Arigio for Raph and Mikey's father. Demitrio for Leo's dad. and Benvolio for the grandad

Chapter 1

Demitrio sat in his highbacked chair, listening to his councilors. He was a turtle of many years but a relatively new king, only recently inheriting the kingdom from his father.
 
Turtles live for well over a hundred years. Some have been known to live to see two hundred. So, by turtle standards, Demitrio was still young at sixty.
 
It’s what made them ideal for the role of king. Their long lives mean that they had patience and their children had time to learn before taking over. Despite being new to the throne, Demitrio had sat by his father’s side for longer than his councilors had been alive.
 
They had been discussing the situation to the east. King Benvolio was expanding his borders again, swallowing up a smaller kingdom and setting one of his many sons to rule.
 
He had been slowly expanding his borders for decades. His goal was to unify all the kingdoms under one family, with him as the emperor, whether the other kingdoms liked it or not. He was well over a century old and cunning.
 
“This puts him right at our borders,” Oroku Saki, the army commander stated. “I need more resources if I am going to keep his armies at bay. We need to raise taxes.”
 
“Our kingdom is naturally fortified,” Hamato Yoshi, the trade guild leader argued. “The location of the river and the mountains provide a barrier. Our city is built in a way that makes invasion nearly impossible. You don’t need any more resources. Your job is practically done for you.”
 
He was human, like Saki, and approximately the same age. His family has been serving the king for generations. They oversaw the construction of the city. Which was why he had such confidence in it keeping them safe.
 
While the design was ingenious, it would not protect them from a massive invading army for long. 
 
“Not to mention that our gods protect us,” Tang Shen, the high priestess, added.
 
She was the most beautiful woman Saki had ever seen. Her long, black hair flowed freely down her back and nearly reached the floor. Flawless, ivory skin and a grace in her stride that looked as if she was floating, made it seem as if she had been plucked from the astral plane. And, she was engaged to Yoshi.  
 
Saki scoffed. “The gods. So, it was because King Stephan’s people weren’t praying hard enough that King Benvolio’s armies were able to prevail.”
 
“King Stephan’s kingdom was on the brink of ruin anyway,” Splinter, the king’s ambassador said. He was a brown rat about the same age and height as Saki.
 
Although he was a diplomat, he was also a seasoned fighter. He knew how to move without being heard. Saki hated it. It meant that Splinter could appear, seemingly out of nowhere at any time.
 
Saki had to be careful when making his dealings.
 
“Then why didn’t we invade it first,” Saki wanted to know.
 
“I am not a conqueror,” Demitrio stated. “I have no desire to expand my borders. We have more than we need here.”
 
“King Stephan’s people would have done better under your rule,” Saki argued “and benefited greatly from our resources. You are a good and just king. King Benvolio is far from it. Who knows what atrocities those people are facing now. And, never mind trade agreements. They might have been on the brink of ruin but they were our main source for salt.”
 
“We will find another source,” Yoshi said. “Stretching ourselves thin, by conquering another kingdom, would not better our situation.”
 
“It doesn’t matter now,” Saki snapped, with a wave of his hand. “What matters is our own safety. If Benvolio attacks now, he would win.”
 
“Then it seems that the problem lies with you, Commander.” Demitrio said, his voice deep with anger and a not so veiled threat.
 
“I am the best,” Saki hissed. “But, even I will fail if my hands are tied.”
 
“I will not tax my people more,” Demitrio said in such a way that expressed any further discussion on the topic would not be tolerated. “You are all dismissed.”
 
Saki turned on his heel and stomped out of the council chambers. His trusted general, Hun was waiting for him in the hallway.
 
“How did it go?”
 
Hun was a large man and one of Saki’s best fighters. Young and eager to please his commanding officer, Hun was willing to do anything that was asked of him. Like most of the army, Hun was loyal to Saki.
 
“Our king has refused my request,” Saki answered.
 
He didn’t need to say anymore. Hun knew what to do next. Without a word he set off down another corridor to follow through with the next part of their plan.
 
They were one of the richest kingdoms in all of the land and yet the ruling class lived like paupers when compared to those under Benvolio’s rule.
 
Not anymore. It was time for a new king.
 
…..
 
Saki stood on the high wall surrounding the city and looked out over the horizon. People from the east had been fleeing into the city for weeks, seeking protection. Benvolio’s army, led by one of his sons had started their push into the kingdom. Now they were at the city’s gates.
 
It was an impressive sight to see. Now that it was standing in front of him, Saki had no doubt in his mind that, even with the added resources, there was no way he would have been able to hold them off for long.
 
What was about to happen was inevitable, fighting them would lead to bloodshed. Too bad the others didn’t see it that way. He never really liked them anyway.
 
Yoshi stood at his side, having insisted on seeing it for himself. “What do we do now?”
 
Saki scoffed in response, glaring at the councilor. Now he was willing to listen to what Saki had to say. Too little too late. The army was loyal to him and would do as he commanded. His command was for them to stand aside and do nothing.
 
“Open the gates.” Saki climbed down the steps to meet their soon to be king and Yoshi followed.
 
“What are you doing,” Yoshi demanded. “I don’t think you can reason with them.”
 
The massive turtle entered the city and stood in front of Saki. He was larger than Demitrio, meaning that, since turtles never stop growing, he was a few decades older. He wore leather, studded armor and a metal helmet, and carried a large sword that Hun, despite his massive size, would have a hard time wielding. The straps on his arms were barely big enough to fit over the bulging muscles and looked ready to snap at any moment.
 
“I am Prince Arigio. Son of Emperor Benvolio. I am told that we have an arrangement.”
 
“An arrangement?” Yoshi turned to Saki. “What does he mean?”
 
Saki took a knee. “My men will not try to stop you but that does not mean that you will not be met with some resistance.”
 
“You are a traitor,” Yoshi yelled.
 
In one fluid motion, Saki stood and drove his dagger up into Yoshi’s gut. “And, you are a fool. There is no way we could win against an army this size. Yielding to him will save the lives of many. I do this for the greater good.”
 
Blood seeped from Yoshi’s mouth as he desperately clung to Saki. He tried to speak but choked on his blood.
 
Taking a step back, Saki allowed Yoshi to fall before turning back to Arigio. “I apologize for that, my lord.” He cleaned his blade on Yoshi’s back. “He was one who would have given you the most resistance.”
 
Arigio considered Saki for a moment. “You will lead me through the city?”
 
“I will, my king,” Saki said, lowering his head. “All that I ask in return is that I remain commander over the army so that I can continue to protect my people.”
 
“Having you and your men loyal to me will free this army to continue in my father’s conquest,” Arigio said. “Though I will keep a few personal guards,” he gestured to the large turtle warriors by his side. “I will allow you to remain.”
 
Saki bowed. “Then allow me to show you to your throne.”
 
The city streets, that Yoshi was sure could stop an army, were built like a maze, meant to confuse any outsider. Having grown up in the city, Saki knew them well and led the army on the most direct path to the castle.
 
They were met with little resistance. Saki’s men kept the people off the main roads and out of the way of the invading army. When they entered the castle, it wasn’t until they entered the throne room that they encountered Demitrio’s personal guards.
 
Most of the guards were also Demitrio’s mates and fought hard to protect their king who fought beside them. Arigio’s guards met them head on. Determined to be the one to end Demitrio, Arigio joined in the fighting.
 
One by one, Demitrio’s guards fell and Demitrio was subdued. He struggled against his captures but to no avail. “How can you betray me like this?” he yelled, glaring at Saki.
 
“I do this to save lives,” Saki replied. “My duty is to protecting the people. I will not sacrifice them in a futile attempt of saving your crown.”
 
Arigio knelt beside the body of his one fallen guard. Tears filled his eyes as he closed those of the dead turtle.
 
The turtle family structure was a unique one. To help prevent them from producing too many children in their long lives, male turtles take several other males as their mates and they live in family units with a few females. A king will have his queen as the only female, who only mates with him and his male mates serve as his personal guard.
 
Saki found the whole situation to be unsavory. The thought of bedding another male was repulsive to him. But, at least it kept the turtle population under control.
 
Some say that it was because Benvolio preferred the company of his queen that he ended up with more sons than he knew what to do with and so decided to expand his kingdom to accommodate them instead of allowing them to fight for his kingdom.
 
Getting to his feet, Arigio addressed Saki. “Is there a prince?”
 
“Would you like me to kill him for you?” Saki offered.
 
Arigio shook his head. “Bring him to me. You can kill the queen and anyone else who stands in your way.”
 
“As you command,” Saki replied with a slight bow and then signaled for Hun to follow.
 
In the back of the throne room was a secret door that led to a hidden chamber. As expected, the queen was hiding with her child. Shen was with her, praying.
 
When Saki and Hun entered the room, Shen stood to face them. “Saki, stop.”
 
Saki laughed. “Where are your gods?” Pulling his dagger, he stalked closer to Shen. “Will they save you?” Like with Yoshi, Saki shoved the dagger just below Shen’s ribs, piercing the lung. “Maybe you weren’t praying hard enough.”
 
Shoving Shen aside, Saki approached the queen.
 
The young queen held the small prince to her chest. “Please.”
 
It was the first time Saki had seen the prince, or any baby turtle. As large as turtles tend to get, they start out so small, about half the size of a human baby. It made sense given the fact that the unyielding plastron would not expand to accommodate anything larger.
 
“I’m not going to kill him,” Saki assured her. “Our new king wants me to bring him to him alive.” He reached out for the baby. “Give him to me.”
 
“Why are you doing this?” she whimpered. She was not a fighter, having been a priestess before she had been selected to be Demitrio’s queen. “Why would you betray your king?”
 
Saki glanced down at Shen and shrugged. “Must be the will of the gods.” Turning back towards the queen, Saki plunged his dagger into her neck. Her eyes were fixed on Saki in a state of shock and she let out a small whimper.
 
Saki shushed her as if soothing a frightened child. “Give me the baby before you drop him.” He reached down and lifted the small bundle with one hand as the queen’s arms went slack. “This is going to be a mess to clean up later,” he said to Hun as he pulled the dagger from the queen’s neck.
 
“That’s what the servants are for,” Hun replied flatly as they turned to leave the room. “Below me.”

Once they were back in the throne room, Saki wasted not time presenting the baby to Arigio. “The prince.”

Arigio considered the baby, it looked even smaller in his large hand. “Did you kill the queen?”

“I did,” Saki said, nodding his head. 

He was expecting the new king to kill the child by simply crushing it in his hand. But, instead, he knelt next to Demitrio and showed the baby to him. “I want you to know that your son will live,” Arigio stated. “He looks to be about the same age as my son. He will make a good play companion and whipping boy. My son might even take him as a lover, unless he loses interest in him. Then, I will have to kill him.”

Knowing his end was near, Demitrio stared intently at the ground and gave no reply. Arigio pulled a dagger from his belt and plunged it into Demitrio’s neck, moving it and twisting it slightly. “Have we taken care of all who might resist,” he asked Saki. 

“All but one,” Saki replied. “A rat, named Splinter is unaccounted for. He held the position of ambassador. It’s possible that he is away.”

“A rat was your ambassador?”  This surprised Arigio, which was to be expected. Rats were usually assassins, utilizing their natural stealth and flexibility. To have one as a public and political figure was unheard of. 

“He is dangerous,” Saki warned, “like any rat. I would highly recommend that your guards say alert.”

“Noted.” Arigio nodded and then turned his attention to the baby in his hand. “I forgot to ask the child’s name.”

Saki shrugged. “They hadn’t had the naming ceremony for him yet. I was never told.”

“I’ll call him Donatello,” Arigio said and handed the baby over to one of his mates. “Get the staff in here to clean up,” he said to Saki. “My queen has been with us on this campaign, sleeping in a tent and I’m sure she is eager to see her new home and a proper bed.” He waved his hand around to indicate the bodies. “She doesn’t need to see this when she arrives.”

“I will make sure that it is done quickly,” Saki promised. 

“My men will take care of the one that is ours,” Arigio said, looking down at the body. 

“Of course,” Saki replied with a bow. 

“Tomorrow, the people will meet their new king and queen,” Arigio said. 

“I will do all that I can to insure that the transition goes smoothly,” Saki said before leaving the king to oversee the cleanup. 

……

Splinter stood on a balcony that overlooked the city and saw the army approaching. It was no surprise to him that Saki had betrayed them. There wasn’t much time. 

Running back inside, Splinter made his way down to the temple, where they kept the orphans. There he found the turtle baby that had been abandoned on the doorstep of the castle.

It wasn’t uncommon for the poor to abandon their babies at the castle. The temple priestesses would raise them to be servants. Often it was a better life than being raised poor, on the streets. 

Unfortunately for this little one, his life could be coming to an end. He was approximately the same age as the prince and Splinter intended on switching them out and escaping with the prince. 

It didn’t take much to convince the young queen to hand over her child. “Cradle this one as if he were your son,” Splinter instructed her. “They must believe it is the prince if this is going to work. I will do all that I can to see that you and the king are avenged.”

Escaping with the child proved to be a greater challenge that he had originally thought. Saki’s men surrounded the castle to prevent anyone from leaving. Splinter’s skills were put to the test as he stalked through the shadows to safety. 

He knew Saki would look for him so he couldn’t hide anywhere in the city. Even the surrounding country was not safe. 

He followed the river north until he reached the forest at the foot of the mountains. Hidden among the dense growth and rocky terrain there was a small village that even the king was unaware existed.   

It was the village of Splinter’s birth and it was there that he intended on raising and training the prince. He will be the first ever non-rat to be trained by one. 

Splinter entered the village without challenge, though he knew he was being watched. Despite its vast size and many occupants, it looked like nothing more than a patch of overgrowth. The homes could only be seen if one knew what to look for. 

Splinter shared his home with his brother Gravel. Since they both tended to travel, the home was hardly ever occupied. When he entered he found that his brother had been there no less than three months ago. It would be a while before he returned. 

Settling into his favorite chair, Splinter looked down at the baby. “I am forever your loyal servant, Prince Leonardo.”

Chapter 2

He was never allowed to forget who he was or that his being alive was thanks to the mercy of the king. Raised as the prince’s whipping boy and personal companion was a fate worse than death. If it weren’t for the eternal damnation suicide would have brought him, Donatello would have killed himself long ago. 

Maybe one day his tormentors would take it too far and the gods would grant him his place in paradise. Until then, he would endure. 

His life wasn’t without joy. Prince Raphael’s tutor was kind and was one of the few who had never resorted to whipping him for the misdeeds of the prince. Hun, on the other hand….

Donatello hissed in pain as he shifted in bed. He was on a thin mat on the floor but that wasn’t the reason he was uncomfortable. It was hard to find a comfortable position after taking a switch to the back of the legs. 

Hun was Raphael’s weapons’ instructor and Raphael had been a little too flippant during practice that morning. As a result, Hun took out his frustrations on Donatello. 

It hurt to move. The open wounds pulled and Donatello knew that it would be worse in the morning. 

“Would you stop,” Raphael complained from his bed. “I can’t get to sleep with all this noise.”

“I’m sorry,” Donatello hissed. 

“What is the matter?” Raphael demanded, sitting up to glare down at Donatello. 

“The sores on the back of my legs are making it difficult to get comfortable,” Donatello stated. 

Lighting the candle on his night stand, Raphael got up and crossed the room. “Whippings have never given you problems before.”

“I’ve never received one from Hun before,” Donatello argued. “The others usually do one leg, once. Hun did both, multiple times. No matter how I lay, it hurts.”

“Let me see.”

Donatello was hesitant but knew better than to argue. Fighting the pain, he got to his feet, turned around, and with trembling hands, removed his pants. 

Raphael knelt to examine the makeshift bandages. “Tuck your tail any tighter and it will be in your ass. Relax. I won’t touch you there.” Pulling down slightly on the bandage, Raphael lifted the candle higher to inspect the wound. “Your flesh is warm. That’s not good.” Standing, he felt Donatello’s face with the back of his hand. “The warmth has not spread.”

Raphael walked across the large room and opened the door. There were always servants and guards at the ready at any given moment. They would stay up all night just in case the royal family wanted something. 

Donatello could not hear what was said aside from the common, “Yes, your majesty,” reply. As they waited in silence, Raphael used his candle to light the mounted lanterns. 

It wasn’t long before there was a gentle knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Raph called out as he blew out his candle. 

Nevio, King Arigio’s whipping boy growing up and the one who had taken care of Donatello during infancy, entered the room. “Your majesty.” He bowed to Raphael before beginning his approach towards Donatello. “I understand you have some deep lashes?”

“Hun whipped me today,” Donatello answered, struggling to hold back his tears. Though he could speak freely around his caretaker, Donatello had to remind himself that Raphael was still in the room. Saying the wrong thing would get him in trouble.

“Lie down,” Nevio instructed. “I’ll tend to them.” Nevio was the only one who understood what Donatello was going through. He was also the son of a conquered king, taken as a child to serve the new king’s son. 

Like Donatello, his legs were covered in old scars, lashes that Arigio had earned for him. Though Arigio eventually took him as a lover, being a slave, he was never raised to the ranks of a mate. While Arigio’s mates led a pampered life, Nevio slept on a pallet on the floor with the rest of the servants. 

It was a wonder that he had managed to maintain a pleasant disposition. There was almost always a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. How was it that he wasn’t dead inside?

Nevio tended to Donatello’s wounds. The salve he used stung at first, it took everything Donatello had not to cry out, but the pain faded, leaving a dull ache. 

“What is going on?” The booming voice of the king had Donatello frozen in terror. “Why has my son summoned you to his room?”

“Donatello needed me to tend to him,” Nevio replied in an even tone as he carefully wrapped Donatello’s legs. “Your weapons’ master has a heavy hand.” Giving Raphael a sideways glace, Nevio smiled. “It seems that the young prince did not wish to lose his servant to a fever and had requested that I do what I am permitted.”

“Is it bad?” Arigio asked. 

Nevio shrugged. “I’ve had worse. Your father’s weapons’ master also had a heavy hand and you liked to try his patience.”

“Don’t forget your place,” Arigio warned. 

“Never do,” Nevio smiled as he put away his supplies.

“Do you really care so much?” Arigio asked the young prince and knelt next to Donatello. Placing his hand at the base of Donatello’s carapace, Arigio forced his finger under Donatello’s tail. “Don’t fight me.”

His finger pressed against Donatello’s entrance. The pain if it caused Donatello to tense and whimper. Arigio hummed with displeasure. “You haven’t had him yet.”

Removing his hand, Arigio considered his son. “Are you not interested in him?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael mumbled, uncomfortable with his father’s question.

“At your age you should be having sex,” Arigio stated. “If you don’t want him, we can do a call out so you can select a mate and I will take him.” He looked down at Donatello and ran his fingers over Donatello’s cheek. “He turned out prettier than I thought he would.”

“Arigio,” Nevio said, “he’s too young.”

Arigio lashed out so quickly that Nevio barely had time to react. The back of Arigio’s hand connected with Nevio’s face, sending him to the ground. “Your place,” Arigio roared.

“My apologies, your majesty,” Nevio said as blood fell from his lips. 

Donatello moved to comfort his caretaker but his hand was snatched away before it made contact. Arigio lifted him as if he weighed nothing and tossed him on the bed. Turning to Raphael, he said, “Have him tonight or I’ll take him in the morning.”

“He’s hurt,” Raphael argued. 

“He is a slave,” Arigio hissed. “Your pleasure is all that matters.”

Unable to maintain eye contact, Raphael looked at the ground. “Yes, father.”

“You’re done here,” Arigio said to Nevio. “Clean yourself up and get back to bed.”

“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said as he collected himself off the floor. 

Arigio took a few deep breaths to settle his anger before turning back to Raphael. “I will check him in the morning.” He did not wait for Raphael to reply before storming out of the room after Nevio. 

Raphael stood, looking at Donatello. “I don’t want to lose you to him.”

Try as he might, Donatello could not stop the flow of tears as Raphael joined him on the bed. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about it. 

“You have to lower your tail,” Raphael said as he poured olive oil on his fingers. “Or we could not do this and you can go to my father in the morning.”

The thought of being with Arigio was enough to motivate Donatello to part his legs and lower his tail. It wasn’t much of a choice but staying with Raphael was preferable to being with Arigio. 

Raphael was generous with the oil, pulling his finger out every few seconds to add more. Donatello had to admit that he hadn’t expected Raphael to take his time. He made what was expected to be a painful experience, nearly painless. 

Raphael’s finger occasionally brushed against a spot inside Donatello that sent shockwaves to his core. Donatello’s body started to react to the stimulation and it wasn’t long before his penis emerged. 

Biting his bottom lip, Raphael grabbed it with his oil slicked hand and gave it a few solid tugs. There was a needy look in his eyes as he admired its length. 

With a heavy sigh, Raphael moved between Donatello’s legs and added more oil to his cock before placing his tip at Donatello’s well stretched entrance.  

“Wow,” Raphael grunted as he pushed into Donatello. He took care not to push in too deep to avoid grinding against Donatello’s tender legs. 

He struggled to last longer than a few staggering thrusts. Trembling, he let out a soft cry and came inside of Donatello. He sat back on his feet, looking down at Donatello while he settled his heavy breathing. Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t seem satisfied at all. 

The thought of failing to please Raphael had Donatello in a sudden panic. Maybe the prince was considering letting his father had him after all. 

Raphael reached out, paused for a moment and then grabbed hold of Donatello’s penis. Donatello gripped the sheets and gasped as Raphael jerked him off. 

After a few moments, Raphael straddled Donatello’s hips and lowered himself down. The tight warmth of Raphael’s inner walls took Donatello’s breath away. He couldn’t believe what was happening. 

Raphael road him hard, taking in the entire length of Donatello’s cock. The shock from the unexpected act coupled with the pain in his legs, helped Donatello last long enough for Raphael to climax again. The sudden clenching of Raphael’s rectum around his cock overruled all other sensations. 

It was the first orgasm for Donatello and it left his body numb. For a brief moment he was in a state of bliss. The pain in his legs quickly snapped him back to reality. As the euphoria wore off, it left behind a sickening sensation. 

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Raphael mumbled, looking down at the pillow next to Donatello’s head. “Not even Nevio.”

“Your father…,” Donatello started but Raphael interrupted him. 

“Will be checking you in the morning, not me.”

“I won’t say anything,” Donatello promised. 

“Good,” Raphael replied and then got up to blow the wall lanterns out. “You can say in the bed, if you want. Maybe you’ll have an easier time getting comfortable and we can get some sleep.”

Donatello didn’t think he could get up even if he wanted to. “Okay.” 

With the last of the lanterns extinguished, Raphael crawled back into bed. In the dim moon light, Donatello swore he saw a glimmer of moisture on Raphael’s cheek. 

…..

He was never allowed to forget who he was or that it was his duty to avenge his father. Every day of Leonardo’s life was spent training, learning how to hide in the shadows and to kill. Though Leonardo would never be able to be king, at the very least, they could get their revenge against the ones who so callously killed King Demitrio. 

Another thing that Leonardo was never allowed to forget was that rats were loyal to no one. They were assassins and thieves, selling their services to those who could afford it and never choosing a side in a conflict. The fact that Splinter had sworn loyalty to a king made him an outsider to his own people. 

When Leonardo asked Splinter why he had gone against the nature of rats and sworn loyalty to his father, Splinter told him that it was because Demitrio showed him mercy but did not go into details. 

“A man like your father, deserved my loyalty,” Splinter told him. 

“Why must I be the one to take revenge?” Leonardo asked as he sharpened his sword by the fire. “You loved him so much, why don’t you do it?”

“He was your father,” Splinter replied. 

“I never knew him,” Leonardo argued. 

“The reason for that is because Arigio killed him,” Splinter pointed out. “Aside from that, I am too old to do it. I had difficulties escaping when you were a baby and that was sixteen years ago. My body will no longer allow me to do it, so you must.”

Leonardo checked the edge of his blade. “What will happen after?”

“Prove your skills with this and the others will accept you,” Splinter said. “You will be the first turtle assassin. You will be added to the network and sent out on missions. And, I will finally have peace.”

Leonardo sighed and placed his blade in its scabbard as he stood. “Very well. If it will help you find peace, I will do it.”

It wasn’t the first time Leonardo had gone into the city surrounding the castle. He had run the roof tops many times at night, just for fun, mapping out the streets. He knew his way through the city better than anyone. 

Today he was hiding out in the open. Turtles were common in the area. His sword and dagger were hidden among the loose folds of his over sized attire. He looked like the youngest son of a simple farmer wearing hand-me-down clothes, sent to the city to fetch supplies. No one paid him any attention. 

He found himself a place to hide until dark. Shedding his baggy clothes to reveal the dark colored ones underneath that made him appear as nothing more than a shadow. 

Settling in, Leonardo closed his eyes and entered into a meditative state that allowed him to rest while remaining aware. He waited until it was well past dark when only the lowest of citizens were still awake, peddling goods and services that were either illegal or questionable. 

Now the fun would begin. 

Without as sound, Leonardo made his way through the city, staying in the shadows. He slipped past sentries with ease as he made his way through the castle grounds. 

Like the city, the castle was built for defense. Secret passageways snaked through the interior and, judging by the level of dust within them, had been forgotten. Despite the fact that it was his first time in the castle, Leonardo knew them well. Splinter had made sure of it. 

He had checked several rooms before finding the one he was after. Drawing his dagger, he crept his way to the bed, ready to slit the throat of his slumbering victim. 

The light of the waning moon shone through the high window, illuminating the young prince’s face. He was the younger of the two, named Michelangelo. A backup just in case something happened to the first. 

Clutching the dagger, Leonardo stood over the prince ready to strike but hesitated. He wasn’t able to bring himself to do it. 

The young prince opened his eyes and even in the dim light the bright blue seemed to sparkle like a well-polished sapphire. They filled with fear as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone. 

“Are you a ghost?” He glanced quickly at the dagger. “Are you here to kill me?”

Leonardo didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice. There was something about the prince that caused his heart to hammer in his chest. 

Stepping back, Leonardo fought with himself over what to do next. He wanted to stay. The longer he stayed the greater the chance of getting caught. Then there was the fact that he was there to kill the prince. If he left, the prince would see how he entered the room. 

Michelangelo’s blue eyes narrowed as he studied Leonardo’s face. “Why would a ghost be younger than when he died?”

Leonardo must have made a face because Michelangelo sat up to explain. “You look just like the former king, only young. Who are you?”

“What is going on?” King Arigio’s voice echoed down the hall. 

As Michelangelo’s attention was turned to the door, Leonardo raced out through the secret passage. 

Chapter 3

Leonardo took his time returning home. He was not ready to face Splinter.

The task of killing another turned out to be a harder one to fulfill than he had thought. He had loved everything about his training up until that point. He thought he was ready to move forward, to be an official part of the clan. 

Now, he questioned everything. 

If he could not follow through with killing the son of the man who had killed his father, how could he ever expect himself to be able to execute a contract? He could not bring himself to that level of detachment.

He returned to his hiding spot to retrieve his disguise. As he dressed, he wondered what his life would have been like as a simple farmer’s son. Honest work with and honest skill that benefited many. 

Sitting in the dark, Leonardo contemplated his options. Part of him loathed the idea of returning to Splinter. But, where would that leave him? He had no other skills but the ones meant to kill. And, if he defected, the Rats would not hesitate to seek him out and kill him to protect their secrets. 

Faced with no other option, Leonardo headed home. 

He trudged along the outskirts of the forest to admire the stars before having to enter under the thick canopy. He never took the same path or a direct path when returning home. A worn path was a guide, so there could never be one. 

Despite his training, Leonardo always made a point to pass by his favorite spot in the forest, the upside-down tree. 

The tree had somehow taken root on the underside of a cliff face. Growing down and out towards the light, the tops of its branches reached the ground and spilled out in every direction. Judging by its size, it had to have been hundreds of years old.

He had climbed it many times to get to the top of the cliff where a small spring sat. Some of the tree’s roots could be seen at the bottom of the clear pool. Leonardo found it to be a marvel of life’s persistence. 

If the tree could survive and thrive in such a strange and difficult situation, so could he. 

A rustle of leaves behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Drawing his dagger, he turned to see what it was. 

A pure white stag stepped into a clearing and the area seemed to brighten with his presence. Majestic antlers branched out high above his head. The steady, grace of his movements led Leonardo to believe that it was no ordinary stag. 

He had never seen anything so beautiful. A little unsure, Leonardo bowed to him while tucking the dagger back into its sheath. If it was a forest god, it would not be wise to offend him. 

It took his breath away when the stag gestured in kind and Leonardo swore he saw him smile before bounding away back into the thicket. 

In a state of disbelief, Leonardo made his way through the small, hidden village and into one of the many entrances of his home. 

“Leonardo?”

“Yes, Splinter, it’s me.”

Splinter entered the room followed by three other rats. The excitement from seeing the stag left him as a lump formed in Leonardo’s stomach then moved to his throat. 

“Well?” Splinter prompted. 

Leonardo began to remove the farmer’s disguise. “I could not do it.”

One of the other rats huffed. 

“He is not the first to have difficulties going through with their first assassination,” Splinter stated, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the offending rat. 

“No, he is not,” another rat agreed, taking a step forward. “But the fact that he is not truly one of us means that he has to be better if he wishes to be accepted.” He regarded Leonardo. “Why could you not kill them?” 

“I made it to the chambers of one of the princes,” Leonardo said. “I was ready to kill, until I saw him. Then it all became too real. I could not bring myself to do it. He is innocent.” He decided it would be best not to mention the fact that the prince had woken up. 

The rat who had huffed before, scoffed. “We are not to judge innocence or guilt. We are hired to kill, so we kill.”

“I cannot be so cold,” Leonardo said, looking down at the ground. “I cannot kill someone simply because someone else believes they should die. He has wronged no one.”

“Your father wronged no one,” Splinter said. “But he was killed so what he had could be taken.”

“The prince did not do that,” Leonardo argued. “His father did. Send me to kill just the king and I will do it.”

“The king must know that his legacy will not go on,” Splinter insisted. 

“Enough,” the third rat interrupted. “It’s better this way. We need to stay out of politics.”

“He’s right,” the second stated. “We only allowed this political assassination to be his test because it was one of personal revenge and knew it wouldn’t really change anything in the long run. Now that the boy has proven that he doesn’t have what it takes to be one of us, we need to decide what to do with him.”

“I will not reveal any of your secrets,” Leonardo said. 

“That isn’t our only concern,” the third said. “Not only do you know our secrets, you know our skills and, frankly, you’ve mastered them quite well, aside from your unwillingness to kill.”

“Then, he can teach,” Splinter offered. 

“I don’t know if anyone will send their child to be trained by an outsider,” the first said. 

“He was raised here,” Splinter argued. 

The third shook his head. “He is still an outsider.”

“What are my options,” Leonardo asked. 

“We don’t know yet,” the second said. “This is unprecedented. The leaders of multiple clans are coming together to decide.”

The pit in Leonardo’s stomach filled with despair. If they decide that he is too much of a risk, there was no way to stop them from ending his life. There was nowhere he could hide. They would find him. 

“We will let you know,” the first said as they exited. 

Splinter regarded Leonardo for a moment before saying, “Come eat.”

Leonardo followed Splinter into another room where a plate with fruit, cheese, and a small loaf of dark bread waited. As Leonardo tore into the bread, Splinter placed a small bowl with three boiled eggs next to the plate. 

Boiled eggs were Leonardo’s favorite, especially when they were cooked enough to solidify the whites while keeping the yolk creamy. 

“They were supposed to be a reward,” Splinter said as Leonardo reached for one. 

“I’m sorry,” Leonardo said, picking up one of the eggs. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the others but, I saw a white stag, in the forest as I made my way back tonight. I don’t think it was what it appeared to be.”

Splinter sat down in his favorite chair as he pondered Leonardo’s encounter in silence. His schooled expression showed nothing of what was going through his mind. After a while, he sighed and looked into the cold fireplace. 

“Perhaps you made the right decision.”

…..

“Wake up.”

Raphael’s gruff voice pulled Donatello from the best sleep he had ever had. The bed was comfortable and he wanted nothing more than to stay just a little longer. 

“It’s morning,” Raphael said, nudging Donatello. “My father will be here soon. You have to get back to your bed. He can’t find you in mine or he might beat us both.”

That was enough to snap Donatello out of his sleepy haze. He shifted to get up and was met with pain. The sores on the back of his legs weren’t the only things that hurt. Looking up at Raphael, he felt his face flush as he remembered the events of last night. 

The door opened and the king stepped through. “He’s still in your bed.” Nevio followed him inside but stayed back, waiting. 

Raphael jumped out of bed and hastily pulled on his pants. “We exerted ourselves to the point of exhaustion. I was too tired to care that he had fallen asleep before going back to the floor.”

“Good,” Arigio said with a wide smile. “But, don’t make a habit of it. Never let him forget his place.”

“Yes, father.”

Arigio nodded to Nevio. “Go on.”

Rushing over to the bed, Nevio knelt next to Donatello. “Are you alright?”

Donatello nodded. “I’m a little sore.”

“That’s normal.” Nevio flashed Donatello a knowing smile. “Did he use the oil?”

Donatello nodded. 

“Good,” Nevio said with a sigh of relief. “In time, it will no longer hurt in the morning. You might actually start to enjoy it.” 

“I doubt it.” Donatello reached out and gently touched the deep bruise on Nevio’s cheek. Tears filled his eyes and he wondered how Nevio could still be smiling. 

“I’m fine,” Nevio reassured him. “I’m here to tend to you. Let me see how those wounds are healing up.”

 “What is that smell?” Michelangelo blurted out as he entered Raphael’s room. “And why is father’s slave messing with Raph’s slave?”

“Nevio is tending to Donatello’s wounds,” Raphael said, punching Michelangelo in the arm. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t hit your brother,” Arigio warned. “What you smell is the scent of sex.”

Michelangelo made a face and then looked at Raph. “Was he willing?”

“He is a slave,” Arigio said. “He doesn’t need to be willing, just obedient.”

“Everything looks good,” Nevio said as he stood and collected his things. “The muscles will feel tight for now but once you get moving, the pain will dissipate.” 

“The two of you go help with breakfast,” Arigio said before turning to leave. “I have a busy schedule today and I don’t want things delayed any longer.”

“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said. “Come, Donatello.” 

Donatello quickly dressed in his simple slave attire and followed Nevio to the kitchen. 

They were met with a sweltering heat the moment they stepped inside. In the winter, the heat of the kitchen was welcome but in the midst of summer it was almost unbearable. 

Donatello went to his station, checking and tasting items that were meant to go to the princes. The plates were not to leave his sight. Anything added would have to be sampled. This process insured two things, that the food was good enough to be served and that there was no poison. 

He would have to sample everything again at the table when he delivered the food. 

Nevio was responsible for the king and queen. Two other slaves tended to the plates of Arigio’s mates. They did this with every meal. The four of them were the best fed slaves in the kingdom. 

“Raphael doesn’t like any brown on his eggs,” Donatello said after looking at one of the plates. “And the yolks look too set. These are over cooked.”

One of the kitchen hands pulled the plate aside while another got to work preparing two more eggs. 

Once the meal was finished, the four slaves left the kitchen together, pushing carts laden with food. Each cart had enough food to feed a small family and the majority of it would return to the kitchen, untouched.

Donatello served Raphael first. He ladled some porridge into a bowl then added cream, candied nuts, and honey. Before placing it down he took a bite, placing the used spoon into a bucket. Michelangelo liked his porridge with butter, sugar, and berries. Donatello had to admit that he liked Michelangelo’s better. 

Their plates with eggs, sausage, bread, fruit preserves, and cheese were placed down while they ate their porridge. Donatello went through several utensils, sampling each item. By the time he was done, he was full. 

He stayed close while they ate, remaining ready to serve them or to clear emptied plates. 

When the princes were finished with their meal, Donatello cleared the table and rushed the dishes and leftovers back to the kitchen. 

“No complaints from the princes,” he announced as he left the cart. He didn’t have the luxury to linger. 

He met up with the brothers in the wash room. Aids were there, tending to them while they soaked in their baths. Fortunately, this was one task that was not left for Donatello and it gave him a few moments for himself. 

Stripping himself, Donatello took the opportunity to bathe using a bucket of water and a scrub brush. A clean set of clothes was waiting for him and a fox child took his dirty clothes to be cleaned. 

Donatello then went into the connected room to inspect the clothes that had been set out for the princes. They were going to be sitting with their father at court later and needed to be dressed properly. They needed to look regal but not in their finest. 

He switched out a few items, either because he knew that the princes had out grown them or did not like them. Everything had to be in pristine condition, nothing could show any sign of wear, so he looked over every inch. 

Michelangelo was the first to be sent in to be dressed, giving Raphael more time to be pampered. He saw the clothes and smiled. “I love this one. The fur is so soft.”

After Michelangelo put on all that he could himself, Donatello got to work. Michelangelo studied Donatello’s face while he helped him get dressed. “So, you and Raph had sex?”

“Yes, my lord,” Donatello replied while he worked on some fastens. 

“Were you willing,” Michelangelo asked. 

“I am a slave,” Donatello said, wishing he could ask the prince to stop moving so much. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to Raph,” Michelangelo said. “He’s told me before that he didn’t want it to be forced. He wants a willing partner. He seems upset, so it makes me think that you weren’t willing. But, I don’t know why he would force it and he won’t tell me.”

“It’s not my place,” Donatello said. 

“I command you to tell me,” Michelangelo said, emphasizing his order with a stomp of his foot. 

“It was because of your father,” Donatello told him. “He said that if the prince did not have me, then he would take me for himself.”

“No wonder he’s mad,” Michelangelo mumbled. “His choices were, lose you or force you, two things he never wanted.”

“You’re all done,” Donatello said as he finished with the last buckle. 

“Don’t be mad at Raph,” Mikey said as he shifted to test the fit. 

“I am not given that luxury,” Donatello stated. 

“Yeah.” Michelangelo sighed and headed for the door. “I’ll see you in the court room. Father tells me that a rabbit is coming in today. I hear they look like rats with long ears.”

“A rabbit?” That was interesting news. There were no rabbits in Benvolio’s empire. They live in a land across the vast ocean. Travelers and traders tell stories about them but Donatello has never seen one. “That would be interesting to see. Do you know why they’re here?”

“Father didn’t say,” Raphael said as he entered the room. “He just told us that we were having an audience with one and not to stare.”

“We both know father was directing that last part more towards me,” Michelangelo said as he headed out the door.

“Is this alright,” Donatello asked, gesturing to the ensemble. 

Raphael sighed. He hated formal attire, preferring his hunting or training gear. “That will do.”

The formal attire looked like warrior gear but was more ornate and lacked practicality. The leathers were soft, instead of sturdy and was trimmed with fine, soft pelts. The only thing worn that was battle ready were the weapons. 

Raphael’s weapon of choice was a pair of double headed battle axes that he wore across his back. Not easily accessible if he were to enter into a fight. They were more for show. 

“We need to put in an order for new arm belts,” Donatello said and he pulled the belt tight around Raphael’s bicep. “This one is on its last notch.” The size of Raphael’s arm was both impressive and frightening. The thought of him striking Donatello caused his cheek to hurt. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It will do for now,” Raphael said. “Are you done?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Raphael tested the fit. “I hate wearing this shit.” He looked at himself in a long piece of polished metal. “But, father insists and I can’t go against his wishes.”

“Are you alright, my lord,” Donatello ventured to ask. “You seem out of sorts.”

“I’m fine,” Raphael said, keeping his eyes on his reflection but abruptly turned away. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, my lord,” Donatello said and followed Raphael. 

Chapter 4

Michelangelo stifled a yawn, earning him a sideways glare from his father. They had been sitting in court for several hours, listening and passing judgements on disputes that could only be settled by the king. Most concerned land rights or trade deals and a few cases dealing with criminals. 

There was a crowd gathered. A bunch of busy bodies with nothing more to do during the day than to see what they can gossip about tomorrow. 

Arigio sat in a large chair with Raphael and Michelangelo in smaller seats on either side of him. Donatello stood with Nevio, behind the royal trio and several other servants stood at the ready to be summoned at a moment’s notice. 

The princes’ teacher, April, sat at a small, nearby desk to take notes. She used a special form of shorthand that she could later elaborate on for record keeping. 

A noble family of humans, a man, his wife and their daughter, stepped forward to stand in front of the king.  The daughter was being comforted by her mother. A human commoner in shackles was dragged up by guards and forced to kneel a few feet away from them. 

“This man attacked my daughter,” the noble man said. “He violated her, forcing himself on her.”

The king looked the girl over. “Did he?”

She nodded in response. 

“Are you sure this is the man,” Arigio asked. “I do not want to condemn one man to the fate that should befall another.” 

“It was him,” the girl sobbed, keeping her eyes down.

Arigio then turned to the prisoner. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I touched her breast,” the man said with a touch of fear in his voice. “She was coming on to me like a harlot. I had no idea she was a noble’s daughter.”

Arigio growled and then turned to Raphael. “That was as much of a confession I need. For his crime the punishment is either life in prison or death. You can decide.”

Raphael leaned back and thought. “I think we should let the victim decide. She also has the option of asking for mercy and a lesser sentence.”

Arigio’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. 

“Death,” the girl said without hesitation. “He took from me something I can never get back, my peace of mind.”

“Death it is,” Arigio said and gave his son a measuring glance. “Raphael, kill him.”

Stone faced, Raphael stood and drew his dagger. “Yes, father.”

“I don’t deserve death,” the man yelled as he struggled against the guards. “Please don’t do this. I didn’t know! She was coming on to me.”

“Ignorance does not excuse you from the law,” Arigio said.  

The guards held the man’s head back as Raphael pulled his blade across his throat. The floor was covered in sand for this very reason. 

As the man struggled to breathe the guards released him, allowing him to fall to the floor. It didn’t take long for the life to drain from him. Servants rushed forward and lifted the body into a wheelbarrow and then shoveled the blood-soaked sand on top of him. 

Another team added more sand and smoothed it out while the body was carted out a side entrance. The evidence was erased before Raphael was able to clean his dagger and return to his seat. 

One of the nearby human slaves fainted, the try of goblets she was holding clattered to the floor. The crowd gasped as all eyes turned to her. Arigio turned to see who it was but said nothing. Other slaves hastily collected her from the floor and carried her away. 

As the nobles were being escorted from the room, the announcer introduced the next to appear. “Miyamoto Usagi is here to request land for his people.”

Michelangelo perked. “Isn’t that the rabbit?”

“Tact,” Arigio warned under his breath. “You are royalty. People are supposed to be in awe of you, not the other way around.”

A servant opened the door and a white rabbit stepped into the court. He walked up the narrow path, through the crowd to stand in front of the king and bowed. It wasn’t a deep bow but was more than just an inclination of the head, revealing that the rabbit saw himself as greater than a commoner but not quite a noble.

“I come from across the sea with my people,” Usagi said as he stood erect. “We have fled our war-torn country and now seek refuge here. At the moment, we live on boats but that cannot last. I am told that you have farm land that you might be willing to allow my people to settle.”

“I do,” Arigio said. “The field can be flooded for rice and there is an orchard full of plum and apple trees. It will support livestock and is close to a trade route. It is also close enough to the ocean that the village could support fishermen.”

“The locals in that village will welcome us?” Usagi asked. 

“There are no locals.” Arigio stated. “The village is vacant. There was a plague nearly seven years ago. Wiped out the whole village. The priestesses assure me that the area is clear of both the illness and vengeful spirits, and that a water spirit has moved into the river.”

Usagi lifted an eyebrow. “A spirit?”

Arigio nodded. “Do you not have them where you are from?”

“We do,” Usagi said. “The ones that dwell in the water are known as Kappa and are not pleasant.”

“I assure you that this spirit is good,” Arigio said. “I can have a priestess teach you and your people about our different spirits.”

“I do not expect you to give up land for nothing,” Usagi said. “What is your price?”

Arigio smiled. “You would be correct. For start, you and your people would have to pledge loyalty to me as your king and my father as the emperor. Some will be required to join the guard.”

“That will not be a problem,” Usagi assured him. “My people are accustomed to monarchies.”

“Second,” the kind continued. “You will obey our laws and pay respect to our gods.”

“That is understandable,” Usagi replied. 

“I have been told that you call yourself a bodyguard,” Arigio said. 

“I am.” Usagi nodded. 

“Good,” Arigio said. “My brother’s kingdom has seen a rare influx of young girls while my kingdom has seen too few. For you to have the land, I will need you and a handful of men to escort a caravan of young boys to my brother’s kingdom on the other side of the empire and then return with a caravan of girls. You will get all the food and supplies you will need from each kingdom as you travel.”

“That will take months,” Usagi said. “My people cannot live on the boats for that long, many of them will die before I return.”

“They can have the land in good faith while you perform the task,” Arigio said. 

“Thank you,” Usagi said, bowing a little deeper this time. 

“If you fail,” Arigio said, his tone dropping, “your people will pay.”

“I understand,” Usagi said. 

“Oroku Saki will give you the details,” Arigio said, indicating the commander of his army. 

Understanding that he was being dismissed, Usagi followed Saki out of the court. 

The remining cases were simple land disputes and arguments over who had what rights. For the most part, the king was settling petty squabbles between nobles. 

When he dismissed the court, Arigio remained sitting. It was apparent that he wasn’t done but he did not wish to handle the matter in front of the gathered crowed. 

“Where’s the slave that made a scene,” he asked as soon as the court room was cleared. 

The young woman was led by the high priestess, Karai, to stand in front of the king. 

Arigio glared down at her. “Give me one reason why I should not have you whipped within an inch of your life?”

“Please, your highness.” Karai stepped forward. “She did not know it at the time but she passed out because she is pregnant.”

“Who gave you permission,” Arigio demanded. 

“I did not choose it,” the slave sobbed. 

“She was forced, your majesty,” Karai clarified. 

Arigio thought for a moment. “If you did not willingly participate, why did you not come forward sooner?”

“Because I am a lowly slave,” the woman said, keeping her eyes on the ground, “and the man who forced himself on me is a member of the guard. He said he was in his rights to have me.”

“Ah.” Arigio nodded his head in understanding. “Do you know who it was?”

“Hun, your majesty,” she answered. 

“Bring Hun,” the king ordered, sitting back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the slave. 

They didn’t have to wait long. Hun entered the courtroom and strode up to stand before the king. “You summoned me, your majesty?”

“Did you take your pleasure with this slave,” Arigio asked, indicating the young woman. 

Hun looked her over. “I’m not sure, I have had so many. She’s pretty enough, so I might have.”

“She says that you did,” Arigio stated, “and that she is now carrying your child.”

“Is she sure it’s mine,” Hun asked. 

Arigio looked at the woman, expecting an answer. She nodded. “I was a virgin before and have not been with any other. There is no other possibility.”

“Is she old enough to be married,” Arigio asked. “It’s hard to tell with humans.”

“Barely,” Raphael answered. “Though they do tend to marry young, they usually wait until they are at least eighteen.”

Arigio turned his attention back to Hun. “Since she is pregnant with your child would you like for me to allow you to marry her? It wouldn’t be the first time I released a slave at the request of a member of the guard.”

Hun shook his head. “Never desired a wife or children. I prefer to take my pleasures from the slaves.”

Arigio leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he thought. “From now on, take your pleasures from the slaves I have assigned to servicing such needs and not from the ones here in the palace.”

“Yes, your highness,” Hun said with a bow. 

“You may go,” Arigio said and went back to considering the slave. “What to do with you? We still have to deal with the fact that you drew unwanted attention to yourself. You are fortunate that I do not kill children.”

“I like her, father,” Michelangelo said. “She tends to me often and I like having her around. She has a beautiful singing voice. Please be merciful. She one of my favorite slaves. Let me keep her.”

“I told you not to pick favorites or get attached,” Arigio said. “They are fragile creatures that don’t live very long.”

“I know,” Michelangelo whimpered, “but I couldn’t help it. Please don’t take her away from me.”

“She will be easily replaced,” Arigio argued. 

“I don’t want another one,” Michelangelo pouted, “I want her.”

“Very well,” Arigio sighed. “I will indulge you in this. The slave will continue to work while she carries and when the bastard is born it will go to the priestesses. For the distraction in court today she will receive ten lashes.”

“Father,” Michelangelo pleaded. 

“Five,” Arigio said. “That is final.”

The girl gasped as two guards grabbed hold of her and forced her to her knees. Tear filled eyes looked to Karai for help but the priestess turned way. 

An old fox with a bamboo cane stepped behind her. The first lash drew a heart wrenching scream from the young woman. Michelangelo winced and his eyes filled with tears but Raphael sat stone faced like his father. 

With each following lash, the girl’s cries weakened. By the time the fifth one landed, she had blacked out. The thin fabric of her dress, bloodied and tattered, fell from her torso. The guards released her and she slumped to the ground. 

“Take her,” Arigio said with a wave of his hand. As the salves took her away, Arigio stood. “Go see to dinner preparations. It’s been a long day and I am ready for a hot meal.”

“Yes, your highness,” Nevio said and urged Donatello to follow him. 

Leonardo’s jaw hurt from clenching it so hard to keep from crying out. It took every ounce of restraint not to rush into the court room and kill Arigio for what he had done. The rats’ indifference was nothing compared to Arigio’s. 

Staying in the hidden corridors within the castle walls, Leonardo decided to follow the two young princes. The fact that the king and his guards were ignorant to these halls made them a spy’s dream. 

Each chamber had a way to watch and listen in on the unsuspecting occupants. Leonardo wanted to get to know the royal family himself. At the moment, he didn’t like them very much and was beginning to regret the failed assassination.

The two princes stood in silence while slaves removed their ornate attire. It disgusted Leonardo how they would put on such a show. All this pageantry just to feel superior.  

“Leave,” Raphael ordered once it was all put away. 

The slaves scurried from the room in fear, knowing that a simple mistake could lead to a beating. 

The brothers stood in silence for a while. Then, Raphael cried out and punched the wall. 

“Don’t!” Michelangelo moved to stand in front of his brother. “If you bloody up your knuckles, father will ask questions.”

“I knew that if I had chosen imprisonment, father would not have been pleased,” Raphael said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t think that spoiled noble would condemn that man to death.”

“You tried,” Michelangelo soothed. 

Raphael leaned on Michelangelo as he fought to hold back tears. “Why did he have me do that? That man didn’t deserve to die.”

“He’s training you, like grandfather trained him,” Michelangelo said. 

“I don’t want to be like him,” Raphael whimpered. “He’s evil. I hate him.”

“I know,” Michelangelo said, pulling his brother close. “Calm down. If father catches you like this, he’ll beat you. Please.”

“Thank you, for what you did for Olivia,” Raphael mumbled as he returned his brother’s embrace. “If I had tried….”

“I can get by with more than you can,” Michelangelo said. “Might as well take advantage of it. I wasn’t lying when I said she was one of my favorites. I could listen to her sing for hours.”

“Me too.” Raphael pulled away from Michelangelo and took a few deep breaths to regain control. “He’s gonna wear me down eventually. He’s going to break me like grandfather broke him.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Michelangelo promised. 

“I don’t know if you can stop it,” Raphael said, locking away his emotions. “I die a little more every day.”

Leonardo sat down, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. It seemed that everyone suffered under the rule of King Arigio, even his sons. 

Chapter 5

“Your Majesty?”

April stopped her lesson and attempted to get Raphael’s attention. He was staring, blankly down at the table. 

“Your Highness,” April tried again. 

Donatello, one of the few servants allowed to touch the prince, moved forward so that he could tap him on the shoulder. But, before he reached the prince, the taskmaster, Aaron, struck Donatello on the leg. 

The lash hit just below the still tender wounds caused by Hun just a few days ago. Donatello fell to his knees, crying out in pain. 

This snapped Raphael out of his trance. “Why did you strike him?” he demanded. 

“You were not paying attention,” the Aaron said. 

“Don’t strike him again,” Raphael ordered. 

Aaron smiled. “Your fathers orders trump yours, Your Majesty. They whole point of a whipping boy is for him to be whipped when you misbehave. If you do not want him struck, stay on task.”

“You strike him again, I’ll plunge my dagger in your face,” Raphael said, getting to his feel. 

“Your… father…,” Aaron stammered as he shied away. 

“Isn’t here,” Raphael said and pulled his dagger out. “Leave.”

Aaron backed out of the room, turning only after he was safely out the door, to run down the corridor. 

April remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. Watching as Raphael helped Donatello to his feet. Whenever Donatello chanced a look at her, he could see the concern on her face. She waited until Raphael was seated again before continuing her lesson. 

As she taught, her eyes continued to dart towards the door and Donatello knew why. It was guaranteed that Aaron had gone straight to the king to repot what had happened. There will be consequences for Raphael’s actions. 

When the lecture was over, Raphael grabbed two books from the shelf and headed out of the room. As he followed Raphael, Donatello’s eyes met April’s for a moment. There was no mistaking the worry on her face. 

Doing his best to ignore the pain in this leg, Donatello silently kept pace with Raphael. They passed through the kitchen, where Raphael helped himself to whatever food was out. None of the staff dared to tell him no. 

Raphael placed the food into a nearby empty sack, grabbed a jug of cider and then continued on his way. The kitchen led out to the garden. Servants stopped their work to watch the prince pass. Some of their faces expressed curiosity, most fear. 

They eventually made their way to the stables. Raphael’s stoic features softened into a smile as he approached his favorite chestnut mare. 

“Saddle her up,” Raphael ordered. “And a mule for my servant. I want to go for a ride.”

“Yes, your highness,” the stable master, Casey said as he pulled one of the finer saddles down. “Get the mule,” he ordered one of the boys who had been mucking out one of the pens. 

Donatello watched Casey work to make sure it was done right. 

“You just come from lessons,” Casey asked as he tightened a strap. 

“Yes,” Donatello answered with a nod. 

“How’s Ms. O’Neil?”

“Well.”

“I had asked the king if he would allow us to partner,” Casey said, grinning a little. 

“What did he say?”

“That he would consider it.” Casey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s a bit higher up than me. He might prefer her to be with someone who’s smart, like her, and not some lowly horse keeper.”

“Neither of you are slaves,” Donatello pointed out. “You’re free to live your own lives.”

“True,” Casey said. “But, it would not be wise to go against the king’s wishes and take his sons’ teacher. Not if I want to continue to have a job as the stable master.”

“Why would my father be against it,” Raphael asked as he fed his horse one of the apples he had taken from the kitchen. 

“Humans give live birth,” Donatello said. “The pregnancy and delivery are taxing on them and can be fatal if complications arise. Even if everything goes well, it would take her away from her teaching duties for a while.”

“I have plenty of time to learn what I need to learn,” Raphael stated plainly. “If having a baby makes her unable to teach for however long, in the grand scheme of things, it won’t matter. I will talk to my father.”

Casey bowed, deeply. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“The mule is ready,” the stable boy said, handing the reigns to Donatello. 

“As is your horse,” Casey added. “Would you need anything else, your highness?”

“No,” Raphael said as he mounted his horse. 

They traveled for a while, riding out along the edge of the forest. The sky was clear enough that the tops of the mountains could be seen in the distance.  

Legend said that the dragon god lived at the highest peak but no one has ever been able to climb it to find out. Some believed that the deep rumbling that sounding like boulders falling down the side of the mountain was actually the dragon. 

Donatello wasn’t sure what to believe. If the gods and spirits did exist, they didn’t seem to care about him. 

They stopped next to the lake at the base of a waterfall that fed into the river that cut through the forest. After tying their mounts under a large tree, Raphael sat in a shady spot and opened his sack of treats. 

Donatello remained standing, ready to attend at a moment’s notice. When Raphael pulled out a small hand pie, Donatello reached his hand out for it. 

“I doubt it’s poisoned,” Raphael said. 

“If it is and you die from eating it, I would have to report your death and my failure to the king,” Donatello said as a matter of fact. “A quick death by poison is by far preferable to what your father would do to me.”

“If I die, you could run,” Raphael argued. 

“That’s laughable,” Donatello said. “I wouldn’t get very far and my punishment would be far worse.”

“Then you can eat what remains of the pie and die as well.”

“That would be suicide and lead me to eternal damnation.”

“Fine,” Raphael sighed and handed over the pie. “If you’re going to take a bite of everything before I eat it, you could at least sit down.”

Donatello did as he was instructed and situated himself on the soft grass before taking a bite. It was a savory pie. The crust was made with herbs and a strong cheese and was filled with a mixture of meat and mushrooms. 

“You’ll like it,” he said, handing it back to the prince. 

Raphael handed Donatello one of the books. “Here. Read.”

“You grabbed these for me to read,” Donatello asked, taking the book. It was on properties of math and how they apply to warfare. 

“I’ve noticed you trying to read over my shoulder,” Raphael said. “You wanna know what’s in the books so bad, there you go.”

“Thank you.”

Raphael finished the rest of the pie in a few bites. “My father’s gonna be pissed.”

“I know,” Donatello said softly, not needing Raphael to clarify. 

“I just got so mad and I wasn’t thinking,” Raphael said. “I hope…, whatever happens…, I don’t lose you.”

Not knowing how to reply, Donatello stared intently down at the book. When he looked up, Raphael had leaned in closer. Their beaks were almost touching. 

Donatello didn’t dare move back. “Your highness?” 

“You can call me Raph when we’re alone,” Raphael whispered. 

Donatello chanced the smallest shake of his head. “I don’t want to get in the habit of it and say it when we are not alone. I don’t want to forget my place.”

“I would never hit you,” Raphael said, moving in closer. 

“But, your father would,” Donatello whimpered. 

Looking down, Raphael backed away. “I guess you’re right.” He pulled another item from the bag and handed it over for Donatello to try. “It’s best not to get too familiar.”

Donatello accepted the round pastry and bit into it. “You wouldn’t like it,” he said past the small bite. “It has rose.”

“Must have been something mother requested,” Raphael said, looking off towards the waterfall. “You can have it.”

“I don’t like rose either,” Donatello said. 

“Then throw it into the forest for whatever creature would want it.”

Donatello turned towards the forest, ready to toss the floral pastry into the foliage, when he froze in fearful wonder. There coiled at the forest’s edge was a long white dragon. If memory served him right, and judging by the dragon’s length, it was the spirit of the river. 

“Your highness,” he whispered. 

“What,” Raphael asked turning to look at Donatello. 

“In the forest,” Donatello choked out. “Tell me you see it too.”

“Them,” Raphael corrected. “In the trees.”

Tearing his eyes from the dragon, Donatello looked up to see a phoenix watching him. “Do you think they want the pastry?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael said. “I’ve never seen a spirit before. Try giving it them.”

Donatello looked at the small pastry in his hand. “I don’t think there’s enough. Do spirits eat?”

“You’ve been to all of my lessons with me,” Raph hissed. “You know as much as I do on the subject. The important question is, are they here for me or you?”

“You’re the prince,” Donatello said. 

“You were supposed to be,” Raphael reminded him. “Maybe they would prefer you sitting on the throne and are here to give you a way to do that.”

The phoenix began to ruffle its feathers as it started to glow brighter. It wasn’t long before the intensity of the light became too much for them to look at. Shielding his eyes, Donatello looked away. When the light faded the spirits were gone and so was the rose pastry. 

….

Leonardo stood before the council of clan leaders. They had made their decision on his fate. He wasn’t sure if the fact that it was decided quickly was a good or bad omen. 

Splinter stood off to the side to observe. 

“Rats hold a particular reputation,” one of them said. “While some of us can change our appearance to pass as another species, it is not an easy feat.”

“While you may not be assassin material,” another said, “you do have an advantage over the rest of us.”

“Turtles are abundant,” added a third. 

“You can mix with them and gather information,” the first one concluded. 

“I can remain with the clan,” Leonardo asked. 

The second nodded. “As a spy.”

A wave of relief washed over Leonardo. “Thank you.”

“We want you to find a way into king Arigio’s court,” the third said. “There you will gather tactical information of the nobles.”

“I don’t know if that will work,” Leonardo stated. “It appears that I resemble my father. Someone is bound to recognize me.”

“How do you know this,” Splinter asked. 

“The night you sent me to assassinate the royals,” Leonardo said. “The young prince woke. When he saw me, he thought I was my father’s spirit come to take revenge.”

“You can alter your appearance enough to hide the resemblance to your father,” one of the clan leaders said. “You have that skill.”

Leonardo bowed. “Then I will do as you order. I will find a way to join the staff.”

“No. The king has done a callout so the prince can select his first lover,” the second said. “Make sure you’re selected.”

Leonardo’s heart leapt into his throat. “You… you want me to be the prince’s lover?” He had thought he would work in the kitchen or baths, not something so… intimate. 

“Several clan members have and are posing as lovers to gain access to information,” the first point out. 

“It would put you close to the royals,” the third said. “And, in turn, with the nobles.”

“It’s as good as done,” Leonardo said, not really sure how he was going to pull it off. Part of him suspected that they didn’t actually want him to succeed. 

“You are dismissed,” the first said. 

Leonardo knew better than to linger. Bowing deeply, he backed out of the chamber. His mind raced, frantically trying to come up with a way to end up as Prince Raphael’s lover. 

An image of Michelangelo flashed in his mind. Did he have to be Prince Raphael’s lover? Maybe he could both feed his desire to be closer to the younger brother, while fulfilling the mission. 

Not waiting for night, Leonardo disguised himself and made his way towards the castle. He hid in plain sight among the servants, taking the first opportunity to slip into the hidden passageways. 

He was starting to like it there, among the cobwebs and dust. There was a sense of belonging. 

He was still close to the exterior when he heard a commotion. Curiosity got the better of him and he headed over to see what was going on, observing the situation from within the walls.  

The king was in the stables, yelling at Prince Raphael. 

“You do not threaten my servants,” the king yelled. “Over a slave!”

“I did not want him whipping Donatello,” Raphael argued. “He’s still healing from the lashes he received from Hun. Donatello was already moving to get my attention. The lashing was unnecessary.”

“I don’t care,” Arigio growled. “He is a slave with little value. The mule would sell for more.”

“But, he is my slave and I….”

“He is mine!” Arigio back handed Raphael in the face, sending him to the ground. “You own nothing until you are king! Keep disappointing me and that will never happen. I have another son. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father,” Raphael said, keeping his eyes on the ground as he got to his feet. 

Having seen enough, Leonardo backed away before turning to head deeper into the castle. The prospect of being Raphael’s lover had caused Leonardo’s stomach to turn before, now his stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. One wrong move and the king would send him to the ground. 

“How long have you been spying on my family from inside these walls?”

Startled, Leonardo spun around to find Michelangelo in the passageway with him. He was holding a small candle that did very little to light the area. 

Holding up the candle, Michelangelo tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “You did something. You look different.”

“Disguise,” Leonardo answered plainly. 

“Why?” Michelangelo shrugged. “Not too many people know what the former king looked like.”

“Oroku Saki would know,” Leonardo stated. 

“I don’t know,” Michelangelo said thoughtfully. “He says we all look alike to him.”

“It would be wise not to trust anything that man says,” Leonardo said. 

Michelangelo shrugged. “I like him.”

“Then you’re being deceived.”

“He’s there for us,” Michelangelo argued.

“Only because it suits him,” Leonardo said. “If he thought he would come out better by putting a knife in your back, then he would. He betrayed my father, he would not hesitate to betray you.”

“He saved lives by surrendering,” Michelangelo said. “My father was ready to kill thousands.”

Leonardo let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Saki may say he acted in the interest of the people but he does not do anything unless it benefits him. Keep that in mind the next time he offers you anything. Try to see how it would benefit him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Michelangelo smiled. “I’m glad we’re talking. I have so many questions.”

“As do I,” Leonardo said. 

“Follow me,” Michelangelo said as he passed Leonardo. “There’s a hidden room this way. We can get to know each other a little better.”

“You know your way through these passages,” it was as much an observation as it was a question.

“I am the second hatched son,” Michelangelo said as a matter of fact. “While I hold some value, I am mostly ignored. I found my way into these passageways when I was five and I’ve been exploring them ever since.”

“You never told anyone?”

“I told Raph but I’m not going to ruin having this all to myself by telling anyone else.”

“How do you know what my father looked like,” Leonardo asked. “I thought your father destroyed everything.”

“There are portraits of him in the hidden rooms,” Michelangelo answered. “My father doesn’t know about them. Your features are a strong family trait, by the way. I’ve seen five generations of portraits and there is not much difference between them. Me? I look like my grandfather, the emperor, while my brother looks like our father, who looks more like his mother.” 

They walked in silence for a moment before Leonardo spoke again. “I have been observing your family from these hidden passageways, ever since I decided not to go through with the assassination, to make sure I made the right decision.”

“Did you,” Michelangelo asked, pausing to look over his shoulder. 

“I’m leaning towards, yes,” Leonardo replied with a small smile.  

A wide smile spread across Michelangelo’s face. “Good.” He pushed open a hidden door and led the way into a secret room. “This is my favorite room in the whole castle.”

Leonardo closed the door behind them while Michelangelo moved around the room, lighting lanterns. It was small and surprisingly not as musky as he had expected it to be. Narrow slits in the wall to the outside allowed airflow and a little light, without giving away any evidence that the room was there. Specially placed mirrors reflected and enhanced the light.

There was a small desk pushed against the wall, covered in writing material. The ink had gone dry long ago. There were shelves with books and the portraits Michelangelo had mentioned hanging on the wall. 

“They’re journals,” Michelangelo said. “They are a history of the kingdom told by the ones who had ruled.” Reaching up, Michelangelo pulled down one of the journals. “This is the first one.”

He handed the book to Leonardo. “The first king, Leonardo, fought off an infestation of evil spirits to get this land. The Hart of the Forest helped him.”

“Heart of the Forest?” Leonardo opened the journal and skimmed through the pages. 

“You know,” Michelangelo put his hands up next to his head to resemble antlers, “a ten-point buck. A hart, the forest spirit.”

“I saw him,” Leonardo said, looking up from the pages. “That night…. When I was on my way back home.”

One again Michelangelo smiled. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“I never really believed in spirits before that,” Leonardo confessed. “I thought they were just made up stories to frighten or comfort children.”

“They’re real,” Michelangelo insisted. “And, they can do wonderful things.”

“Then why did they allow the invasion? Why didn’t the spirits protect my mother and father?”

“The same reason The Hart of the Forest couldn’t clear the evil spirits off the land on his own,” Michelangelo said. “They have their limits. They need the help of the mortals as much as we need them.”

Leonardo opened the book to the first page. “The spirit, that my ancestor defeated, was called The Shredder, the demon of blades.”

“A destroyer,” Michelangelo added. “You read about what he did, he lived up to his name. He tore up the land to the point that nothing could live here.”

“Spirits never die,” Leonardo said. “I wonder what happened to him.”

“Hard to say for sure. Hopefully, he’s moved on. You can stay here and read the books if you want,” Michelangelo offered. “Learn about your family.”

“I would love to stay here,” Leonardo said, “but living within the hidden halls of the castle is not all that appealing. Though, the idea of being close to you is.”

“That would be nice,” Michelangelo agreed. “I just realized that I don’t know your name.”

“I guess I was named after him,” Leonardo said, looking down at the book.

“Royals tend to do that,” Michelangelo said. “How did you survive? I have my theories, I want to know if I’m right.”

“Splinter escaped with me and put an orphan in my place,” Leonardo answered. “He raised me, trained me.”

“I thought as much,” Michelangelo said. “So, he really was loyal to your father.”

Leonardo nodded. “It was a life debt.” Deciding to be honest with Michelangelo, Leonardo looked him in the eyes. “The rats want me to stay here as well as a spy. They want me to gather information on the nobles.”

“Okay,” Michelangelo said. “How do we do that?”

“You father sent a callout,” Leonardo said. “In two days young turtles will gather so your brother can choose one for his lover. Maybe you can request one as well and select me. That way I can get access to the nobles who try to gain the favor of the royal family through their lovers.”

Michelangelo shook his head. “I don’t get to have a lover. One day I will be sent to one of my cousins to be a lover.”

“I was afraid of that,” Leonardo said. “Then I have to find a way to attract your brother and be his lover.”

“You have to,” Michelangelo asked sounding hurt. 

“I already failed my first mission to kill you and your family,” Leonardo said. “If I fail this one, I have no idea what the rats will do to me.”

“This sucks,” Michelangelo said. He thought for a moment and then began to smile. “Maybe…. I know Raph doesn’t want a lover yet but knows better than to say as much to our father. I can talk to him and tell him to pick you, then you can use the passageway that connects our rooms to come to me. That way, we all get what we want.”

“Would your brother agree?”

Michelangelo nodded. “Once he gets back from his ride, I’ll talk to him.”

“He is back,” Leonardo said slowly. “I was watching him in the stable before you arrived.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something unpleasant,” Michelangelo asked. 

Leonardo nodded. “Your father hit him pretty hard.”

“I have to find him,” Michelangelo said and turned to run out of the room. 

“I’ll stay here,” Leonardo called after him. 

The door close and Leonardo was alone. Not knowing how long he was going to have to wait, he sat at the desk and started reading. 

Chapter 6

Donatello walked with Raphael back to the prince’s room. The prince was a little wobbly on his feet but managed, no, insisted on walking there unassisted. If he was anything like his father, he was stubborn. 

When they reached the room, Raphael slowly sat down on the bed. His hand covered the cheek where his father had struck him. 

“Do you feel dizzy,” Donatello asked. 

Raphael carefully shook his head. 

“Let me look at your jaw,” Donatello offered, kneeling in front of Raphael. “Do you taste any blood?”

“No,” Raphael said through closed teeth as he lowered his hand.  

“That’s good,” Donatello said. “That means you still have all your teeth.” He gently ran his fingers down Raphael’s jaw. “I’m surprised there isn’t more swelling.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Raphael said, testing his jaw. 

“You’re lucky it isn’t broken,” Donatello said. “I thought, for sure that your father had knocked you senseless.”

“I’m just glad he didn’t take you from me,” Raphael said. 

“You never should have threatened Aaron,” Donatello said as he felt along the cheek bone. 

“You’re right,” Raphael said, keeping his eyes locked on Donatello’s. “I shouldn’t let them know how much… I…,” he pulled his eyes away and looked at the ground. “I should pretend to not care. Maybe then they will stop using you to punish me.”

Donatello lowered his hand and studied Raphael’s face. He could see the sorrow. “I am also glad that your father didn’t send me elsewhere. Staying here, with you, is preferable to anywhere else.”

Raphael looked into Donatello’s eyes and there was a spark of hope in them. Raphael leaned in a little and Donatello’s heart began to race. The hope in Raphael’s eyes had turned into desire. 

The moment was broken when there was a knock on the wall. They both stood and turned in its direction as the hidden door cracked open. “Raph?”

“Mikey, what’re you doing,” Raphael demanded. “What have I told you about sneaking into my room like this? Why didn’t you just come through the door?”

Michelangelo stepped into the room, shutting the hidden door behind him. “I was already in the hidden passageways when I heard the news.” He rushed towards Raphael and began scanning his face. “Where did he hit you?”

“Here,” Raphael said, pointing to his cheek. 

“There’s nothing there,” Michelangelo said in astonishment. “He must not have hit you that hard.”

“It was hard,” Donatello said. “Sent the prince to the ground. I didn’t think he would be getting up for a while.” As he replayed the scene in his head, Donatello plopped down on a hard chair and then immediately stood back up. 

“Are you alright,” Raphael asked. 

Donatello stood in disbelief for a moment before sitting back down. “It didn’t hurt. I had stood back up, reflexively, expecting it to hurt, before I had even realized that there was no pain.”

“None at all,” Raphael asked as he approached. 

Donatello shook his head. 

“Let me see,” Raphael offered. 

Donatello’s eyes shot up to Michelangelo, nervous about dropping his pants in front of the young prince. Michelangelo must have picked up on the apprehension and turned around.

“I won’t look.”

Turning, Donatello lowered his trousers so Raphael could inspect his wounds. 

“They’re gone,” Raphael said in disbelief. 

Donatello ran his fingers where the scabs once were to find only smooth skin. “They are.”

“I am seriously fighting the urge to turn around and look,” Michelangelo said. “How is it possible for Donatello’s wounds to just vanish?”

“The Phoenix is known to heal,” Donatello offered as an explanation as he pulled his pants back up. 

“Phoenix!” Michelangelo spun around. “What Phoenix?”

“We saw two spirits earlier today,” Raphael said. “While we were out by the waterfall.”

Michelangelo’s face lit up. “Two?” he squeaked. “What was the other one?”

“A long dragon,” Raphael answered. 

“Mizuchi!” Michelangelo got so excited he danced in place. “You saw Mizuchi, the river spirit? And, the phoenix… that’s Suzaku!”

“They didn’t tell us their names,” Raphael said slowly. “Why do you think their names are Mizuchi and Suzaku?”

Michelangelo froze, thought for a moment and then said, “I read it in a book.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing…,” Michelangelo replied. 

“Where did you find this book,” Raphael asked. 

“In the royal library,” Michelangelo lied. “You’d be surprised what information you could find in there if you took the time to look.”

“What did you read about them,” Raphael demanded. 

“Mizuchi is the spirit of the river that runs through the forest,” Michelangelo said. “Born from the waterfall and the lake. He traveled out to the sea to bring the first settlers here.”

“And, Suzaku?” Raphael prompted. 

“He’s the spirit of healing,” Michelangelo said. “You see his symbol on every certified medical professional in this area. It’s one of the few things from the old kingdom that survived father’s purge.”

Raphael crossed his arms over his plastron. “If father purged it all, how do you know about them? Where did you rally find the books?”

“In the hidden tunnels,” Michelangelo admitted. “You’d be amazed at the things I find in there.” He thought for a moment. “I wonder what they wanted with you. The fact that they healed you is a great honor. It was powerful enough to keep you from getting seriously hurt when father hit you.”

Raphael rubbed his cheek. “I didn’t think about that. I thought the blessing was just for Donatello since he….”

Raphael’s voice trailed off as he looked up at Donatello. He didn’t want to say that Donatello was the rightful prince. 

“Yeah…,” Michelangelo said and then snapped his fingers, eager to change the subject. “Oh yeah!” He looked up at his brother. “I have some other news for you.”

“Good or bad,” Raphael asked. 

Michelangelo shrugged. “All depends on how you look at it.”

“So…, what is it,” Raphael asked. 

“Father sent out a call for you to select a mate,” Michelangelo said. 

“Of course he would,” Raphael said. 

“But…, here’s the good news,” Michelangelo said with a smile. “There’s a farm boy I like and you can select him.”

“A farm boy,” Raphael said eyeing his brother, “you like? And, you want him to be my lover?”

Michelangelo nodded and then started to shake his head. “Not, really. I can’t have a lover but if you take him as yours he can come to my room through the hidden hallways. Father will think you have a lover and I get to have him. It’s a win win.”

“You want to give access to the secret halls to this farm boy?” Raphael voiced his concerns. 

“Yeah,” Michelangelo said with a nod. 

“Are you nuts?” Raphael roared. 

Michelangelo’s smile dropped. “What?”

“You don’t think that maybe this boy is taking advantage of you so he can leave the farm and live a nice cushy life here in the castle?” Raph pointed out. “Or worse, wants to gain access to the castle to hurt our family? There are a lot of families out there still loyal to the old king.” 

Michelangelo shook his head. “No. He’s not like that. He doesn’t want to hurt us.”

“Really?” Raphael scoffed. “Really? People only see the crown, Mikey. They only want to be near us because of what they think they can gain. Or, they take advantage to gain access. They either want to use us or kill us.”

“Just let me have this,” Michelangelo argued, his eyes filling with tears. “You’re not ready for one yet and I want this one. This can work.”

“You know it won’t last,” Raphael said. “One day you’re going to be sent away to be with one of our cousins or father will insist I get another one and this farm boy will have to stay with me.”

“I know,” Michelangelo said softly. 

Raphael sighed. “Fine. If I’m gonna have to pick one anyway…. I’ll need to see him so I’ll know who to pick.”

“I’ll go get him,” Michelangelo said as he rushed over to the hidden door. “I’ll be back shortly.”

When the door closed, Raphael turned to Donatello. “You’ll be able to stay quiet about this?”

“I have nothing to gain by telling anyone,” Donatello stated. 

“I suppose,” Raphael said, looking away. “This is stupid. This guy is using Mikey, one way or another.”

Donatello thought about what Raphael had said to Michelangelo and it made him see what his anger had kept him blind to. Despite being royalty, Raphael had very little say over his own life and finding someone to trust was hard. It’s a strong possibility that he will never find someone to love him for who he is and not his title. Donatello almost felt sorry for him. 

Michelangelo returned with the farm boy. He looked to be about their age, maybe a little older. He came from good stock. Clear complexion, well built, as expected for someone who does manual labor, with beautiful grey-blue eyes.  

“This is Leonardo,” Michelangelo said. 

Raphael looked him over. “You understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Michelangelo has explained it,” Leonardo replied. 

“You cannot be seen being affectionate to him at all,” Raphael stated. “This whole situation is temporary. A few years, at best.”

Leonardo nodded. “I understand. I know it’s all fleeting but I want to spend as much time with Mikey as I can.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched for a moment. Donatello couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or jealousy. “Fine. I’ll select you. Now leave before someone comes in and finds you here.”

“Thanks, Raph,” Michelangelo said as he ushered Leonardo back through the hidden door. “I owe you big time.”

Looking distraught, Raphael climbed into his bed. “I need to lie down for a while.”

“Is there anything you need from me, your highness,” Donatello offered. 

“No,” Raphael answered, turning his back to Donatello. 

“Then I will wait until there is,” Donatello said, taking a seat. 

“He called him, Mikey,” Raphael mumbled. 

“Your highness?” Donatello prompted. 

“Never mind,” Raph replied. 

….

Leonardo stood with the other young turtles who had answered the callout. There were quite a few. Some, he had to admit, were quite attractive. While others, even if the decision hadn’t already been made, wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

Raphael took his time looking them all over, making a show of it. Wise move. He didn’t want to make his selection too early. His father would suspect that he didn’t really care or that something was amiss. 

They had made eye contact for a brief moment in the beginning. The subtle way the prince’s eyes narrowed told Leonardo that he had been recognized. 

Leonardo wondered why Raphael seemed so angry. 

Donatello stayed back but also followed the prince, ever ready to serve. Leonardo watched him for a while and wondered how different he would have been if Splinter hadn’t taken him. He couldn’t imagine what life would have been like. 

“Would you like more than one,” the king asked, sounding irritated. 

There was a subtle shift in Raphael’s expression and then he feigned a sigh of indifference. “This one,” he said, pointing to Leonardo. “I like his eyes.”

“Yes,” Arigio said as he moved closer. “There’s something familiar about them.”

Leonardo felt a swell of panic. Would the king recognize the similarities to Demitrio’s features, despite the disguise? Was his memory that good?

“Would you like him for yourself,” Raphael asked dryly. 

Arigio chuckled. “No. He is yours.” He turned to two turtles who had been standing close by. “Take him back to the palace and have him ready by tonight.”

“Yes, my king,” one of them said before beckoning for Leonardo to follow. He was a large turtle with dark green skin, riddled with scars. He looked every part a warrior. 

The other one was slightly smaller but equally menacing. Arigio’s lovers double as body guards so it made sense that they would be formidable. 

“My name is Paolo,” the other one said as they walked, “and this is Lorenzo, King Arigio’s first selected.”

“We are going to get you familiar with your new life,” Lorenzo said. “There will be a grace period as you learn but you will be expected to act a certain way and preform specific duties.”

“Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t all lounging around in a pampered suite while mingling with the nobles,” Paolo said with a smile. 

They entered the castle and the first place they headed to was the wash room. Lorenzo pointed to the steaming tub of water and waiting slaves. “First and foremost, you will be clean and presentable. You will bathe every morning with the princes and their slaves will tend to you.”

The pair watched Leonardo expectantly. Taking the hint, Leonardo removed his clothing as he moved towards the bath. A slave stopped him before he could enter and hastily took his measurements. She was done in a matter of seconds and Leonardo was allowed to enter the bath. 

The slaves scrubbed his shell with course brushes and washed his body. When they were done they toweled him off and then rubbed him down with scented oils. 

The slave who had taken his measurements waited for them in another room. She had clothes set out. “Do you have a preference,” the slave asked. 

“The blue one,” Leonardo said and reached for the garment. 

“The slave will dress you,” Paolo said, causing Leonardo to retract his hand. “The outfits can be difficult to fasten in some areas, so it is best to simply have the slave do it all.”

“I will no longer be dressing myself,” Leonardo asked. 

“You will have casual attire before your bath and before bed,” Lorenzo said. “But, when you are dressed for the public eye, you will be dressed by a slave.”

As Leonardo was dressed and the slave altered the outfit to fit him just right, Lorenzo and Paolo ran down a list of etiquette dos and don’ts. It was almost difficult for him to keep from laughing when they told him that part of his duties would be to befriend and gather information on the nobles. 
 
They spent the better part of the day, touring the castle and meeting important people. The entire time, Lorenzo and Paolo were correcting Leonardo’s behavior. There was a way to address people of higher stature that was different from the way to address people of lower stature. 

“Do not touch your food until the prince’s slave has sampled it,” Lorenzo said as they headed to the dining hall for lunch. “You don’t need to talk to him. If you don’t like something, just don’t eat it. He will learn your preferences in time.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to him,” Leonardo asked for clarification. 

“You can,” Paolo said. 

“Don’t know why you would want to,” Lorenzo added dryly. 

“There are some rules you have to follow with him,” Paolo said. “You need to remember that he is Prince Raphael’s slave first and foremost. You cannot give him an order that contradicts the prince’s.”

“Sex with that slave is also off limits unless the prince allows it,” Lorenzo said. “As far as slaves go, he is higher ranking. The lower slaves are fair game though. They are usually never given official tasks by the royal family.”

“The queen’s slaves are completely off limits,” Paolo added. “Don’t even talk to them.”

It was all a lot to take in at once. 

They entered the dining hall and Lorenzo pointed towards where Raphael was sitting. “There’s the prince. His slave will tend to you now.”

“Thank you,” Leonardo said as the two turned to take their places next to the king. 

Taking the empty seat across from Raphael, Leonardo chanced a glace at Michelangelo. The younger prince was beaming. Raphael, on the other hand, was a little more stoic. 

Donatello set a plate full of food on the table and proceeded to take small bites from each item, switching out his utensil with each bite. Leonardo watched Donatello, unsure if he was supposed to take the plate or wait for it to be handed to him. 

“There’s a set amount of time before he can pass you the plate,” Raphael said before biting into the roasted leg of some animal. “Poison tends to work within a few seconds, so the slaves count to thirty before handing the food over.”

“Has anyone been poisoned,” Leonardo asked, looking around to see several other slaves sampling food. 

“There was one time someone poisoned father’s wine,” Michelangelo said. “Fortunately, it was a weak poison and the priestesses were able to save Nevio and three of the slaves. We lost one. The priestesses say it’s because he was a smaller human that the poison affected him more.”

“That’s terrible,” Leonardo said as Donatello slid the plate to him. 

“We’re not supposed to feel bad for slaves,” Michelangelo mumbled. 

The meal was richer than anything Leonardo had ever eaten and he knew better than to eat too much of it. He would need to give his system time to adjust to it. Even the baked apple for dessert was more decadent than the simple ones Splinter had made him by the fire. It had been cored, stuffed with nuts, drizzled with honey and topped with cream. 

As good as it was, Leonardo could only manage a few bites before his stomach started to protest. 

“I’m sure you didn’t eat like this out at your family’s farm,” Raphael said with a smile. 

Leonardo chuckled. “The meals I ate were simple. Rarely did we have meat.”

“Now that you’ve been here a while, have you started to regret your decision yet,” Raphael teased. “You may be in the lap of luxury, but your life isn’t going to be completely pampered.”

“I’m used to work,” Leonardo replied. “I don’t think I would have done well if all that was required of me was to lounge around all day, doing nothing. I would have gone stir crazy.”

“There are other things you are required to do,” Raphael said in a serious tone. “Things my father has ways of knowing if they happen or not. Things we will discuss when we are in private.”

“I understand,” Leonardo replied and his stomach began to ache from more than the richness of the food. He knew what the price was implying. Ready or not, he was expected to be intimate with the prince. 

The problem was, he knew next to nothing about sex. 

…..