
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5795344.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teenage_Mutant_Ninja_Turtles_(TV_2003)
  Relationship:
      Donatello/Jhanna_(TMNT)
  Additional Tags:
      jhannatello, harem_boy_donnie, petitioner_au, consort_donatello
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-23 Updated: 2016-01-26 Chapters: 7/10 Words: 15432
****** Royal Consort Donatello ******
by Koalagriton
Summary
     Jhannatello 2003. Harem Boy Donnie, Petitioner AU. Donatello has
     travelled to Omatran seeking Jhanna 18 years after their brief yet
     passionate encounter on Earth. Prime Magistrate Jhanna decides to
     take him as her Consort. A series of one-shots depicting Donnie's
     life in court and at Jhanna's side. NSFW adult themes.
***** Waiting *****
Donatello looked around distractedly as the Omatran noble assigned as his
instructor for etiquette went on about about the importance of correct posture.
He hadn't seen Jhanna since their first reunion ten days ago when he'd arrived
at Court. He'd been so frightened she wouldn't want him here after he had
travelled so far to pursue something with her. He risked a lot when he showed
up fuelled by the memory of a single night of passion with the blue-skinned
warrior nearly two decades ago and nothing else to offer the Prime Magistrate
other than himself.
 
Against all odds, (he'd calculated on his travels the probability of his offer
being accepted and his chances were negligible) he'd been accepted and taken
in, informed of what was going to be his new role and started being prepared
for it. They'd moved him into a lavishly furnished room, bathed and clothed him
in fine silks. He was struggling to adapt quickly to a lot of the changes, for
example, the bathing. It still made him feel incredibly awkward and
uncomfortable to have strangers actually bathe him and massage oils and
perfumes into his skin. When he'd tried to politely decline the attentions he'd
managed to offend and had to backtrack quickly. Now he just endured it in
silence.
 
He still had enough attention left over from his musings to nod and agree in
the appropriate moments of the conversation while his mind wandered. It was a
skill he'd honed to perfection during Leonardo's interminable lectures. Once
the noble left for the day Donatello turned towards his empty room and sighed,
not sure what to do with himself. Technically, he had free reign of the palace
grounds as long as he was escorted by a guard but this was Omatran for: "you're
not really allowed anywhere or do anything but it would be impolite to say so
outright".
 
Knowing how straight forward and honest Jhanna was, he was surprised to see how
ceremonious and elaborately polite everyone behaved in Court. It was a nice way
of saying they seemed "fake" because as he'd come to learn, people here rarely
truly said what they meant. The careful politeness and compliments were all
just a facade.
 
There was a distinct feeling of artificiality about everything here. The
correctness always disguised a certain aggressiveness behind the messages
relayed with perfect poise and civility. He learned this lesson quickly and
realised, to his chagrin, that he hadn't actually made any real friends during
his time here and was uncertain he would ever. He'd learned to see beyond the
forced correctness he received from most around him that hid an obvious disdain
for his suddenly acquired position, usually reserved only for those of highly
influential families who held titles within the court.
 
With no one to really socialize with (he abstained from the fake friendly
reunions and idle chatter of the Court unless it was specifically requested of
him) he spent a great deal of his time on his own. He suspected it was also due
to the fact that no one really believed that the Queen had chosen him to be her
Consort. At least, that was what he was told by those appointed to prepare him
for court duties. Court duties, heh. So far it seemed they consisted in a lot
of standing straight and being quiet unless called upon.
 
He was tempted to call everything off and head home but he wouldn't do so
without seeing this through first. He needed to talk to her, to see her and
make sure they were on the same page, or at least in the same book.
 
"Jhanna..." He sighed.
 
Maybe their night together didn't mean the same to her as it did to him. Maybe
he had been accepted only for diplomatic reasons and not a mutual desire. She
did accept rather quickly and without even talking to him to explain what was
happening in person he had been told he would be her Consort. Consort to the
Queen! It seemed a little fast. He'd expected there to be some kind of
courtship or... something. He'd barely even been able to look at her!
 
He was told she'd had to leave immediately to settle some treaty dispute in the
Western Regions, formerly Moriah's domain and now governed by her sister Eriah,
and he understood that her duty would not stop just because he suddenly showed
up out of the blue. When he asked the Council to accompany her to provide help
he had been dismissed and mocked in their polite, courtly way.
 
A quiet knock at the door let him know it was already time for supper and the
boy assigned as his attendant entered, walking softly to make as little noise
as possible and keeping his gaze on the ground, never looking at him directly
while he spread out the meal on one of the tables near a window where he
preferred to sit. He was a young Omatran, looking to be no more than fourteen
or fifteen with dark midnight-blue skin and light, almost white hair. The sides
and back of his hair were cut short and the top was braided tightly against his
scalp and tied back into a long tail. He didn't wear any jewellery even though
the other servants in this part of the palace grounds did. He was probably low
born, 'just like me', Don thought.
 
He had tried talking to him when he'd first arrived and managed to get his
name. "Cereth," he'd stuttered quickly and nothing else, hunched in on himself
as he tried to take up as little space as possible. Don had kept talking
through the silence as he served him, trying to befriend him but he only
answered when asked something directly in short concise answers or with a "One
such as I wouldn't know about that, m'Lord."
 
He sighed and rose to walk over to see if he could manage to eat something
before heading to bed. As he sat down to start poking through his food he
realised the boy was still standing behind him, which was odd. Cereth would
usually scurry away quickly and stay out of sight until he had to clean up and
always did so silently. Donatello turned, wondering what the boy would need of
him and watched him hesitating, glancing between the servant's door where he
should be walking through and wringing his hands together.
 
"Don't despair," he said quietly. "The Queen will be back soon."
 
Donatello looked up and for a moment their eyes met before the boy realised
what he was doing and bowed low, apologizing. Don stopped him before he started
grovelling, "You don't have to do that with me, please. I'm not used to all of
this." He waved a hand vaguely around with an embarrassed smile. "I guess I
must look a mess for you to be so worried about me."
 
"I-I didn't mean...!" Cereth looked horrified at what he'd done but stopped
short when he glanced back up to Don.
 
Donatello gave him a genuine smile and the boy froze for a moment before
returning it timidly. "You seem different than the others... kind. I know
you've been upset and... l-lonely." He blushed at his forwardness. "Don't fear,
it won't be much longer."
 
Finished with what he had to say, the boy bowed low and scurried out of the
room quickly. The talk with Cereth, though brief, had lifted Don's spirits.
He'd try wandering the Palace again tomorrow and find out when the Queen was
due to return. Maybe he'd look for Cereth and try talking to him again. Once
Jhanna was back he could perhaps ask to her to be given access to the palace
library or be allowed out of the palace into the city.
 
He settled into his bed and thought of her. His memory of that night would have
to fuel him a little longer. It had been eighteen years ago but he felt like no
time had passed. He brought to mind his first experience every once in a while,
savouring every detail he could recall and then putting it away to cherish
privately. Not even his brothers had known about it until he told them years
after it had happened. He didn't go into details either, what they did and how
far they went was only between them and he didn't mention it again until he'd
made up his mind about coming here.
 
===============================================================================
 
She'd spent the night with them after defeating Moriah. They shared their
provisions and ate, retelling parts of the battle the others could have missed
without sparing colourful descriptions and animated (if slightly exaggerated)
demonstrations. Though it was amusing, he found he couldn't pull his eyes from
her, he was absolutely taken with her strength, beauty and skill in combat.
 
Later that night, while the others slept she'd led him away from the camp into
a clearing in the woods far enough to not be disturbed. At the time, he'd
thought she wanted to speak to him about something but when he asked what she
wanted, she'd smiled and kissed him, caressing his green skin, whispering how
beautiful and strong he was.
 
He couldn't even respond, just stared at her as his world turned upside-down
and inside-out and before he knew what was happening she'd pulled him down and
pressed him into the cool grass, divesting herself of her armour and shimmying
out of her body suit as she stood over him. He must have looked like a confused
fish gaping at this blue-skinned goddess, wondering if this was all a mistake
or some elaborate joke. Any moment now she'd stop disrobing and laugh at his
credulousness but pieces of armour and clothing kept being discarded with small
thuds on the grass as he watched in disbelieving awe.
 
To his embarrassment, he dropped down the moment she removed her last item of
clothing, unable to hold his erection for even a moment, stunned that this was
happening to him and not sure if he was awake or still dreaming. His cock
twitched and bobbed under her hungry stare. If his world hadn't been been
spinning he might have had the presence of mind to try and cover himself from
her sight. When she hummed appreciatively he thought he could probably get off
just like this.
 
He had never been looked at this way or touched how she touched him before, as
if he were desirable, as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her fingers left
burning trails wherever they slid over him and he hissed and moaned in
pleasure, squirming under her helplessly as she raked her nails over his
shoulders and down his plastron. His head was spinning and he wouldn't have
been able to respond if they were attacked. He probably wouldn't have even been
able to stand up without falling over.
 
He didn't know what to do with his hands. Her warm thighs pressed against his
as she straddled him, his erection standing between them and he gasped whenever
the slight movement of her body made it brush against her abdomen. It felt like
electricity, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him even with the slightest
touch. He tentatively moved his fingers from where they were buried in the
grass to brush timidly over a smooth knee and she smiled down at him, covering
his hand with her own to slide it up her thigh and rest on the crease where it
joined her hip.
 
He groaned at the sky, pushing his head back and to the side in the grass. He
was losing his mind, hyperventilating isn't helping either, he thought to
himself as he bit his lips and tried to reign in his panting breath and
galloping heart, trying and failing to quiet the noises he was making. At this
rate the others were bound to come over to investigate and there was no way he
wanted any interruptions now.
 
The little control he did manage to get over himself went to hell the moment
she took his length in her warm hands. He thought he was going to come
immediately. His whole body shook and his hips jerked upwards, but he managed
to pull her hands away from him before embarrassing himself while stammering
that he had never done this before.
 
She smiled at his confession, a wicked glint in her eye and Don swallowed
audibly, feeling completely at her mercy. Reaching this point he would probably
let her do whatever she wanted to him, he could barely put two thoughts
together through his haze of desire.
 
"Untouched," she hummed and the sound went right to his cock that twitched in
agreement. She squeezed him back and he whimpered, "you are a gift to me for my
victory." She breathed huskily, raking her nails over his plastron.
 
He threw his head back and let out a loud churr that echoed around them but he
couldn't care less if the sound carried back to camp. She leaned forward and
kissed him more gently this time, soothing his fevered skin with slow, steady
touches, whispering endearments until his heavy panting breath slowed once
again.
 
She lifted herself up then, lining up with his cock and pressing herself down.
The fleshy head of his erection flattened slightly and then parted her folds
entering her heat as she moaned. She felt tight around him and she had to rock
her hips gently to slowly ease him into her body. Somewhere in the back of his
mind he realised he should probably stop making those strangled mewling noises
but for the life of him he couldn't stop. By the time he was fully sheathed
inside her he was already whimpering, biting his bottom lip, his hands fisted
in the grass as he struggled to not tumble over the edge.
 
Her movement stilled and she reached between them to squeeze his shaft where
they were joined at the base of his tail. He yelped at the sudden stinging
sensation, a burning pinch that dampened his pleasure.
 
"Not yet, my sweet Donatello. I am not done with you." She whispered
breathlessly.
 
Her hand covered his, opening his fists and pulling him up into a sitting
position to embrace him, comforting him with quiet words and then holding onto
him tightly as she began to ride him slowly, making love to him as he trembled
in her arms. He held on with every ounce of willpower he had but he didn't
last, churring loudly into her chest as he spilled into her body in a mind
blowing orgasm that had him nearly blacking out shortly after they had just
begun. She held him close to her body as she rocked her hips, grinding against
him with his half-hard cock still inside her, seeking friction until she came
as well, moaning into the side of his head, squeezing around him in spasms.
 
He listened to her breathing, caressing her back as she recovered and then
pulled her down when she slumped against him to lay beside him in the soft
grass. He watched her as she surfaced from the haze of her orgasm. Now that he
was in possession of his wits again he needed to know what this meant.
 
They talked through most of the night. She told him of her world, he told her
of his, how they lived, that they were the only four of their kind. She asked
him to go with her, she would be leaving very soon and he politely refused. He
had a duty to his brothers after all.
 
They returned to camp while it was still dark and she left before sunrise,
while he slept by her side leaving behind her braids as the only testament of
what they had shared.
 
===============================================================================
 
He sighed at the memory replaying over and over in his head, tossing and
turning in the lavish silk sheets of the large bed as sleep eluded him. His
recollection of that night haunted him now more than ever. He had waited
eighteen years before allowing himself to follow this dream, he should be able
to wait a little longer to see her.
 
He looked out the open window at the sky, it was close to sunrise already. He
pulled off his sheets and got up. Having found his motivation he sat down among
the few books he had been given, all about either etiquette or the genealogy of
the noble families and those who rose to power over the history. He used these
early hours to study earnestly. He'd gain the skills Jhanna needed from him and
give her everything he had. Only then, if that wasn't enough, would he be
satisfied with his attempt at chasing his dream.
 
Not long after, at least it didn't seem as if much time had passed, he heard
quick steps outside his room and was on alert immediately. A sharp knock came
shortly after and Cereth burst through the door the moment he raised his voice
to give his permission. He took a moment to compose himself abashedly for his
rude entry and exclaimed, "She's here! She's back!" not able to hold back his
enthusiasm any longer.
 
Donatello bit back his cry of joy even though he couldn't help the wide grin
that took over his mouth. Cereth's own smile shone through in response and the
boy reached forward to grip him by the hand when someone else stepped through
the open door. Cereth immediately schooled his face and cowered into the corner
where he was supposed to remain while he was attending.
 
The guard eyed the boy with an angry frown but said nothing about the servant's
slip, "Prime Magistrate Jhanna has returned and she wishes to see you." She
said in a firm voice.
 
Finally, his chance had arrived. After all this time, his wait was over.
***** Mine *****
“I've heard your new slave is quite talented.” Lady Eriah interrupted Jhanna as
she was explaining the catastrophic consequences of the recent floods in the
southern provinces. The room went silent and eyes turned to the woman who kept
speaking. “Rumour has it your pet is well learned in the bedroom and quite...”
She eyed Donatello up and down lustfully, gaze pausing halfway down his body.
“endowed.”
 
Donatello, standing behind Jhanna's seat turned his head slightly, the dangling
beads of the ornament on his head clicking together with the movement. If you
didn't know Jhanna you would think she was bored with the comment but Don could
see the tell-tale twitch of the muscle in her temple showing she was trying
very hard not to grind her teeth.
 
He remembered Jhanna telling him of Eriah and her family. She was the sister of
Moriah, the former Prime Magistrate whom Jhanna had defeated in combat, with a
little help from him and his brothers. She had the same purple markings
decorating her jaw and was dressed lavishly in silks and gold ornaments. Even
though her sister was stripped of her title and position, her family still held
a lot of power. They owned some of the richest lands in the nation, and Jhanna
had summoned her to convince her to aide the suffering provinces with their
resources.
 
“Consort.” Jhanna corrected firmly, turning everyone's attention back to her.
Donatello straightened and looked ahead, lifting his chin and trying to hide
the colour in his cheeks at the other woman's insinuations. “The word you are
looking for is Royal Consort.”
 
Eriah scoffed and put her chin in her hand petulantly, elbow resting on the
long table where she and the other Ministers were seated while Jhanna continued
speaking. When she asked one of her court members to detail what was needed the
woman spoke up again.
 
“Perhaps it would put me in a better mood to listen to this dull report if you
would lend your beast to me.” She flicked her mahogany locks behind her
shoulder and smirked when Jhanna stiffened at the interruption. One of the
Ministers made to speak up but Eriah silenced her with the wave of a hand and
kept her eyes glued to Jhanna.
 
Donatello's eye ridge lifted at this, she still held a lot of influence even
here in the new Court. He'd have to speak with Jhanna later. She might need to
purge the offices of the people who's loyalties were questionable. He looked
around the room taking mental note of the expressions on each of their faces.
There were those who seemed outraged while others looked amused and not
surprised at all. They are using her feelings towards me to provoke her and
make her seem emotional and irrational, he concluded.
 
“Perhaps you could try to show a little more self control while we are talking
of serious affairs and reign in your desires until we are done here.” Donatello
winced internally at Jhanna's words. It could have been worse, Jhanna was not
known for her patience or diplomacy when slighted.
 
The meeting continued without further interruption but he couldn't avoid the
heated looks Eriah kept sending his way, devouring him with her eyes. The look
was quickly replaced with the glimmer of victory when Jhanna's armrest creaked
from how she was crushing it in her hand in fury. He had felt very relieved
when it was over and they were back in Jhanna's personal quarters.
 
“They were testing you.” Donatello spoke up, standing in the middle of the
room. “She was trying to provoke a reaction out of you. I doubt she even meant
a word she said.”
 
Whatever he was going to say was cut off as Jhanna pressed her mouth to his.
The kiss was urgent and possessive. She thrust her tongue past his lips to
claim his mouth, her hand finding purchase on his carapace to shove him
backwards. He toppled over onto her bed when his calves hit the side of the
mattress and she climbed on top of him, pinning him down holding his wrists
over his head. “I wanted to... gouge her eyes out... for looking at you... that
way.” She said between bites and licks over his neck and shoulders.
 
He groaned at the rough treatment. That, coupled with how the scent of her
intense arousal assaulted his nose, made his tail stiffen between his legs and
curl up immediately and he couldn't hold back his erection any longer. The
moment she felt his thick cock rubbing against the inside of her thigh she
grabbed it around the shaft and squeezed, making Donatello whimper, the mix of
pain and pleasure overloading his senses.
 
She lifted herself off him, not relinquishing her prize, to kneel beside him.
She spread his legs further apart to leave room for his swollen tail and
brought her mouth to it, tonguing the soft folds from where his member
protruded, pushing the tip of her tongue past it into the already crowded slit.
Donatello whined and squirmed trying to sit up to watch what she was doing to
him but her palm pressed firmly on his plastron, pushing him back down.
 
Her other forearm pressed down on his thighs when he continued to move as her
tongue and teeth dragged over his stiff but sensitive tail, trying to keep him
still and at the mercy of her ministrations. He cried out when her teeth came
around the base of his shaft and stilled. She wasn't using much pressure and it
didn't really hurt him but he was becoming increasingly sensitive.
 
The rest of his cock ached for attention, for even a small amount of friction.
He was already delirious with arousal. His attempts at moving his hand to
pleasure himself were met with a feral growl from her and she held him down
more forcefully.
 
“I'm yours.” He said breathlessly, recognizing her need to possess him, and he
wasn't sure he had said the right thing until her warm mouth came over to the
tip of his swollen cock and swallowed him almost whole. He howled, head thrown
back, shaking at the feeling and after just a few thrusts came into her mouth
with a loud churr, coating her throat and tongue and dizzy from the intensity
of his orgasm.
 
Her tongue lapped at his softening member lovingly and then moved to his thighs
and lower plastron, licking up his spilt seed. He felt more than heard a soft
purring-rumble that came from her body as she climbed up to him and pressed
herself against him. She caressed his trembling body tenderly, pulling him
towards her and comforting him with soft kisses to his face and over the
darkening marks of her teeth on his neck as his breath and heart beat slowed.
 
“Mine.” she said, smiling against his cheek.
 
***** Incoming Transmission *****
Contacting Satellite xv849... Connection established. Status: online.
Transmission open.
Initializing video recording...


The screen blinked and a warped image of Donatello came into view before
focusing, behind the turtle there seemed to be a rush of people as they carried
things across what looked like a large meeting hall.


“Hello, uhm, I hope you are all well... I don't have much time to explain, I
don't even know where to start, uh...” He rubbed his bare face, dark shadows
under his eyes and lines of worry etched over his features as he sighed. “By
the time you get this message it might all be over anyway but...”


“War broke out a few months ago. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to
worry you and... well, no one thought-” He chuckled mirthlessly shaking his
head. “Most people here didn't think it would last long, that it was all idle
threats to try the strength and resolve of the government. They are... well you
remember Moriah, right? Her family still hold a lot of power and they've
instigated the Northern provinces into civil war and even some of those who
were loyal to Jhanna... anyway.”


He waved a hand dismissively. “That's not important, they're about to reach the
Capital and we're evacuating. I don't know if you get any news from other
sources, Honeycutt or the Utroms but just know that I'm safe. We're leaving now
and I might not be able to contact you for a while but I will the first chance
I get to let you know I'm alright, I promise.”


He hesitated for a moment and seemed to look off screen, nodding his head
before continuing. “I love you all.” He said as he half stood up, leaning
forward to stay in the frame.


A muted explosion could be heard in the background and the people behind him
froze. Donatello turned his head around and everyone seemed to hold their
breath in silence waiting to see if it was what they thought it was. Another
explosion shook the image, some of the people began screaming and then panic
broke out as everyone tried to rush in the same direction at the same time.
Donnie and the laptop fell over with the third explosion and the image went
black.


Transmission lost. Unable to reach portable server: xv001 Donatellos laptop.
Status: offline.
 Replay last transmission? Y/N _
 
***** War *****
Nearly 100 days since they'd lost the Capital, forced to evacuate the
Government before they were overrun and nearly not making it in time. No one
had been able to predict the betrayal of the Eastern province of Qhalo and
their militia while practically all of their forces had been sent to quickly
squash the uprising in the Northern provinces. “No one” was a loose term, what
they really meant when they used that term was: no one of importance.


Donatello was “no one of importance” as far as opinions were concerned. He was
not an expert on war, had only read every book in the library on the subject
but that wasn't necessary to see that it was foolish to leave Omatria so
unprotected. It was arrogant to make that decision and it was blinded with the
desire to end the war quickly with as much show of force as was possible.


“Who would have anticipated Qhalo had been planning treason?” They later said
around a war table in a tent set up a safe distance from the fallen city, as if
Donatello hadn't tried to point out that the Qhalovite Governor had abstained
his vote on each and every decision made pertaining the northern Keztosian
provinces or when it didn't benefit Moriah's family's domain.


No one remembered how they'd sneered at his occurrence when he suggested how
suspicious it had been for the Governor to recuse himself from the city with
the excuse of organizing his forces to aide them when in fact they sent none to
the front. Jhanna had apologised for Donatello's comment excusing it with his
little knowledge about Omatron's traditions and heritage. The Qhalovites were
renown for their protection of the Capital and upholding the Law in times of
political strife for nearly a millennia, she'd patiently explained it to him in
public as if he hadn't ever picked up a book on Omatrian history.


“Loyalties can change.” He'd answered with a shrug and had caused a murmur to
spread amongst the court and a warning glare to be silent from Jhanna along
with a whispered dismissal and order to wait for her in her quarters. He'd had
to leave in front of everyone, to his embarrassment and surprise, as if he were
a scolded child sent to his room for acting up around the adults.


“We are not human! You will refrain from giving your opinion on these matters.”
She'd reprimanded later in private.


“You cannot mean to tell me that your kind are above such things as greed or
lust for power... or arrogance.” He'd answered pointedly but it had been
futile.


In the end he'd let it go begrudgingly, if only to preserve their relationship
for he knew there was no way to change her mind on the subject and even if he
could, the Ministers would not be swayed. He was allowed to be present on the
condition he remain silent and he had been from that moment forward, never
bringing it up again even when the troops had been spotted marching on the
Capital while their whole army was engaged at the front half a world away, or
when they'd lifted Moriah's banners when they were less than a day's march from
them.


Being right had never tasted so bitter in his mouth, too bitter to utter a word
about it specially to Jhanna who carried the weight of being the ruler who'd
lost the Capital. She'd been quiet around him ever since, sleeping in the same
tent once they'd left the city, but only sharing the space and body heat. He'd
respected her decision and not commented on it either.


He still remembered her expression, the way she had paled when they'd given her
the news at court and how everyone had glanced at him for a moment as if he
were to blame and remained silent, waiting for her orders.


“Evacuate.” He'd whispered so only she could hear.


She'd turned her head to him in shock and immediately looked away, shaking it
slightly in denial. “We cannot lose Omatria...” Her voice trailed off as she
looked at the worried faces of her subjects.


Finding strength within her she drew herself up and stood. “The city is lost.”
She said with a firm, unwavering voice.


There was an uproar but she raised her hand to silence them. “We are being
punished for our arrogance.” She announced, using Donatello's words spoken in
private. “For believing tradition was enough to hold power over our people and
that our kind was above such treacherous actions.”


“We must evacuate the city. The Government must survive long enough for our
forces to regroup and take our capital back. This is but one city, mortar and
stone, but if we let our arrogance keep us here we will not be able to continue
the fight. Please make the necessary arrangements, we must leave as soon as we
can.”


Everyone began talking amongst themselves and some were rushed away with
orders, the throne room became the neural centre to organize the evacuation.
They had less than 12 hours, or so they thought, to escape during the night
somehow. Ideas were tossed around and discarded, arguments broke out as
servants carried messages and items. Donatello managed to scoot behind the
throne area at the backs of the guards to send his message to his family. He
didn't believe they had as much time left as they'd said and their situation
was much more dire and his fears were confirmed when the first explosions were
heard.


People were frantically trying to escape when they realised what was happening
but then the elaborate stained glass dome and windows of the main hall of the
Royal Palace imploded during the attack, raining beautifully coloured deadly
shards upon the people inside. Everyone seemed to freeze in place, hypnotised
by the shimmering kaleidoscope that fell around them unaware of the danger they
were in or paralysed by it.


Donatello felt like he was moving through aspic as his adrenaline hit while his
mind filled with the dwindling probabilities of survival, the time he had after
the larger shards dislodged, calculating by the height, air resistance is
negligible, downwards acceleration- not g, 9.8 metres per second is for Earth,
it's slightly less for Omatron- He dropped everything to rush around the guards
and dragged Jhanna under him to protect her from the worst with his body, the
throne sat squarely underneath the dome.


He stared into her confused face, his snout a couple inches from her nose as he
tried to communicate with his eyes in those brief seconds how much he loved
her, how sorry he was for not saying it more these past few weeks, that
everything was going to be okay and he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He
grunted when the larger shards struck and slid off his plates, catching them at
an angle. The curved, smooth dome of his carapace deflected most of them and he
hoped that none would fall at a right angle or on a less protected scute. He
watched the geometrical shaped colours dance over Jhanna's features as she lay
under him, grunting as a particularly large one caught, he felt it biting into
his skin but didn't feel much pain at this point.


It only took a few seconds but felt like an eternity before the debris finished
falling on them. He uncurled himself from her, still keeping his body above her
but checking her over quickly, mindful of the urgency of their escape. He
sighed in relief when she only had a few scrapes and superficial slices on her
legs and nothing severe.


Lifting his head he saw the guards on her left and right had been impaled by a
thousand glass daggers that shined with the evening's rays coming in through
the open roof, pinning their limbs in the twisted positions they had taken to
try protect themselves. He took in the bodies of the dead and dying among the
glittering mosaic of destruction and caught sight of his own shadow on the wall
looking like a rainbow porcupine with the coloured slivers still embedded and
jutting out of his shell. He didn't feel it at all.


Donatello didn't bother to remove any as he quickly considered the escape
routes available to them, those that were more likely to be compromised and
those that may have been overlooked. Some of the Ministers had perished with
gruesome wounds but most who were near the walls were still looking around
dazedly. There was no time to waste.


He took a step, helping Jhanna up by her trembling hand but with a glance at
her open sandals lifted her into his arms ignoring her protests as he crunched
through the broken glass covering the floor with the thick soles of his feet.
He encountered some of the Palace Guard in the hallway, where he lowered Jhanna
as she ordered them to give her a report of the situation within the city.


Donatello took a moment to look around and spotted Cereth, the shy young
servant boy who had been assigned to him huddled under a table still inside the
throne room hugging something to his chest with his eyes firmly closed. He
turned to step back in, trying not to stand in the way of the ministers who
crowded around Jhanna when everyone stopped talking at once and gasped, making
him pause.


They were all staring at him wide-eyed, or rather, at his shell and he could
only imagine what he must look like as he watched them over his shoulder.
Jhanna stepped forward and pulled out the longest one, making him grunt as it
came free. It was the length of a sword, the tip stained with a bit of blood
while the others were like daggers or shorter, some only the length of a finger
or even a fingernail. It would be a nightmare to get rid of them, like that
time he'd accidentally pressed his thigh against April's cactus plant. She
tossed it back into the room with the rest and reached to pull another when he
stopped her.


“Later, we've no time. We need to leave the city now.” She nodded and turned to
continue speaking with the guards who kept glancing back at him, pale faced as
they realised how close they had been to losing their Prime Magistrate.


“Cereth.” Donatello called out softly and the youth jumped when he put a hand
on his midnight blue shoulder carefully pushing aside his white ponytail to
take a look at him as he blinked slowly and looked back.


“You're alive.” He whispered with a bewildered smile.


“What are you doing here?” Donatello asked, trying to get the boy to move but
everything was covered with glass and he winced at the thought of having the
boy crawl over it and then walk to the door, he was missing a sandal but he
couldn't spot it among the detritus. He hooked a large hand under his thin
knees and another around his back and lifted Cereth much the same way as he had
done with Jhanna to carry him out to the hallway before setting him down.


“I was bringing you your things.” He uncurled and Donatello could now see his
old brown duffel with his gear. He'd already spotted his bo staff poking out
from under his arm and realised he'd also recovered his laptop that had fallen
when the explosions began. It probably wouldn't run with the large dent it was
sporting.


“Thank you.” He answered gratefully. He'd thought he would have to leave
everything behind but even having only this would be a huge help. “Give me a
hand.” Donatello said as he began pulling off his ripped fine silk robes.
Reached this point he couldn't care less about etiquette and protocol and he
suspected they'd be fighting their way out.


Cereth helped him pull the robes over his head and the part that covered his
shell, pinned into place by glass. Tugging gently on the item of clothing it
dislodged the smaller pieces as it was removed but the boy had to pull out the
larger ones by hand, wiggling them back and forth slightly before tossing them
aside. One of them was firmly embedded between two scutes and Cereth drew back
quickly when Don gasped in pain.


“Leave that one in,” he grunted out as he recovered, schooling his features
when he noticed Jhanna had stopped talking and was glancing worriedly in his
direction, “just rip the cloth around it, we'll take care of it later.”
Donatello instructed.


The boy nodded and did as he was told, then rummaged around the bag to pull out
Don's leathers, belt, pads and even his worn mask. He hesitated a moment before
tying it around his head. He thought he'd feel strange and naked after spending
so much time in fine clothing and there was a bit of that... but he hadn't felt
so at home in a very long time. Reaching back to slide his bo staff in place
and with fear and danger in the backdrop he felt himself again, as if this were
just another crazy mission with his brothers, overcoming impossible odds every
week. It filled him with a confidence and hope he hadn't felt in a while.


He walked up to Jhanna again and she did a double take when she got sight of
him but didn't mention his state of undress.


“We are trapped!” One of the surviving ministers exclaimed. She'd been able to
get word from the outside. “The City Guard is keeping the attackers busy for
now but there's no way to escape unnoticed. The moment we set foot outside will
be our last. There's no way out.”


“Of course there is!” Donatello spoke up, this was no time to play silent and
submissive. He figured they'd forgive his intrusion if they lived. “You have a
wonderful underground sewer system. I've seen maps of it, there's a large
collecting tunnel that we can access from the dungeons and they would take us
well out of the city all the way to the Omatria River. If we left now we could
probably reach it by the time darkness falls and then make it to the forest at
the base of the Ch'lall Mountains before sunrise.”


They stared at him as if he had sprouted an extra head. “How dare you!” Lady
Beqenthal, Minister of Coin and one of the older, more traditionalist
councillors exclaimed in outrage, her extravagant jewellery clinking together
like a wind-chime as she shook with rage. “The sewers?! Walk among the filth
like vermin?! Perhaps such things seem normal to one such as you but we-”


“Will do what is necessary to ensure this government survives.” Jhanna cut off
with her stern and powerful voice, silencing the shrill complaints of the older
woman. She turned to Donatello and acknowledged him, validating his opinion,
something that had never happened in public where he was but a decorative
shadow at her side. “I have heard the tunnels are a maze, built over and
through earlier ruins, how can we hope to navigate them without a guide?”


“I am counting on our enemies to think that way, to feel as outraged by the
suggestion and therefore dismiss it as a possibility. Luckily for us I've been
able to examine the plans and mapped out several routes we could use in case
one of the paths is unusable. We'll need someone to let the head of the city
guard know what our plans are so they can give us enough of a head start before
calling retreat and meeting up with us somewhere safe.”


“It shall be done.” Jhanna nodded to one of the guards who bowed and rushed
away with her orders. “Lead the way Donatello, we are leaving this instant.
Take only what you can carry and have at hand right now. Leave everything else
behind.”


His chest filled with love for her and a fierce determination to keep all these
people alive with every ounce of strength he had. Thankfully, his yearning for
his family the past months had made him return to a schedule similar to the one
he kept with his brothers when they were still fighting against the Foot,
rising early to train and even convincing some of the lower ranked, lower
classed guards or recruits to spar with him on occasion when he practised at
the facilities provided to them. It helped to structure his mostly empty days
now that he didn't really have many responsibilities or freedom while at the
same time making him feel closer to his family.


Jhanna relayed the situation report to him in a low voice as they walked
through the tunnels, following his lead. The initial forces, the large and rare
mechas provided by the wealthy Keztosian's had arrived that same evening,
taking down most of the city guard quickly, attacking the bay where they kept
their own mechas that had been left behind because they were obsolete models
not fit for the front. They were unable to deploy but half a dozen that had
been saved from the first wave of destruction kept in a separate building for
maintenance, a couple of them engaging in combat with an arm missing or part of
the shielding removed.


They reached the end of the sewers but had to wait until sundown when they
emerged from the tunnels wading through the shallow murky waters of the river.
As they entered the cover of the forest Donatello's strength finally gave out
and he collapsed to his knees and then tipped forward, not even lifting his
arms to stop his fall. Only Jhanna's quick reflexes saved him from a mouthful
of dirt, keeping him up with a firm hold on his shoulders.


His body felt like lead and at the same time light as a feather as a numbness
fell over him. “Blood loss.” He mumbled into Jhanna's warm shoulder exhaling
softly with a dazed smile. He'd done it, he'd gotten them out safe and sound
and now, enveloped by her scent and warmth he was almost ready to rest.


“Y-you need to head to the mountains.” He continued, wanting to give her as
much help as he could with the breath he still had. “The mountain pass, a few
mechas can hold them off and you can find refuge in the caverns.”


“You are dreaming, Donatello, if you think I will leave you behind or let you
die.” Jhanna answered him. “Save your strength, my love. You have done well.”
She turned her back to him, keeping him upright on his knees and his arms over
her shoulders as she leaned forward, taking his weight and lifting him with her
as she stood, slipping her arms under his thighs to hold him to her. She could
feel the slick wetness on the back of his left thigh. Blood, probably from the
glass still protruding from his shell. No one had noticed in the darkness of
the sewers as his life trickled down his back, he hadn't complained nor had it
hindered their escape.


She had chosen her consort well. Never had she been so filled with pride as
that moment when she saw how much he was willing to give her, every drop of his
blood, to keep her and her kingdom safe. “I will not let you go yet, my love. I
still need you.” She whispered as the group started moving again.


Wordlessly, a low ranking guard she did not know fell into step beside her,
hooking an arm under his thighs as well to help keep him on her back. Cereth
scurried forward and tied Donatello's wrists carefully together with a piece of
cloth to keep his arms from slipping off her shoulders. He hurried behind her
as she walked to hold cloth around the glass dagger, trying to plug the seeping
wound as best as he could while they kept moving.
 
***** Council *****
Once they managed to leave the city through the underground sewage system with
Donatello leading the way and completely unnoticed, they had the surviving
mechas retreat from the fight, abandoning the city's defence along the with the
surviving city guard. Their orders were to rendezvous with them and escort them
to the mountains, staying behind at a narrow pass so that they could give them
as much time as necessary and even-out their numbers using the geography to
their advantage.


Now they were down to only two mecha which Donatello had helped salvage and
repair from only slightly damaged parts of the recovered machines as soon as he
was healthy enough to move around. Their problem was that only two power cores
remained intact and without access to more t'laksi energy crystals (most of the
t'laksi crystal mines were either on Keztosian territory or out of their reach)
they couldn't get any more. They were also low on engineers and down to a
single company of the city guard until they could get reinforcements so even if
the presence of a male turtle amongst the military weapons was unusual, they
could not afford to send away the offered help.


They'd stayed in the narrow mountain passes, covered by the dense forests or
taking to the caverns and complicated subterranean tunnels under the mountains
that the people of the land knew well and proved treacherous for any outsiders.
So far they'd been able to survive with hardly any confrontation, sending out
occasional messages to the generals fighting on two fronts now and receiving
supplies through hidden routes used by pirates and smugglers that were well
hidden. Even though they were cut off from the main army they had to keep
communications flowing even if they risked discovery, making sure the
population knew Jhanna was alive and well and still ruling from a safe yet
unknown location.


Still, they were running out of time. The fact that the Qhalovites had joined
Moriah's cause, had been able to take Omatria so easily and that the rebels
were not in fact “squashed” by Jhanna's forces yet was making a lot of people
question Jhanna's cause and leadership capabilities.


“What do you think?” Jhanna suddenly asked in the middle of a war council at
the tent set up with a table in the middle and a huge holographic display
showing the land and the disposition of troops.


Donatello, who was back to standing behind her like a decorative shadow and
keeping silent took a moment before he realised she was addressing him,
everyone around the table staring in the direction of The Consort. Lady
Beqenthal snorted, lifting her chin in contempt and turned her head away but
some of the others of the court looked at him with interest.


“Well,” He began slowly as he walked around Jhanna to stand in front of the
table like everyone else. He felt like a midget amongst giants as the tall blue
women towered over him. “If I were Moriah...” He had to ignore another snort
and a snicker from another minister. “I'd realise now that there was no chance
of winning the war on the battlefield nor do I have a candidate to call
Elections that could contest your rule and win.”


“Yes, we know that, creature.” Lady Beqenthal addressed Donatello with a sneer.
“This is a waste of time!” She rose to leave but a gesture from Jhanna was all
it took for her to sit back down.


“What do you think her next move will be? What is the purpose to continue if
she knows she cannot win?” A younger minister asked, she had been recently
appointed to take the vacant seat of the Minister of Communications who hadn't
made it out alive from the initial attack on Omatria.


“You cannot mean to take this one's words seriously, Lady Szerra!” The Minister
of Defence interrupted. She was a hardened military veteran, her dark almost
charcoal-grey skin was covered in lighter grey scars and her dark hair was
cropped short, part of it sticking out and parted where a thick scar cut into
her scalp in a horizontal line above her right brow. She had shown disdain for
Donatello before, was one of the first who'd objected to him even being present
while they spoke of important matters.


She was well respected in Court and despite her roughened and serious nature
was well loved by the population. She'd been born and trained in Qhalo as an
Elite but her devotion to Queen Jhanna was unquestionable. From what Donatello
had heard of the Elite Soldiers it was much like the Spartan soldiers back on
Earth: trained from a very young age with harsh yet effective methods not
suitable quite for everyone but producing incredibly skilled warriors and among
those Elite Soldiers of Qhalos, Lady Alzenia had been a legend. She'd been the
first to object angrily to Donatello's suggestion that the Qhalovites planned
to betray them but she'd also been the main reason they'd had enough time to
make it out of the city.


“He has no experience in war, his opinion is of no use to us.” She stated with
finality.


“But Lady Alzenia,” Szerra pleaded, “He knows all our history, all of our wars,
all the great battles that have ever been written and are kept in the Royal
Library.” Szerra defended.


“Books! Scrolls! He is nothing but a scholar!” Her voice boomed over whatever
the young Minister was about to say and the other Ministers stood as they began
to argue angrily amongst themselves. Donatello wasn't the only one's opinion
she had discarded.


“And yet he predicted the Qhalovite's treason, Alzenia. Something even a
veteran such as yourself did not see.” A terribly old woman spoke sternly
without rising from her chair and the commotion died down immediately.


Donatello knew her to be Omatra, Minister of Information or as some called her,
Minister of Secrets. She rarely spoke during Council, preferring to speak to
Jhanna privately before or after. Donatello only knew this because if it had
ever coincided with him being present he would always be asked to leave. She
carried an old name and some joked she'd been there when the land was created
giving it her name and not the other way around.


“This... creature, as you say was able to see through the twisted schemes of
Moriah. Perhaps we need the eyes of one who is not clouded by our traditions
and way of thinking to see into this. Moriah is clearly not following these
traditions we hold on to so stubbornly.” The old woman continued.


Lady Alzenia crossed her arms but sat down without another word. Lady Omatra
was one of the few members of the Council without military background who's
authority she respected. The rest of the Court turned to Donatello who had
stepped back from the table when the arguments began.


“Go on, boy.” Lady Omatra spoke with her hoarse voice, raising a spotted and
crooked hand to invite him back to the table. “What would your next move be if
you were...” She twisted her mouth as if to taste the words before letting them
go. “...calling the shots, as you children would say.”


Donatello bowed his head to her and stepped back to the table placing his
fingers on the edge and glancing sideways to Jhanna. “I would have you killed.”
He said quietly and some of the Ministers gasped in outrage, Lady Omatra smiled
against her steepled fingers and nodded in agreement.


“This is all an elaborate ruse to waste time and force you out into the open
within her reach.” Donatello swept a hand over the flickering holographic map.
“She was probably hoping the Qhalovites would have done it for her and now she
can only use her temporary victories and the subjects she's been able to rally
herself to cause doubt and create rumours of your worth. You'll be forced to
confront her out in the open eventually to maintain your own alliances and your
name. Then she will strike you down, preferably in secret, before you can
gather your forces against her.”


“This is absurd! A fantasy!” Lady Alzenia rose, striking a scarred fist against
the table causing the hologram to disappear. Donatello winced at the crackling
noise coming from the device. “Even if Moriah would be capable of such actions
it would never give her the throne if the truth got out. It serves no purpose
and even if it were true what does that mean for our campaign? Shall we keep
Prime Magistrate Jhanna hidden away for as long as this war continues? What
kind of people would follow a ruler like that?!”


“She has a way of keeping things she does not want to be found out a secret, my
dear.” Lady Omatra answered. “Sit down, child, we know you dislike the idea, no
need to act it out.” Her onyx gaze fell on Donatello once again. “You know what
she is capable of, I hear you were present during Jhanna's election.” No one
flinched at her lack of the proper titles, it was known that this woman's
granddaughter had helped birth Jhanna while she herself was present at the
birth of her family leading back several generations and she would tell anyone
who would lend an ear how fiercely Jhanna had bawled as a babe and the great
strength in her hands when she held your fingers.


“It was never proven she had brought those monsters that intervened in the
Election. That was nothing but a terrible accident that thankfully had no
consequences for the outcome.” Lady Beqenthal spoke up, the gold around her
neck sparkling as she turned her head this way and that addressing the others.


Jhanna, who had been silent up to that moment listening to Donatello and her
Court, spoke up. “It was no accident, Donatello can attest to it. She had
damaged my ship in the hopes that I would would perish before the Election and
when I did not, she brought along backup intending to have them finish me off
without having to fight.”


When the Ministers began speaking again she continued. “It matters not. We are
not here to speak about this. Is there anything else you can tell us,
Donatello? Anything we have missed?”


“Something isn't adding up here. I think you were right about Qhalo, Lady
Alzenia.” Donatello ignored the others as he addressed the war veteran to her
surprise and confusion. “What would they have to gain by taking Moriah's side
in all this? Why risk everything? They were already in favour of the Court,
they had more privileges than any other region. I think we need to investigate
the cause for their dissent. Has there been any news regarding their leader?”


“Only that the Governor's first-born daughter was against the decision.” Lady
Szerra, Minister of Communication answered. “They say she left the land shortly
before the orders went out, not wanting anything to do with them.”


“And yet, no one has seen her since.” Lady Omatra answered. “We've been looking
to give her refuge and try get leverage to bring Qhalo back to our side but
there has been no word of her whereabouts.”


“It doesn't make sense for her not to have reached out to us or a neighbouring
territory.” He paused for a moment and the others remained in silence, Lady
Omatra's dark eyes never leaving his face as he crossed his arms and touched
his chin. “What if she can't? What if this is what Moriah has over Qhalo?”


“You believe her capable of kidnapping and holding her in exchange for Qhalo's
support? Why would the Governor accept this? Why not just come clean with
everything?” Lady Alzenia asked with none of her previous fury or contempt,
only shock graced her features and her voice had softened as she spoke with
fear, knowing the answer to her first question would be yes.


“I also think that we escaped too easily from the Capital. They could have
given chase and they know these lands reasonably well but they have not been
looking for us. Moriah had to send her own troops to try find us.” Donatello
said with his fingers on his chin and gaze on the table, his eyes darting back
and forth as he assessed the possibilities.


Lady Alzenia opened her mouth to speak but closed it and leaned back
thoughfully as well. She had not considered this option. The fighting back in
Omatria had been ruthless and they'd lost many before they could fall back so
she had not thought at the time that they were going easy on them. It was true
that after they escaped they sent a small force to meet them at the mountain
pass which they repelled. It hadn't been easy but with their numbers so
diminished they should have been able to crush them if Qhalo had fallen upon
them with full force. She had chalked it up to an error in judgement, and
underestimate of how many they had left or the inexperience of the person in
command to know the advantage the narrow mountain pass provided them. But if
what Donatello was saying was true...


“Perhaps Moriah's reach and treachery runs deep in the Qhalovite Court.” Lady
Omatra responded. “It would be necessary to pull off such a feat, snatching the
Governor's own daughter from her palace...”


“Can you find out, Lady Omatra?” Jhanna asked. “If this were true we could
attempt a rescue and once Qhalo returns to our side and her treachery is
revealed she will lose many followers, Moriah will have no choice but to
surrender.”


The old woman shook her head. “My sources have done all they can, we would need
to send envoys...”


“They would never get past the gates.” Lady Alzenia answered as a hand swept
over her furrowed brow and then her short locks. “Chances are their orders are
to kill anyone suspicious on sight and the Qhalovite defences are impenetrable,
their warriors exceptionally trained.”


“You could do it.” Donatello spoke quietly to Lady Alzenia, unsure of how his
suggestion would come across. The room went deathly quiet as all eyes turned to
Donatello and then Lady Alzenia. “It wouldn't be so hard to believe you found a
way to escape and join your people.”


“I would never!” Lady Alzenia began.


“No one is saying you would.” Jhanna interrupted. “Donatello wouldn't have
suggested this if he wasn't sure of your loyalty, but he is correct. You are
the only one who could do this, what say you, Lady Alzenia?”
 
***** Finding Friendship *****
“You are unhappy.” Cereth said in his soft, shy voice several mornings later as
he was about to tie a braided rope made of gold and dangling purple gems around
his brow to hold the sheer cloth that covered his head and shoulders in place.
He'd brought the turtle some books he'd been able to convince the supply runner
to bring to him from the neighbouring towns but Donatello had only thanked him
and put them aside saying he'd have a look later.


Donatello shook his head but Cereth wasn't fooled. By now he knew the turtle a
little better and he'd never managed to hide how he was feeling very well
either. He clicked his tongue and pulled off the rope and cloth. “I want to
help.” He whispered as he put the items away. “I do not like seeing you like
this.”


“It's nothing.” Donatello replied. “Nothing you can help with.”


Cereth watched him with large hopeful eyes but when Donatello said nothing
further he sighed. “I will try.” He said and held out a dark blue hand for Don
to take.


Donatello quirked an eye ridge at the boy before shrugging and taking it,
allowing Cereth to help him up and lead him out of the tent. It wasn't very
early but he had nothing to do and had slept in after Jhanna left. They were
camped in a hidden valley with a difficult access through the mountains, their
camp hidden by the stealth shields set up all along the sheer mountain edge.
They'd sacrificed the third operational mecha to power it but it was imperative
they remain hidden. The only way they could be found right now was if someone
wandered in by foot and still they would not see the camp until they descended
below the level of the shield emitters.


Several soldiers looked up from their morning routine training and set their
eyes on him. He was missing most of the decorative items he normally wore,
dressed only in the white simple tunic that would be usually covered with other
coloured silks and adornments. They did not speak but their eyes roamed over
his body appreciatively and Cereth squeezed his hand as they passed, knowing
that Donatello felt uncomfortable at their attention.


Donatello was rather content at the hand-holding now. It would have been a
strange thought to have before his arrival at Omatron but here it was common
for male friends to share a close bond with a lot of physical contact. Jhanna
had looked at him strangely when he'd tried holding hers on one occasion,
asking him what he was doing and explaining that it was viewed as something
childish in her culture, something only boys did or small children with their
parents. Realising how strange it would be for her to do something like that to
him for his benefit he'd dropped the subject but when Cereth had started doing
it he decided he rather liked it, not for the hand-holding itself but the
meaning it held. It felt like two friends sneaking away together to cause
mischief or look for adventure.


They walked to the edge of the camp hand in hand and turned a corner so they
were no longer in sight, outside of the cover of the shields. “Where are we
going?” Donatello whispered. “Should we be going so far?”


“No.” Cereth answered turning his head and revealing an impish smile. “A few
other servants and I found a place and we kept it hidden. I want to share it
with you.” He whispered back and pulled the turtle closer to him.


Even though Donatello had managed to get Cereth to open up to him more since
his arrival he'd never been able to convince him to do anything with him that
wasn't part of his servant duties. He was intrigued by his actions and glad to
be sharing this adventure. It was important enough to him to risk a possible
scolding from Jhanna for wandering out from under the cover of the shields. But
for now they weren't Royal Consort and servant, they were just friends sneaking
off to share a secret. He grinned at the thought and Cereth giggled excitedly
when he caught his expression reminding him of Mikey when he managed to
convince him to take part in some elaborate prank with him.


They nearly missed the entrance to a cleft in the sheer rock wall and Cereth
came to a sudden stop and backtracked a few steps to find it. “Here.” He said
as he pulled Donatello inside. “Touch the wall, be careful, I'll lead the way.”


Donatello's eyes were used to navigating dark passages and he ended up taking
point when Cereth stumbled, pulling him up by the hand he held before he fell.
“How far is it?” He asked, but Cereth only laughed softly and told him he'd
see.


“This kind of reminds me of home.” Donatello said and Cereth made an
incredulous snort. He'd tried telling the boy on occasion that he used to live
in a sewer but he didn't think he'd managed to make him believe it until after
the escape from Omatria and even now he'd look at him with a disbelieving
expression whenever he'd tell stories about the lair under the streets of
Manhattan. “You're right, this smells slightly better.” He answered with a
laugh. “And it's... warmer?”


Even though the area they were in was a considerably arid region and they were
still months away from winter, the elevation of their camp and the fact it was
cast in shadows most of the day meant that the temperatures here dropped
significantly, specially at night or early morning. The air in the passage,
though, was becoming slightly warmer.


There was light coming from around the corner and he slowed down when he saw
where it came from, gasping in surprise. He thought that maybe they'd set up a
lantern or some other kind of light source but the light came from a hole in
the ceiling of a slightly more ample cavern than the passage they had walked
through. It illuminated a small pool of cerulean water.


“It is just the right time!” Cereth exclaimed before beginning to pull off his
clothing.


“A hot spring?” Donatello laughed, glad that Cereth wasn't undressing him as
was his job but treating him as a friend would, letting him worry about his own
clothes while the boy pulled his own tunic over his head and sloshed into the
pool with a happy sigh.


Donatello pulled off his own and let it drop onto the floor, not minding if it
got a little dust on it before joining him. The pool was rather small and their
knees touched as they sat in the warm water but it was amazing. They laughed
and splashed each other a little and then sat in companionable silence as they
watched the spot of light move away from the pool and then disappear as the
sunlight changed its angle.


“Jhanna and I...” Donatello started after a while, his thoughts travelling back
to the sadness he'd felt that morning. “...we aren't doing very well. Together,
I mean.” He sighed at his confession, it was a huge understatement.


They'd argued again last night and slept without touching on Jhanna's large
bed. He kept expecting her to tell him to go to his own tent adjoining hers,
wondered if her back turned to him on her side of the mattress meant he should
go but he couldn't do it. He was terrified she'd ask him to leave and had
waited in tension, laying stiffly on the bed until he heard her breath even out
in her sleep.


“I know.” Cereth answered and explained further at Don's questioning look. “My
room is beside yours, I know most things that happen or that don't... happen.”
At Donatello's horrified expression he added with his hands raised to try
appease him. “It is like that on purpose! It is my job to know everything about
you to serve you as best as I can or if you need anything at any time.”


The addition didn't help to ease his embarrassment, his cheeks burning and his
mouth pressed tightly closed with self-consciousness. Cereth nudged him with a
knee trying to get him out of his thoughts but his mind crowded with all the
noises and things they'd said and done in the throws of passion within earshot
of the boy and he could only cover his face with his hands and groan, wishing
he could rub them away before he died of humiliation. Maybe he could drown
himself in the pool...


Cereth laughed softly and shook his head. “You feel no shame over some things
that make me shocked and then become shy with others that are only natural.” I
do not understand you. Donatello peeked at him through his fingers and laughed
as Cereth kept nudging and poking him.


“I will help you find some happiness.” The boy said determinedly after a while.
“It is difficult here in the mountains but we can try.” He nodded as he made
the decision. “You were finding things at the Palace and we can look here too.”


“Like escaping to bathe in this pool?” Donatello asked him with a soft smile.


“Yes!” Cereth grinned back. “But it is a secret, you must not tell anyone!”
Donatello nodded. “I have found some books and I think the supply runner took
electronics to the engineer tent. Perhaps you could fix your holo-pad, yes?
Maybe you can receive word from your family and send them messages.”


“My laptop? That would be wonderful. We can go later.” The thought of his
family brought a pang of sadness but Donatello tried to smile through it.
Cereth didn't seem to buy it.


“Hmmm...” The boy said thoughtfully and then slid into place beside Donatello
putting a skinny arm over his thick green muscled shoulders. “Training?” He
said wrinkling his nose at the thought as he leaned into Don. “Maybe I could
find out when some of the soldiers go out to march and patrol and you have some
space and privacy to start that again?”


Donatello nodded, trying not to think about the very naked Cereth pressed
against his side. Suddenly he wondered if April had ever felt uncomfortable
hugging them at first because he and his brother essentially always walked
around naked. He sighed and shook his head, strangely thankful for the darkened
cavern that covered them in shadows.


“Prime Magistrate Jhanna is lucky to have you.” Cereth confessed as they pulled
their clothes back on and walked back through the passage. Donatello hummed in
thanks but he continued speaking. “I've never met another like you. At first
you seemed strange and foreign to me but... you have become well loved and
admired by many people and...” He hesitated nervously and Donatello could feel
his palms getting colder and clammy, “... and by me.” He finished in a tiny
voice.


Donatello stopped in the passage, Cereth's hand was trembling and he decided to
make light of his words. “Who are these people you speak of? I'd like to meet
them, they hide very well.”


Cereth huffed a weak laugh, “Men, mostly lower class. You are spoken of often
among my friends and acquaintances. I get asked about you often and on more
than one occasion I've had a drink paid or a free snack sent my way along with
good wishes for you. You have become somewhat famous among those like us.”


Donatello wasn't sure if he was included in the “us” Cereth spoke of but he was
convinced the boy was probably exaggerating to make him feel better. He was
certain Cereth's friends probably spoke of him and asked him about the Royal
Consort he served despite his low class. Jhanna had even asked him on more than
one occasion to get a more suitable servant after she'd found out who he'd been
assigned during her absence just after Donatello's arrival but he'd refused
adamantly.


“I know you miss your family, your brothers you have told me about and I know
that it is impossible to substitute them but...” Cereth continued speaking as
they exited the darkened passage and Donatello stopped and turned to him when
he felt the waver in his voice. “I am sure they are proud of you, I... w-would
be honoured to have a brother such as you.”


Out in the open Donatello saw the way Cereth's lips trembled, the corners of
his mouth curling down in tiny twitches and he was blinking quickly, his eyes
shiny with water. He pulled the boy by the hand and enveloped his small frame
into a firm embrace. He squeaked a little in surprise and then huffed out a
shaky laugh before pressing his cheek against a green and slightly damp
shoulder.


“Have you heard from your family back in Omatria?” Donatello asked quietly
speaking against the fuzzy short white hair on the side of the boy's head.


Cereth shook his head against Donatello, his body trembling slightly with
emotion as he whimpered out his answer. “The merchant said he didn't find
anyone in the house, it was empty.”


Donatello nodded as he rubbed the boy's back in soothing circles, offering him
as much comfort as he was able. When Cereth had recovered and loosened his grip
he held him by the shoulders. “Don't worry prematurely. I've heard reports that
the Qhalovite army are treating the civilians well and their military prisoners
with respect. If the house is empty it is possible they sneaked out of the city
before it was taken.”


He lowered his arms and thought about the possibilities and what he could do
about it. If this were Earth he'd try to find a list of identified casualties
but a low born civilian on Omatran wouldn't make any list. They could only rely
on word-of-mouth to hear about any news. “If you'd like I could give you leave
to travel to the nearest unoccupied cities to search for them, it is likely
they fled to one of them.”


Cereth shook his head, wiping his face and drawing himself up to his full
height, a couple inches shorter than Donatello. “No, I believe you are right. I
can only pray that they are safe and waiting for my return.”


“What we could do is...” Don started to speak as the thought formed in his
head. “... next time Jhanna has to give a video message you could stand beside
me in the background. That way they will see you and know you are safe. Once we
return to Omatria after this is over they know to come look for you.”


Cereth nodded and sniffled giving Don a warm smile despite the tears. Donatello
took him by the hand and the smile grew wider as they walked back to the tent,
shoulders bumping together and talking animately about their plans for the day.
 
***** Finding Family *****
“Forgive me.” Jhanna said upon entering their tent that night but stopped when
she noticed they were not alone.


Donatello stopped mid sentence and looked up from the table where he had opened
and spread out all the bits of his laptop, still not operational since their
escape. Cereth immediately stopped what he was doing, the soft bristle brush he
was using to clean the motherboard held up as he looked between them. He
noticed the displeased scowl forming on her face and he put the piece down on
the table and bowed low until he was curled up on the floor, head touching the
thick rugs.


“Leave us.” Jhanna commanded and the boy rose and left, scurrying quietly along
the edge of the tent and turning to walk backwards, facing Jhanna without
lifting his head as he exited.


“There's nothing to forgive, Jhanna, and I wish you'd be kinder to Cereth I'm
just getting him to open up...”


“It is not his place, nor yours-” Jhanna began, irritation lacing her tone
before she stopped herself and sighed, not wanting to get into an old argument.
“Why do you continue to test me, and our ways? Are they so difficult to
follow?”


“I try, Jhanna.” Donatello answered, his hands splayed with palms up. “Some
things just go completely against my nature. Is it so bad to make a friend?” He
paused with his head lowered slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, his
eyes watching her intently with sadness. “Or to speak out when I see a danger
no one has noticed?”


He didn't want them to fight over this, not now when Jhanna was under such
tremendous pressure. She seemed to have aged a decade since the war started. He
understood things were different here, there was a protocol for everything and
her position made things even more difficult. He'd tried his best to fit into
the predesignated role he was supposed to but a lot of it just went completely
against his every fibre. Sometimes he felt the more he conceded the more
blurred his identity became and when it pleased Jhanna part of him was happy
but another part, a deep part of himself that would not be quieted for much
longer, twisted and rebelled.


He'd begun to seriously question the reasons that brought him here. They hadn't
really known each other very well when he arrived, what was it she loved in
him? And why did his submissiveness sometimes irritate him so much? He'd always
been kind and peaceful with his brothers, hadn't minded one bit to live in the
shadow of Leonardo, follow him loyally and defer decisions to him. At first he
reasoned this was the same thing just slightly different but as time passed it
didn't feel that way any longer.


His submissiveness went beyond just being respectful in public. Leonardo always
made the decisions but he would seek him for counsel, his opinion was highly
valued and he was depended on. Here he was nothing. At first it was dismissed
because he wasn't experienced in their ways, needed to learn more about them
starting with their language which he learned quickly in order to advance his
own education. The translating collar only went so far, if you wanted to read a
book you had to do it the old fashioned way. He was an outsider looking in but
as time went on his situation never changed no matter the knowledge he amassed.


Even in private Jhanna did not want to discuss anything of importance with him
until recently and it tended to end up sparking arguments anyway. He didn't
doubt that she loved him but when even she dismissed his opinion, his
intellect, he'd feel deeply hurt. She hadn't taken him as an advisor, he was a
consort, he understood that. He just wished he mattered.


He'd been waiting for the armed conflict with Keztos under Moriah's influence
to end in order to bring up the conversation with Jhanna that could possibly
lead to them breaking off their relationship and returning to Earth to his
family when he'd realised this wasn't going to last only a few days and the
situation was much more dire than Jhanna wanted to think.


Jhanna sat beside him with her shoulders hunched and sighed again. “How are you
feeling?” She asked quietly as her palm travelled over the scarred tissue where
part of a plate had been carved away. The glass dagger had shattered when they
tried to remove it and they'd had to perform surgery to make sure they left
nothing inside the wound.


“I'm fine.” He answered with a smile at her hesitant show of affection,
accepting her change in subject. “It looks worse than it is, turtle's shells
take a long time to grow back.”


They remained in silence, each in their own thoughts when Donatello spoke up.
“What were you asking forgiveness for?”


“Lady Alzenia has returned.” She stated simply. “Your suspicions were correct
and the daughter of the Governor isn't the only one being held hostage. Moriah
has been able to take several key hostages to sway a vote and force them into
an entente.” Donatello turned his head to look at her as she spoke, his
expression carefully neutral, but she wouldn't look at him. “You were right.”
She said softly. “About everything.”


“I wish I wasn't.” He answered back just as softly and reached for her hand to
offer comfort but it was pulled away as soon as he shifted.


“I didn't value you the way you deserve. You were only a Consort, a lover...”
Donatello let out a puff of air and curled the corner of his mouth into a half
smile deciding he wasn't going to take offence. “You are strong and intelligent
for a man but...” She twisted her mouth as she held back the words she didn't
want to speak, standing up and beginning to pace instead.


“But...?” Donatello prompted and shielded his heart for her revelation. He
didn't want to have this conversation now, it wasn't the time. Granted, perhaps
there wouldn't be a better time for them but it wasn't as if he could just
leave if this conversation was headed in the direction he thought it was.


“You are also soft.” Jhanna answered. She probably was going to say something
else, like weak. “You are gentle, kind and nurturing... which are excellent
traits for a man,” she added quickly, not wanting to make him feel offended,
“but they are not qualities for a leader or an advisor.”


“Can't I be all those things? Is it so bad? I was only trying to help you.”
Donatello answered in the most disarming way possible.


“I know, you did well.” She smiled at him and it dispelled some of the anxiety
that twisted his gut. “But I cannot promise things will change, that you will
be valued as you deserve after this is over. My people are...”


“Set in their ways, I know. I'm not asking to be given a position of power or
authority, Jhanna. It is enough that you value me and maybe to have the freedom
to speak my mind when it is relevant. Is it too much to ask?”


“Perhaps it is. Change here comes slowly.” Jhanna responded sadly. “If it is
known that I consult matters of State with you or go to you for advice, it
could undermine my position. It isn't about me and what I think, you know I-”
She lifted a hand to cup Donatello's cheek and he leaned into the deliberate
touch but whatever she was about to say was interrupted.


“Royal Consort Donatello?” A timid voice called from the other side of the
entrance of the tent. It was Cereth.


“What is it?” Jhanna's irate voice boomed, annoyed that he had disobeyed and
returned when they were obviously not finished with their conversation, the
walls were made of cloth after all and Cereth's bed roll was set up in a small
adjoining tent near the entrance to their own so that he may make himself ready
for when Donatello needed him.


She folded her arms at his indecisive lack of an answer. She didn't like him
and it wasn't only because the boy lacked composure and a backbone but because
Donatello seemed to require his presence whenever he wasn't with her and she
couldn't understand why, the boy was a simpleton. She would have had him
relegated to other menial duties after witnessing him fail at basic tasks such
as serving the turtle meals without spilling them on him. He'd even burnt
Donatello with scalding hot soup and he'd only laughed it off, wiped himself
down and offered the frightened boy a smile. She'd also heard rumours of
someone seeing them embrace outside the limits of the camp.


Donatello's eye ridge shot up at the angry answer and he gave Jhanna an
incredulous look. “Cereth, come in.” He answered kindly, walking over to the
entrance to open the flap when he made no move to enter the tent himself.


“Ain't you a little overdressed ta be out camping?” A gruff voice spoke as soon
as he pulled back the 'door'.


Donatello could only gape in surprise before he was knocked over by a charging
turtle into a hug on the floor. “Mikey! Guys! H-how?” He was able to wheeze out
before wincing as Mikey rocked him on the floor side to side, pressing into the
damaged part of his carapace that would still take some time to completely
heal.


“If you think we wouldn't rush over here after your last message...” Leonardo
started, pulling Mikey off the squashed turtle by the top lip of his carapace
and then helping Don up. “We were really worried when we didn't hear anything
else from you. When we contacted Honeycutt and the Utroms their news was grim.
We came as soon as we could. It was difficult to find you after we arrived here
though, the Palace... the Capital...” He didn't let go of Donatello's hand
after pulling him up, squeezing it and his voice going quiet at the end of his
sentence.


They must have thought...


Raphael barrelled into him next, squooshing their cheeks together as he laughed
and lifted him up making him grunt, “Look at you with your fancy costume!”
Mikey commented in the background as he flicked some of the dangling beads tied
around his head. “You are one step from Slave Leia. I like it, it suits you.”


Donatello looked over Raph's shoulder at Cereth's horrified expression, his
arms up and looking like he should intervene but not knowing what to do. He
tried to give the boy a warm smile to try calm him but it came out looking more
like an embarrassed grimace. “Thank you Cereth, you can go back to bed.” He
managed to croak.


“Ahem.” Jhanna coughed politely from behind him and they all turned.


Michelangelo opened his arms with a huge smile. “Sis!” He said before
enveloping her in a hug which she returned somewhat stiffly but smiling back.


“We heard what happened, is there anything we can do to help?” Leonardo said
after offering Jhanna his hand.


She began to shake her head politely but before she could say anything
Donatello spoke up. “Actually...” they both looked at each other and seemed to
have a silent argument with their eyes.


The brothers looked between them puzzled at how tensed the atmosphere had
become with a single word.


Jhanna finally sighed, defeated, though the turtles didn't understand exactly
why. “Very well.” She answered. “They may be present but not participate, you
shall speak on their behalf if required but it will most likely not be
necessary.”


Donatello gave her a weak smile of gratitude. “I will let them know what
they're supposed to do. I'll have them stand behind me if that's alright?”


Jhanna nodded and walked to the side of the tent that lead to Don's “room”
though he rarely used it. “They may stay here.” She raised a hand when Leonardo
opened his mouth to complain. “It is fine, this one is larger, you all can
probably fit on the bedding and nights are unforgiving for cold-blooded
creatures like yourselves to risk exposure. Donatello's room is more than
sufficient for my needs and you probably have a lot of catching up to do.” She
nodded to Donatello before leaving. “Goodnight.” She said before walking away.


“Is everything okay?” Leonardo asked Don tentatively when they were alone.


Donatello turned around to face them, so happy they were here and yet felt
suddenly so exposed and terrified. Everything he had been burying, putting
aside to deal with later and avoiding came rushing back to him. He was suddenly
a child again, his big brother finding him upset sitting in the sewer tunnels
crying, wiping the tears off his little brother's cheek and swinging an arm
around his shoulders to listen patiently to whatever it was that was ailing
him.


He opened his mouth to tell him that he was fine, that he'd just missed them
but when his words faltered Leonardo quickly stepped forward and pulled him
into a tight embrace. He felt Michelangelo latch onto him from behind, curling
against his shell as he stroked the damaged scutes carefully and then Raphael's
rough hand rubbing his head over the jewellery he was decorated with.


Leonardo pulled away when he felt Don ease up his grip on him and the others
followed suit but he kept his hands on the olive turtle's shoulders. “You can
come home with us if you want. You know that, right?”


“How did you know-?” Donatello began but was cut off by Mikey.


“It was kind of obvious something was up, dude. You started writing to us a
whole lot and you never mentioned the stuff you used to any more, about Jhanna
and the stuff you were doing. You used to talk about her All. The. Time.”


“It's not what you think...” Donatello tried to explain.


“Then what's wrong Donny-boy?” Raphael spoke up, anger making his voice a bit
louder than Don was comfortable with. “If you don't wanna be here no more just
say the word and we'll bail you out.”


“It's... complicated, you'll see tomorrow, I guess. There are things you should
know before we go to the war council in the morning and I'm sure you want to go
to bed as soon as possible.” His brothers frowned at his dismissal but said
nothing else.


Donatello rubbed his head and his fingers caught on the beads, he pulled it off
and set it down on one of the chests with his personal items and then began
removing everything. His brothers didn't wear clothes, he'd never worn anything
before other than his protective gear and yet it felt really odd to be
undressing in front of them. He could feel their eyes on him as he did and it
wasn't helping. They must have noticed his unease because after a while of
standing around they began removing their own gear as well and climbing into
the bed they would share.


He hadn't thought he would feel so uncomfortable among his own family though
once he was done and scooting onto the bed to take the spot they'd left for him
in the middle beside Mikey he felt a little more at ease. In the arms of his
brothers he slept more soundly than he had for a long time.
 
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