Eternal Triangle

Sweet Dreams are Made of This

Author's Notes  - otherwise known as the obligatory history lesson. Alright, stop groaning, we'll get to the good stuff soon.

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'Travels Into Several Remote Nations Of The World By Lemuel Gulliver, published in four parts' is better known today as 'Gulliver's Travels', written by Jonathan Swift. It was originally published in 1726.

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General William Howe and his British troops occupied Philadelphia from September 2, 1777 through the spring of 1778. They spent the winter in comfort while General George Washington and his army wintered nearby at Valley Forge.

I believe, under normal circumstances, that a civilian accused of sedition was entitled to a trial. However, for the sake of this story, I copied Howe's actions when he captured Captain Nathan Hale on September 21, 1776. Hale, aged twenty-one, was hanged as a spy the next day, without benefit of a trial. Hale is famous for his supposed words before being put to death. "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."

http://ursamajor.hartnet.org/als/nathanhale/

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Elizabeth the First, daughter of Henry VIII and his second wife, Anne Boleyn, was born on September 7, 1533. She ascended the throne upon the death of her half-sister, Mary, on November 17, 1558. During her lifetime, she led England from religiously turbulent and bankrupt times to being one of the richest, most powerful countries in the world. She never married, preferring to keep such admirers as Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (rumored to be her first love) and Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex surrounding her in court. Elizabeth died on March 24, 1603 and was succeeded by James I, son of Mary, Queen of Scots.

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And now, on with the show.

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Brian kept his eyes fixed on the road, ignoring Justin's attempts to gain his attention. After a few minutes, Justin heaved an exasperated sigh and muttered, "Fine, be a drama queen." He turned in his seat and stared out of his window at the passing buildings.

"Don't push your luck with me right now, Sunshine," Brian growled angrily. "You're the one who's been refusing for months to tell me what the hell has been going on with you. Now today, I find out there's someone else."

Justin closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. His initial response to Brian's remark would really provoke a fight. When he felt he could answer civilly, he looked at the other man and replied softly, "Brian, I've told you several times already that there is nobody else. Please, just be patient. I need you to do that for me, okay?"

Sighing quietly, Brian gave a sharp nod. He turned off Liberty Avenue and they were soon at Mysterious Marilyn's shop. Brian found a parking space in front of the store and pulled in. Glancing at Justin for the first time since they had left the loft, he stated, "Let's get this fucking mess over with." He climbed out of the Corvette and headed for the front door.

'Geeze, for a guy who swore for so long that he didn't do love or relationships, Brian sure has a fucking wide streak of jealousy in him.' Justin smirked to himself as he followed his partner into the mystic's shop.

Justin had called Marilyn earlier, asking her to meet them so he could retrieve his dream journal. She agreed, saying she would be there in about an hour. He was relieved to see that she was already there-he didn't think Brian would have tolerated much of a wait.

Marilyn was seated in a chair near the small round table, reading Justin's diary. She looked up as the men entered and smiled. "Good afternoon, guys. Justin, I was just finishing up. Come and have a seat." She gestured at the two empty chairs near her.

As Brian and Justin sat down, Marilyn closed the diary and laid it on the table between the two men. She stood up and said, "I'm going to leave you two alone for a while so you can go over all this. Just call me when you're done, so we can talk." The mystic wiggled her fingers at them as she disappeared behind the beaded curtain leading to the back.

An uncomfortable silence descended between the lovers. Brian finally picked up the journal and asked, "I take it that this is what you want me to see?" At Justin's nod, he flipped it open and began reading.

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March 28, 1778-Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Josiah was lying on the floor in front of the fireplace in his parents' formal parlor as he sketched, idly adding a small detail here and there to his drawing. As his charcoal flew across the page, he daydreamed about his lover's return. Brendon had been away in Boston nearly three weeks now and he was due to return to Philadelphia any day now.

"Are you nearly done, love?"

Glancing up from his paper, Josiah met his mother's loving gaze and nodded. He slowly stood up and stretched, then took his sketchpad over to Jane Thayer. "You and Maddy make wonderful models, Mama. Thank you for posing for me." He leaned over and tenderly kissed her on the cheek as he handed her the book.

"Let me see-I want to see too." Josiah's thirteen year old sister threw down her embroidery and bounced up, rushing over to stand behind their mother's chair.

"Maddy dear, young ladies do not jump about-they walk across the room with decorum. Please try to remember that," Jane gently reprimanded her daughter as she examined Josiah's latest drawing. "Josiah, this is wonderful. You've managed to capture your sister's pained expression perfectly!"

All three of them burst out laughing-it was a well-known fact in their family that Maddy would prefer to be outside playing rather than sitting over her embroidery frame practicing her stitches.

Josiah sat down on the settee and picked up 'Travels Into Several Remote Nations Of The World by Lemuel Gulliver' from the table nearby. "Shall I read for a while before bed, Mama?" When his mother smiled and nodded, Josiah opened up the volume and began to quietly read aloud.

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the front door. Josiah and his mother exchanged glances, then Josiah looked at the clock on the mantle, frowning slightly at the hour. He stood up, placed the book on the table and said, "I'll answer it. You and Maddy stay here."

He went into the front hall and unlocked the door. As he opened it, several British soldiers pushed their way into the hallway. Josiah stuttered, "Uh, what… umm, can I help you?"

One of the soldiers stepped forward and stated, "We're looking for Josiah Thayer. Is that you?"

Nodding slightly, Josiah said, "Yes, I'm Josiah Thayer. What can I do for you?"

The soldier pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and read, "Josiah Thayer, you are hereby arrested for seditious acts against His Majesty's government." He replaced the paper and moved closer to the frightened young man. "Please come with us now, Mr. Thayer."

"Josiah, what's going on?" Jane Thayer's soft voice interrupted the solders as they moved to arrest Josiah. "What do these men want?"

Josiah looked over his shoulder to where his mother was standing, Maddy peeking around her with a scared expression on her face. He tried to smile as he said, "Mama, they need me to go with them. There's been a misunderstanding. For some reason, I'm under arrest for sedition."

Jane closed her eyes for a minute as she grabbed the edge of the doorway to steady herself. She visibly took a breath, then opened her eyes and turned to her daughter. "Maddy, run upstairs and get your brother's boots and coat. Hurry."

The young girl nodded, grabbed up her skirts and took the stairs two at a time, disappearing at the top as she rounded the corner.

Josiah moved toward his mother and took her in his arms. "Mama," he whispered in her ear, "I need you to contact someone for me. Brendon McKeni is staying out at the old Johnstone place, east of the city. Let him know what has happened. It's very important." After he felt her slight nod against his cheek, he released her and turned to the men who were waiting. "As soon as Maddy gets down here, we can go."

Maddy soon returned and Josiah quickly dressed. He turned to the soldier who appeared to be in charge and said, "I'm ready." Josiah followed him out of the door and felt a frisson of fear run up his spine as the other Redcoats positioned themselves in a loose circle around him.

The men moved through the empty streets until they reached a brightly lit building. Josiah knew it was the home of a well-known family of British sympathizers, and that General Howe and his men were currently quartered there. He took a steadying breath and straightened his shoulders proudly as he was led up the front steps and into the house.

The room they entered was empty and Josiah gazed around curiously as one of the soldiers hurried off to find the general. He wasn't accustomed to such fine surroundings - while his family was well-off, their lifestyle was much simpler. There was a large, ornately carved table and chairs placed in the middle of the room, with a rich Oriental rug resting underneath. A gilded mirror was hung above the fireplace and Josiah kept his eyes on it, watching the soldiers behind him pace nervously around the room.

Suddenly, there was a clatter of boots outside in the hall, and the frightened young man stiffened, bracing himself for the interview to follow. He turned slowly and faced the doorway.

An older gentleman appeared in the entrance, pulling on a silk robe as he walked into the room. He obviously had been asleep and dressed hurriedly, as his grey wig was sitting slightly askew on his head. However, despite his disheveled appearance, he had an air of command about him. He was closely followed by the soldier as well as another officer, who was carrying a sheaf of papers.

The soldier in charge of arresting Josiah came to attention and snapped off a brisk salute. "We've brought the prisoner, Josiah Thayer, sir."

General Howe nodded coolly at the soldier as he studied Josiah. He walked over to the table and sat down wearily, motioning to his assistant to hand him the papers. Spreading them out over the tabletop, he glanced over at Josiah and asked, "Do these look familiar, Mr. Thayer?"

Josiah approached the table and looked at the papers, feeling his knees go weak. General Howe had somehow found his latest sketches, both the political cartoons meant for Brendon's newspaper as well as more personal drawings. He couldn't deny having done the cartoons, even though he hadn't signed them. The pencil renditions of Brendon were of a similar style, and they were all signed. By him. He raised his eyes and bravely met the gaze of the older man. "Yes sir. They're mine."

General Howe leaned back in his chair and sighed. "So, you're the new artist who has been assisting Brendon McKeni in spreading sedition." He picked up one sketch and examined it closely. "You're very talented, young man. It's a pity you've thrown your life away in such a manner." Laying the sketch back down, he rubbed his eyes and continued, "I cannot permit such activities to continue, Mr. Thayer. These caricatures, along with a reliable report that you have been spying for General Washington, have left me no choice. You will be held here overnight, and at dawn, will be hanged as a traitor to your country."

"I'm no spy, sir!" Josiah burst out frantically.

The general stood up and gestured to the soldiers, who quickly grasped Josiah by the arms. "I have evidence to the contrary, Mr. Thayer. I'm sorry." General Howe nodded, and the soldiers tugged on Josiah, leading him to the door.

Josiah was taken through the house toward the back. As they exited the house, he looked up at sky and estimated there were only four or five hours left until dawn. There wasn't nearly enough time for his mother to find Brendon and gain his assistance. He was going to die with the coming of the sun.

The soldiers unlocked the smokehouse door and thrust Josiah roughly inside. The door clanked ominously behind him as he huddled down in a corner, shivering as the cold night air penetrated his clothing. He stifled the tears that were threatening to come, knowing that Brendon would want him to be brave.

The hours passed slowly as Josiah fought off sleep. He wanted to spend his last minutes on Earth remembering his every encounter with Brendon. The memories flowed through his mind - their first kiss; the first time Brendon thrust inside his body; tenderly spoken words of love; his last view of Brendon as he rode away toward Boston. Finally, as the night sky lightened with a pre-dawn glow, he whispered, "I love you, Brendon. Goodbye, my love."

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March 22, 2007-Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Justin shifted in his seat uncomfortably, unable to read Brian's expression as he read the diary. He could only hope that the words would convince Brian that he was speaking the truth - that he wasn't involved with another man.

Brian finally lifted his head, giving Justin an inscrutable look.

"Well?" Justin asked tensely.

Brian smirked as he returned his attention to the diary. "You have an interesting way with words, Justin."

'Okay, what the hell does that mean?' Justin thought as he jumped up and began prowling about the room. The waiting was killing him and Brian's lack of reaction was starting to piss him off.

"For fuck's sake, Justin. Would you please sit down so I can concentrate?" Brian snapped as he glared up at Justin.

Justin threw himself back into his chair, impatiently tapping his fingertips against the tabletop. Brian leaned over and placed his hand gently over top of Justin's and squeezed. When Justin looked over, Brian gave him a soft smile and continued to read, leaving his hand where it was. It wasn't much, but it did offer Justin some consolation.

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September 19, 1585 - Tremont House, London, England

Jerome twitched irritably as the servant finished tying the points on his sleeves. The fashions of the nobles had never been important to him, but he realized that Blaise wanted to provide him with the best of everything, which these new items of clothing certainly were.

As soon as the servant completed the last tie, Jerome crossed the bedroom to stand before the mirror. He ran his hand slowly up the rich black silk velvet in amazement. He'd never owned anything this fine. The doublet was couched in gold cording, with designs of hawks and escallops randomly placed overall. Jerome smirked at the sight - Blaise was publicly declaring his claim on him, since these were the primary charges on the Tremont coat of arms.

Jerome tweaked the sapphire blue silk that spilled through the slashes on his slops until it fell in pleasing folds then picked up the soft flat hat and perched it rakishly on top of his bright blond hair. The feather draped softly over one ear, tickling his skin. He nodded with satisfaction then picked up the cape that completed the outfit. It was time to leave for his presentation at court.

Blaise stood unseen by the door as he enjoyed watching Jerome's actions. His young lover had protested vehemently against the purchase of his new clothing, but Blaise was anxious to see Jerome in something befitting his rank. The black of the velvet contrasted against his pale skin, causing it to glow translucently, and the blue silk brought out the vibrant color of his eyes. Blaise felt his cock twitch at the vision in front of him - the boy was breathtaking.

The earl moved silently until he stood behind Jerome. He dropped a soft kiss on his neck, and Jerome jumped then melted into the warm body as Blaise's arms snaked about his waist. They both gazed into the mirror, meeting the other's eyes and smiling. "I'm not sure I'm going to take you today to meet the queen, Jerome. All the ladies at court will be fighting amongst themselves over you."

"As if I would care, with you around." Jerome turned in his lover's embrace and wrapped his own arms around Blaise's neck. "You're the only person that matters to me."

Blaise kissed him hungrily, then drew back slightly. "I have something for you." He reached into his pouch and took out a small drawstring bag. After he opened it, he dumped the contents out onto the palm of his hand. The gold of the jewelry gleamed in the sunlight entering the window and Jerome caught his breath, looking up uncertainly at Blaise.

"Give me your hand," Blaise commanded quietly and slipped the heavy gold ring onto the first finger of Jerome's right hand. The young man raised his hand to eye level, admiring the workmanship as Blaise inserted a sapphire earring into his recently pierced ear. The earl stepped back and grinned. "There, you look perfect."

Jerome shook his head disbelievingly and whispered, "I can't accept these, Blaise. You've already given me so much…"

"Don't be a fool, Jerome." Blaise gently cupped Jerome's cheek with his hand and stated, "This is but a little of what I want to give to you. You've brought so much into my life that I can never repay you, especially with baubles such as these."

Searching his lover's face, Jerome read the sincerity and tenderness there and smiled. "All right, you win." He reached up and kissed Blaise lightly on the mouth. "We best be off, otherwise we'll be late and anger the queen."

As Jerome turned to leave the room, Blaise caught him by his forearm and pulled him around to face him again. His expression was serious as he said, "The politics of court run deep, Jerome. Stay by my side as much as you can, lest others try to pull you into their games."

Jerome nodded solemnly then shivered when he realized something. "My father might be there today, right?"

"More than likely, yes." Blaise grasped Jerome's hand and entwined their fingers. "Leave him to me, Jerome. Promise me."

"Absolutely, Blaise. I have no desire to have anything to do with him anyway." Jerome suddenly gave a cheeky grin. "Now, we'd better leave, otherwise I'm going to come up with something else I'd rather do." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as Blaise laughed.

"Out brat and stop tempting me."

The two men rode through the streets of London toward Hampton Court in silence. Jerome wrinkled his nose, disgusted by the filth surrounding him. Having been raised in the country, the odors of the city were overwhelming to him. He edged his horse closer to Blaise and asked, "Are you sure we need to do this, Blaise. I'd be just as happy back at your estate, you know."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at him. "Nervous? Don't be - as I've said before, just stay near me and keep quiet."

Jerome rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. If Blaise set his mind on a certain course of action, there was no dissuading him from it. He looked about the stable yard when they arrived at the palace, awed by the sheer enormity of the compound. They handed their reins to a nearby groom and entered the main building, passing numerous guards on the way to the audience room.

As they entered the large room, Blaise quietly said, "Stay here. I will notify the guard of our arrival." He moved across the stone floor, speaking quietly with several people along the way.

Jerome stood there self-consciously, silently urging Blaise to hurry. Although he'd been raised in a noble household, he wasn't comfortable being surrounded by so many courtiers. He walked over to a recent painting of Queen Elizabeth and was studying the technique of the artist when a cold voice spoke behind him.

"So, you've finally returned from wherever it was you've been hiding." Christopher Tailor, Count Schillingswood, snarled viciously.

Jerome swirled around, the color leaching from his cheeks at the expression on the man's face. "Hello, Father."

Schillingswood's eyes narrowed as he took in his son's appearance. "My, you've done well for yourself, boy. What have you done, taken up whoring for a living?"

"Leave him be, Schillingswood. He's no concern of yours any more." Blaise had approached the two men unnoticed and had overheard the man's last words to his son. His anger barely under control, he stepped over to stand beside Jerome.

"I should have known you would be involved, Tremont. I can only imagine how you've corrupted him." Schillingswood spat heatedly as he faced his enemy. "He's just your type - weak and womanly."

"Father, I…"

Schillingswood rounded on his son and backhanded him, the sharp edge of his signet ring slicing into Jerome's cheek. "You are a disgrace to our family, boy, and you're no son of mine. Not anymore." He raised his hand to strike again.

"Enough of this - I will not tolerate my courtiers fighting like street urchins in my presence."

The three men turned to find the queen standing there, her toe tapping underneath her skirt impatiently. They quickly bowed to her. "Your Majesty."

She raised an eyebrow haughtily as she allowed her eyes to pass over the angry faces in front of her. Pausing on Jerome for a moment, her gaze softened a fraction when she saw the deep gash on his face. She then turned to the count. "I believe your business at court is complete for the day, isn't it, Schillingswood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, it's finished. By your leave." Schillingswood bowed deeply to the Queen again, and with one last furious glance at his son and Tremont, he backed away and left.

Queen Elizabeth gave a small laugh. "What a little worm." She looked over at Jerome and smiled. "I apologize for insulting your father, but I believe in stating the truth."

Jerome peeked at Blaise, who nodded imperceptibly, then answered the queen. "As you could see, Your Majesty, my father and I are not on the best of terms."

"Yes, I'd heard that you had fled his house a while ago." She darted an amused look at Blaise and continued, "However, it seems you've landed on your feet. Tremont here is a good man, if a bit caustic of wit."

"I do my best to entertain you, my Queen." Blaise grinned.

"Impertinent rogue." Elizabeth held out her hand to be kissed. Blaise raised it to his lips gallantly, his eyes twinkling up at her. She turned back to Jerome and commanded, "Young man, I normally do not approve of discord between father and son, however in your case, I would warn you. Stay as far away from Schillingswood as possible. I wouldn't trust him if I were you." She nodded regally at the two men as they bowed, then walked away, her ladies-in-waiting trailing behind her.

Jerome straightened himself and heaved a sigh of relief. "That wasn't as bad as it could have been." He glanced over at Blaise and pleaded, "May we leave now, please?"

"Yes. I want to have my man look at that cheek of yours." Blaise moved closer to Jerome and caressed his arm surreptitiously. "I'm proud of you," he said sotto voce.

Beaming up at his lover, Jerome nodded happily. "Let's go home, Blaise."

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March 22, 2007-Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Brian had been reading for over an hour, and he was little more than halfway through Justin's dream diary. He closed it with a snap then got to his feet, groaning quietly as his muscles protested their enforced inactivity. Gazing over at his lover affectionately, he noted the small trail of drool that streaked down Justin's chin as he dozed. He leaned over and gently shook him awake.

Justin woke with a start, sitting up in his chair and looking at Brian apprehensively. He relaxed after Brian smiled at him then asked, "Are we okay?"

Brian gave him a quick kiss before he answered, "Yes, we're alright. Now, let's go home. We have some talking to do, and then if you're really nice to me, I might finish that blowjob I started earlier."

Justin grinned as he gathered the diary up and stuffed it into his backpack. "Oh, believe me, I can be really nice when I put my mind to it."

"That you can, Justin. That you can." The two men laughed as they exited Mysterious Marilyn's and raced each other to the Corvette.

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