean
anything. He's just teasing you. No matter what form he takes when he
reincarnates, he always finds us just so he can harass you. I think
it's his one true joy in whatever life he's living. And, you <never>
really die the way he says you will. It always happens in some other
gruesome manner."

"That's a real comfort, Dana."

"Call him."

"No."

Sir Walter finally reached the end of his rope. "What the hell are you
talking about?" He bellowed. Dana slapped a hand over his mouth and
looked down at the procession below. Only a couple of the elves looked
up to the where they lay hidden. The two Fenig immediately lowered
their eyes and continued to follow the Nevega north.

"Not so loud, Walter." Dana shook her head at the knight. "What has
gotten into you lately?"

"Who do you want him to call?" Walter tried desperately to sound calm
and controlled.

"The Bruckman Dragons."

Skinner eyed her. "You mean that dragon he wanted to kill with that
ridiculously humongous sword of his?"

"Hey, that's a family heirloom." Mulder yelled indignantly.

"Will you two stop shouting or this whole conversation will be mute,
as we mindlessly travel along behind the Nuvega ourselves." She
watched as Mulder turned back to his surveillance, a pout the only
indication of his vexation with this conversation. She turned to an
equally irritated Sir Walter.

"Yes, the same dragon that faced Mulder."

"Humph!" Mulder snorted but kept his eyes on the Nuvega.

"Okay." Dana glared at the prince, before turning back to the knight.
"The dragon that Mulder tried to get to fight him, was Clyde. He and
his two brothers live in a cave near here. Did you think that was the
first time that Mulder had threatened to kill that particular dragon?"

"Well, yeah." Sir Walter admitted. "I didn't even know dragons existed
until then, let alone participated in repeat grudge matches with
reckless and irresponsible, young, dragon slayers."

Dana giggled. "Every year, it's the same old thing. One of the
brothers manages to roust himself enough to come down on to the royal
grounds. Then our fearless prince, over here, rushes off to . . ."

"I'm the Dragon Slayer. It's my job." Mulder pouted again.

"I'm sorry, of course, my mistake. The Dragon Slayer," she pointed at
Mulder, "rushes off to defend his lands. The dragon talks him out of
fighting . . ."

"<You> talk me out of fighting." Mulder sulked.

Dana sighed. "Fine. <I> talk him out of fighting. He lets the dragon
go and next year they start all over again. But now," she elbowed the
prince, "we need them to help us free the elves."

"Those dragons are just big and green, Dana." Mulder pulled his eyes
away from the fascinating Nuvega to look at her. "They're worthless."

"They can predict the future." Dana replied.

Mulder's chin hit the ground. "Ha! They know how someone is going to
die. That's it! Not when! Not how to prevent it! Just how! What
possible good is that to anyone?"

"All right, I'll admit it isn't a highly useful talent but a talent,
none the less. But don't forget there is a lot to be said for being
big, green and fire-breathing. If they can distract the Nuvega, even
for a few minutes, maybe we can get in and release the elves and still
live to talk about it."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue some more but realized that Dana had
that look in her eyes. The one that said she was not going to be
swayed.

"Fine! I'll call them but don't be surprised if they either don't come
at all or run at the first sight of a Nevega."

"Wait!" Skinner held up his hand, his face the picture of
bewilderment. "How is Fox going to call them. You're the sorceress,
Dana, shouldn't you be the one to perform such magic?"

"No, Sliabh, the prince is attuned to all of his subjects, whether
they be human, dragon or those disgusting little fairies. All hear his
mind-call. He is Prince Fox the Truth Seeker, soon to be the Wizard
King, Savior of Meridiem. Surely, you noticed there was something
different about him?"

"Yeah, I noticed he was different all right." Skinner rolled his eyes
for emphasis. "I just don't understand this wizard thing. I've seen no
magic done by him."

"You've seen only what you wanted to see, Slaibh. You explain away the
magic with your logic. It has always been so. I promise you, all will
be explained later. Right now, Alainn must call Clyde and his
brothers." She looked over at the prince pointedly. "It should have
been done all ready."

Mulder sighed heavily, and closed his eyes, his brow furrowing with
concentration. He opened them a few minutes later. "There, done! Now
we better be coming up with anther plan for when the Bruckman Brothers
decide to tuck those scaly tails between their legs and hide a little
deeper in their cave."

Dana turned to Sir Walter. "Get the men ready to move. If the dragons
show up, position yourself between the elves and the Nevega. I'll cast
a quick spell on the Fenig and hope to counteract the black
enchantment they are under at the moment. When that happens, we have
to move and move fast."

Skinner nodded and went to ready his knights. He had only gotten a few
steps, before he was tumbled on his butt. He quickly picked himself up
and hurried to assume command of his battalion of warriors.

Mulder and the sorceress watched as a cloud of dust appeared in front
of the momentarily stunned Nevega. As the ground stopped shaking and
the dust settled the Nevega found themselves face to face with three
giant, fire-breathing dragons.

The world instantly dissolved into chaos. The beasts under the Nevega
wanted no part of dragons and promptly threw their riders to the hard
ground, bolting for the nearest route of escape.

Dana quickly cast her spell as the men rushed to free the elves. The
Fenig, though still dazed, reacted immediately upon sight of Prince
Fox. It took only one command from him to run and they scattered into
the hills.

Dana cast another spell on the Nevega and they promptly vanished
before the astonished eyes of Sir Walter and his knights.

Now it was Sir Walter's turn to whine. "Da-a-a-na, why did you do
that? We could have killed them. Now we'll just have to face them
again."

"Oh Sliabh, you always turn into such a big, old, blood-thirsty thing
once we start to battle our foes. What I have done is better than kill
them. Those twenty-six Nevega are now mentally keyed to Prince Fox. He
will be able to track them wherever they go. Very useful in a war,
don't you think?"

A slow smile spread across Sir Walter's handsome face. "Dana, remind
me to never underestimate you. You're beautiful . ..and brilliant."

"I think I've heard that a time or two before too, Walter."

Suddenly the ground shook so furiously that everyone was thrown down
onto the rocky ground. The prince rose coughing and dusting off his
clothing. He quickly reached down, helping Dana to her feet.

The prince looked over his shoulder and moaned dramatically. "Not
again!"

Sir Walter looked over to see one of the dragons lying on the ground,
his two brothers fanning him frantically.

"That's Bruce." Dana giggled. "He's not exactly the brave one of the
family."

"As if there is such a distinction." Mulder sneered as he made his way
over to the dragons. "Is he all right this time?"

"What do you care?" Clyde didn't even bother to look at the pesky
Dragon Slayer. "You almost scared him to death last year. You know he
doesn't believe in violence, but you just continued to bait him. It
was six months before we could even get him to leave the cave after
that."

"I said I was sorry." Mulder pouted.

"Oh just save that lip for your gullible friends. We know what a bully
you really are. We came when you called, like the loyal little dragons
we are. Now just get away and let us take care of Bruce."

Dana came forward and gently pushed Mulder aside. "Here let me help."
She laid her hands on the downed dragon's big, horned head. After only
a few seconds he began to moan and stir about. "There, good as new."

Clyde smiled down at the healer. "Thank you, Dana. If the Bruckman
Brothers can ever be of assistance to you, please have your diabolical
little companion call us. Why you even bother to hang around with him
is more than I can understand. He's eventually going to be burned at
the stake you know."

The dragon felt supreme satisfaction as the prince grimaced and
quickly turned away.

"Clyde," Dana chided gently. "You know he's afraid of fire. Don't
tease him so."

"What other joy does a dragon get? And besides he deserves it. All
this Dragon Slayer nonsense. You would think, after all these years,
that we'd be beyond such stereotypes."

Bruce was on his feet once more, a little chartreuse and leaning
heavily on his brother, Lenny, but none the less, up and moving. Dana
crooked her finger at Clyde and the big dragon lowered his head to
her. She sweetly kissed his green-scaled cheek.

"Thank you, old friend."

"Anything for you, my lady." The dragon was blushing profusely but
still inordinately pleased by the kiss.

* * * 

The Dark Woods 

Dana's House

"No!"

"Don't you no' me, peasant boy. I can't even remember all the things
you've done today that deserve a good thrashing. I do remember that I
was determined to punish you thoroughly and that was before that whole
dragon fiasco. You can't bait a dragon, son. They're bigger than you
are. Now come over here and get over my knee right now."

The prince came, all right, but instead of getting over the knight's
knee as instructed, he landed unceremoniously in Sir Walter's lap and
plastered his royal lips to that of his startled teacher's.

Sir Walter resisted for just a few moments but then gave in, kissing
the pretty prince back for all he was worth.

Dana smiled to herself. This was not the first time this had happened,
either. Of course, Sir Walter would come to his senses in the morning
and the price would pay for his little diversionary tactics. But, it
would be fun while it lasted.

Sir Walter moaned loudly. The big, ferocious knight protector had a
couple of real weak spots. One had sparkling hazel eyes and an
incredibly sexy lower lip. The other .. .she smiled and began to
slowly unbutton her blouse.

Of course, Sir Walter was right, the prince did deserve some
punishment. He had nearly driven his military instructor to the brink
of insanity today. She snapped her fingers and four soft pieces of
rope appeared at each corner of the large bed.

Another snap, and the clothing disappeared from the two entangled men.
Dana stood quietly, admiring the view she had just created. Not that
the men had noticed yet. Walter had his tongue at least halfway down
Mulder's throat and the prince seemed completely content with the
arrangement.

The prince yelped as he looked down at himself. One second he had been
kissing Walter and the next, he was securely tied, spread eagle, to
the four corners of the bed. He looked up at Dana, his lip out in a
pretty pout once more.

Walter also looked up at Dana questioningly. A large feather appeared
in Sir Walter's hand, another in Dana's.

"Ready to punish our bad boy, Sir Walter?" Dana flicked the feather at
him as he smiled back at her. Without another word, they advanced on
their captive.

"No . . .wait! Don't!" Mulder squirmed frantically. "You don't want to
do this! Please, no!"

The End Part 5

Chapter 6 Knight Time in the Realm By DiAnn

Dana's Cottage

Mulder stared in wide-eyed horror as Sir Walter and Dana approached
him.

"You don't want to do this." He pleaded from his spread-eagle position
on the bed.

Dana twirled her feather at him. "Oh but I think we do." She purred.
"You've been a very naughty boy, Fox. A very naughty boy, indeed."

Dana sat on the side of the bed, her sparkling blue eyes never leaving
the wide, fearful hazel ones staring up at her. She lowered her mouth
to the prince's lush lips, running her pink tongue over his lower lip
and then slipping it inside to thoroughly explore his mouth.

The prince moaned deep in his throat and opened his mouth more fully
for her. He moaned again, as he felt the light caress of a feather
start at his ankle, and move slowly up the inside of his leg. It
brushed lightly over the head of his cock and then coursed a delicate
trail down the inside of the other thigh.

Mulder shivered. Dana released his mouth, only to gently kiss, then
lick his left nipple. Her hand moved and the wispy end of the other
feather came to torment his right nipple.

Mulder suddenly let out a wild shriek as Sir Walter brought his
feather to bear on the bottom of the prince's sensitive feet. Mulder
jerked desperately in his bonds. Finally, that tormenting feather
moved, only to take up residence on his tender ribs.

"Ple-e-e-ease! Stop! Stop!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears. It would appear that the only one who
wanted to stop this little game, was the prince. The feathers seemed
to be everywhere on his body at once, as were the hot, skillful lips
and gently exploring hands of his two lovers. No sooner would he
resister the anguish of the feather tickling him, than it would be
replaced by the equally overwhelming sensation of wet, sucking lips.

The feathers attacked his legs, feet, chest, butt, cock and balls with
meticulous intensity. Each mind-altering sweep of the feather was
immediately followed by a gently stroking finger or sweetly scalding
lips. It took very little time before the prince's moans had turned to
uninhibited, pleading screams.

Abruptly, Mulder felt his ankles released from their restraints as his
legs were magically pushed to his shoulders and spread widely, opening
him completely. His head thrashed back and forth on the soft pillow,
tears of yearning pain and fierce pleasure coursing down his cheeks.

He heard Dana's soft voice whispering close to his ear. "Sh-h-h-h,
quiet now, Alainn. My beautiful, beautiful Fox. Walter and I are going
to make it so good for you. Better than anything you've ever felt
before. We love you, Alainn. We love you with all our hearts."

The prince felt Sir Walter's huge member pressing at his opening. He
tried desperately to push his hips forward to impale himself, but Sir
Walter held him back. Making him wait. Making him go slowly,
carefully. Prince Fox didn't care about careful at this point. He was
on the verge of insanity. He wanted to come. He had to find release
and he wanted . . . no, <had> to find that sweet release now.

Dana was kissing him again. So wet. So hot. His beautiful Dana. The
love of his life. The soul of his heart. Without her, he couldn't
live, wouldn't want to try. He felt Sir Walter slowly enter him. His
knight. His rock, protector and savior. His love.

Dana's temptress lips traveled down to enclose him in her hot,
scalding mouth. Mulder was sure he was going to fly into a million
pieces at any moment. He felt his whole body tense as he screamed and
screamed, coming. He came hard and kept coming. He was blinded to
everything around him. He was deaf except to the laborious pounding of
his own heart. He was dying, and he didn't regret one minute to it.
Then the world went black around him.

Dana's Cottage 

The Next Morning

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Walter glared at the prince. "Get up here,
peasant boy."

"I want to ride my own horse!" Mulder stomped his foot in frustration
as he eyed the big hand that was stretched down to him.

He knew he was supposed to grab the hand and be lifted to ride in
front of Sir Walter, but he was not in the mood for any of those
particular games today. A ride with Sir Walter always meant a good
scolding, a thorough grope or something far worse. And, quite frankly,
Mulder was still ticked off about those feathers last night.

Dana couldn't help but smile fondly as the two men faced off against
each other. Her beautiful Alainn would lose, of course. He always did.
But it was still fun to watch Walter spit and sputter in indignant
astonishment. Unable to even begin to comprehend that Fox would dare
to defy him.

"You <will> ride with me. I have several issues that I wish to discuss
with you." Sir Walter made a swipe at the younger man but Fox danced
agilely out of the way of the huge, grasping hand.

Sir Walter withdrew his hand and sat back in his saddle. He shook his
head sadly and let it drop forward onto his chest. "We cannot continue
like this, your highness. I have failed you. You need a military
instructor who can gain your respect, and help you prepare for what
lies ahead. I am not that man. I will inform the king of my inadequacy
as soon as we return to the palace."

Mulder stood very still, gazing at the disheartened knight. "I . . .I
don't want a different instructor, Sir Walter."

"No, Prince Fox, I must insist. You deserve far better than me. I have
taught you nothing. Given you nothing. I am a failure."

Mulder ran up to the despondent knight. "That isn't true, sir. I do
respect you and I know my father . . . Ah-h-h-h!"

As soon as the prince was within reach, Sir Walter's arm swooped down
and pulled his pesky student up to lie face-down across the saddle.

"Hey . . . let me up!"

Sir Walter delivered a hard smack to the backside turned so
conveniently up to him. "Shut up, brat. If you don't start obeying my
orders, I'm going to make you rue that first day you laid eyes on me."

"What makes you think I don't rue that day now? Ouch!"

Dana walked up to Sir Walter's war-horse. Mulder's head was hanging
down almost touching the belly of the huge beast. She put her hands on
the prince's dark head and lifted his face to meet her own.

"At least you're down here where I can give you a proper kiss good-
by." She brought her lips to his softly at first, and then
intensifying the pressure until she heard him moan into her mouth. She
slipped her tongue between his full lips, and felt him tremble with
passion as she explored his mouth one last time. She finally pulled
away, gratified to see dazed, hazel eyes staring back at her from a
handsome, flushed face.

As Mulder began to come back to himself a little, he realized that he
had been so engrossed in Dana's kiss he hadn't noticed what Sir Walter
was up to. And it would seem the knight had been a very busy man.
Mulder twisted to look over his shoulder just in time to see Skinner's
knife finish it's task, and the entire backside of Mulder's leggings
being pulled away. The prince's bare bottom now lay fully exposed to
the early morning sun.

"Hey!"

Sir Walter ignored the prince as he waved to Dana and gently kicked
his horse into motion, holding tightly to the irascible young man
clinging to the saddle in front of him. They rode for several miles at
a gentle pace but still kicking up enough dust to make the prince
cough and choke in his uncomfortable position.

"Can I please get up now?" Mulder yelled up at the knight, trying
desperately to make his voice sound compliant. He succeeded to a
certain extent, the sarcastic tone he had feared would register in his
voice came out as more of a little-boy whine. And while whining wasn't
very dignified, it was still safer than blatant insubordination.

"You'll stay right where you are." Sir Walter patted his naked butt.
"Maybe the breeze will help to cool your hot bottom."

"But I don't have a . . ."

The Knight's big hand came down with a loud crack on his bare
backside. Mulder gasped in surprise.

"What were you saying, peasant boy?"

Mulder swallowed hard as the horse stopped its forward movement,
standing steady under him. "Nothing, Sir."

"Why are you getting this spanking?"

"Spanking? Right now? But . . ."

"Yes. A spanking. Right now. Now what is it for?"

Mulder sighed in resignation. "I . . .I tried to protect you." Smack!
Smack! Smack! "Ouch! And I left our chambers after you told me not
to." Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "Ah-h-h-h! And I got
hurt and didn't tell you! Oh, please stop! And I . . ."

Smack! Smack! "That's enough for this spanking." Smack! Smack! Smack!
"By the time we reach our destination," Smack! Smack! "I expect to
have a very repentant," Smack! Smack! "humbled," Smack! Smack! "and
sore" Smack! Smack! Smack! "prince on my hands." Smack! Smack!

Skinner continued to spank him until the prince was crying and kicking
for all he was worth. His heart-felt and desperate pleas for mercy
falling on the uncaring ears of his chastiser.

"Will you be throwing yourself into danger and disobeying orders in
the future, boy?"

"No! Ouch! Never! Never again!"

The Knight laid his hand on the reddened bottom in front of him and
urged the horse forward. Mulder groaned as he closed his eyes against
the dust being kicked up in his face by the giant hooves. It was hard
to breathe, what with the dust, the horse smell and the awkward
position of his stomach across the hard saddle.

"Can't I get up now, sir? I can't breath down here."

"No."

"At least pull my tunic down, please, sir."

"No. I quite like the view that I have. Your bottom is a very stunning
shade of red, glowing so prettily in the sun."

Sir Walter pulled a jar of oil from his pack, pouring a tiny amount in
the center of the prince's buttocks and rubbing it in thoroughly. He
carefully inserted one slick finger, waiting for the inevitable moan
of pleasure. When the prince was ready, Sir Walter inserted a second
finger.

"Wh... . . .what are you going to do?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question, peasant boy."

"But someone could see us!"

"It's possible."

"You plan to have sex with the future king in public?" The prince
sputtered out from his uncomfortable position, still hanging by the
horses sweaty undersides.

"It will only be as public as you wish to make it, peasant boy. Now
sit up here and carefully lower yourself onto my shaft."

"What? Th . . .that won't work!"

"Of course it will. Come on, that's it, my beautiful prince."

Mulder carefully lowered himself onto the erect cock of the knight. At
first he could feel nothing but the burning pain as his own weight
forced him down onto the huge shaft that stretched and filled him so
fully. But slowly . . .oh, so very slowly, the pain eased and the
pleasure began.

Sir Walter kept a firm hold on the prince, with one hand on each side
of his slim waist, making certain the young man didn't impale himself
too quickly, causing injury to himself. True to form, Skinner
controlled the process from beginning to end. He slowly lowered the
prince's hot buttocks until they were flush with his lap. Skinner was
sure nothing could ever feel this wonderful again.

The prince was now seated fully on Sir Walter's lap, his head thrown
back on the knight's broad shoulder. He felt fingers on his erect
penis and looked down to see Sir Walter securing him with a very thin
leather strap. He was now very familiar with this process. It was to
keep him from reaching orgasm. Sir Walter had used it on him many
times and, it was extremely effective.

When Mulder had been satisfactorily bound, Sir Walter pulled him back
tight against his chest penetrating him to the hilt, and urged the
horse forward. Even this slow movement of the horse caused the knight
to find himself with an armful of moaning, squirming prince. Sir
Walter was glad he had taken precautions to delay his own
satisfaction.

They traveled for almost an hour before they heard the wagon
approaching.

Two fat monks driving a lumbering wagon approached. "Prince Fox! How
honored we are to see you on this fine day. And Sir Walter, how nice
to see you again as well. You haven't visited us lately, your
highness, and you've been sorely missed. We have some more of those X-
Scrolls that interest you so much."

"I'll . . .I'll stop by soon fa . . .father."

The plump monk's smile vanished instantly. "Is something wrong, Prince
Fox? You look a little flushed, and your eyes would appear to be
glazed. Would you like Father Ryan here to take a look at you? He's a
fine healer, one of our best."

"No! I mean, no, father. I'm . . .I'm fine, really."

"His was just punished, good father," Skinner said helpfully. "He
received a sound spanking for disobedience, disrespect and
recklessness."

Mulder glared at the suddenly loose-lipped knight, and was given a
little jerk back into the saddle for his efforts. The prince gasped
loudly, closing his eyes as he was impaled further on the knight's
mighty shaft. The monks nodded knowingly to each other, thinking the
prince's discomfort came from nothing more than a deservedly sore
bottom sitting on a hard saddle.

"Excellent, Sir Knight! More errant boys should be treated as such,
even if they are the Crown Prince of Meridiem. We always knew he would
make a fine king, but with you as his teacher, we can indeed expect
great things from his future rule."

"Thank you, kind father." Skinner smiled humbly. "It is indeed a
hardship to train this particular prince, but the benefits of seeing
him stretch himself to his fullest capacity is an supreme pleasure for
me."

"Bless you, my son! Prince Fox will be a highly skilled and
experienced king for your efforts, Sir Walter."

"Yes, father. I demand that Prince Fox use and improve upon his
natural talents to the fullest. He is, indeed, becoming more well-
trained every day."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Prince Fox, you are most fortunate to have such
a seasoned and dedicated tutor."

"I kn . . .know . . .fath . . .father."

"Both of you stop by the monastery when you can. I'll save those
scrolls for you, Prince Fox. Be sure to please Sir Walter with your
lessons."

"I can assure you, I am most pleased at the moment, father."

"Good. Good." The two monks urged their tired horse down the road,
their rickety, old wagon rattling loudly as they continued on their
way.

"Yes indeed, peasant boy, I am most pleased and happy at the moment."
He kissed Mulder's flushed cheek and kicked his horse into a trot.
Mulder gasped at the pounding he was now taking. Every time the
horses's hooves made contact with the hard ground, Sir Walter's hard
shaft was driven deeper inside his tender opening.

The constant bounce and rock was driving the prince to distraction. He
groaned loudly, throwing his head back on the shoulder behind him, his
body now nothing more than a collection of overly sensitized nerve
endings. And all of these heady sensations were centered solely in his
tightly stretched anus and throbbing, bound cock.

"Please . . .please, sir. Cou . . .couldn't we slow down . . .a
little?"

"I'm finding this quite enjoyable, peasant boy. I would think someone
with your lust for adventure would have learned to just lay back and
enjoy the ride by now."

Prince Fox's only answer was another deep, heartfelt groan as he
turned to hide his hot, flushed face in the side of Sir Walter's
throat.

The knight chuckled, and then gasped himself as the horse shifted to
the left slightly to miss a small hole, providing a quick, sharp,
twisting motion to the two joined men. Sir Walter was sure this was
the most wonderful experience of his life, as his member shimmied and
bounced further up into the tight, hot opening that had swallowed him.
Mulder, for his part, was sure he would never be able to walk again.
Not that it mattered, he was certain to die of this almost unbearable
pleasure-pain long before they reached the castle.

The rest of the trip, back to the palace, was most pleasant for Sir
Walter. The magic potion, that Dana had so graciously supplied for him
,began to wear off and the hot, tight confines of the prince's body,
in combination with the rocking of the horse, brought the knight to
fulfillment three spectacular times.

He finally took pity on the whimpering prince, and released his bound
staff, allowing him a much needed but devastating release. When the
prince regained consciousness, he found himself sitting bare bottomed
on the leather saddle, with Sir Walter sucking happily on his ear.

* * * 

Realm of Meridiem 

Royal Palace

When they finally arrived at the palace, Prince Fox lost no time in
making his way to their chambers to change out of his damaged
leggings.

Sir Walter thought to follow him. After all, Prince Fox without his
clothing was one of the knight's favorite sights.

Unfortunately, the Lady Diana had other ideas, and was waiting for the
knight as he entered the castle. She slithered up to him, nonchalantly
rubbing her breasts against his arm.

"Sir Walter, where have you been?" The brazen woman sulked prettily.
"It's just so boring here when you're off with Fox. He really does
take up too much of your time. Perhaps, you would like me to take it
up with the king? I'm sure he would . . ."

"No! No, my lady. I was brought here to train Prince Fox to take his
place as the next king. I must make him my utmost priority. I'm sure
you understand. And now, if you will excuse me, I have to go up to .
.."

"Just one more thing, Sir Walter." She rubbed her hand up and down his
muscular arm, making Sir Walter break out in a cold sweat.

"The royal tournament has been moved up to next week. The king and
queen as most eager to find some means to entertain me while I'm here.
It's so sweet of them, really. Especially since Fox doesn't seem
interested in paying me the proper respect or lavish me with the
attention that I deserve."

"But . . .next week? Are you certain that will be enough time to
notify the other realms? I'm sure all the most notable lords and
ladies will want to be here to pay honor to you, my lady. Next week
seems hardly enough time for them to make their way here by coach. And
what of the knights who wish to compete in the tournament, surly they
will be hard pressed to lay aside their other duties to quickly?"

"Oh you needn't worry yourself about that, the castle is already
filling rapidly. Much has happened while you were off wasting your
time on Fox. You know, you really should just forget about him, he'll
never be the ki. . .well, never mind, enough about Fox. I have some
wonderful news for you. I have chosen you to be my personal guard for
the week, and the king has agreed. We'll spent practically every
minute together." She looked up at the handsome knight through her
lashes in what she hoped was a totally beguiling manner. "Won't that
be wonderful?"

"I am most sorry, my lady, but I must decline your generous offer.
It's my duty to protect the prince. He is my primary responsibility
and with so many strange knights at the palace, I would feel
uncomfortable if I left his safety in the hands of others."

"Oh nonsense! Fox will be well watched. Heaven knows, all of the women
and most of the men will have their eye on him. Why, I will never
understand," she huffed. "I mean, granted he is a beautiful man, if
you like young, pretty boys, but I prefer my lovers to be older and
more experienced." She simpered up at him once more, moving closer and
rubbing her hand over his crotch.

"My Lady Diana, please . . ."

"Leave him alone, Diana."

The knight and the lady turned in unison to see the prince standing a
few feet away, a scowl on his handsome face.

"Oh Fox," Lady Diana was obviously miffed at the interruption of her
seduction. "You can be such a bore at times. Sir Walter and I haven't
finished our conversation yet. Just go amuse yourself until he's
free."

"Since you are destined to be my wife, Diana, I suggest you start
learning to obey my commands." His voice remained soft and low but now
there was a dangerous edge there that Sir Walter had never heard
before.

Diana's gaped at the prince, her eyes spitting angry green sparks. "So
the little kitten of a prince wants to show his teeth. I won't have
it, Fox."

"Just because I never deemed it worth my while to bite you, Diana,
doesn't mean I didn't always have teeth. There is much you don't know
about me. I would suggest you heed this warning the first time. I will
rule Meridiem and you, as queen, will fall under that rule. Don't test
me. You will be very sadly surprised, I'm afraid."

"I'll just go to the king about this! You can't tell me what to do."

The voice never raised but the dangerous glint in the prince's eye
remained. "Can't I? More than one defiant queen has lost her head for
her folly. I would hate to see you follow such a path."

"You dare threaten me?" Diana gasped, her eyes wide with shock.

"My threats can more often be discerned as promises, my lady. Heed
them well."

Diana opened her mouth as if to argue further but then seemed to wilt
under the prince's deadly scrutiny. She turned swiftly to find her own
quarters.

The prince watched her leave and then turned, only to find his
military instructor staring at him with both eyebrows raised, shock
clear on his face.

Mulder laughed. "Surely you didn't believe I was always the sweet,
compliant little prince that I let you see?"

"Sweet and compliant? Hardly the words I would use to describe you.
But I have to admit that was a new side. I've seen your intelligence
and your courage but I just. . ."

"Thought that if I allowed you to control me, then I would allow the
lovely Diana to do the same?"

"<Allow> me, do you? Perhaps you plan to have me beheaded as well?"

The prince laughed. "I would never dare, you would no doubt turn the
executioner on me. Besides which, I need you. You are my rock and my
strength, Sir Walter. You will always have a relationship with the
king that few others can claim." The prince's hazel eyes sparkled with
mischief. "In his bed and out of it."

The prince laughed again as Sir Walter blushed crimson.

The prince held up his hand to stop the knight from further comment.
"Save your threats, and you can also stop grinding your teeth like
that. I know you plan to torture me later for my disrespect but right
now we have visitors waiting for us in the library."

Sir Walter eyed the prince warily. There had been a time when the
announcement of visitors would have elicited little more than mild
curiosity but now . . . who knew who or even <what> might be lurking
behind that library door.

As they neared the portal leading to the library, Sir Walter pushed
the prince behind him and entered first. He ignored the exasperated
sigh that came from his charge, looking warily around the room. There
was no one there. He started to turn to ask the prince if this was a
trick of some sort, when he heard the whispers. There was someone in
the room. At least two people, because he could hear them arguing.

"it's my turn!"

"No, I must disagree. You told him last time, it's my turn."

"I did not. I distinctly remember that you met him down by the
abandoned mill and . . ."

Mulder had managed to elbow his way around the big, stupefied knight
and walk into the room.

"It's me. You can come out now. It's just myself and Sir Walter."

Sir Walter looked warily around the room. Nothing. He stood patiently
staring at every shadowy corner, but could see no one in the room. He
started to point this out to the prince when he noticed a slight,
rustling movement in one inky alcove.

A large shape separated itself from the darkness and moved toward Fox.
The knight immediately drew his sword, angling to put himself between
the beast and his prince.

Mulder laid a hand on Sir Walter's arm to halt him. "It's all right,
Sir Walter. They won't harm me."

"They?"

The beast moved further into the light. It resembled a small dinosaur.
Standing upright on it's hind legs, with a heavy, smooth underbelly,
short spindly, almost useless arms and sturdy, muscular legs. But the
most amazing thing about this . . .thing, was that it had two human
heads. One with the face of a craggy, dangerous looking man of African
descent, the other a white, older man with a receding hairline and the
beginning of jowls.

The black man nodded his head at Sir Walter. "You may call us, Mister
X."

"No," the white head said. "We've been over this before. You may call
us Deep Throat."

"Ah man," Mr. X whined. "That is so gross. Do you have any idea what
that term really means?"

"Of course I do. And, I assure you, I am quite good at it."

"Good at it? I haven't ever seen any great deep-throating abilities
from you, white boy."

"You weren't there."

"Weren't there! Are you out of your mind? I .. ."

Mulder cleared his throat, his eyes sparkling with the anticipation of
secrets to be revealed. "Uh . . .sirs, do you think you could save
this conversation for later. What information do you have for me
today?"

Sir Walter's eyes opened wide as both the heads started jabbering at
once. He couldn't understand a single word, and wondered if the prince
was doing any better at sorting it all out.

"Uh . . .maybe one at a time." Mulder begged. "I think it's Mr. X's
turn to go first."

"You always did like him best, my boy." Deep Throat looked
disappointed in the decision making abilities of the prince. "I fear
it bodes ill for you. Trust no one, boy. Trust no one." The older man
shook his head sadly.

Mr. X glared at his companion. "Give it up, old man. I told you it was
my turn." Mr. X turned back to the prince, his chest puffing up with
self importance. "Dana is in danger, Prince Fox."

Deep Throat nearly choked. "No, no, no! You never get anything right!
It's not Dana who's in danger. It's Prince Fox, himself. May I remind
you that truth is the cornerstone of a good foundation."

"What the hell are you babbling about, old man? It's the Sorceress
Dana who's in danger. I distinctly heard that Arabellan say that . .
."

"It wasn't an Arabellan, it was a Goswian. Longer snout, more hair,
three fingers on the left paw. Seek first to see clearly, my friend."

"Will you stop with that new-age mumbo-jumbo, man." Mr. X looked even
more surely than usual. "It was an Arabellan and he clearly said we
had to save Dana from the Rubelite or the moon would fall on
Astostis."

"No. No. No." Deep Throat shook his head. "It was a Goswian, and <she>
said the prince need fear the evil that comes from Caspion. He must
take himself to Nostesto before the next full harvest of Rodondo beet
roots."

As the two-headed beast continued to argue among itself, Sir Walter
looked over at the prince. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a snitch." Fox shrugged his shoulders. "They're my informants."

"They . . . it . . . whatever, doesn't make any sense!"

Sir Walter was truly appalled. The knight was sure that if he had any
hair left, he'd be pulling it out right about now. He really needed to
have a talk with the boy about trusting just anyone - or anything -
that could walk, crawl, or slither into the palace and had any king of
half-assed story to tell.

Mulder studied the two-headed snitch for a moment. "Well yeah, I
suppose you're right. They haven't always been a whole lot of help but
they always come when I scratch an X in the stone outside our chamber
window. Some of my other informants don't even bother to show up. And
these two are quite illuminating in their own way."

"Nothing can be accomplished if all adversity must first be voted upon
by due council." Deep Throat said profoundly. "If a shark stops
swimming, it dies."

"What the hell does that mean? There ain't no sharks in Meridiem!" Mr.
X growled at his other half.

"How would you know? You haven't traveled like I have. A wise man
knoweth where to lay his head on a cloudy night."

"That don't make no sense at all! If you'd seen half of what I've
seen, you'd be a hard-assed SOB like me! You're just an old, worn-out
school-boy and if you're not careful you're going to get yourself
killed. And believe me, I don't want to be hauling your dead ass
around with me!" Mr. X poked a big finger into his own chest, right
under Deep Throat's chin.

"Pride cometh before the avalanche. No man is an island without his
own palm tree. Never eat yellow snow." Deep Throat intoned wisely.

"Sh-ee-t!" Mister X drew back a fist with deadly malice.

The prince sighed with discouragement. "Come on Sir Walter, we might
as well go now. Once Deep Throat starts waxing philosophical and Mr. X
gets violent, the information just stops flowing."

"That was no flow, peasant boy, it wasn't even a trickle. Have either
of those two ever told you anything worthwhile?"

"Well, that yellow snow thing has come in handy a couple of times."

"Yes, I'm sure it has." Sir Walter took one last look at the bickering
snitch before following the prince out of the library.

* * * 

Realm of Meridiem 

Royal Palace

The day of the Royal Ball dawned clear and bright. The tournament had
been in full swing for almost a full week and the castle grounds were
packed with Lords and Ladies, and their battalions of knights. The
prince recognized none of the guests. Not one of the realms allied
with Meridiem had sent a representative to the week-long event. Mulder
suspected they had not been invited to attend.

Sir Walter was exhausted. He had spent the entire week pulling overly
zealous admirers off his prince. By last count, a dozen men and at
least twice that many women. All the while, Sir Walter had to keep
himself alert to the ever impassioned and persistent advances of the
Lady Diana.

The knight was enormously grateful for the secluded location of his
chambers, and had dragged the price there as quickly as possible each
evening. Not that it had taken all that much encouragement on his
part. Prince Fox was feeling very uneasy, and had been in a constant
state of paranoia since all the strangers had taken up quarters in and
around the royal palace. They were there now, dressing for the ball.

"Here, let me do that." Sir Walter turned the young prince to face
him, and secured the House of Mulder crest pin to his label. He then
carefully straightened the red velvet sash that draped the prince's
shoulder to fall across his muscular chest. Prince Fox was the most
gorgeous thing that Sir Walter had ever seen. It took everything in
the knight not to grab the young man and crush him to his chest.
"You're so beautiful, peasant boy."

Fox smiled at him. "You're not so bad yourself, Sir Knight. I'm sure
the Lady Diana will be most taken with the fit of those garments. And
that's quite an impressive display of metals on your chest. I had no
idea my military advisor was a Knight Superior of the Realm."

Sir Walter continued to fiddle with the prince's clothing, more as an
opportunity to touch the pretty prince than to make any needed
adjustments.

"Well, Knight Superior or not, I have a bad feeling about tonight,
Fox. You are not to leave my side. I will handle the Lady Diana, you
just keep your eyes out for all the others who will wish to get you
alone and away from my protection."

"The only ones who will wish to get me alone are those seeking favors
from my father. The Lady Diana on the other hand . .."

Skinner grabbed the young prince by the upper arms and shook him
gently. "I'm serious here, peasant boy, something is going to happen
tonight. I can feel it. You will <not> leave my side or I will know
the reason why."

Mulder blinked at him with wide hazel eyes, finally nodding his head.
He was rewarded with a relieved sigh from the knight.

* * * 

Royal Palace 

Great Hall

The Crown Prince, Fox the Truth Seeker, stood in the grand ball
reception line, along with his father, King William the Deceiver and
his fianc‚, the Lady Diana of Fowley. Three members of the royal guard
stood closely behind the royal family. The two men were also guarded
by their personal protectors, Sir Reginald Lettlier and Sir Walter
Skinner. The Lady Diana had declined a personal guard. She felt
certain that Sir Walter would abandon the prince and rush to save her,
should the need arise.

The trumpeters heralded the entrance of Queen Christeena and her royal
court. All eyes were now pinned to the main entrance doors awaiting
her majesty's grand procession.

A gasp rose from the crowd as the queen and her court appeared. The
queen, though far from the first blush of youth, was still a beautiful
woman. Many gave complete credit to her for the beauty of the heir
apparent, Prince Fox.

For the first royal ball to be given in Meridiem since the
disappearance of the Princess Samantha, the queen had chosen an
exquisite gown of deep purple brocade. Her six ladies in waiting were
adorned in gowns of raspberry silk. The total effect was striking, as
the majestic processional slowly entered the great hall.

Prince Fox came forth to meet his mother, escorting her back to the
reception line and his father.

"You look beautiful, as usual, mother."

"Thank you, Fox. I must say, I have to agree with Lady Diana, you do
still look unduly young. You really should do something about that,
Fox."

"I'll endeavor to age faster, mother."

"There's no need to be disrespectful, Fox."

"Yes, mother." The prince relinquished his mother to King William,
returning to his place in the reception line. Only Sir Walter could
see the deep hurt that his mother's critical words had caused in the
prince's hazel eyes.

Prince Fox looked idly around the room. He knew few of these people.
Except for those who lived at the palace, all were strangers to the
young prince. He saw not one face that he recognized from the time
before Sam was taken. He sighed heavily. Just get through this night,
and this horrible week of royal tournament would be over. The only
bright spot had been watching Sir Walter best all the other knights in
the competitions. The man was a truly remarkable warrior.

As Mulder glanced upward, he caught a glimpse of Alex Krycek in an
upper balcony, staring down at the crowd. As soon as the prince's eyes
lit on the shadowy figure, he pulled back into the darkness.

Mulder sighed again. Yet another regret. There had been a time when he
had called Alex his friend, his best friend.

As he secreted himself in the shadows, Alex continued to watch the
handsome prince. He was in love with Prince Fox. Had been for years.

Alex's grandfather, Sir Vlagimir Krycek, had been the chief royal
council for King Aaron, Fox's grandfather. When the king had been
killed in a hunting accident, both Sir Vlagimir and his son Sir
Viktor, had mysteriously vanished from the palace. Sir Viktor was
Alex's only remaining parent, his mother having died in child birth.
Six-year-old Alex was left all alone to fend for himself.

Alex had hidden in the cellars for a time, and then found his way to
the chambers of the young prince. Fox had been eight at the time,
lonely and reeling from the death of his beloved grandfather. When
Alex had shown up in his room, like some misbegotten stray cat, Fox
had hidden the boy away from unfriendly eyes.

Few in the palace were privy to the information that for all intents
and purposes, Alex Krycek had grown up right along side the crown
prince. He had eaten the same food, played the same games, worn the
silks and satins supplied for the prince, and loved the Princess
Samantha as if she were his own sibling.

For his part, Alex had offered companionship to a prince, all but
abandoned by self-indulgent parents, taught him to fight dirty and lie
when necessary, and after Samantha was taken, had held Fox in his arms
each night as the prince cried himself to sleep.

As time went on, Alex found himself with feelings for the prince that
were not of a brotherly nature. When these feelings did not seem to be
returned, Alex had fled the royal chambers and disappeared into the
underground of the palace. Now he lived by his wits, and unbeknownst
to the prince, kept an eye to the young heir's safety and well being.
Alex Krycek was not a man to be dallied with, and therefore, neither
was Prince Fox of Meridiem.

Alex took a deep breath and hefted the weight of the crossbow he now
held in his hand. What he did today, had to be done to protect Prince
Fox.

Alex lifted the bow, stroking its well-crafted shape with admiration
and respect. He then took careful aim for King William's black heart,
sparing only one more longing glance at his beautiful prince before
releasing the deadly arrow. It's flight proved to be swift and true.

As the arrow pierced the chest of the king, the man fell to the floor
without uttering a sound. Upon that signal, a dozen hidden assassins
began to fire upon the royal family and their protectors. All were to
die, with the exception of Prince Fox. His life was to be spared on
threat of torture and death to his unfortunate killer.

The prince watched his father fall as if the world had slowed around
him. As another arrow flew by the head of his mother, the prince dove
for her. Sir Walter, seeing immediately that the royal family was
under attack, grabbed for the prince.

Sir Walter fingers barely grazed the prince's tunic as the knight felt
a deep, agonizing burn in his right side. The impact of the arrow sent
the big knight back to impact violently with the hard stone floor.

Queen Christeena screamed shrilly as two arrows pierced her chest just
as her son's body threw her to the floor. The prince scrambled to his
knees beside his fallen mother, gently lifting her head to rest in his
lap.

"Mother, no!"

She looked up at him through slitted, hazel eyes. "Forgive me, Fox."
And she was gone. The prince allowed one great sob to escape his
throat as his mother's blood covered his hands.

Prince Fox looked behind him to see Diana being forcefully carried
from the hall by three large knights, screaming at the top of her
lungs, and Sir Walter lying in large pool of blood. He scrambled back,
pulling the knight out of range of the assassin's arrows. The royal
guard dropped to the floor one by one, sitting ducks in a room
surrounded by high, darkened balconies.

Mulder pushed the injured knight back against the wall, covering him
with a heavy tapestry that hung there. He quickly pulled the arrow
from Sir Walter's limp body. He used the velvet sash that had adorned
his own shoulder, the one Sir Walter had so admired, to stop the flow
of blood from the knight's wound.

The prince knew that the assassins would be looking for members of the
royal family, and for him to stay beside his protector would mean
certain death for Sir Walter. He quickly placed a kiss on the knight's
forehead, and moved away from Skinner's place of concealment.

Alex moved quietly and silently down the staircase leading to the
great hall below. He planned to get to Fox before Sir Spender's men
could capture the pretty prince. Alex, unbeknownst to Spender, had his
own agenda, which included taking Fox far away from the palace and any
potential danger from the evil old knight.

Krycek saw the prince take down two knights with his sword. Alex
smiled to see the prince fighting as dirty as any sailor on the docks
of the Ulasian Ocean. As Fox turned toward his third attacker, another
man stepped up behind him, and delivered a hard blow to the back of
the prince's head. Alex winced as he saw Fox go down face first onto
the stone floor. Two of Spender's men stepped forward to pull the
unconscious prince roughly from the room.

Cursing under his breath, Alex pulled back into the shadows. He
planned to follow the two hapless men who had taken Fox, and would now
have to deal with a very lethal Alex Krycek. He had almost reached the
door through which the prince had disappeared, when he was delayed by
the attack of two members of the royal guard.

He was loath to kill members of the royal guard, Prince Fox was very
fond of them. Bringing his sword up, hilt first, he managed to smash
one in the face, taking him down. The second succumbed to a vicious
kick to the knee. While he withered on the floor in pain, Alex stilled
him with a fist delivered to the back of the neck. Unfortunately, in
the time taken with the disposal of the guardsmen, he had lost the
prince and his abductors.

* * * 

Great Hall 

Two Hours Later

Sir Walter woke to a terrible headache and the smell of blood and
dust. He raised his head, groaning in agony. He felt the smothering
press of heavy, old fabric all around him and a small hand laid on his
shoulder.

"Be quiet. I'm not sure they're all gone yet."

"Who . . .who are you?" Skinner whispered. Even that small effort
making his head throb.

"Lucy Householder." The brownie answered. "We have to get out of here.
Can you walk?"

"Where's . . .Fox?"

"Taken prisoner. No more talk, we have to go now."

"I have to find the prince.' Skinner tried to rise, the pain in his
side almost unbearable. He felt the world start to grey around him as
he lowered himself back to his prone position.

"Move slower, knight. You can't help the prince in this condition, and
I can't help him at all. I'm afraid of Sir Spender."

"You won't even try to save Prince Fox?" Skinner sat up more slowly
and more successfully this time.

"Prince Fox understands. He's the only one who understands. Now let's
get out of here. I can't save the prince but I can save you. It's what
he would want me to do."

The injured knight, with the assistance of the small, frightened
brownie, managed to painfully make his way out of the castle and to
the prince's favorite manner of escape, the moat gate.

It took the brooding brownie and the grieving knight almost a day to
reach the entrance to The Three's Endorus Mountain lair, where the
sick and exhausted Sir Walter finally collapsed.

* * * 

Realm of Meridiem 

Royal Throne Room

King Spender, seated proudly on the throne, yanked on the leash
attached to the collar of the young man kneeling at his feet. Prince
Fox of Meridiem was sitting back on his heels, his knees spread widely
apart, his wrists bound with rope in front of him. Naked but for a
scrap of black leather barely covering his most private area, a
matching leather collar, and golden nipple clamps attached to a heavy
chain that hung down on his chest. His beautiful body was covered with
the signs of his abuse, bruises, pinch marks, welts and several deep
bites could clearly be seen. Mulder had barely enough strength left to
groan as his head was once again jerked up and back by his cruel
captor.

The prince had spent a miserable night in the dungeons, tied standing
with his arms secured to the ceiling above, and his toes barely
touching the dirty, cold floor. As far as the prince knew, there had
been no one in the dungeon for decades, and its condition lent
credence to that assumption. Mold covered the walls and floor in a
thick, slimy shroud, while all type of bats, rats and other assorted
vermin roamed freely and unmolested, seeing the restrained prince as
nothing more than a potential source of food.

The pain in his back and shoulders had become almost unbearable as the
long night wore on, especially since every time he nodded off he would
be awakened by the burning agony of a leather strap whipping across
his back.

They had come for him just before dawn. The prince had been roughly
bathed in icy cold water but his wounds had remained unattended.
Including a cut from the tip of a sword that he had gotten low on the
front of his right hip. If it had it been a couple of inches lower, he
would have been a big disappointment to Sir Walter and Dana the next
time they chose to take him to their bed. It had seemed little more
than a scratch at first, but now it ached with infection. Sir Spender
seemed little concerned, since the wound was covered by the leather
loincloth and didn't mar the beauty of his pretty new slave.

Mulder looked around the room with fever-bright eyes. It was filled to
capacity with crude, rowdy foreign knights. Even more than had
attended the tournament. He assumed all of his family, the royal court
and the royal guard had all been killed. He wondered if Sir Walter had
escaped with his life. He dared not ask.

Suddenly the prince's chin was grasped in sadistic, bruising fingers.
Mulder looked up into the heartless eyes of Sir Arnold. "So, my pretty
boy, not so high and mighty now, are you?"

"Go to . . .Hell."

Sir Arnold released his jaw, only to bring the back of his hand down
hard against the prince's mouth. "Impudent brat, I'll show you what
Hell is really like." The infuriated knight raised his hand for
another blow but was stopped by King Spender's low, dangerous voice.

"Ruin that face, and you'll live long enough to regret it, Sir
Arnold!"

"This pup has insulted me once too often. I demand satisfaction."

King Spender grinned down at the disoriented prince, swaying slightly
as he sat quietly at his feet. "He's due for another dose of my strap
anyway."

The prince glanced up at the sturdy table that was set a few feet in
front of King Spender. There was nothing on the table, save a wide
strip of black leather. Mulder had already felt that evil strap twice
today. He wasn't sure he could take another whipping and not humiliate
himself by crying out.

"I insist that I, myself, be allowed to deliver the punishment!" Sir
Arnold demanded.

"No one," King Spender growled, "touches the boy but me."

Sir Arnold started to protest but one of his companion knights laid a
cautioning hand on his arm. The black knight looked more closely at
King Spender's face and knew that to argue further would mean his own
death. He turned instead to prepare the prince for punishment.

The room spun and tilted, as the prince was jerked to his feet,
dragged several paces and then slammed face down onto the table. He
could hear or see nothing for several moments as the room grayed out
around him.

He was brought back to the reality of his situation by the burning
lash of the strap across his bare backside. The infected cut on his
pelvis was driven into the edge of the table, competing with the strap
for degree of pain. The leather landed again, this time across his
shoulders. Mulder gritted his teeth in agony, refusing to scream.
Spender would enjoy that too much.

The third strike, again across his bottom, caused the now oozing cut
to be shoved into the unforgiving wooden edge of the table once more.
Mulder was powerless to stop the scream that escaped his lips as he
collapsed to lay bonelessly across the table.

The king threw down the strap. Moving closer to the table, he kicked
the prince's unresponsive legs further apart, and reached into his own
legging to free his swollen, throbbing member. Just as he prepared to
shove himself inside the tight, hot opening that lay in front of him,
an arrow whistled through the air to land a hare's breath from King
Spender's left foot.

The dark knight bellowed with rage. This was the third time this had
happened. The minute he started to possess the pretty prince, arrows
would descend on him out of nowhere. And the vile creature responsible
could not be found.

"Find that archer! I will have his head or I will have yours!"

As several of the dark knights scrambled to do his bidding, King
Spender again prepared to take what was now his, arrows be damned. As
his swollen member neared the prince, another arrow whizzed past him,
this time grazing his left bicep. He screamed in pain and surprise,
grabbing for his now bleeding arm. The distress and anger caused the
knight's erection to wither instantly. He quickly stuffed it back in
his leggings, glaring around the room, daring anyone to make note of
his momentary inadequacy.

Realm of Meridiem Lair of The Three

Sir Walter groaned and opened his eyes as far a possible. That turning
out to be mere slits, his head pounding with every beat of his heart.
He looked around him. Rock. Rock everywhere. He carefully glanced to
his left to see the brownie, Lucy Householder, sitting with her knees
pulled up to her chest, head resting in her arms which were wrapped
tightly around her bent legs.

"Lu . . .Lucy?"

The brownie raised her head. Her sad, nondescript green eyes on the
knight. Her face was a mask of wary apprehension. Without speaking,
she scooted closer to him, lifting a cup of water to his lips.

The knight drank greedily until Lucy pulled the cup from his lips.
"That's enough. I don't want you getting sick all over me again."

Sir Walter tried to pull himself to a sitting position. It took three
tries but finally he sat on his pallet. A bit wobbly but upright
nonetheless. Lucy had scurried back over to sit against the wall,
watching him closely.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Thirty-six hours." Byers said. Skinner turned to see he and Frohike
approaching his pallet.

"Thirty-six hours! I have to go to Prince Fox!"

Byers gently pushed the knight back down onto his pallet. "We know.
There's no telling what the evil Sir Spender will do to our prince. We
have to rescue him. But first you have to eat something. It won't help
anyone if we end up carrying you most of the way back to the palace."

Skinner took the bread and cheese that Frohike handed him, along with
some more water. "Do you have a plan for getting Fox out of the
castle?"

Skinner became concerned when he saw the two men staring at Lucy. He
glanced over at the brownie, who was now looking decidedly stubborn
and hostile.

"I told you I can't help you."

"You know the dungeons of the palace better than anyone. We need you
to help us get in, and then get out without being seen." Byers
reminded. "Prince Fox needs you, Lucy."

"I don't want to be needed. I was kept prisoner in those catacombs and
dungeons for seven years. It was one of Sir Spender's men who did it.
I'm not going back there. Not to help anyone. I only take care of
myself now."

"Not even for the prince?" Frohike asked.

Lucy looked ready to cry. No one had ever treated her like a real
person. No one except Prince Fox. She loved him as much as she was
capable of loving anyone after what had happened to her.

As a very young child, Lucy had been kidnaped and taken far away from
the brownie village of Aspan Mia. Her abductor had been driven by
demons, unable to see that a child would need more than to live in the
cold, dank confines of the palace dungeons. Prince Fox had finally
found her but it had been too late. Lucy not only did not know how to
live among real people anymore, she literally hated them. All of them.
All except her beautiful knight in shining armor, Prince Fox.

She eyed the three men who were now watching her intently. "I can't go
back to the dungeons. I can't help you rescue the prince. I'm not
strong enough, and I don't want to help anyone."

"I think you do." Sir Walter said gently. Lucy raised her eyes to meet
his. She blinked several times. Looked away, then slammed her fist
against the rock wall behind her.

"I . . .I'll try." She whispered.

Skinner turned to the other two men. "We need to contact Dana. She
should go with us. The prince may need healing when we get him out."

Byers and Frohike looked at each other again. When they failed to make
eye contact with him, Skinner began to become concerned.

"What? What is it?"

Byers cleared his throat. "It's the Sorceress Dana, Sir Walter. She's
been captured by the Rubelite. Their Rain King is holding her prisoner
on Thunder Mountain."

Sir Walter's head shot up. "They were right!"

"Who was right, Sir Walter?" Byers asked carefully.

"That . . .that . . . thing. Mr. X or Deep Throat or . . . hell, I
don't know what it's name was. Big ugly thing, with two heads. It said
Dana would be stolen by the Rubelite and must be returned or the moon
would fall on something! And Fox! They . . .it said that Fox need fear
the evil from Caspion. Sir Arnold is from Caspion!"

Skinner lifted panicked eyes to Frohike. "What's a Rodondo beet root?"

Byers and Frohike exchanged another look. "Sir Walter, just how hard
<did> you hit your head when you fell?" Asked Frohike.

The End Part 6 

Chapter 7 Knight Time in the Realm By DiAnn

Sir Walter followed the sullen little brownie through the dark, dank
underbelly of the castle. His injured side still hurt like the devil,
but he wasn't about to let his companions know about his discomfort.
The Three had wanted him to rest for another day but that just wasn't
possible. Every warning alarm that he'd developed in his days on the
battlefield was shouting at him. He <had> to get to Fox and he <had>
to get there fast.

"How much further, Lucy?"

"We get there when we get there. If you don't like the way I'm taking
you, find someone else."

The knight sighed heavily. Lucy was frightened, more than frightened,
she was terrified, and it had manifested as petulant hostility to
everyone in the rescue party. Men whose nerves were already stretched
to the point of breaking with their own fear and concern for Prince
Fox.

"Listen you little pint-sized . . ."

Sir Walter turned to still the rest of the comment from the man
following behind him. "She's just scared and tired, Frohike. We've
traveled all night, and we haven't had time to stop for a moment for
rest or food."

"Well, I'm tired and scared too but I still manage to keep a civil
tongue in my head."

"Yeah, right man." Langly snorted from directly behind the little man.

"Listen here, you long-haired . . ."

"Frohike!" Sir Walter reprimanded as he grabbed Lucy's arm to stop
her. It was immediately shaken off but still accomplished the intended
task. Skinner gathered the group around him. "Enough bickering. The
prince needs us to rescue him and we can't do that if we're at each
other's throats. Now Lucy, please tell us how close we are to the
passageway that leads to the great hall."

"Just a few more minutes." Lucy almost looked sorry. This was more of
a shock to the four men than some of the more interesting wildlife
they had found in the bowels of the ancient palace.

"Good. Now is everyone ready. We don't know what we'll find and, I for
one, will not leave here with my life unless the prince is with me."

"Agreed." The Three echoed, although their voices shook slightly as
they said the word. Lucy remained quiet, her eyes never meeting those
of her fellow travelers, her plain, brooding little face etched with a
fear and grief.

It turned out to be remarkably easy to gain access to the secret door
that led to a dark corner of the great hall. The dim, pre-dawn light
barely reaching it's inky depths. The five intruders watched quietly
from their hiding place. The large room was filled to capacity with
unfamiliar knights still sleeping off the effects of last night's
celebration. Many a head would be muddled and throbbing with pain this
morning. And many a sword would be too slow to protect it's bearer, if
worse came to worse with this rescue attempt.

The dark warriors all lay about the great hall, in various states of
undress, snoring loudly. All stank of too much wine and too little
prudence. Some with their arms wrapped around unwilling ladies of the
court, a few bedded down with more willing serving girls, and still
others had chosen to find pleasure with their fellow soldiers. They
were all unprepared and totally vulnerable. They thought themselves
safe in the castle. They would find that they had thought wrong,
should the prince's safety come into question.

Laying a finger to his lips in a reminded warning for absolute quiet,
Sir Walter and The Three left Lucy to wait at the entrance to the
secret tunnels, while they went to find Prince Fox.

The search took much less time than they had anticipated. Sir Spender
lay sprawled on the throne, his empty wine goblet hanging loosely from
his limp fingers. Several of his most trusted knights lay on the floor
at his feet, deep in the naive sleep of the foolish and the well
inebriated.

The naked prince was also asleep, on his knees by the side of the
royal throne, leaning heavily on the ornately carved arm of the gilded
chair. A leather collar surrounded his neck, a leash fastened
haphazardly to Sir Spender's right wrist. The prince was shivering,
and breathing in short little pants. That worried Sir Walter more than
the bruises that he could see liberally adorning the slender body.

Signaling Langly and Byers to wait for them with their crossbows at
the ready, Frohike and Sir Walter carefully and quietly circled around
the room towards their captive prince.

When they neared the throne, Frohike raised his knife, prepared to
kill Sir Spender as soon as he was near the evil old knight. Sir
Walter stilled his hand with an iron grip around his wrist, shaking
his head vigorously in the negative. Frohike looked angry enough to
chew iron spikes but wisely chose to hold his arguments for later.

Sir Walter raised his hand, telling Frohike to wait where he was,
while the knight slipped quietly up to where the prince was tethered
like a dog. He carefully placed one hand over Fox's mouth to still any
outburst. The gesture was unnecessary. The prince's head merely lolled
back against him, not sleeping as he had first thought, but
unconscious.

Sir Walter cursed to himself and quickly put his knife to the leash
that help the collar on the prince to the hand of Sir Spender. The
leather slit like hot butter under the deadly, sharp blade. The knight
quickly dragged the now freed prince away from the throne, swiftly
throwing him over one broad shoulder and signaling for Frohike to
follow him back to where the others waited.

"Why didn't you let me kill him?" Frohike hissed.

Skinner looked down at the angry little man. "We can't take the chance
now. Not with the prince's life in our hands. We'll kill him, but not
today, my friend."

Frohike grudgingly nodded as he and Sir Walter, with their precious
burden, hurried to join the others. The four men allowed Lucy to once
again lead them into the deep underground tunnels that honeycombed the
ancient castle.

A soft hand on his arm stopped Sir Walter's careful steps as he
endeavored to avoid the more slimy patches of mold and moss on the
stone floor under his feet.

"Is he . . .is he hurt bad?" Lucy whispered. "I shouldn't have left
him here. I should have listened to you."

"Lucy, it wasn't your fault. You were right to make me leave, I was in
no condition to fight, and one lone brownie could not have saved him.
Now, let's get him out of here before those soted fools awaken. Can we
get to the stables from here? I fear the prince will never make it if
we try to walk back to the cave."

"This way." Lucy turned to the left, followed closely by the four very
worried rescuers.

The all but abandoned stable proved to be a treasure trove. Three dark
knights slept entwined in each others arms on the sweet smelling hay
in the loft. Their loud snores could be heard as soon as the large
double doors were opened a crack.

Carefully opening the gate to one stall, Sir Walter was surprised by a
little boy curled up in one corner, watching him and the giant feet of
his horse with equal wariness.

Sir Walter tried to smile reassuringly to the child. "What's your
name, page?"

"Royce, sir knight. What . . .what have you done to Prince Fox?" Sir
Walter almost smiled. Though clearly scared out of his wits, the
little boy whispered the words more as a threat than a question.

"The prince will soon be safe, but I'm not sure I can say the same for
you. Would you like to come with me to help protect your prince?"

The little boy nodded adamantly as he rose from the tight ball he had
made of his small body. He quickly darted around the knight, and made
his way toward the back of the stables. Sir Walter started to pursue
him but then thought better of it. His first priority was the prince.
He couldn't risk Fox to save anyone, even a defenseless young boy.

As the four men quietly led their horses out the back door of the
castle, Sir Walter was surprised to see the little boy come barreling
out of the stable, his small arms full to overflowing.

"Merchant cloaks and clothing for the prince, it will aid our escape,
my lord, " Royce replied to Skinner's raised brow. The knight took the
offering and allowed Langly to lift the boy up to sit in front of
Frohike in his saddle. Lucy was already seated, waiting for Byers to
mount in front of her.

After Sir Walter was on top of his well trained steed, Langly and
Byer's wrapped the prince in one of the great cloth cloaks and lifted
him to settle in front of the knight. Sir Walter pulled the great hood
down to cover Fox's face completely. Disguised as much as possible,
the four horsemen made their way toward the little used south gate of
the castle.

"Who goes there?" Shouted a groggy voice.

"Merely poor merchants, sir guard. We wish to continue on with our
journey to the south, to Beglavah."

"Go back. No one leaves the castle under orders from King Spender."

"Of course." Skinner replied congenially. "We have no wish to disobey
our new and most honored king. Could you perhaps tell me where we
might find a healer?" Skinner nodded toward the tightly wrapped figure
in his arms. "I fear my son has come down with the plague."

"The plague!" The guards began to quickly lower the gate. "Are you
mad, man, get him out of here."

Sir Walter nodded from the folds of his hood. "I fear we'll not be
welcome anywhere now."

"You fear right. Now be gone with you."

They had almost reached the open gate when they were stopped by an
angry shout. They looked up to see a man in a captain of the guard
uniform approaching their position. "Wait! Let me see your boy's face.
I want to be sure he is indeed affected by the black death, but don't
get too close to me, mind you."

Skinner felt a moment of panic when, without warning, an arrow flew
from above and buried itself in the captain's barrel chest. The other
guards immediately turned toward the area from which they thought the
arrow might have come, completely forgetting about the group of
merchants taking this opportunity to leave the castle.

The procession of dark cloaked figures moved quickly out of the now
unguarded open gate. They fled at breakneck speed until they were well
out of sight of the castle, Sir Walter holding tightly to the prince.
After they had ridden for almost an hour, the knight pulled his horse
to an abrupt halt.

"We need to stop. The price hasn't regained consciousness and he's
burning with fever. I need to assess his condition more closely and
see if there's anything I can do for him."

They pulled their horses into a dense thicket by a small stream. Sir
Walter dismounted carefully, never relinquishing his hold on the
ailing prince. He carried him to a patch of lush grass and gently lay
him down. The others gathered around, their faces identical in their
expressions of deep concern.

"Damn it, they split his lip." Frohike grumbled.

"That could be the least of our worries." Sir Walter said as he ran
his hand over the prince's dark head, finding several lumps and bumps.
"They weren't easy with him, that's obvious."

"Who shot that guard?" Byers asked of his companions.

"That's been happening for days." Royce spoke up. "Every time that
mean old man Spender tried to do bad things to the prince, an arrow
would come out of no where and stop him. No one has found the archer,
even though they searched for him within minutes of every attack on
that evil knight. He pretends to be the new king but he isn't. Not
really. Prince Fox is our king now."

"A king without his throne is no king at all," Sir Walter growled.
"Our prince would not have us bow to him too quickly. We have to oust
Spender and regain what rightfully belongs to Prince Fox." The others
shook their heads in solemn agreement. The task would be near to
impossible but crucial to the survival of the Realm of Meridiem.

Sir Walter found it difficult to contain his temper as he carefully
examined all the many injuries that now covered the prince's body. The
knight bit back a curse as he gently turned the prince only to find
the many whip marks that covered Fox's back from shoulders to knees.
But though the skin was raw and cruelly welted, there were no deep
lacerations.

"Where the hell is this fever coming from?" Sir Walter carefully
turned Fox onto his back once more, lowering the cloak. Everyone
gasped when the nasty gash just above his groin, came into view.
Though not particularly deep, it had gone untreated for too long, and
was now a flaming red, oozing with infection.

"Damn them all! Damn them all to hell and gone!" Raged the infuriated
knight.

"What should we do?" Langly whispered. "That looks bad."

Sir Walter rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. "All we can do
right now is clean it. Do we have anything we can use for bandages?"

Everyone immediately began to rip at the tails of their tunics. Sir
Walter quickly raised his hand to halt them. "I don't think we all
need to be naked. Decide among yourselves. I'll be right back."

Skinner lifted the prince into his arms and carried him over closer to
the cool, rippling water of the little brook. He torn a piece from his
own tunic and carefully washed not only the infected area but several
other small cuts and scrapes that the prince had acquired in his stay
with the newly crowned King Spender. Soon to be a dead man, if Sir
Walter had any say in the matter.

Sir Walter carried Prince Fox back to his grassy bed to find a small
white tunic waiting for him. Lucy gave him one of her best defensive
scowls. "I had a sweater on over it. I didn't really need it anyway.
Here." She handed him a handful of small green leaves. "Crust those
and put them on the wound. It will help a little with the infection."

"I'm sure the prince will tell you how grateful he is when he can,
Lucy." Skinner accepted the offering from the little brownie.

"I don't need no gratitude from anybody. You just make sure you take
good care of the prince, that's all you need to do. He'll know I need
no words of thanks from him." Lucy turned, embarrassed, and stalked
away from the others.

"That is one pissy little girl." Langly offered as he watched her walk
away.

"Maybe she has cause to be that way." The little boy offered.

Skinner bandaged the prince's long neglected injury. He desperately
wanted to get some water into Fox but that would have to wait until
the prince came around a little. "You know a lot about what goes on at
the palace, Royce."

"I kept my ear to the ground, sir knight. I never knew when I might
hear something that would be of interest to my prince. My life and my
loyalty belong to Prince Fox."

"That's good to hear, Royce. I'm sure the prince would accept your
loyalty most eagerly, but we had best make sure you keep your life for
a while. I think Prince Fox would be very angry if we failed in that
matter."

"Yes," the little boy answered seriously. "Prince Fox does not condone
the taking of life unless no other course is available."

"You're right, Royce, he doesn't."

Skinner turned his attention back to the care of the prince, wondering
how such a young servant had become so enamored of the crown prince.
It was Fox's opinion that much of Meridiem considered him odd and
unfit to rule, but his many small acts of generosity and kindness had
not gone unnoticed by his people. King Fox would find himself with a
following of loyal and devoted subjects.

"Byers, how far is this Thunder Mountain where Dana is being held
prisoner?" Skinner asked as he finished dressing the prince in some
clothing that Royce had stolen from the stables.

"Two days ride. Should we not go back to the cave and give the prince
a chance to heal before we attempt to retrieve Dana, sir knight?"
Byers voiced as his other two companions nodded in agreement.

Skinner hesitated several long moments before he answered. "If we
wait, we may be too late. Fox needs Dana's healing attention as soon
as possible. I'm very worried about him."

It was a solemn little group that mounted their horses and turned them
in the direction of Thunder mountain and the healing sorceress Dana.

* * * 

Enorus Mountain Trail One Day Later

Sir Walter pulled the prince back more tightly against his chest,
wrapping the cloak securely around his shivering, fever racked body.
He was trying desperately to shield the prince from the slow, steady
drizzle that fell endlessly on the soaked and miserable, entourage.
The prince's head lolled back to lie listlessly on Sir Walter's
shoulder, the knight placing a kiss on the damp, fevered brow that now
lay so close to his mouth.

"I promise, peasant boy, I'll find Dana for you. I promise by all that
I am."

"Th . . .that's enough of a . . .promise for me." A weak whisper
answered him.

Sir Walter abruptly stopped his horse, reaching for his water pouch.
"Here, peasant boy, you need to drink some water. How are you
feeling?"

The prince drank greedily. "Like . . .like I was held prisoner . . .by
a madman." The prince raised his head to look at the other members of
his escort. "Hey Royce, you. . .you okay?"

"Yes, my lord, I'm right as rain." The small boy gave him a wet-faced
smile, knowing the prince would enjoy his little joke.

The prince managed a slight smile for the boy, then turned once more
to face Sir Walter. "Where . . .are we going?"

"To Dana." Sir Walter answered, once more pressing his lips to the
prince's burning skin. "Go back to sleep, peasant boy, we'll be there
soon."

Sir Walter forced a few more swallows of water down the prince, and
then allowed him to once more close his eyes, his head lying safely on
the knight's broad, muscular shoulder.

"Is he better?" Lucy asked hopefully.

"Maybe a little." Skinner lied. "We need to get him out of this
infernal rain. How much further is it?"

"We should be at the Rain King's keep by noon," Frohike answered.
"Then we need a plan. This Darrell Moots is a powerful and greedy
overlord. He'll not want to give up his prize easily."

"Is this man, Moots, loyal to Spender do you think?"

"The Rain King is loyal only to himself. He will be on whatever side
is the most profitable for himself. He is a little light on the moral
side of the scale, if you know what I mean." Frohike frowned in
disapproval.

"So he took Dana because someone paid him to do so?"

"Without doubt. The Rain King does little that doesn't line his pocket
with gold or at least further his interests in some way."

Skinner thought this over. Mercenaries were a heartless lot but much
easier to deal with than a man impassioned by his own version of the
truth. He would much rather come up against a Rain King than a Fox
Mulder any day.

"We need an army or a bag of gold." Skinner mused, almost to himself.

"We could ask the Fenig Elves. They are extremely loyal to the
prince."

Skinner raised his eyes to Byers. "We have need of fighting men. From
what I've seen of the Fenig . . ."

"Don't misinterpret the abilities of the elves by your dealings with
Max. He is a gentle soul, as are all the elves, but fiercer warriors
you won't find, especially where the prince is concerned. Prince Fox
sent a healer to them when their queen fell ill, and would accept
nothing in payment. The elves hold such a favor as a life duty. Prince
Fox could call them and they would respond without delay."

They found shelter under a meager outcropping of rock. Skinner lay the
still unconscious prince down in the most protected corner. He gently
slapped Fox's smooth, flushed cheeks.

"Come on, peasant boy, open those pretty eyes for me. We need you to
help us rescue Dana. Come on, wake up, just for a just a little
while."

Mulder began to moan and squirm a little as Sir Walter continued to
try to awaken him but refused to open his eyes. "Wake up, brat! You're
in big trouble!" The knight finally shouted in his most authoritative
voice.

The prince's eyes immediately popped open to stare into the knight's
smiling face. "S. ..sir?"

"I thought that might work. How are you feeling, Fox?"

"I'm kay."

"I know you're still feeling like hell, but we need your help to
rescue Dana."

"Rescue! Wh . . .where's Dana? What's happened to Dana?" The prince
struggled to sit up, but was gently pushed back down by the big
knight.

"Calm down, peasant boy. We'll get her back. The Rain King abducted
her and is holding her at his keep on Thunder Mountain. We need you to
call the Fenig Elves to help us should we have need to fight our way
inside."

The prince closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "I'll try."

Sir Walter's heart broke as he watched the prince wince in pain as he
concentrated all of his mental and magical powers on contacting his
elfin allies. Finally, with a small sigh, Mulder's head fell to the
right as he blacked out once again.

Sir Walter gathered him to his chest, hoping to keep him warm as the
thunder rolled and the cold rain fell harder outside their small
shelter. "I hope he was able to contact the elves. We have no way of
knowing."

"We can only hope he was successful." Frohike said as he pushed
himself to his feet. "If they heard him, they'll find us. We need to
continue on. Time is wasting."

Skinner gathered his seriously ill prince into his arms, as they all
moved to remount and continue on to Thunder Mountain. They had ridden
less than a mile when they found themselves surround by short, stout
little men all dressed in shades of brown and forest green. Each of
the cantankerous-looking little fellows carried a pick or a shovel,
and wore a look of fierce determination on his weathered little face.

"Halt! Who are you and what have you done to Prince Fox?" Asked a
gnarled little man with dark skin and scowling features.

Mulder weakly lifted his chin from where it had fallen down to rest on
his own chest. "It's okay, Kirsch. We need your help."

Kirsch snarled at the young prince. "What sort of trouble did you get
yourself into this time? I'd certainly like a few words with the
bumbling god who thought to make a screw-up like you a prince in the
first place." The little man eyed those who seemed to hold Fox
captive. "I suppose you expect us to kill these men for you?"

Mulder chuckled breathlessly. "No, that won't be necessary, Kirsch.
Help me down so that we can talk for a while."

Several of the dwarfs surged forward, reaching for the prince, but
stopped short at the fierce growl that immediately issued forth from
the huge knight who was holding Fox tightly against him. "Move back! I
can get him down without your help. No one touches him but me."

The little men eyed their grumpy leader, who finally took a step back,
his eyes glued suspiciously to Sir Walter. When they were all
dismounted and seated with the dwarfs, Prince Fox began to speak. He
was very weak, his eyes still glazed with fever, as he leaned heavily
on Sir Walter who sat behind him, supporting his back. But his
whispered words were spoken with passion and determination.

"You have long been allies to the House of Mulder, Kirsch, and even
though you may not think much of me personally, I must ask for your
help. Sir Spender has seized the throne, killing the royal family and
their guards."

The prince stopped for a moment to regain control of his battered
emotions. He had been given no opportunity to grieve for his lost
family and the pain of their loss was a heavy burden in his heart. But
he was the heir to the throne and he had a responsibility to his
people. He pushed the sorrow deep into the recesses of his mind and
turned to continue his plea to the dwarf leader.

"The Sorceress Dana has been taken captive. Without her at my side, I
have no hope of regaining my rightful crown and saving Meridiem. I
need your help to secure the release of my lady. I know you prize gold
above all else but I have none to offer. Perhaps if . . ."

"You're wrong about that, prince."

Mulder looked at him with confusion. "Wrong about what, Kirsch?"

"We prize the realm of Meridiem above all else. We are loyal to the
house of Mulder, and have been for hundreds of years. Your grandfather
was a wise and good leader. You have yet to prove yourself to us. You
are young, reckless, and without logic. You have strange beliefs, and
even stranger ways of examining those beliefs. We are miners, simple
working men who have toiled in rock and soil of these mountains for
generations. We know little of werewolves, vampires and Nuvega
invasions. But we are willing to put aside our doubt for now. Myself
and my brothers will company you to Thunder Mountain to save our
future queen."

"Dana and I are just . . ."

The little dwarf held up a curtailing hand. "Please, don't waste your
denials on us. We may be simple folk but we aren't stupid. We are born
knowing an untruth when we hear it, even when the teller isn't smart
enough to know what is in his own heart."

"I know my heart." Mulder said sadly. "But the king doesn't always get
to follow his own desires."

"Don't be a fool, prince, of course you can." Kirsch turned to his
fellow dwarfs. "We must hurry back to the mine for our weapons. This
foolhardy young prince needs our good right arms. We fight for
Meridiem and the House of Mulder!"

Sir Walter watched as the little men disappeared into the forest. He
looked around at his companions. "I thought he was supposed to contact
the Fenig Elves."

"Looks like it was more of a general distress call." Frohike pointed
to a swarm of bright lights now hovering just over Prince Fox's head.
"Dana won't be happy when she sees the fairies are stalking him
again."

Skinner watched for a few moments, as the intriguing little lights
flitted and flirted so closely above them. He finally tore his eyes
away from the fairies turning back to face the others. "I suppose we'd
better rest while we can."

The weary travelers all found what shelter they could from the
relentless rain, while Sir Walter forced more water into his ailing
charge.

* * * 

Thunder Mountain Keep of the Rain King

The keep sat perched on the side of Thunder Mountain, concealed by
dark, hanging tree branches. It was barely visible in the murky light
afforded by the deeply overcast sky. Thunder rolled incessantly,
almost deafening the band of rescuers ensconced in the thick
underbrush. Sir Walter was amazed at the almost impenetrable
vegetation that thrived in this wet, sunless climate. He didn't even
want to think about what kind of creatures might be slithering in this
wet and soggy marsh.

They had left the prince in the care of Lucy and a couple of surly
dwarf warriors. He was as dry and well hidden as possible in this wet,
dark and forbidding land.

"So do we just go up to the door and ask to see Dana?" Langly asked
nervously.

"I go alone." Sir Walter raised his voice to be heard above the
rolling thunder, never taking his eyes off the stone keep set high on
the wind swept cliff above them.

"Are you crazy?" Frohike gasped. "If we let you do that, the prince
will kill us himself!"

"We won't tell him." Skinner turned to lock eyes with the little man.

"You were supposed to be a good influence on the prince, not pick up
his bad habits for yourself. I swear that sounded just like something
he would say!" Frohike flinched as a great bolt of lightening struck a
nearby tree, splintering it into a smoldering heap of ash.

Skinner smiled. "You didn't have to insult me, Frohike."

"I'm serious! You can't go up there alone."

"We'll go," Kirsch groused loudly.

"Why you and not me?" Skinner glowered back at the grumpy dwarf.

"Because I have a plan. The Rain King is a little man with big
ambitions for himself. He was nothing but an impoverished woodcutter
before the accident."

Skinner raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. "What accident?"

"He was out chopping wood one day when a mighty wizard came swooping
down on a great winged beast. The Wizard Hulman didn't see Darrell
Moots until it was too late. The ax slipped and Moots lost a leg. When
the woodcutter woke, the wizard was gone but he had a wooden peg leg
and the ability to make it rain."

"Too bad he didn't get the ability to make it stop at the same time,"
Frohike muttered, as the rest of The Three shook their soggy heads in
total agreement.

* * * 

Keep of the Rain King Guard Barracks

The small group of fairies twinkled and glittered as they hovered
outside the window of the guard's barracks. The dozen guards sat
inside, some listlessly polishing their armor, some merely lying
quietly listening to the continual rain.

All wished they could find employment at another castle or keep. Life
on Thunder Mountain was little more than one tedious rainy day
following another. But all had managed to ruin their lives in one way
or another, some with drink, some with wenches and still others with
acts of violence. When it came to employment, their choices were
limited.

None of them took their job of protecting Darrel Moots with too much
seriousness. Woodcutter turned overlord. The man in their opinion, was
little more than a lucky imposter. Granted enough magic to make him
dangerous, and without the brains to know how to put it to good use.
The members of the keep guard didn't even bother to post look-outs
anymore. With the rain, it was a miserable business and besides, no
one ever came to Thunder Mountain. Why would they want to?

All eyes went to the door as a knock sounded. If it was that idiot
Moots again, the guard captain, Sir Peyter thought he just might run
the man through and be done with it.

He stalked over and jerked the door open forcefully. "What the hell do
you want?" He bellowed into the face of their visitor.

A tall, beautiful brunette in a low-cut, flowing white dress stood
seductively, leaning against the open doorway, smiling at him.
"Thought you boys might like a little company. My name's Phoebe," she
purred in a soft, lilting accent.

"Ph . . .Ph . . .Phoebe?" Sir Peyter stammered, as his fellow guards
stood behind him, their mouths agape.

"It's awfully wet out here." Phoebe pouted prettily. "Won't you invite
my friends and I in out of the cold?"

The guards, still struck speechless at their perceived good fortune
stepped aside to allow the fairies, in their human guise, to enter the
barracks.

Phoebe pointed a smooth, elegant hand toward a beautiful, dark-haired
woman with huge, blue eyes. "This is Bambi."

"Do any of you boys like bugs?" Bambi inquired as she batted her
lashes at them. They all were quick to assure her that they did,
indeed, live for bugs.

"And this is Melissa." Phoebe pointed to a pretty woman with long
brown hair and full lips.

"Sydney. My name is Sydney, I tell you." Melissa growled in a deep
gravely voice.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Whatever. And this one," she pointed to a
tall, slinky blond, holding a leather riding crop. "She likes us to
just call her Detective White. We're not really sure why that is, but
we do try to humor her. She can be a little, uh . . . intimidating at
times." Several of the men were practically drooling at this splendid
news.

Phoebe, Queen of the Fairies, smiled coyly at the group of men
standing dazzled and bewildered before her. She loved men. Especially
ardent, manly men like these. Well, to be completely honest, she like
any man, ardent or not. Any man. All men. She particularly liked men
who were well endowed and not too bright. She thought this group might
fill the bill exactly.

Too bad about poor Bambi, she did like a good conversation before she
got laid. Phoebe didn't see anyone in this crowd who might be capable
of a three word sentences let along a discussion of the mating habits
of fruit flies. Oh well, Bambi was adaptable. They all were. Oh, and
maybe just a little dangerous. She smiled to herself.

And since keeping these men distracted was a special favor for the
beautiful Prince Fox, well that just made it all the more enjoyable to
seduce these lovely, gullible males. It was so nice to have work you
loved.

Phoebe also planned to eventually get her hands on the gorgeous prince
himself. Some day when that red-headed she-devil was not around to
shoo the fairy queen away. Phoebe frowned a little, she had some vague
memory of seducing him once before, a long time ago. It seemed that it
had all ended very badly somehow. She sighed as the memory eluded her
once more. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't quite get
the recollection to solidify in her mind. Oh well, no time for that
now, she had work to do. She eyed the eagerly waiting men. "Now which
one of your lovely boys wants to be first?"

* * * 

Keep of the Rain King Great Hall

"Tell him we've been sent by the king." The two little dwarfs elbowed
their way past the older woman who had answered their knock at the
keep's door.

"Wait! Wait, you can't just . . .I'll call the guard. I'll . . ."

The two little men didn't even hesitate as they made their way toward
the kitchens. "Surely the great Rain King wouldn't want the king's
messengers to go hungry."

The woman started to follow them, when another knock sounded. Where
were those useless guards? She opened it to find three more of the
strange little men standing on the stoop. The two wasted little time
in finding the kitchens.

All in all, she admitted twenty-five of the dwarfs before she had a
moment free to inform the lord of the keep that he had visitors. And
she also planned to go personally awaken those lazy guards.

Darrell Moots limped down to his kitchens. He stopped short in the
doorway at the sight that met his eyes. His kitchens were full of
small, gnarled men and all were eating his food and drinking his wine.
And from the looks of it, breaking his platters!

"What's the meaning of this?" Darrell yelled to be heard over the
boisterous bickering and general grousing of his uninvited and
obviously ravenous guests.

Kirsch turned an appraising eye to Darrell Moots. "The king sent us
with a message for you. Four men will arrive at your door, sent from
the great and heralded wizard Hulman. They shall be here within one
day. We have been commanded to wait here for them."

Darrell looked around at his destroyed kitchen. "Couldn't you wait in
the stables or maybe the guard's barracks? If they continue eating my
food and drinking my wine in this manner, there'll be nothing left by
the time these supposed royal messengers get here."

"Surely, you don't expect us to sit around with our stomachs empty and
our throats full of cotton. Wizard Hulman would not be pleased were I
to tell him you didn't show us your upmost hospitality."

"Wh . . .why does the king send these messengers anyway? Wh . . .what
does the wizard want from me?"

"How would I know, man?" Kirsch grumped. "Something to do with
granting you the power to make the sun come out or some such nonsense.
I don't hold with magic myself."

"Wizard Hulman's going to grant me additional power?" Darrell
brightened considerably. Darrell suddenly noticed a dwarf with a long
white beard dipping into a pot on the stove. "No! No, don't eat that.
That's my dinner."

The little man smiled up at him toothlessly. "Was your dinner, son,
all gone now. Better get your cook busy or we'll all starve. Got any
more wine around here? And some nice, fresh bread would be good, too."

"I . . . I . . ." Darrell looked down to see all twenty-five of the
dwarfs watching him silently. He swallowed hard. "Yes. Yes, of course.
More wine, right away and . . .and I'll send the cook right in. Just.
. . just make yourselves at home."

"Oh, we will." Kirsch assured him with an evil smile. "We most
certainly will."

* * * 

Keep of the Rain King Late that Same Night

"He says he'll see you. I don't approve, but he says he'll see you
anyway. Those dwarfs you sent have eaten us out of house and home. And
what they haven't eaten, they've broken with their scuffles and
outright fights. You'd best get them out of here before we don't have
a trencher to eat from or a bench to sit on." The older woman shook
her head as she left the knight to wait for the Rain King. "And get
those hussies out of the guard barracks while you're about it."

Dana sat quietly in a chair at the front of the great hall. She kept
her head down, her only acknowledgment of the knight and The Three had
been a very slight nod of her head.

After several minutes Sir Walter heard a steady thump, thump, thump,
growing louder as it drew nearer to the great hall. As Skinner turned
toward the entrance he was surprised to see a nondescript man, leaning
heavily on a cane and limping badly. The tip of a wooden peg-leg shown
beneath his leggings.

"You come bearing a message from the Wizard Hulman?" The Rain King got
right to the heart of the matter. He was most anxious to be rid of the
troop of dwarfs who were once again plundering his lauders and
cellars.

"Yes, your majesty." He watched Moots preen at the use of such a grand
title. "The great wizard feels you are now ready for more power."

"More power? Really? He thinks I'm ready?"

"Oh yes, my lord, he feels that you are more than ready. He also knows
that one of your considerable wisdom will be more than happy to pay
the small homage necessary to receive this great and wonderful power."

"Small homage?"

Skinner shook his hand in a dismissing manner. "It's nothing really.
Just 

a small tribute to show your good faith. Nothing significant, just a
little something for someone he wishes to repay for a past favor
given."

Darrell thought for a moment, then a look of horror crossed his face.
"He doesn't expect me to let those dwarfs stay here any longer, does
he? They've done nothing but eat like a pack of starving dogs and
continuously insult me. I really don't think it would be worth any . .
."

"Oh no. No, of course not. They must go with us when we leave with the
Sorceress Dana."

The Rain King looked stunned for a moment, and then the light of
understanding finally dawned in his eyes. "No. Not my Dana. I can't
allow her to leave here. I need her."

Skinner looked at Darrell with surprise. "Oh, I see. The wizard had no
idea that you had become so attached to the sorceress. He thought her
to be merely a burdensome captive. You do have her feet bound in
Casaba Flowers to stop her from using her power. The wizard just
assumed you were holding her for someone else. This is quite a
dilemma. We'll just have to all stay here until I can get word to the
Wizard Hulman. And, since he is visiting the outer reaches of Pelema
right now, it will probably take several weeks for us to get word to
him. And several more weeks, I suppose, before he can get a message
back. You do have enough food and wine on hand, don't you, your
majesty? Dwarfs are creatures of enormous appetites."

"En . . .enough wine? Are the dwarfs staying here with you?"

"Of course. They go where we go."

"I see." Darrell glanced over at the beautiful sorceress longingly,
just as a thunderous crash and angry shouts sounded from the back of
the keep. "Take her! Go! Get her out of here and take those horrendous
dwarfs with you. And tell the Wizard Hulman that I am most grateful
for this opportunity. I won't let him down. I'll use my new powers
wisely, as always."

"Yes." Skinner nodded. "We are all well aware of just how wise you
are, your majesty."

* * * 

Foothills of Thunder Mountain 

A Small Cave

The sorceress, Dana Scully, pushed back her wet hood to reveal long,
damp tresses of bright, red hair. She knelt and gently laid her hands
on the chest of the unconscious prince resting so quietly on the cold
ground.

"Oh Alainn, what have they done to you?"

Skinner felt despondent. He wanted to take Fox and Dana and get as far
away from this wet, miserable place as possible. The thunder continued
to reverberate off the mountains, increasing in volume as it reached
the ears of the small band watching closely as their future king lay
dying.

"Will he be all right, Dana?" Sir Walter asked, his voice heavy with
grief and concern.

She smiled up at the big knight and he felt as if the sun had finally
come out in this God forsaken land of wind and rain.

Dana turned back to her love and closed her eyes, her hands spread out
on Prince Fox's chest. All was silent except the sounds of the never
ceasing inclement weather outside their small shelter.

After several long, tense moments, the prince opened his eyes and
smiled up at the woman who knelt beside him.

"I thought I'd never see you again." The prince's voice still weak and
fragile sounding.

"I see you managed to get yourself in trouble the moment I wasn't
looking." She smiled down at him affectionately. "I can't leave you
alone for a minute."

"I don't want you to."

"I won't, Alainn." She brushed a soft kiss across his lips. "I'll
never leave you. You know you can always count on that."

Suddenly the ground began to shake and the earth tremble. Small stones
and dust fell onto the floor of the cave, causing everyone to run for
cover. Dana threw her own body over that of the prince to protect him
falling debris.

"Now what?" Skinner bellowed as he unsteadily made his way to the
outside, only to be confronted by three huffing and puffing dragons.

"We heard the general distress call but we had to force Bruce out of
the cave, he's still afraid of the prince. And Lenny thought the
message said to come to the Rayfling instead of Rain King, which is
entirely on the other side of the realm." Clyde Bruckman stopped to
draw in a deep breath. "So then, by the time we got back on the right
road, it had started to rain and Bruce got his foot stuck in a bog and
. . . oh never mind all that. The Bigfoot and the Vampires are right
behind us. Oh, and those three werewolf brothers. They made us go on
ahead, said we were throwing up too much mud and getting their fur all
matted. Rude, vain creatures if you ask me. Bunch of chicken thieves
is all they are. Hey, is the prince all right? He's never before sent
out a general call for help like that, and it was so weak. Is he sick
or what?"

"I think he's all right now. Dana healed him, so . . ." Sir Walter was
interrupted by the rattling of brush close by. He quickly pulled his
sword to face this new threat.

Max Fenig stepped out of the brush, followed by at least a hundred of
the Fenig elves. All looked travel weary and very distressed.

"Where's Prince Fox?" Max approached the knight nervously. "We heard
his call but we were away from our village, talking to some more
Nuvega abductees. Is he all right?" Max eyed the dwarfs with distaste.
"He . ..he doesn't need us to defend him against this bunch of rabble,
does he?"

"Who you callin' rabble, you piece of elfin trash." Kirsch spat back,
his usual frown turning to an unkind smirk. "Seen any little gray men
lately, Max?"

"Enough." Skinner thought to defuse the situation. "They helped us
rescue Dana. They're on our side, Max."

Max looked skeptical. "Well, maybe but it's always hard to tell just
who's side Kirsch and his band are on at any given time." Max smiled
up at Sir Walter. "Of course, there have been times when I thought the
same thing about you."

* * * 

Cave of The Three War Room Two Weeks Later

Sir Walter watched as Prince Fox stood bent over a table, heavily
laden with maps and graphs. He was in a serious discussion with Byers
and Commander Raubone of the Bigfoot. They were arguing over where the
next attack by the Nuvega was likely to occur. Sir Walter would put
his money on Fox. The boy had an uncanny knack for figuring out what
the enemy was planning, and what their next move would be. Maybe even
before they knew themselves.

The prince's wild, uncontrolled message of distress to his subjects,
while he lay ill, had provided a catalyst for The Bigfoot to break
free of the mind control they had been subjected to as prisoners of
the Nuvega. They were now a tremendous source of intelligence about
the enemy.

According to Commander Raubone, the Nuvega possessed the ability to
shape change, instantly transforming themselves into the likeness of
any other living creature. It was an extremely disturbing thought, and
Prince Fox was determined to find a means to identify any imposters
hiding in his ranks.

The prince had been very careful not to discuss his plan anywhere
around Sir Walter. That in itself was a dead giveaway. What ever idea
the devious little prince had come up with, to uncover the intruders,
would be a dangerous one. Probably only to the prince, himself. Well,
Skinner thought, they would just see about that.

"Fox, could I have a few minutes of your time, please."

The prince turned to look at his knight protector. "Of course, sir."
He turned to the bigfoot beside him. "If you would excuse me,
Commander Raubone, we'll continue our discussion after lunch."

The seven-foot tall, shaggy haired bigfoot bowed slightly and went to
join his squad in the dining hall.

Skinner took the prince's arm and began to gently propel him back
toward the tunnel that led to their sleeping quarters. "You need to
lie down for a while."

"No I don't," Mulder protested. "It's been almost two weeks since Dana
healed me, and I haven't felt a twinge of discomfort. I'm fine and I
have a lot of work to do this afternoon."

"When Dana left to gather support among the sorceress coven of
Deliana, she made me promise that I would make sure you ate and slept.
From what I can see, you haven't been doing either. Every night so
far, I'm already asleep long before you join me in our chamber, and
you never seem to have time to stop for meal call. This can't
continue, brat."

"But I have so much to do today. My people need me. The Bigfoot claim
there are fleas in their barracks, and even though I suspect they
brought them in themselves, it still has to be fumigated before they
spread. And Dana is complaining that the Vampires are stealing her
blood supply. She is really ticked. Although that seems like a much
better solution to their need for plasma than the other obvious
alternative. And the Petit Brothers got into the carrier pigeon cage
again, and now Master Harper is ready to shoot them on sight. I just
can't seem to make him understand that it isn't their fault that they
were turned into werewolves. And very valuable werewolves, I might
add, their tracking skills are superb. So as you can plainly see, 
I don't have time to take a nap."

"Your people need you well and healthy. They need a king with enough
strength left to heal Meridiem's wounds after this is all over."

Skinner made his way to the very back of the cave. He had managed to
secure the most private of sleeping chambers for himself, Dana and the
prince. He opened the heavy wooden portal and deposited the prince in
a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"Now before you take a much needed nap. "He raised his hand as Mulder
opened his mouth to protest. "Not one word, peasant boy, only a couple
of hours of rest. Meridiem won't fall in that short a time. Now tell
me of your plans to find any Nuvega who might have infiltrated our
ranks."

"Plan?" Mulder looked at him with wide innocent eyes. "What makes you
think I have any such plan?"

Skinner placed his hands on his hips. "Fine, we can do this the hard
way. It really doesn't matter to me. Stand up and take off your boots
and leggings."

Sir Walter seated himself on a sturdy, low bench while the prince sat
glued to the bed, his mouth agape. "You can't be serious."

"You said yourself that you were well healed now. I haven't given you
a spanking in weeks and I can tell it's well past time. Now, get over
here and across my knees. Or would you rather we go out to the war
room to do this. I'm sure one of your loyal subjects would be more
than willing to divulge your wild-ass plan once they see you crying
and squirming over my knee, that pretty bottom turning a bright red
for everyone to see."

"But we're at war! And . . .and I'm in charge of the armies!"

"And I'm still in charge of you. A good sore bottom will help you
remember that a king's place is not in the front lines like some ill-
trained walking soldier. You have exactly three seconds to get over
here or this becomes a public reminder to everyone that you are not to
endanger your life, and it is their duty to report to me if you try."

"You wouldn't!"

"Really? You may be the true king to those people out there, but to me
you're just a reckless little peasant boy who needs a hot bottom every
so often to keep him in line. Now do you obey me or not?"

Mulder toed off his boots, pulled his leggings off and stomped over to
where Sir Walter sat. He then practically threw himself over the big
man's muscular thighs.

Skinner flipped up the back of Fox's tunic, watching as the cool air
of the large cavern made goose flesh rise on the smooth, bared bottom.
The knight brought his hand down sharply, gratified when his first
smack earned 

a surprised yelp from his errant prince.

"What is this discipline for, peasant boy?"

"Ouch! You want to know my plans to find the Nuvega spies."

"Yes, I do but that can wait until later." Skinner peppered down a
half dozen stinging slaps on the upturned butt over his knees. "Right
now we have some other things to discuss, like the fact that you
intentionally antagonized your captors while being held at the
palace."

"Ouch! Ah-h-hh-! How did you know that?' Mulder looked up over his
shoulder at his chastiser, only to quickly look away when he caught
sight of his own bare, rapidly reddening backside raised high in the
air and perfectly positioned for a good, long tanning.

"Royce told me." Skinner was smacking in sets of three on one spot and
covering every inch of exposed skin. Fox, for his part, was in charge
of wiggling his smarting bottom and frantically kicking his legs.

"Royce ratted me out? Ouch-h-h-h! Please, stop!"

"He didn't want to, but poor Royce is more afraid of me than he is of
you. Don't underestimate my abilities to intimidate others, peasant
boy. He knew if he didn't tell me what I wanted to know, it might well
be him over my knees instead of you."

"He's just a little boy. You wouldn't really punish him, would you?
Ah-h-h-h!" Mulder gasped.

Sir Walter's slapping hand had not missed a beat during this
discussion and the prince's once white bottom was now a burning
scarlet from hip to thigh.

"No, but he doesn't know that. Now back to the matter at hand, I'm not
especially happy to hear that you defied your captors, and egged them
on to hurt you."

"What was I supposed to do? Just take whatever they wanted to dish out
like some .. .some helpless damsel? Ouch! Oh! Oh!"

"Yes, that is exactly what you were supposed to do, wait for me to
rescue you. That's my job, you little shit, why can't you get that
through that thick head of yours. I guess I have to put it across your
not so thick butt first, huh?"

"Ah-h-h-h-h! Please! Ouch! Uh-h-h! Uh!"

"Royce also told me that you could have remained hidden with me but
choose to go back into the fray to protect me."

I . . .uh. . ."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Skinner proceeded to make doubly
certain that the future king would not be sitting comfortable any time
soon, covering the same ground over and over in stinging slaps of
three. When he finally stopped, the prince's bottom was glowing like
it had been set ablaze, and he was sobbing his heart out across his
teacher's knees.

Sir Walter lifted the now repentant young man into his arms, and lay
him on his stomach on the bed. He pulled the rest of the prince's
disheveled clothing from his body until he was completely naked, and
then quickly shed his own uniform. He pulled Mulder's hips back and
placed two large pillows under the Prince Fox's hips, raising his
well-punished bottom prominently, turned up to the ceiling, begging
for some additional attention. He then lay himself down beside that
bare, nicely displayed and totally accessible quivering bottom.

Skinner ran a line of light feathery kisses down the prince's spine,
loving the way it made the beautiful young man shiver in his arms.
When he reached the sore, red bottom he gently blew his breath on the
scalded skin. Even that light touch eliciting a hiss from Fox. He
reached out and gently licked a patch of hot flesh.

"Now that I have your attention. I do have your attention, don't I,
peasant boy?"

"Yes, sir," Mulder replied warily. He felt very vulnerable with his
sore, red bottom still turned up to his disciplinarian.

A gentle hand caressed his right bottom cheek, followed by another wet
lick of Skinner's tongue. "Good. Now tell me your plan to find the
spies."

"Oh-h-h-h-h No-o-o-o!" Mulder groaned as he buried his head in his
pillow.

Skinner poured some rich, aromatic oil into his hand. He then began to
massage the prince in long smooth strokes starting at his shoulders
and ending halfway down his thighs.

That hot, wed tongue racked across his sore bottom once more and then
he felt Sir Walter's slick, cool fingers follow the same path his
tongue had just blazed. Just barely touching his over-sensitized skin
but still sending shivers through his inflamed nerve endings.

"Oh that feels so good."

"It's supposed to, peasant boy?" Skinner continued deeply massage and
kiss the beautiful body in front of him. His oiled fingers slipped
down to gently cup and then caress Fox's throbbing erection. The
prince groaned with pleasure.

"Oh-h-h-h, please. I'll tell you anything, just please don't stop."

"All right, tell me what you're up to with the spy hunt?"

Mulder closed his eyes. This was not going to be pretty. "Could I roll
over so I can talk to you face to face?"

"No. Now spill this ill-conceived plan of yours." Skinner's slick hot
fingers continued to tease and titillate the smooth skin of the
prince's buttocks, thighs and groin.

Mulder drew in a deep breath, he was finding it hard to concentrate
enough to piece a complete sentence together. He wanted Sir Walter to
just leave him to enjoy this sensuous experience in peace. One the man
heard his plan, there would be no more peace to be had. He would be
extremely lucky if he made it out of this room with one inch of skin
still left on his butt. "I planned to make an inspection of all of the
armies. I figured that any imposters would not be able to pass up the
chance to take a shot at the future king." He spat this revelation out
all in one breath and then scrunched up his face waiting for the
inevitable blow to fall on his poor butt.

Mulder's eyes popped open as he felt a large blunt finger, slick with
oil, sliding into his small back opening instead. He gasped with
shock. This was not what he had expected. The prince groaned with
arousal as another finger joined the first. Soon he was wiggling, and
whining and begging Sir Walter to keep going.

When the knight's large erection slid slowly into him, Mulder was sure
he was going to die of the intense ecstasy of what was happening to
him.

When Sir Walter was penetrated to the root, he began to slowly rock
his hips. "Tell me, peasant boy, how did you plan to keep the spy from
killing you with that shot?"

"Huh?" Mulder could no longer form a coherent thought, let along
answer questions about his spy plan.

Sir Walter thrust deeply into the body impaled on his large cock. "Pay
attention. How were you planning to protect yourself during this
inspection of the armies?"

"Oh! I . . .I, uh. Oh yes, do that again. Oh, please! It feels so
good!"

"How were you going to stay alive? Answer me!"

"I hadn't wor . . .worked that part out yet! Yes, oh yes. Faster,
please faster!"

"That's what I thought." Skinner reached around and placed one large,
oiled hand on Mulder's straining shaft, pumping it hard and fast. The
prince lasted only a few moments before he came screaming Sir Walter's
name.

The knight rolled off the beautiful, if exasperating, young man and
allowed him a few moments to come back to himself, sated and smiling.
Skinner rose from the bed to get a wet cloth, cleaning the prince and
himself of the telltale signs of their lovemaking.

He then walked over to the wardrobe and retrieved his sturdy leather
strap. He stood by the bed, looking down at his intended target, and
then let the strap fly down to leave a throbbing welt on the still
reddened bottom.

Mulder's head flew up off the bed with a shriek of surprise.

"What is this strapping for, peasant boy?"

"Ou-u-uch! My . . .my plan?"

"Good guess, brat." Skinner let the strap fly again. Another bright
burning stripe, standing out hot and bright against the lighter pink
background.

"Ouch! Ah-h-h-h! Oh please. I have a joint meeting of all the generals
in two . . .Oh! .. .two days. I have to be able . . . Ouch! . . .to
sit down then. Ah! Ouch-h-h-h-h!"

"Oh, you'll sit down, peasant boy, it will just feel like hell while
you do it. And peasant boy . . ."

"Yes, sir?"

"There will be no inspection of the armies."

"Yes, sir."

The End Part 7