Chapter Text
Slade Wilson cut an imposing figure across the table from them, his orange and black armour gleaming darkly in the low candlelight. Bruce’s expression was blank, but Dick could see the tension in his shoulders, the unease in the tightness around his eyes.
They’d been expecting Slade, but not quite like this. Slade’s army was far larger than their own and had been threatening their borders for a while. Dick had known that the situation was dire. Bruce hadn’t hidden anything from them, had in fact prepared them for the possibility that war was coming, and what that would mean for Gotham.
So when Slade Wilson had requested a meeting, Bruce had no option but to accept.
“What do you want Wilson?” Bruce asked, laying his hands flat against the table between them.
“So hostile,” Slade purred, “when I’ve come to arrange a treaty.”
Dick couldn’t help glancing over at his siblings then. Whatever Slade wanted it wouldn’t be good. Slade was no stranger to war. In fact he seemed to relish in it, and to pass up the opportunity to crush Gotham, the price would be high.
“I’m willing to negotiate,” Bruce said after a long moment. After all, what choice did they have? It was more like a ransom demand than a treaty.
“We could cement an alliance by joining our two nations.”
Bruce stiffened, his nostrils flaring. Joining the two nations sounded like a nice way to say that Gotham would be absorbed into Slade’s rapidly expanding empire, and that Bruce would become simply a figurehead with no real power. Just there to appease their citizens.
“Join our nations,” Bruce said blandly.
“I was thinking perhaps an arranged marriage.”
That brought Bruce up short. It hadn’t been what they were expecting at all. An arranged marriage? What benefit could that possibly bring to Slade? He had three children, if Dick remembered correctly, two boys and a girl. Dick looked over at his own siblings. Jason was scowling, his arms crossed, fury radiating from him. Tim and Cass were carefully blank. Dick couldn’t bring himself to look at Damian.
“I suppose we could negotiate a marriage between our children,” Bruce said diplomatically, reluctance clear on his face.
As members of a royal family, they’d always known that their marriages would be political ones. Dick was under no illusion that his partner would be entirely his choice, but Bruce had always made it clear that they would not be forced into anything. They would have options, they could say no.
Slade laughed loudly. “I think you misunderstand me. It is not my children I wish to marry, it’s myself.”
Dick’s stomach bottomed out in horror. Marry Slade? The man was older than Bruce, and had a reputation as a violent, bloodthirsty bully. Bruce had only one daughter and like hell she was going to marry this monster. Jason stepped in front of Cass protectively, his lips curling back in a snarl and Bruce didn’t even reprimand him, his own mouth twisted unhappily.
“You wish to wed my daughter?”
“Not quite,” he smiled slowly. “I have children already, and have no desire for more heirs to fight over the throne. Besides, if I’m honest my tastes lay elsewhere.”
“Speak plainly,” Bruce snapped.
“I want to marry Richard.”
Dick couldn’t help the startled noise that escaped him. Bruce looked as surprised as he felt. Him? He hadn’t even realised that Slade knew his name, let alone wanted to marry him.
“No,” Bruce said automatically, looking taken aback. “You can’t marry the crown prince.”
“Why not? There’ll be no children for you to worry about and it’s not like he’s your only child.”
“If you wish to discuss a political marriage between our children then we can maybe come to some arrangement. But I will not be forcing any of them to marry a man older than their own father.”
“How modern of you,” Slade rolled his eye, the amusement on his face sliding slowly into annoyance. “I’ll make this easy. Either Richard marries me or I squash your pathetic little country beneath my boot. You have until tomorrow to decide.”
He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, simply snapped his fingers at his guards and strode out of the room. Bruce signalled their own guards to leave the room as well. It was like he was carved from stone, face carefully blank, muscles rigid. As soon as the heavy wooden doors had closed - locking with a clunk that echoed through the room - everyone began talking at once. Everyone except Bruce, whose stony expression had sagged into something sad and resigned, like he knew exactly what Dick was thinking.
“I’ll do it,” Dick said. The words were quiet, but they cut through the chatter like he’d screamed them.
“The fuck you will!” Jason snapped immediately.
“You can’t really be considering this?” Tim followed up. “Slade’s a monster!”
Acid churned in Dick’s gut, burning up through his lungs. This would be so much easier if they didn’t fight him. They all knew that it was inevitable, Dick could see it in the desperation on their faces, the sorrow in their eyes. Slade wasn’t exaggerating when he said he would squash them, and Dick wasn’t going to be the reason he followed through on the threat.
“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, just as quietly as Dick had been.
No. He wanted to say. Of course he wasn’t sure. They’d all heard the horror stories, the brutality with which Slade crushed his opponents, the cruelty he showed to those beneath him. Dick was under no illusions that once they were married Slade would show him any tenderness. But he didn’t have a choice.
“Yes,” he stood straight and met Bruce’s heavy gaze. He was infinitely glad that his voice didn’t tremble, this would be hard enough without letting on just how frightened he really was.
“Father, you cannot be thinking of letting Richard marry that man!” Damian’s voice was shrill, echoing against the stone walls. Dick shut his eyes as if that would block out the sounds of his little brother’s despair.
“Dick’s old enough to make his own decisions,” Bruce said, pained.
“You can’t,” Damian croaked. He sounded devastated, and Dick almost crumbled.
A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Dick opened his eyes in surprise, and Cass was in front of him, a gentle smile on her face. She caught his cheeks between her palms and drew him in to press their foreheads together.
“Brother,” she whispered, and there were a thousand meanings in that one word. Shamefully, Dick felt the wet heat of tears well beneath his closed lids. No matter what, he would always be grateful that it wasn’t Cass, or any of his brothers, that Slade had chosen. It was better this way.
“We have until tomorrow,” Bruce said gruffly. “In case you change your mind.”
He wouldn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment. Cass drew back, sliding a thumb gently under Dick’s eye. He didn’t think any tears had fallen but he couldn’t be sure. Dick stepped away, just in time to catch Tim as he threw his arms around him. Dick brought his hand up to press Tim’s face in against him.
“It’s alright Timbo,” Dick said softly.
“No it’s not,” Tim huffed, squeezing tight before letting him go. Dick released him reluctantly. He didn’t know how long he had before he couldn’t hold any of them again.
“I suppose not,” he said weakly.
Bruce’s warm hand landed on the back of his neck, and then he was being tugged into a broad chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against his hair.
“It’s not your fault,” Dick said, voice strangled.
Bruce didn’t say anything else, but he stepped back, sliding his hand up to cup his cheek gently. His expression was impossibly soft. Dick’s chest ached at the sight, and he couldn’t help leaning into the warmth of his palm.
“This is bullshit!” Jason snapped, storming past them and knocking roughly on the door. It swung open beneath his fist and he slipped out without looking at them.
Dick sighed, Bruce’s hand falling to clasp his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest?” Bruce suggested, pushing him towards the door that Jason had just disappeared through. Dick wanted to resist. If he was to be married off, he wanted to spend as much time with his family as he could. Bruce must have seen something on his face because his grip tightened minutely.
“There’s plenty of time still. It’s been a long day, go to bed.”
Dick relented easily. Exhaustion settled heavy in his bones, his emotions swirling like a storm in his chest. He let Bruce guide him out and through the halls to his room, depositing him gently on the bed. Bruce settled the blanket over him, tucking him in, even though he was still dressed in his day clothes. Bruce brushed the hair back from his forehead softly.
“Goodnight chum.”
In the dark of the room, silence pressing in against him, Dick’s thoughts clamoured loudly for attention. He couldn’t believe that he was really going to marry Slade Wilson. He wasn’t opposed to marrying a man, in fact he’d often found himself admiring the honed muscles of soldiers, or the fine beauty of visiting princes. But he’d always thought that he would marry a woman, simply because he was heir to the throne. Even if he’d fantasised about it occasionally, he’d never imagined that it would be a man older than his own father.
Fear curdled in his gut. What exactly did this mean for him anyway? He was the next in line to the throne after all, would he still be after this? The thought of Slade having any kind of power over Gotham left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe they would just skip over him? Could they do that? Dick would be happy to relinquish the role - he had always been reluctant to take on the responsibilities of being King anyway. The council would probably be happy about it as well. They hated the fact that Bruce was so adamant about keeping his adopted children in the line of succession. Would Jason take over? Or would it fall to Damian, as the only blood child. Privately, Dick thought that Tim would probably make the best King. He was the most level-headed, the most inclined to diplomacy.
At least he didn’t have to worry about any heirs, he supposed. It was bitter sweet, he wouldn’t be forced to bring children into a loveless marriage with an asshole for a father, but then he wouldn’t be able to have children at all. Dick had always wanted a family, and now that choice was being taken from him.
He let out a little sob, curling up into a ball and pulling the sheets up over his head. He hadn’t cried this whole time, hadn’t let himself show any weakness in front of his siblings. But now, alone in his room, he could let the tears fall.
*
Dick didn’t change his mind, even though he was tempted. Bruce gave him plenty of opportunities, probing gently to make sure that Dick was certain, and he could feel his resolve crumbling every time. Tim and Damian spent the entire day stuck to his side like glue, even though Damian was obviously still upset with him. Jason was avoiding him. It hurt, but he understood why, he couldn’t hold it against him.
Slade’s messenger appeared as the sun was just dipping beneath the horizon. Dick felt unreasonably nervous. It wasn’t even Slade himself, and yet Dick’s heart was racing, blood roaring in his ears. Bruce stood in front of them, his back ramrod straight.
“You can tell Wilson that we’ve accepted his proposal.”
The messenger’s lip curled at the lack of a title, but he nodded, eyes sharp as they focused on Bruce. “Very good, your highness, please have everything prepared for two days time.”
“Two days?!” Bruce bit out, incredulous. Dick’s head swam, black creeping in at the edges of his vision. Two days was not enough time. It was not enough time to prepare for a wedding, especially not a royal wedding, and it certainly wasn’t enough time for Dick to prepare himself for this marriage.
“Yes, King Slade would like proceedings to be as fast as possible. Two days should be plenty of time.”
It wasn’t, and Slade almost definitely knew that, but Bruce couldn’t argue with him. He turned his back on the other man sharply, jaw clenched in fury, but his expression softened as his gaze fell on Dick. The messenger took the dismissal for what it was, leaving without another word.
“Two days,” Dick murmured, stunned. Bruce shut his eyes, his mouth pressing into a thin line, before he stepped forwards and gripped Dick by the shoulders.
“I know it’s not ideal,” Bruce started. Dick snorted. Not ideal? He had two days left of freedom, and all of that time would be spent preparing for this wedding. Bruce’s grip tightened.
“Don’t worry about it Bruce,” Dick interrupted before he could say anything else. “We need to start getting everything together if we’re going to be ready on time.”
He shrugged Bruce’s hands off him. He let him go, but his mouth turned down unhappily and he rubbed a hand across his eyes with a sigh. “You’re right. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”
“Of course I will, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Bruce didn’t argue, just nodded sharply, his brows furrowing. “We should let the others know.”
Dick grimaced. He didn’t want to tell them, didn’t want to see their expressions when they found out how little time they really had. But they had a right to know. And anyway, they would need their help with this wedding.
Bruce hadn’t let the others come with them, and so they’d congregated back in Dick’s bedroom. His heart sunk with every step closer, already dreading the reactions, but Bruce just offered him a soft smile as they reached the door, pushing it open and leading the way inside. Damian stood up immediately, wide eyes fixed on Bruce.
“Well?” he snapped.
Bruce took a deep breath. “He wants the wedding in two days.”
The room exploded with noise, all his siblings clamoring over each other. Bruce raised a hand to hush them, his face strained.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we need all hands on deck if we’re going to be ready on time.”
“Are you joking?” Jason asked, incredulous. “You really expect us to help with this?”
“Yes,” Dick said before Bruce could reply. “It’s going to reflect badly on us if we mess this up.”
Jason sneered, expression furious. Cass touched his elbow gently and he let out an explosive breath, deflating. “I’m sorry Dick, this is just…”
“It’s okay Jay, I know it sucks.”
“Yeah, sucks,” Tim said, choked. “It sucks that you’re going to be sold off to some rapist so we don’t all get murdered.”
DIck’s breath caught in his throat. “He’s not a…” he couldn’t even say the word, “he’s an asshole sure but he’s not…”
“He’s literally forcing you into a marriage to save your country. You think he’s not going to make you have sex with him? How is that not a rapist?” Tim snapped.
“Okay, enough,” Bruce said. “Arguing isn’t going to change anything. We have to make the most of a bad situation here, I’m expecting you all to pull your weight and help out.”
With that he turned and left. Dick shot one last look at his siblings, and then left as well.
*
Despite their initial reluctance, all of his siblings pitched in to help, and they managed to scrape together a passable event just in time. Slade arrived early on the day of the wedding, dressed regally in a royal blue that matched his coat of arms, and Dick could admit that he looked handsome.
Bruce had sequestered Dick away in his room before Slade could see him, and helped him dress. He’d designed a beautiful white tunic, embroidered with fine golden patterns that matched the delicate crown he wore.
“He requested you wear these,” Bruce said, scowling. He opened a small box to reveal two thick golden bands. Dick picked them up hesitantly, putting them on with a grimace. They felt heavy and tight on his wrists, weighing him down and they reminded him almost of manacles. He swallowed thickly. He shouldn’t be thinking like that.
“How do I look?” he croaked, giving Bruce a twirl and tight smile.
“Very handsome,” Bruce said, reaching out to tug at the hem of his tunic. “Just like a prince should.”
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, Dick drinking in the sight of his father one last time as a free man. Bruce cupped his face gently, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone.
“Are you sure about this?” Bruce asked again. Dick huffed a laugh, it was too late now, there was no way they could back out of it.
“I’m sure Bruce, it’ll be fine,” he didn’t sound convincing to his own ears, but Bruce didn’t call him out on it, just pulled him into a tight embrace. Dick desperately didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to walk out those doors and face the reality of his situation.
“You ready chum?”
No. He was never going to be ready, but that wasn’t going to stop it from happening. He had to just suck it up and get this over with. “Yeah, B, let’s do this.”
Bruce held his arm out and Dick tucked his own through it. Slade had made it clear that Dick was going to be the ‘bride’ in the ceremony. Dick grit his teeth at the thought, he wasn’t a woman and the fact that Slade wanted him to act this way was degrading.
He was led out towards the main hall where the ceremony was being held. Butterflies fluttered to life in his stomach, his heart racing the closer they got to the doors. Everyone was going to be there, to see him give his life away to the bastard that was threatening war against them.
A soft squeeze of his arm was all the warning he got before the doors swung open, a sea of faces turning to watch as he stepped through and made his way down the aisle. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, scared of recognising any of the faces, or seeing the pity in their eyes.
As they neared the end of the aisle, Bruce’s grip became almost painfully tight. Dick looked up and locked eyes with Slade, caught by the bright, cold gaze. Slade smiled, satisfaction sharpening his features as he broke eye contact to look Dick up and down. The room seemed to fade away from him, static filling his ears as Bruce passed his hand over to Slade with a scowl. His grip was firm and unyielding, calluses rough against Dick’s fingers. Dick’s own hands weren’t exactly soft. He was a prince afterall, and he was trained to fight, to defend himself and his country. Still, he had never actually seen battle. These hands, he knew, had spilled blood.
Slade leaned in, voice low so that only Dick could hear it. “You make a beautiful sight Richard, a vision in gold.”
Dick shuddered. The bracelets on his wrists felt almost unbearably heavy. Stood next to Slade, the difference in their stature was obvious. Dick was no slouch, he excelled in his training, was unmatched at duel wielding blades, could bring down a man twice his size. And yet next to Slade, he felt small and weak. He was a pretty, useless thing, weighed down by the gold at his wrists.
The actual ceremony passed in a haze. He couldn’t concentrate on the words, repeating his vows with numb lips. Slade turned him gently, leaning in, and Dick almost flinched back. Then Slade’s lips were on his, warm and slightly chapped. Dick froze and Slade licked across the seam of his mouth before pulling away to raucous applause.
His eyes sought out Bruce instinctively. He was stood to the side, clapping, but his face was drawn and unsmiling. A hand gripped Dick’s bicep, painfully tight, and spurred him on down the aisle.
“Smile Richard, or people may start to think you aren’t happy with this arrangement.”
Dick forced a smile onto his face, his eyes scanning the crowd. His siblings were sat near the front, huddled together. Jason and Damian had twin scowls on their faces, arms crossed stubbornly. Cass beside them was smiling sadly, cheeks wet with tears.
Then they were past the crowds and into the entrance hall. Bruce had ordered the servants to set up a grand feast, and Slade led Dick towards the head of the table, settling him into a chair to the right of him. The guests followed them out, talking loudly amongst themselves as the band began to play.
Slade took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Dick stared at their joined hands blankly for a long moment, gaze catching on the new golden shimmer on his ring finger. It was...tastefully understated. A simple gold band. And yet the sight of it made Dick’s stomach churn uncomfortably.
Bruce sat stiffly on the other side of Slade, not looking at them. Slade leant back in his chair with a smirk, lifting their joined hands to his mouth. “You look unhappy Wayne.”
“Not at all,” Bruce said through gritted teeth. Slade laughed but he let go of Dick’s hand to start eating. A servant appeared at Dick’s shoulder with a jug of wine, pouring a generous splash into Dick’s goblet. Dick wasn’t much of a drinker usually - he disliked feeling out of control - now though, he could do with getting drunk.
The wine was bitter, but Dick downed it all anyway, gesturing to another servant to refill his cup. As he brought it to his lips a second time, a hand clamped onto his forearm, lowering it back to the table.
“Take it easy sweetheart, it wouldn’t do for you to be drunk on our first night as newlyweds,” Slade said, squeezing harshly. Dick let go of the goblet, grinding his teeth together as nausea curled in his gut. On the other side of Slade, Bruce made a small, disgusted noise and heat flooded Dick’s cheeks at the reminder that his dad was listening to this.
He picked at his food as the night went on, but he didn’t taste any of it. It was a shame because Bruce had made sure to include some of Dick’s favourite dishes, but everything just tasted like cardboard in his mouth. Bruce kept shooting him worried looks from around Slade’s bulk, but Dick was purposefully ignoring him. He didn’t want Bruce to say anything where Slade could hear him. He was enjoying this, Dick knew, enjoying the fact that he had something he could lord over the other King, and Dick hated that he was being used to hurt Bruce.
There was a steady stream of well-wishers and simpering nobles that approached the head table during the night. Dick smiled and acted polite, and beside him Slade seemed annoyed by the constant attention, waving people away and sighing loudly when they didn’t get the hint. Obviously in his own kingdom, he wasn’t known for his people skills.
Eventually Slade stood, a sharp grin on his face, and raised his goblet. “Well this has been wonderful. I’d like to thank everyone for attending and, of course, King Bruce for agreeing to what I’m sure will be a prosperous marriage,” he dropped a heavy hand to clasp Bruce on the shoulder, in a show of camaraderie. Bruce’s answering smile was bland, his hands clenched into fists where they rested on his lap.
“Now, if you’ll all excuse us, my new husband and I have to… consummate the marriage.” Slade laughed loudly as the crowd went quiet. Dick’s mouth fell open, the tips of his ears heating in embarrassment. He couldn’t help glancing over at Bruce, who was glaring at Slade, his face red.
Slade grabbed Dick by the arm and levered him to his feet. Bruce stood as well, looking like he wanted to step in between them, but Slade was already dragging Dick away from the table towards the door. They passed his sibling’s table on the way, and Dick’s heart clenched at the look on his little brothers’ faces. Tim was the closest and as he reached out Dick stretched to meet him, their fingers brushing briefly.
Then they were outside in the quiet of the hall. Dick yanked his arm down hard enough to break Slade’s hold on him, side stepping away quickly. “You don’t have to drag me everywhere,” he snapped.
Slade gave him an unimpressed look. “Well lead the way then.”
Dick hesitated. He knew what Slade wanted, he had made that very clear at the feast after all. Slade probably expected him to take him to his room, but Dick didn’t want to taint his childhood room with this. He didn’t want Slade in his space. There were several empty guest rooms in the palace. Dick would take them to one of those.
He led the way there in silence, pushing the door open and stepping inside, Slade crowding in behind him. “This isn’t your room.”
“No,” Dick agreed quietly. “I thought this would be better.”
Slade grunted, shutting the door behind himself with a heavy click. Dick lit the candles. His hands were shaking as he held the match up to the wicks. He let the tiny flame burn down the wood until the heat of it licked at his fingers, and then blew it out, watching the smoke curl into the air and dissipate.
Arms circled his waist, tugging him back against a broad chest. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, heart racing as Slade pressed his lips against Dick’s neck. He was trembling, fear and nausea mixing horribly in his stomach. It wasn’t exactly his first time doing anything like this - plenty of people wanted to get in bed with the Prince after all - but he’d always refrained from going too far, limiting it to exploratory fumbles and heated kisses. He’d been saving the main event for his wedding night. All the times Dick had imagined how this night would go, it had never been like this.
Teeth scraped across his nape, a warm hand pushing up under his tunic to stroke across his stomach. Dick couldn’t help the shudder, his skin prickling where Slade was touching him.
“Take your clothes off,” Slade said, husky, voice thick with lust.
Dick gripped the collar of his tunic, holding it closed instinctively, as Slade stepped back. He could do this. It was fine. It was just sex right? All he had to do was lay back and think of Gotham, and then his family would be safe. He just had to get past this night, and then every night for the rest of his life.
His eyes felt uncomfortably hot, his throat swollen, but he refused to cry. Not in front of this man. He stripped his clothes off efficiently - trying not to make a show of it - until he was completely bare, exposed and shivering. He went to take the gold bands off of his wrists, but Slade grabbed his forearm and twisted him round, tugging him up against his chest.
“Leave them on.”
Slade had taken the opportunity to disrobe as well, and as he pressed closer, the hard heat of his arousal brushed against Dick’s stomach. He couldn’t help the small, disgusted noise he made as it smeared wetly along his skin.
The grip on his arm tightened, and then he was being walked backwards towards the bed, awkwardly trying to avoid getting stepped on. The back of his knees hit the mattress and he would have fallen backwards if it wasn’t for the tight grip on his arm. Instead he was leaned back, his legs crushed against the bed, and his upper body tilted precariously.
He felt off balance and overwhelmed, the sticky heat between them contrasting horribly with the chill of the room. Slade kissed him, bending him even further back, slipping his other arm around his waist and grinding them together.
Dick felt kind of like he was being swallowed whole, the wet meat of Slade’s tongue choking him. He tried to bring his foot up to rest on the bed, tried to get some balance so he felt a little more in control, and Slade grabbed his thigh, tugging his leg up and hoisting him onto the mattress.
The sheets were soft beneath Dick’s back and cool against his overheated skin. Slade loomed over him, a predator about to strike the final blow, and Dick had never felt so exposed. So vulnerable.
He couldn’t help the way his knees drew together in a pathetic attempt to hide himself. And to keep Slade from getting in close. Rough hands gripped his knees and forced his legs apart, Slade using his weight to force them out in an uncomfortable stretch. Slade crowded in, his hips settling against Dick’s and the hard line of his cock pressed nauseatingly into the crease of Dick’s groin.
Slade bent over him, lips brushing over the sensitive skin of his neck, before sucking hard enough to hurt. Dick squirmed, his hands coming up to curl into useless fists against Slade’s chest. His instincts were telling him to fight back, to hit and twist and break the pin. But he couldn’t do that. This was his fate now, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Slade thrust down with a soft moan, crushing the breath from Dick’s lungs. He trailed sharp, biting kisses across Dick’s throat and over his collarbone and Dick shivered beneath his bulk. He had the sudden, horrible fear that Slade was going to just tear into the exposed skin of his throat and kill him.
Instead Slade shoved two thick fingers into his mouth. Dick’s teeth scraped across his knuckles, his tongue rising instinctively to push the digits out. They thrust down harshly, pressing in against the back of his throat and he gagged around them.
“That’s it,” Slade murmured, “get them nice and wet.”
Dick shuddered, gagging some more, and if Slade didn’t let up he was going to vomit. After a long moment, he pulled them back to trace wet swipes across his lips. Dick panted desperately, sharp, heaving breaths as he struggled to get himself under control.
Slade trailed wet fingers down his chest, flicking gently over a nipple, and then between his legs to press against Dick’s entrance. Dick jerked, his legs squeezing in against Slade’s hips, panic flaring in his chest. Slade pressed his fingers inside, and the slick of Dick’s saliva wasn’t enough to stop the sharp burn of friction.
“Wait-“ Dick gasped, clawing his fingers into Slade’s shoulders.
“Relax,” Slade purred, thrusting his fingers roughly and then spreading them. It hurt, a sick, violating pain that sparked up Dick’s spine. How could he possibly relax? He hadn’t even stuck his cock in yet and it already felt like he was going to be torn apart.
“Please- can we just-“
Slade bit down on his shoulder, thrusting a third finger in roughly. Dick couldn’t stop the yelp of pain, or the shameful sting of tears that threatened.
“You’re going to have to get used to this sweetheart,” Slade said, and Dick shuddered at the reminder. That this wasn’t a one time thing. That he would have to suffer this unwanted touch over and over again.
“Please,” he whispered, but either Slade didn’t hear it or just didn’t care.
Slade pulled his fingers out, and Dick only had a brief moment of relief before Slade was pushing his knees up by his ears, almost folding him in half. He bore down against him, trapping him in position.
Blood roared in his ears, his pulse hammering at his throat, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion and yet all at once. Slade tightened his hold until his fingers must have been leaving bruises on his thighs, and then his cock was pressing into him, huge and hot and like a battering ram against his insides.
Dick gasped, trying to squirm away, but Slade’s hold was like iron, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he pushed onwards. His fingers were like claws on Slade’s shoulders. It must have hurt but Slade didn’t even seem to notice, his lid half closed in pleasure, the tendons on his neck standing out as he grit his teeth and thrust in sharply.
Dick cried out, agony sawing through his body, sharp and insistent. His head was swimming, his limbs tingling. It felt almost like his body didn’t belong to him, like this was happening to someone else entirely, because it couldn’t be happening to him.
Then another thrust had pain lighting up along his nerves. A thick groan painted the air between them, sinking into his skin like poison.
“I knew you’d be tight,” Slade hissed. Dick wanted to point out that he was probably tight because Slade hadn’t bothered to prep him properly, because he was unaroused and scared and hating every minute of this. He wanted to tell Slade to go fuck himself. Instead all he managed were desperate, pained gasps as Slade carved into him.
Slade gripped his hips hard, tilting his pelvis up, and then began thrusting in earnest. Dick wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready. He scratched deep furrows across Slade’s shoulders, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Slade bent over so that their chests were pressed together, covering his mouth with his own. Their breaths mingled, teeth smashing together painfully, and Slade moaned like it was sexy. Dick wished that he would keep this as impersonal as possible, that it wasn’t so intimate, so he could pretend that this was a random, uncomfortable encounter that come morning he could just sweep under the rug, and not his new husband, fucking him with no care whatsoever.
Was this what it was going to be like every time? He’d known that Slade would be a selfish lover, only in it for his own pleasure, and yet he hadn’t thought about how much it would hurt. Would it be this bad every time? Or would he eventually get used to it? He wasn’t sure which idea was worse.
Slade leaned back on his knees so he could thrust more freely. The new angle meant that Slade rubbed up against something inside of him that sparked pleasure instead of pain. It wasn’t quite enough to get him hard, but it still made him gasp, his eyes widening, and he knew Slade had noticed by the smirk on his face.
“Enjoying yourself?” Slade huffed out, amusement clear even over the thick, breathless lust.
“No,” Dick gasped, a denial. Slade reached between them to palm at his cock, gentling his thrusts and Dick mewled, his arms flying out to tear at the sheets. No, no, no. He couldn’t enjoy this, this degradation, this violation of his body.
And yet his cock hardened beneath Slade’s touch, straining up against his palm as though it sought his touch.
Slade laughed, squeezing harshly in punishment for a moment before he trapped it against Dick’s stomach, letting his palm slide across it with every thrust.
It seemed endless, this cloying pleasure mixing with the ache in his guts. Slade was a machine, thrusting deep over and over, the only sign of exertion the sweat beading across his brow. Dick clenched down, desperate to end this, and Slade rumbled low in his chest, his thrust hitching and stuttering.
“Good boy,” Slade moaned, sending shivers of disgust across Dick’s skin. He didn’t want Slade’s praise, didn’t want to be good for him.
Dick drifted, his body jolted across the sheets in time with Slade’s thrusts. He was whispering praise and degradation in equal measures, smearing the words across Dick’s skin. He tuned them out, focusing instead on the pounding of his pulse, the sharp huff huff of his own breath being shoved out of him.
Slade’s grip on his cock tightened, slick with sweat and precome. He twisted his wrist and pleasure sparked down Dick’s spine.
“Come on baby,” Slade murmured into his ear. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
No. No he didn’t want to be good for Slade, but that didn’t stop the hand around his cock from feeling good. Pleasure coiled like a rope in his gut, his hips rising without his say so to thrust up against Slade’s grip.
Slade chuckled, running a thumb across the slit and then Dick was coming. It took him completely by surprise, sudden and hollow and disgusting. He let out a sob, limbs jerking and Slade pressed in against him with a moan. He brought his sticky hand up, slipping his fingers into Dick’s mouth. It was salty and wet, made all the worse by the breathy sigh of pleasure Slade let out, his hips stuttering against Dick’s ass. He dropped his hands to Dick’s hips, pulling him against his pelvis for a rough thrust, and another, and another, and then Slade was shuddering against him with a low moan.
Slade slumped against him, panting wetly against his throat. Dick’s cheeks were damp, his throat tight, and his whole body throbbed in time with his heartbeat. After a long moment Slade sat back, pulling out of him with a horrible squelching noise.
“Well, I certainly enjoyed myself,” Slade said, wiping himself with a blanket and then flopping down beside Dick. His arm fell across Dick’s hips, heavy, pinning him.
“Glad one of us did,” Dick croaked. His voice sounded terrible, scratchy and yet at the same time thick with congestion. He turned away from Slade, curling his knees up and wincing as his ass throbbed. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t go through with this again even once, let alone as many times as Slade wanted for the rest of his life. If he went to Bruce now and told him, Bruce would help him. He would fight. For Dick.
The thought was abruptly sobering. He hadn’t suffered through this so he could fail at the last hurdle. If he gave up now, his family, his country, would suffer instead, and everything he’d just done would be for nothing.
Slade sat up beside him, stretching, and then the bed shifted as Slade stood up, padding into the bathroom. A scant minute later, a warm, wet flannel slapped onto his ribs, startling him,
“Get cleaned up, there’s a carriage waiting.”
Dick sat up immediately, wincing as the movement sent pain singing through his nerves. “A carriage- what-“
They couldn’t be leaving now. He hadn’t had time to say goodbye, had been hoping that they would stay here for the night and Dick could pull the shattered pieces of himself back together in time for a farewell breakfast.
Slade had turned away to dress. “I’d rather not spend any more time in this pathetic country than I have to.”
Something hot and angry swelled in Dick’s chest, clogging his throat. “Are you serious?”
Slade straightened, shooting Dick an unreadable look over his shoulder. “If you want to say goodbye you’d better hurry up.” And then he was striding towards the door.
Dick wiped himself over quickly, focusing mainly on the area between his legs. He was bleeding, crimson smears staining the rough material of the cloth and Dick had to swallow down the sudden nausea that pressed insistently at the base of his throat.
Slade had cracked the door and was talking quietly to someone on the other side. Guards probably. Dick prayed that they hadn’t been there the whole time, or that if they had, they hadn’t been able to hear anything.
His body ached as he bent to pull his clothes on. It was both a relief to no longer be naked, and also weirdly anticlimactic, like he’d been flayed alive and then his skin had been hastily put back on.
Slade turned, his gaze scraping across Dick’s body like a physical touch. His lip curled, displeasure clear on his face, but he didn’t say anything, just gestured Dick closer. He went, like a dog called to his master, wincing as every step sent pain shooting up his spine. Slade reached out to stroke his thumb over his throat, pressing in against sensitive spots. Dick shuddered, grabbing Slade’s wrist, and he let him, pulling back to smooth his palm over Dick’s tunic.
“Not exactly a princely figure right now, hmm.”
Dick didn’t know what he looked like, but he imagined it was pretty bad. He tugged at the hem of his tunic, feeling small and weak and pathetic. Slade tsked and took his hand, leading him out of the room. Dick kept his gaze on the floor, embarrassment heating his face. He didn’t want to see the faces of the guards, didn’t want to know if they’d heard. It was bad enough that everyone knew what had happened.
As they neared the hall, the sounds of the party leaked out around them. It was still going strong, the guests seemingly unbothered that both of the grooms were no longer present. Slade reached out to open the door, and horror solidified like a stone in Dick’s stomach.
“Wait,” Dick gasped, tugging back against Slade’s hold. “We’re not- not going in there are we?”
Slade gave him a bemused look. “What are you talking about? I thought you would want to see your family one last time.”
Of course he wanted to see them. But not like this, not in front of everyone, not after he’d just been… he couldn’t even think the word. Slade rolled his eye, pushing the door open before Dick had the chance to protest further. It was like a wall of noise, slamming into Dick’s chest. His head swirled, overwhelmed by how much it was. It seemed strange, that just minutes ago Dick had been through one of the worst experiences of his life, and all these people had been here. Partying.
Slade dragged him in, drawing attention immediately. A cheer started up, laughter and clapping, and Dick felt sick as he realised just what exactly they were celebrating. Slade grinned, sharp and feral, ushering Dick ahead of him towards the head table. Dick’s gaze sought out Bruce immediately, still sat where they had left him. His face was pale, mouth a thin line, body rigid. He wasn’t even pretending to look happy.
The walk to the table seemed endless, paraded in front of everyone like some prize. By the time he reached Bruce, he was sweating, his hands trembling and Slade’s presence at his back had shivers racing down his spine.
“We’ll be taking our leave now,” Slade said, loud enough to be heard over the swell of the crowd. Bruce looked up briefly to lock gazes with Slade, his expression clouding over into something dangerous, the promise of violence simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’re leaving already?” Bruce grit out.
“I have business to attend to back in my own kingdom. Thank you for the hospitality, but I see no reason to extend my stay further.”
Dick reached out towards Bruce without meaning to, then aborted the gesture before he could call attention to himself. He wasn’t a child, begging for his father’s comfort. He was a prince, an adult, married. Still, Bruce obviously caught the movement, because he looked back at Dick, taking in his appearance. His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring as his gaze caught on the open collar of his tunic and what Dick assumed were the bruises littering his throat.
Bruce stood abruptly, knuckles white as he pressed his fists into the table. “Well then, we should say our goodbyes,” he looked meaningfully at Slade, “in private.”
“By all means.”
Bruce rounded the table and Dick barely stopped himself from stepping towards him and wrapping his arms around him. He had to stay composed, especially here, in front of everyone. Bruce took his arm gently, guiding him out of the hall and into a small room just to the side. It was only after the door had shut behind them that Dick realised his siblings had followed them in.
“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice breaking over his name. He couldn’t help himself then. He threw himself forwards, colliding with Bruce. Bruce staggered back a step, but his arms came up to crush Dick to him, a wounded noise escaping his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Dick sobbed, and now the tears were coming, thick and fast and unstoppable.
“What are you sorry for?”
Dick shrugged, feeling small and stupid in Bruce’s arms. “For being weak.”
“Nobody thinks that Dick,” Bruce pulled back just enough to cup a hand under Dick’s jaw and tilt his face up. “I think you’ve been incredibly strong.”
“You don’t have to go through with this,” Jason piped up from behind him, voice thick. “We can say that we’ve changed our minds, that we want the marriage annulled.”
Dick laughed wetly. “It’s a bit late for that Jay. And anyway, it wouldn’t change anything. Slade would crush us.”
A small body crashed into him from behind, arms coming up to wrap around his waist. “I don’t want you to go,” Damian whispered, and Dick’s heart broke all over again. He couldn’t believe that this was it. That this was the last time he’d be here, with his family and not with Slade.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Jason’s right,” Bruce said after a moment. “If you’ve changed your mind we won’t hold it against you. We’ll support you no matter what.”
Dick pulled away, gently disentangling from Damian, so that he could face all of them. “Thank you, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m doing this.”
Tim stepped forwards then, his face tight as he reached out to tug on the collar of his tunic. “If that’s what you want, then we can’t stop you.”
“I’ll visit,” Dick huffed, strained. He hoped that he would be able to visit. Slade wouldn’t stop him from seeing his family, surely? He’d let them say goodbye after all.
“You’d better,” Tim croaked before pulling Dick into another hug.
Dick took his time hugging them all, savouring the feel of his family in his arms. Then he took a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his wet cheeks, and trying to pull himself back together in time to face Slade.
As he went to open the door, Bruce stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We love you, Dick.”
Dick was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Bruce loved him, or that Bruce was uncaring or unaffectionate, but those words were rarely said. Bruce was a man of action, and whilst Dick had never doubted his feelings, it was nice to hear it. Warmth spread through his chest, a tiny kernel of hope to take with him.
Slade was waiting outside, looking bored. As soon as Dick stepped out into the entryway, Slade was gesturing him forwards impatiently, turning to step out into the chill of the Gotham evening.
“Wait-” Dick started. “What about my stuff?”
He had packed a few of his things before the wedding. It wasn’t much, but it was all the important things that Dick didn’t want to leave behind.
“What about it?” Slade grunted. “Everything you need will be provided for you.”
No, that wasn’t right. He should be able to take his things with him. He didn’t want to be alone, stranded in a foreign country, with nothing of his own, nothing to remind himself of his home.
Slade’s eye narrowed as Dick remained standing where he was. Behind Dick, Bruce had stepped forwards. “I’ll send a servant to fetch your things Dick.”
“No need,” Slade growled. “We’ve already been delayed.”
“It won’t take any time at all.”
Slade’s lip curled, his sharp gaze falling to Dick’s face. “Richard. We’re leaving.”
Dick looked back at Bruce helplessly, but his feet seemed to move of their own accord. Slade smiled as Dick drew level with him, reaching up to stroke his thumb over Dick’s bottom lip.
“Good boy,” he purred, and Dick flushed. He glanced back at his family, embarrassment heating his cheeks. Bruce had a harsh grip on Jason’s shoulder, as if holding him back, but they both wore matching scowls.
Slade’s hand fell to the small of Dick’s back, urging him onwards towards the carriage. It was simpler than Dick had expected, and small. Dick eyed the inside dubiously. It was going to be an uncomfortable journey.
Slade climbed in before him, and thankfully, didn’t offer Dick any help getting in after him. It was cramped. Slade was a big man, and his bulk took up most of the space. Dick ended up pressed up against him, trapped between Slade and the door. He turned away as much as he could, watching his family out of the small window instead.
As the carriage pulled away, he took in the image of his family, huddled together on the steps, faces sad. Cass waved, offering a tremulous smile, and Dick lifted his hand in reply, fingers curling weakly.
And then they were gone, and all that remained was Dick and Slade, and the yawning expanse of an uncertain future.
Chapter 2
Notes:
So this took an embarrassingly long time to write, and I’m still not entirely happy with it but here it is anyway
Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter Text
Dick winced as the carriage bumped and rattled over the uneven ground. The weak morning light streamed orange and thin through the small window. They’d travelled throughout the night. It wasn’t something that was advisable. Highway robbers and bandits were fairly common along the roads out of the kingdom. Still, Slade had been insistent that they get back as soon as possible. Dick supposed that he was confident in his own skills in the case of an attack. So far, no such luck.
Slade hadn’t said anything the entire journey, and Dick hadn’t exactly been in the mood to offer up any conversation. It had been painfully quiet. Slade had stretched his legs out as much as the small interior of the carriage allowed, crossing his arms over his massive chest, and tipping his head back. Dick wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or not, but he hadn’t moved since, and his eye had been closed the entire time. He was uncomfortably warm where he was pressed up against Dick. Dick had made himself as small as possible, leaning up against the wall of the carriage, eyes burning as he stared hard at the dark scenery outside. It had been an uncomfortable ride, and Dick hadn’t slept a wink.
Slade shifted, seemingly coming awake, just as the castle became visible. Dick was too caught up in the sheer size of the castle ahead of him to even be nervous. It towered above the surrounding buildings, a grand sprawling structure with seemingly endless towers and wings. Dick was intimidated already and he hadn’t even gotten inside yet.
“What do you think?” Slade said, voice gruff.
“It’s uh, huge.”
Slade chuckled, his breath hot against the back of Dick’s neck. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
Dick shot him a look, because that was a double entendre if ever he’d heard one. Slade was grinning, and he’d leaned much closer than Dick had realised. He was looking out of the window, but turned as Dick looked at him, their faces uncomfortably close. Slade’s gaze dropped to his lips and Dick couldn’t help licking them nervously, turning hurriedly back to the window. A heavy hand fell to his thigh, and Dick had to push down the urge to squirm. It felt like the heat of Slade’s palm was burning through the thin material of his trousers.
“Don’t you ever get lost?” Dick asked, trying to steer the conversation back around to something he was little more comfortable with. It seemed to work because Slade took his hand back with a small chuckle.
“I’ve had plenty of time to explore. And besides, it’s not like I use all of the rooms.”
Dick wondered if he’d ever get a chance to explore the castle. Or if he really was just going to be a glorified bed warmer. Slade hadn’t exactly made his role here all that clear. How long would it take to map out the entire building? Although, Dick supposed, he had the rest of his life to find out. His stomach churned.
Slade didn’t say anything else. Dick was grateful for it. He watched the streets as they trundled towards the castle. When Dick had been young, his parents still alive, they’d been part of a travelling troupe. Dick vaguely remembered the excitement of a new city, the strangeness of it. He’d travelled a lot less with Bruce, usually only for diplomatic missions. Every time, he was always struck by how similar different kingdoms could be. Even now, watching the streets come to life, people emerging onto the cobblestone paths, it could have been any street in Gotham.
It got less similar the closer to the castle they got. The richer areas of the kingdom were almost obscenely opulent. The difference between the inner and outer circles was shocking. There was a huge gate around the castle, manned by guards. It certainly seemed like Slade wasn’t the kind of king who made himself accessible to his people.
Nerves fluttered to life in Dick’s stomach as they came to a stop in front of the main doors. This was it. This was the start of the rest of his life. He sat in the carriage for a long moment, even after Slade climbed out, stretching. It was stupid, but it felt like as long as he was sequestered away in this carriage, then this wouldn’t be real.
Slade pulled the door of the carriage open and Dick almost fell out of it. Slade gave him an annoyed look. “Hurry up Richard, we don’t have all day.”
Dick scrambled out of the carriage, eyes wide as he stared up at the huge door in front of him. It swung open as they approached, the two servants bowing deeply as they passed. The entrance was stunning, light and airy, with white marble. Sunlight streamed through multiple windows above them, illuminating several statues that lined the walls, and the impressive stairs that led up to a balcony above. It was not at all what Dick had been expecting. He’d kind of thought that Slade’s castle would be like a dungeon, all shadowy corners and rusty bloodstained weapons on the walls.
Slade pressed a hand into Dick’s lower back, ushering him forwards impatiently. He turned to one of the servants as they started up the stairs. “Have my things taken to my room.”
Is that where they were going? To Slade’s room? Dick’s stomach sank. Surely Slade wouldn’t want to- to have sex with him? Not after an entire night travelling. Dick himself felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept at all the whole journey, the nerves and also the lingering pain keeping him awake.
Slade brought them to a stop outside of some impressive double doors. “This is my room. I expect not to be disturbed unless I send for you. If you wish to explore the castle you are free to do so, but a guard will be present at all times.”
Dick nodded. There’d been guards down every hallway. Dick wasn’t exactly sure what Slade expected, that he was going to be attacked in his own castle? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Slade watched him for a moment, then stepped towards a door opposite. He pushed it open, revealing a huge bedroom. “This is your room.”
Dick stepped forwards, drawn into the room despite himself. It was massive, way bigger than his old room had been, and definitely far more opulent. Gossamer curtains hung like webs around the four poster bed, shifting gently in the breeze from an open window. Sunlight glinted off the golden thread in the rugs and the decorations on the walls. Dick couldn’t help his mouth from falling open in shock.
“I take it you like it then?” Slade said, amusement curling warm in his tone.
“I have my own room?” Dick had to ask. He’d half expected that he’d just be staying in Slade’s room the entire time.
Slade laughed. “Well, I don’t want you cluttering up mine. I like my privacy.”
Dick looked at him then. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, gaze fixed on Dick. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. “Get settled in. I’ve got business to attend to, but I expect to see you for dinner. There’ll be a guard posted outside your door.”
If that was for Dick’s protection, or to make sure he didn’t try a daring escape, Dick wasn’t sure. It seemed monumentally stupid for him to make a break for it now, when he’d already given up so much. Dick had no doubt that Slade wouldn’t hesitate to go to war against Gotham if Dick ever reneged on their marriage. Maybe Dick was overthinking this. Maybe the guard was simply so he wouldn’t get lost.
Slade pushed up to standing. He almost filled the doorway completely, his broad shoulders just fitting through. Maybe that was why everything here was so huge, Dick thought almost hysterically, because the king himself was so big.
“Make sure you clean yourself up before you come down.” Slade turned to leave then, shutting the door behind him. Dick was suddenly alone for the first time in what seemed like forever. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the silk sheets soft beneath his hands.
He felt small and desperately alone. It reminded him of when he’d first gone to live with Bruce. The castle had seemed so big and intimidating. It wasn’t a feeling Dick was happy to repeat.
He curled up on the bed, tucking his knees up to his chest. The sleepless night was catching up to him. He found his eyes falling shut without his permission, his body sinking into sleep.
*
A heavy knock had Dick startling awake. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, blinking into the dim light of the room, he didn’t recognise his surroundings. Then it hit him all at once and his stomach dropped so abruptly he felt a little sick.
The knock came again, harder this time. Dick stumbled off the bed, pulling the door open before whoever was on the other side could barge their way in. It was a guard, looking startled, fist still raised. “Uh, his majesty instructed me to tell you that dinner is in an hour. And to take you to the baths.”
He looked Dick up and down, nose wrinkling and Dick felt his cheeks heat. He must look terrible. He hadn’t washed since he had...consummated his marriage, and he was still dressed in his wedding clothes, rumpled and dishevelled from travelling.
“Um, okay sure.” He stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him, and followed the guard down the hall to the baths. There was a woman outside the doors, arms laden with towels and a set of clean clothes.
“Here you are sir,” she pushed the bundle into his arms. He held them to his chest automatically. “Do you need assistance bathing?”
“Uh no, thanks, that won’t be necessary.” Dick shot her an awkward smile, slipping into the bathroom and pulling the door shut before either the servant or the guard could follow him in. God, were they always going to be so overbearing? He hoped not.
The bathroom was as big as all the other rooms had been, steam curling softly in the orange glow of the lanterns. There were several tubs, although only one had been filled. Dick set the clothes down beside it, dipping the tips of his fingers into the clear water. It was hot, a floral scent rising as he stirred the water gently. Suddenly, Dick was all too aware of how grimy he felt. How disgusting. He stripped his clothes off, leaving them in a puddle on the floor, and climbed into the tub, the hot water stinging against his cuts.
He slipped down until the water rose over his mouth. It felt good, the water just the right temperature. It soothed his aching muscles, easing the stiffness of his neck and lower back. He hadn’t realised just how tense he’d been this whole time, until his body relaxed almost unconsciously.
He lay in the tub, eyes closed, letting the heat muddy his thoughts, until the water became lukewarm. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, exactly. The guard had said that dinner would be in an hour. Slade would probably not be happy if he was late. For a moment, he considered taking his sweet time, just to be petty, but he discarded that fairly quickly. He was a little worried that the servants would just come into the room to assist him.
There was a bar of soap on the side of the tub. Dick picked it up, dipping it into the water, then scrubbed himself down quickly. It felt good to get clean, the soap cutting through the grime and filth. When he’d scrubbed himself pink, he clambered out of the tub, drying himself off, and pulling on the clean set of clothes. They were surprisingly plain, black trousers and a soft, white shirt. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do with his old clothes. They were the only possessions that Dick had been able to take with him, but at the same time, they were a stark reminder of the fact that Dick was now married. To Slade.
He left them there on the floor. Either they would be returned to him or not. He tried not to think about it too hard. When he pushed the door open, cool air prickling over his cheeks, the guard was standing on the other side, looking bored. He straightened when he noticed Dick.
“This way to the dining hall.”
The guard turned and walked down the hallway. Dick followed because, what else could he do? They didn’t have to go far before the guard was pushing open a set of double doors, bowing low at whoever was inside, then stepping to the right. Dick stepped forwards cautiously.
The table was impressively long, and already ladened with a feast. Slade was sat at the head of the table, a glass of wine in hand and a smirk on his face. He inclined his head to the right as Dick stepped into the room, and Dick forced his feet to move towards him, dropping into the chair to the right of Slade.
“You look better Richard.” Slade’s tone was amused, but he looked genuinely pleased, reaching over to catch the collar of Dick’s shirt between his fingers.
Dick pressed his lips together hard, dropping his gaze to his plate. Slade let go, and Dick could hear the clink of his cutlery as he picked them up, starting to eat. Dick looked up, surprised. It was only Dick and Slade at the table. Was Slade not going to wait?
Slade raised an eyebrow at Dick’s expression. “What?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” Dick wasn’t sure how they did it in this kingdom, but back in Gotham it was considered rude to start before everyone had arrived.
If anything Slade looked even more confused. “What others? What are you talking about?”
“Your...children?” Dick knew that he had kids. He’d half expected to meet them as soon as he arrived, but he hadn’t been too surprised when Slade had wanted him to rest and clean up beforehand. First impressions were important.
Slade laughed, startlingly loud. For some reason Dick felt embarrassment heat his cheeks. Had he said something stupid? He didn’t think so. At home, his family had eaten every meal together that they’d been able to. Didn’t most families?
“What?” Dick demanded, the embarrassment making him snappish. Slade didn’t react to his tone though, just went back to eating his meal with gusto.
“I’m not their nanny,” Slade said, as if that explained it. As if it was unreasonable for a father to want to eat dinner with his children. What had Slade done before this? Had he always just eaten alone? The thought was almost sad.
The rest of the dinner passed with very little conversation. Slade was obviously not a man of many words. It reminded Dick almost of when he’d first come to live with Bruce. Bruce had been so used to being alone, still unsure about becoming a father. Dick had filled in the silences with his own inane chatter. Now though, he didn’t feel much up for talking. He picked at his dinner, stomach churning.
“Eat,” Slade said. “Or you’ll waste away.”
Dick frowned, but forced himself to shovel a forkful of food into his mouth. He ate mechanically, not really tasting the food, until his plate was empty. His stomach felt uncomfortably full.
Slade leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. His gaze fell on Dick, sharp and assessing. “I have some business to attend to before I retire. I’ll have the guard escort you to my room.”
Dick’s chest clenched, pulse thundering at his jaw. Slade’s room. Dick wasn’t stupid enough to miss the implications. He swallowed heavily, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach churning over into nausea. He’d let himself forget about it for a moment. He should have known that Slade would want to- to-
“Don’t touch anything.” Slade stood, gesturing one of the guards over. Dick felt frozen in his seat, his own breath loud in his ears.
“This way sir,” The guard said. Dick turned to look at him, eyes wide. He was probably embarrassing himself. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stand, he didn’t think he could do this again.
“Sir,” The guard said, firmer. His expression was almost pitying. It made Dick’s ears heat, and he pushed himself upwards sharply, fast enough that he felt a little light headed. The guard stepped back, surprised.
Dick barely registered the walk to Slade’s room. He kept his gaze fixed on the guard’s back, trying to settle his mind, and his nerves. He didn’t want to freak out. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d managed it. He didn’t dare look at the guard’s face again, as he held the door open for him, pulling it shut as he shuffled into the room.
Slade’s room was as huge and fancy as he’d expected. Dick felt himself drawn further in despite himself, examining the tapestries on the wall, the large bookshelf in the corner, the writing desk beside the bed. After he’d explored the entirety of the huge room, he stood awkwardly before the bed, feeling off balance and unsure of himself. Slade had said not to touch anything, but surely he could sit down. He couldn’t mean for Dick to just stand there, waiting.
He settled hesitantly on the edge of the bed, fear curdling low in his stomach. Would this be like the first time? Quick and rough? His ass was still sore from before. Maybe he should prepare himself? His stomach churned at the thought. He couldn’t believe he was even considering it, getting himself ready for his rapist. He fell back against the bed, slinging an arm over his eyes.
He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there for, arm a comforting weight over his face, before the door opened. Dick tensed, but he didn’t move, like maybe if he stayed still and quiet, then Slade wouldn’t see him. The bed dipped, a hand closing around his wrist and tugging it up. Dick blinked, squinting against the light, Slade’s face swimming into focus.
“What are you doing?” Slade didn’t sound annoyed, mostly slightly amused. Dick shrugged. Slade still hadn’t let go of his wrist.
“Waiting.”
Slade’s eye was dark, half-lidded, his face soft in the low lamplight. He leant down, tightening his grip, then soft lips were pressed to Dick’s, a wet tongue worming its way into his mouth. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, trying to relax, to push the nausea down. Slade reached up with his other hand to tug Dick’s shirt out of his trousers, slipping his fingers underneath to trace over his stomach. Dick shuddered, goosebumps rising across his skin.
He regretted laying down. He felt vulnerable on his back, small with Slade leaning over him like this. He’d hoped to at least start this encounter off on less unequal footing. He grabbed Slade’s shoulder, wanting to push him away, get some room to breath, but Slade just pressed in closer. His fingers tightened, digging in like claws, but Slade didn’t even seem to notice. His hand traced up Dick’s stomach, pushing his shirt up along with it, until his chest was exposed, Slade’s fingers splayed across his sternum.
“Wait,” Dick managed to gasp as Slade ducked his head to press a bruising kiss into his throat. Slade groaned, leaning back to narrow his eye at Dick.
“Are you always going to be this difficult?”
Dick flushed. That wasn’t fair. “I could be more difficult if you’d like.”
Slade used the grip on his wrist to haul him upright, tugging the duvet out from under him, before tipping him back onto the sheets. Dick’s stomach swooped at the manhandling, fear pooling icy in his gut.
Slade reached down to tug his shirt up over his head, and Dick let him, shuddering as Slade pressed his mouth against Dick’s chest. He trailed his hands down Dick’s sides to the waistband of his trousers, tugging them down over his hips and off his legs. Dick shut his eyes as he was exposed, squeezing his legs together as if he could hide himself. It seemed so stupid. He’d never been ashamed of his body before, and it wasn’t like Slade hadn’t already seen him. But that didn’t stop the tremor in Dick’s legs, the flush on his cheeks.
“You do make a lovely sight,” Slade said, one huge hand cupping his cheek. Dick swallowed hard.
Slade pushed his legs apart, pressing two fingers into him immediately. Dick’s legs tensed, groaning softly in his throat as he fought down the urge to shove Slade away from him. Slade thrust his fingers roughly for a moment, before pulling them out. They were wet with blood. Slade made an annoyed, disgusted noise, and wiped his fingers on Dick’s thigh, as though it was Dick’s fault he’d bled, and not the fact that Slade had fucked him rough enough to tear him.
Slade grabbed Dick by the hips and flipped him over onto his front. Dick yelped at the sudden manhandling, his face hitting the sheets as he struggled to get his hands under him. Slade tugged him up onto his knees, pressing in behind him, huge against his back. The rough fabric of his pants rubbed against Dick’s thighs.
“Slade-” Dick wasn’t sure what he was going to say exactly, but he didn’t get the chance to finish before Slade was pushing into him, sharp and sudden. Dick choked, pressing his face into the sheets. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, all of his focus on the stabbing, burning pain of Slade forcing himself inside.
Slade groaned, leaning down to bite at the back of Dick’s neck. He started up a brutal rhythm straight away, pulling Dick back into his rough thrusts, moaning loudly into Dick’s skin. It was just as bad as the first time. For some reason Dick had thought that it would get easier, the more he did it. That he’d get used to the pain and the violation. If anything, Dick felt even sicker. There was a strange ache in his chest, a hollowness deep in his stomach. He stared at the lamp on the bedside table, watching the light flicker, until his eyes burned, the light fuzzing softly as they watered.
The sheets were cool beneath his cheek, Slade’s body a burning counterpoint. Dick’s back was slick with sweat where they were pressed together. Slade hadn’t taken any of his clothes off. His shirt must be getting ruined.
Slade bit down on his shoulder hard, groaning as his hips stuttered against Dick’s ass. His grip tightened painfully on his hips, hard enough that Dick was almost surprised he couldn’t hear the bones creaking, then he was coming with a thick moan, face buried in Dick’s neck, his white hair falling into Dick’s vision.
Dick felt oddly light when Slade pulled away. He slumped down against the damp sheets. He couldn’t seem to get his body to stop trembling. Slade dropped down beside him, on his back. He’d taken his shirt off finally. Dick blinked at him.
“Come on,” Slade said. Then he was wrapping an arm around him, tugging him up so that Dick was half sprawled over Slade’s chest. It was an uncomfortably intimate position.
“I’ll have to put a towel down next time,” Slade said casually, “blood is a bitch to get out.”
Dick felt a little hysterical. His body ached like he’d just been through a particularly hard training session. His ass was burning, his thighs wet. Dick didn’t want to think about what was the cause. And Slade was so casual about it.
Slade stroked a hand over Dick’s hair, smoothing it back from his face. Dick blinked as his fingers passed too close to his eye. He wanted to pull away, but Slade gripped the back of his neck, fingers digging into the bruise already there. Dick’s chest felt too tight, like Slade had crushed his ribs. His breath moved the soft hairs on Slade’s chest.
“Can I write a letter for my family?” Dick was a little surprised at the words. They had just slipped out. He’d been thinking about it since he’d left, but he hadn’t imagined bringing it up like this.
Slade looked down at him. “Of course, you’re not a prisoner here.”
Dick swallowed, the hollow ache in his stomach expanding, because it felt like a lie.
*
Dick got the letter three days later. Slade handed it to him over dinner. Bruce’s handwriting was achingly familiar as Dick traced his fingers over the loops of his name. The seal on the envelope was broken.
“There is business I need to attend to outside the Kingdom,” Slade was saying. Dick almost didn’t hear what he’d said, too caught up in the letter. He hadn’t even opened it yet. Then the words registered. Dick looked up, trying to school his expression towards something more neutral.
“Are you...going alone?”
“You’re to stay here. If that’s what you really wanted to know.”
It was. Dick tried not to look too relieved. “How long will you be gone?”
“Two days.”
Dick stared hard at his plate, biting the inside of his cheek. Two days. It wasn’t very long, but then any time away from Slade was something to celebrate. Slade had taken him every night since he’d arrived. He was starting to forget what it felt like not to be in pain.
“When do you leave?”
“Tonight. It was rather- sudden.” Slade leaned back in his chair, watching Dick carefully. “How about a little something before I go?”
Dick frowned, confused. He didn’t know what Slade was getting at. Slade grinned, pushing his chair out further from the table, spreading his legs wide. “Come here.”
Dick pushed himself out of his chair, moving to stand awkwardly between Slade’s legs. He glanced around the room, embarrassment heating his cheeks, only to realise with a start that it was only the two of them in there. Usually there were servants and guards standing along the walls. Slade must have told them to leave. Dick’s stomach sank. That couldn’t mean anything good.
“What is this?” Dick asked. It felt strange to be looking down at Slade for once.
“Get on your knees.”
With a horrible sinking feeling, Dick realised suddenly exactly what Slade wanted him to do. “Here?!” Even if Slade had told everyone to leave, that didn’t mean that anyone couldn’t just walk in whenever. None of the doors were locked. This was a public area.
“Yes here,” Slade said, his mouth tilting upwards with amusement. Dick got to his knees stiffly, the rough stone of the floor hard on his joints. Slade raised an eyebrow at him, then sighed heavily when Dick only stared at him. “Do you need me to hold your hand through everything?” Slade said with a roll of his eye.
Dick’s ears felt hot. He’d never done this before, never even had it done to him. He didn’t know what he was doing. Slade grabbed his hands and tugged them up to press against his groin. Dick’s fingers were shaking but he managed to undo the fastenings of his trousers, reaching in hesitantly to pull Slade’s half hard cock out. It was the first time he’d actually touched it. All of his other experiences had been fast and brutal, just Slade pushing him down and fucking him.
Slade’s cock was velvety soft, hot and growing hard under his touch. Dick’s stomach lurched as Slade moaned, cock twitching. It looked huge, straining up towards his abdomen. Dick couldn’t believe that thing had fit inside of him.
Slade’s hand twisted into his hair, tugging him forwards so that the head of his cock brushed wetly across his cheek. Dick’s nose scrunched, stomach churning. The scent of musk and sweat was horribly strong.
“Come on Richard,” Slade urged, tugging at his hair. Dick let his lips open reluctantly, taking the tip of Slade’s cock into his mouth. It tasted bitter and salty on his tongue, stretching his jaw wide as he worked his way down the length. Slade moaned, grip tightening, and he thrust up suddenly, pushing Dick’s head down. The tip of Slade’s cock hit the back of his throat and Dick gagged, choking at the suddenness of it. He swallowed, gagged again, pulled back sharply. Slade let him, resting his cock against Dick’s lower lip as he gasped in a desperate breath.
Dick’s eyes were damp, his lashes clumping together. He glared up at Slade. The fingers in his hair scratched along his scalp and Slade smirked at him, easing him back down. Dick let his lips close over the head of his cock, tongue pressing up against the underside. Slade’s head tipped back with a groan.
“That’s it,” Slade said, voice thick. Dick worked his tongue down Slade’s length, tracing across the thick vein, getting as low as he could manage. Then he pulled back up, hollowing his cheeks.
He doubted he was actually any good. He had no idea what he was doing, was basing this off of what he thought might feel good. There was a horrible lump at the base of his throat, saliva pooling in his mouth. He was a little worried that he was going to throw up all over Slade’s dick.
Slade’s hand tightened, holding Dick’s head in place. Dick braced himself, swallowing heavily, as Slade’s hips hitched, thrusting gently. Dick tried to breathe through his nose, his hands coming up to grip onto Slade’s trousers, as his thrusts grew deeper. Dick swallowed against the urge to gag, and Slade groaned, hips stuttering.
It felt like it went on forever. His jaw was aching, his knees stiff and painful. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, trickling down his spine as Slade just kept going and going. Dick was making a mess, spit and precum smeared over his chin, wetting the front of Slade’s trousers. His lips felt numb.
Slade grabbed his head with both hands suddenly, pushing him down roughly as he thrust up. Dick’s eyes flew open wide, his throat working as he tried to swallow around the intrusion, choking. Slade ground up against him until Dick’s nose was buried in his pubes, then he was coming, his salty release spilling across Dick’s tongue. Dick swallowed automatically, his stomach bucking. Slade held him down for a moment longer, then let him go. Dick fell back on his ass, coughing and gagging. He brought a shaky hand up to wipe at his face, breathing heavily.
“Oh come on now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Slade scoffed, tucking his cock back into his pants. Dick didn’t answer, didn’t think he could. The taste of Slade was still thick on his tongue, his throat and jaw burning. He didn’t look up at Slade as he stood.
“Pull yourself together Richard. I’ll see you in two days.”
Dick stayed on the floor until Slade had left. He pressed his hand over his eyes then pushed himself shakily to his feet. His knees protested, cracking audibly as he straightened up. He picked Bruce’s letter up off the table, cradling it in gentle hands, and took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. He hoped it wasn’t obvious what had happened.
There was a guard waiting outside of the door. Dick didn’t look at him as he walked past, heading for his room. The guards no longer showed him around, unless he asked, instead just following him at a slight distance. It was almost always a different guard. Dick wasn’t sure why exactly. Maybe so that he wouldn’t be able to get to know any of them better? He already felt so isolated. Now he couldn’t even make friends with the servants.
Dick shut his door, leaning back against the wood for a moment. There wasn’t a lock. Dick doubted that Slade would give him one if he asked. He put the letter down on his bedside table, moving to the bowl of water on his desk and dipping the cloth in to wipe at his face. Now that he was finally alone, he was kind of scared to read the letter. He hadn’t said much in his own letter, had just let Bruce know that he’d arrived safe and sound, then waffled on about how big and impressive everything was. He knew Bruce would worry about him, he didn’t want to make it worse.
He dried his face, feeling a little better once he was clean. His jaw still hurt. He wished he had some wine, or something to wash away the taste in his mouth, and maybe to dull the pain.
He sat on the edge of the bed, picking the letter up and turning it over in his hands. The wax seal, stamped with Bruce’s insignia, was broken. Dick wasn’t surprised. Despite Slade saying that he wasn’t a prisoner, he’d been adamant about reading anything that Dick sent or received.
Sliding the letter out of the envelope, pulse thundering in his chest, he found his hands were shaking. The paper trembled as Dick unfolded the page, bringing it close to his face so he could read the words.
There was an ache in his chest as he read Bruce’s letter, a deep longing unfurling beneath his ribs. Bruce had kept his words simple, no doubt knowing that Slade would read them, but Dick could read the unsaids, could feel the outline of what Bruce was saying. Wet splattered onto the paper, just missing the ink and Dick moved the letter away quickly, surprised to find that he was crying.
There was a lump in his throat, almost choking him. The tears were coming thick and fast now, and he couldn’t stop them. He folded up the letter, slipping it back into the envelope carefully, then putting it into the drawer. He didn’t want it to get ruined.
He curled up on top of the sheets, drawing his knees up to his chest. His tears soaked into the blanket. Now that he’d started crying, it spilled out of him desperately, everything that he’d been bottling inside exploding in ragged awful sobs. He cried until he was exhausted, wrung out and hollow, his throat burning, chest aching. He let his eyes fall shut, hitching breaths smoothing out as sleep pulled him under.
*
He spent his brief freedom exploring. The castle was huge and by the second day he still felt like he’d barely scratched the surface. He ended up in one of the west wings, standing in a hallway that he wasn’t entirely sure he recognised. To be honest, they all kind of looked the same. He didn’t want to admit that he was lost. His already battered pride couldn’t take it.
He turned right at the end of the hall, colliding face first with someone coming the other way. Dick stumbled back with a curse, his hands flying up to steady himself. The young man in front of him grabbed onto his wrists, green eyes wide, keeping Dick upright.
“Oh sorry,” Dick said. He snatched his hands away, cheeks flushing, something uncomfortable squirming to life in his gut.
The young man smiled, bringing his hands up to sign “It’s fine.”
Dick knew sign language. When Cass had first come to the castle, she’d been non-verbal. Bruce had put them all in lessons. He knew that there might be variations between different kingdoms, but so far Dick recognised the signs the man was using.
“Are you deaf?” Dick signed. Was this guy a servant? He wasn’t wearing the uniform, but Slade hadn’t mentioned any guests.
He shook his head, then tilted his chin back to show a nasty scar across his throat. Dick swallowed.
“I’m Dick,” he said, then hesitated. The man’s gaze slid up behind him to the guard, then back to Dick’s face.
“J-O-E-Y” he signed, then made a separate sign that Dick assumed was his name sign.
“Joey. It’s nice to meet you,” Dick said, smiling. Joey. Why was that name so familiar? He’d definitely heard it before. Wasn’t one of Slade’s kids named Joey?
Dick’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “Joey, as in Joey Wilson?”
Joey smiled wryly. “Yes, so you’re my new stepdad?”
Dick blanched, his ears heating with embarrassment. God stepdad, he was probably around the same age as Joey. His stomach lurched.
Joey’s face softened, pity clear in his eyes. Dick’s face was burning, the dull ache in his chest eating into his stomach. God he really wasn’t making the best first impression here.
“Uh I have to- I’m going-“ Flustered, Dick spun on his heels and scurried down the hallway. Footsteps followed after him, but when he glanced over his shoulder it was only his guard. The endless hallways suddenly felt overwhelming, claustrophobic even though they were so open. He hurried through the winding halls, close to running. He needed to get outside.
Eventually he managed to find his way out, stepping into the early evening. The crisp air filled out his lungs, burning his throat as he breathed it in, staring up at the fading sunlight with watery eyes.
The clash of steel caught his ear. It sounded like swords meeting, Dick had spent enough time at the training grounds to recognise it. He found himself drawn towards it, until he was stood on a small balcony, overlooking what must have been the fighting ring. A group of soldiers were running through some drills, swords meeting with practised motions. Dick sat down on a little stone bench, the tightness of his chest easing. He wished he could go down there and join in, his hands ached to be holding his double swords. He hadn’t gone so long without training before, the inaction was grating on him.
He watched the soldiers until the sky grew dark, letting the regular motions of the fights calm his mind.
*
Dick woke to his door smashing open, startling upright, his hands reaching for weapons that weren’t there. Slade stood in the doorway, half cast in light from the hallway. The expression on his face was frightening.
“Slade?” Dick’s voice came out a tremulous whisper. He swallowed hard.
Slade crossed to the bed in three quick strides. Dick barely had time to flinch back before Slade was grabbing at his shirt, tugging him forwards to mash their mouths together. Dick’s lip caught painfully on his teeth, blood smearing down his chin. He pushed at Slade’s chest, trying to get some distance between them.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Something must have happened. Slade was rough normally, sure, but not like this. This felt personal. Slade was angry.
The backhand had his head snapping to the side. Pain exploded across his cheek, his ears ringing. Slade grabbed him roughly by the throat, shoving him down into the sheets, then flipped him onto his stomach. Dick’s head swam, fear swelling painfully in his chest as Slade ripped his pants down, pressing in against his back, crushing him against the bed. A heavy hand held his head down, half smothered in the pillow.
Light spilled through the open door, a streak of soft yellow in the dark of the room. Slade’s breath was hot on the back of his neck. His grip tightened, then he was forcing himself inside, agony a hot brand up Dick’s spine. He smothered the scream into his pillow. Jesus, he’d thought that it had been bad before, but this was a whole new level of pain. He gripped the sheets hard enough to tear, hanging on as he weathered Slade’s brutal thrusts.
He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the open door - it looked too much like freedom. He imagined instead the way Slade’s face would feel, breaking beneath his fists, the sound his blade would make driving through his chest, the way his blood would look spilling across Dick’s hands. The thought made something dark and guilty flutter to life beneath his ribs.
It didn’t take long before Slade was coming, crushing his face into the pillow with a bruising grip on his neck. He didn’t say anything as he climbed off the bed, leaving the room without a backwards glance, shutting the door behind him. Cast back into darkness, Dick lay where he’d been left, body numb. He wanted to get up, to leave, to do something, but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to cooperate. And besides, where would he even go?
Hot tears spilled over his cheeks. This room had never felt like home exactly, not in the same way his childhood bedroom had, but it had been his. It had been somewhere Slade didn’t touch him, didn’t hurt him. Somewhere he could be by himself. And Slade had ruined it.
*
It shouldn’t be relaxing, watching men fight, but there was something about the routine to it that settled something in Dick’s chest. He hadn’t slept at all after Slade had left, and he’d gotten up as the sky just began to lighten. He’d ended up at the training grounds almost by accident, seeking something he couldn’t quite put a name to. The sun was high and bright when Joey found him.
“Hey Dick,” he signed, using an obscene gesture for Dick’s name, grinning. Dick smiled back, correcting him with the name sign that Cass had given him. Then he let his hands fall into his lap, turning to look out over the fighting ring. Thinking of Cass had opened up the hollow in his chest.
Gentle fingers traced the bruise on his jaw. When Dick looked back up Joey’s face was sad, his mouth pinching. His eyes were cast in shadow.
“War,” he signed. An explanation and excuse all in one. He didn’t elaborate.
Dick’s stomach churned. So that was why Slade had been in such a bad mood? Whatever business he’d had outside of the kingdom hadn’t gone well. Dick knew that Slade was no stranger to war, he had a reputation as someone who enjoyed it, but last night he’d been furious… Dick didn’t know what to think.
Joey sat beside him, close enough that Dick could feel the heat of him where their arms pressed together. They watched the soldiers in strained silence, until a flurry of motion caught Dick’s attention. An imposing figure stepped into the ring, orange armour gleaming in the afternoon sun. Slade. Dick’s stomach flipped at the sight of him. Beside him Joey tensed.
Slade strode into the center of the ring, a young woman following close behind him. It had to be his daughter, they had the same white hair, the same stance as they settled across from each other. Slade’s face was hard, unforgiving, as he drew his sword. A frisson of fear sparked down Dick’s spine.
The fight was fascinating to watch. Slade struck hard, Dick could almost feel the force of his blows vibrating through the ground, but he also moved with far more speed and grace than a man of his size should be capable of. The girl matched him blow for blow to begin with. She was good, but not as good as Dick, and definitely not as good as Slade. It didn’t take long before she was on her back in the dust, Slade’s blade poised above her chest.
Slade helped her to her feet, and then they were going again, just as brutal as the first fight had been. Dick lost count of how many times they fought. Each match was shorter than the last. The girl was tiring, sweat beading across her forehead, mixing with the dust and dirt smeared over her face. She stumbled, Slade’s blade catching her shoulder, pulling the blow at the last minute, just grazing her skin. He straightened, sheathing his sword, face hard as he watched the girl kneeling on the ground, her chest heaving. Slade hadn’t even broken a sweat.
He looked up then, straight at Dick. His gaze felt like a physical touch, burning across Dick’s skin.
*
“You’re at war?” Dick said later, voice carefully neutral. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate, pushing his food around with his fork.
“Yes,” Slade said. His voice gave nothing away.
“Who with?”
Slade sighed heavily, his chair creaking as he leaned back. “It doesn’t concern you.”
That wasn’t fair. Dick was a part of this kingdom now whether he liked it or not, he should at least be kept in the loop. “So I’m to, what, stay here and do nothing?”
Fingers gripped his chin, thumb digging painfully into the bruise on his jaw. Slade turned his face towards him. “You may join me on the battlefield when I trust you not to stab me in the back.”
That hadn’t been what Dick meant at all. The thought of fighting for Slade, of killing for him, was not a pleasant one. But what would war mean for him? What if Slade was killed? Would he be free to return to Gotham? Would he have to stay here? Would he be married off again?
“You needn’t worry,” Slade said amused. “I’ve never lost.” Dick had to refrain from rolling his eyes.
They ate in silence for a while. Dick had almost finished his meal when Slade spoke again.
“I saw you with Joey earlier.” His voice was genial, but there was something beneath, something sharp that Dick couldn’t quite feel the shape of.
Dick shrugged. “I bumped into him when you were away.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable, he hadn’t done anything wrong. “He’s...nice.”
“Yes.” Slade didn’t elaborate.
“Was that your daughter? In the fighting ring?” Slade had never talked about his children before. The topic had always felt off limits, but Slade was the one who had brought them up.
“Rose.” A shrug. “I had hoped to train her a little more but-”
“You’re taking her with you?” Dick was surprised. Not because she was a woman, Cass was the best fighter among his siblings after all, but because of how young she was, how untrained she had looked in the ring.
“All of my children will join me on the battlefield.” That was...interesting. What would happen if they were all killed? Who was next in line for the throne? It was strange that Slade would risk it. “It is a good opportunity to prove they are worthy of the throne.” Because of course, any heir of Slade’s would need to be a killer. Because Slade would value that over his own children’s lives.
Dick’s stomach curdled. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Enough of this talk,” Slade said after a moment. He pushed away from the table, gaze sharp. “Let’s retire for the night.”
Dick followed obediently, back on familiar ground. He hoped that this time, at least, Slade would be a little bit gentler. Somehow, he doubted it.
Afterwards, when Slade had fallen asleep, Dick stared up at the ceiling, his eyes burning in the dark, and prayed that when Slade went to war, he wouldn’t come back.
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