Hi Friends!

Wow, I'm sorry that this story took me a year an a half to complete. I really hope you enjoyed the ride. Thank you for all your kind words, favorites and follows. I really appreciated your support!

Well, I hope your ready for some cheese with your angst...I couldn't help myself...

Please forgive any mistakes.

Enjoy!

The golden red rays of the sun were creeping through the window when Derek cracked his eyes open. The royal bedroom was glowing with the colorful hues of light accompanied by the dulcet sound of a cardinal chirping outside of his window. It was a beautiful way to start the day…

Except…

He was starting it alone.

The king, whom had woken up on his back, knew without even turning his head that the spot next to him would be vacant.

For his husband had completely pulled away from everyone – including him.

Spencer's regression started on the ride home from Georgia. The young man had spent the whole journey back in the royal carriage and only came out to relieve himself or sleep in his tent. He refused to eat his meals with the rest of the entourage and rarely engaged anyone that wasn't Derek in conversation; not that his chats with Derek were of anything of substance. Spencer made a point of avoiding any discussion that focused on his stay with Charles and pretty much tried to act like it never happened.

At night the co-king would reluctantly vacate the coach and go straight to the royal tent. Initially this pleased Derek, making him think that at least his beloved was making an effort to reconnect with him. But that assumption was soon dissolved by the fact that Spencer refused to share his husband's bed. Each night Derek confronted his lover, asking him why he needed his own cot, imploring him to come and share his space – to allow him to wrap him up in his embrace, but Spencer would silently shake his head and bury his body beneath his own covers.

Of course, Derek knew that Spencer's refusal to talk through his experience and his reluctance to come into contact with his husband was caused by the boy's inability to cope with what had happened to him. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't lessen the sting he felt whenever Spencer rejected his offers to help and soon the frustrated and hurt king decided to stop badgering his husband and let him be until he was ready to have a heart-to-heart.

Unfortunately, his plan to give Spencer space didn't work. The younger king seemed to shrink in on himself as each day passed, saying fewer and fewer words until he went completely silent.

It was heartbreaking for Derek to watch as his lover became a shell of the man he once was. Derek would sit in the carriage with him every day talking to him about anything and everything in the hopes that he would spark some sort of life into those amber eyes he loved so much, but nothing worked. At that point he could only hope that Spencer would brighten up once they reached their castle. Perhaps his beloved just needed to be surrounded by his friends and family in a safe location to finally feel comfortable enough to face the demons that were tormenting his soul.

Alas, Derek's hopes were dashed. For even the sight of their majestic castle – their home – wasn't a good enough sight to wipe away some of deeply seated sorrow that now painted Spencer's face day in and day out.

In fact, Spencer retreated even more into solitude the second his feet touched down on the castle's grounds. For the only emotion that the depressed young man showed when he got out of the carriage was sadness. The king had expected a hint of a smile or maybe a look of relief but neither were forthcoming.

"It feels good to be home. Doesn't it?" Derek had asked Spencer, trying to elicit some kind of positive reaction.

But Spencer's empty eyes just roved over the dull gray bricks before he shrugged his shoulders and shuffled inside.

After that, Spencer just, in a sense, disappeared.

He refused to enter the royal chambers and had commandeered a vacant room on the opposite side of the castle. The already too thin king never came down to meals. He would either eat in his room alone or wander down to the kitchen and fetch a snack if he got hungry. Other than that he never left his chambers and declined any visitors, including Derek.

The only person that he would communicate with was Sir Hotchner, but even that was resentfully. For the knight, knowing how worried his friend and king was about his husband's health, decided to forgo the distraught boy's wishes and enter his rooms. Apparently an argument ensued upon his arrival but Hotchner's stoic logic won out in the end. The two came to an amicable agreement that the knight could check up on him every night after dinner and report his condition back to Derek.

Begrudgingly, Derek listened each night to Sir Hotchner's report of his husband's health, gritting his teeth as he wished his stubborn lover would stop hiding away from the world – from him.

Two weeks.

It had now been two weeks that he had been waking up alone when he didn't have to. His husband had never been so close yet so far away all at once. When was the young man going to stop punishing himself – and in a sense Derek – for crimes that he didn't commit?

With a large sigh, Derek turned over onto his side and stared at Spencer's empty space. The silk sheets that covered his husband's portion of the bed were nearly immaculate; the only wrinkles marring their shape were due to Derek's tossing and turning. Unable to take the pristine sight, Derek reached his hand out and mussed up the fabric, pushing and pulling it until no one would be able to tell that he had been sleeping alone. He then flopped his hand on the fluffy pillow that was meant to support Spencer's short burnished bronze hair, pulling it over to his chest and clenching it against his breastbone.

He was squeezing the feathery cushion tightly, wishing it was his husband, when he felt the cool touch of metal slide over his forearm and down to the mattress.

Crinkling his brow in confusion, Derek pushed his upper body up off the mattress and moved Spencer's pillow off to the side. At first he didn't see anything but after shuffling around the covers a bit he uncovered something that stole his breath away.

It was the key to his collar.

The key that he had given Spencer on their wedding night.

The key he had given with the specific instructions to keep it until the time that they could both remove their collars.

He picked up the token of his love and stared at it. "Why would he…"

A strangled gasp clawed its way out of his throat when he realized the implication behind the key in his hand.

"No!"

Derek flew out of bed as fast as lightning, strewing the covers over the floor and racing toward the door. He threw it open and called out, "Hotch!"

The knight, who was never far from his liege lord, heard his rarely used nickname and came running from the outer hallway. "My lord?" he inquired, searching the room with his eyes looking for any sign of danger.

"Spencer! Where is he?" Derek demanded.

Confused, Sir Hotchner's brow wrinkled, "Pardon?"

"Spencer! He was here. In my room. Where did he go?"

"My lord, no one has been in or out of the room since I got here earlier," he explained. "How do you know that he was here?"

"Because he left me this!" Derek exclaimed, thrusting forth the necklace that was clutched in his fist.

"What is –"

"Damn it!" Derek swore before turning his back on his friend and fleeing back into his room. He ran over to his wardrobe and pulled out a light shirt and a pair of trousers. He quickly donned the clothes and threw his feet into the first pair of shoes that he could find. He then raced back to the door while fastening his belt around his waist.

"We have to go. Now," was all the king cried out before rushing through his chamber doors and out into the hallway.

The knight kept pace with his sovereign as they dashed through the empty passages. Aaron didn't need to ask where they were going; he could tell their destination just by the path that Derek's feet were cutting across the cool morning stones.

The pair drew to a halt outside of Spencer's new chambers. Derek reached his hand out and grasped the doorknob. It was locked.

He let go of the cold handle and curled his fingers up into a fist before pounding on the wood that separated him from his husband. "Spencer! Open this door right now!"

He waited for a brief moment, his chest heaving in anticipation and panic, before he thundered on the door once again. "By God, if you don't answer this door in the next five seconds I'm coming in – your wishes be damned!"

Sir Hotchner watched as his king's lips moved as they counted down. A cold chill coiled in his stomach when not a sound was heard coming from the other side of the barrier. "My lord, you don't think –"

Derek didn't wait for him to finish his question. Instead he took off running down the hall and skidded to a halt before a gigantic tapestry that hung from floor to ceiling. He flung the fabric back and allowed his hand to glide across the stone until he found the hidden catch. His shaking fingers pulled the clasp back a fraction of an inch, causing the seemingly solid stone wall to recede backwards into a dark passageway.

Heedless of the absence of light, the king sprinted into the shadows. "Spencer!" he called, the desperation in his voice palpable. "Don't you dare!"

Up ahead a sliver of light was peeking through the cracks around the entryway into Spencer's quarters. Derek rushed forth and flung all of his body weight against the stone. The hidden doorway gave away due to the solid hit, hurling open to reveal an empty room.

"Spencer?!" he shouted numerous times as he ran around the vacant chamber, searching everywhere.

"Sire!" Sir Hotchner bellowed, trying to get the distressed king's attention.

"Your Grace," he tried again, still not getting a response from the younger man.

"Derek!" he yelled, finally getting the boy's attention by using his God-given name.

Derek halted his frantic search and eyeballed his friend, "What?"

"Forgive me, my friend, but your husband is not here," he said somberly.

A look of defeat momentarily crossed Derek's features before he tucked his emotions away. "Gather everyone you can and have them start searching the grounds. Tell them to leave no stone unturned. We have to find him before he...before he makes the worst decision of his life."

The knight nodded, "At once, Sire."

"Thanks," Derek uttered, pushing past his loyal soldier.

"Where will you be? How will I let you know if we find him?"

"You told me two days ago that my mother's former quarters had been disturbed, right?"

"Yes. Someone has been using the fireplace and had taken some of the books from off of her shelves. We think whomever it is was also sleeping in her bed too," Hotch reiterated.

Derek paused and looked back at his friend before he fled out the door. "And you remember what I told you about Spencer and my mother?"

Aaron, one of the few people in all of Quantico whom was privy to Spencer's real heritage, finally connected the dots that Derek had been pointing out. "Do you think he's down in the catacombs?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Derek vowed as he turned back around and slipped out the door.

Derek's decision to venture alone down to the mausoleum below the Great Hall was solely based on the fact that he didn't want anyone witnessing what was sure to be a harrowing reunion. He was pretty sure that the unresolved tension between the two of them had been building to this moment ever since the day Derek had rescued his husband from Charles's clutches. This confrontation had been a long time in coming; Derek just hoped that he wasn't too late.

The stone walls passed by him in shadows as the only light he had to guide his way was an old-fashioned torch. Its flame flickered dangerously every time a draft of cold air wafted up from the passages below him as if the current was intent upon making its way out of the catacombs as quickly as possible.

The king had been treading softly through the damp corridors for the last ten minutes, slowly creeping through the winding paths that lead to the newest inhabitants of the tombs. Besides his shallow breathing, the only sound that he could hear as he crept through the halls was that of water dripping down into the stagnant puddles that gathered in the corners.

The cold moist air was so thick it felt like it was sticking to his bones as he got closer he got to his mother's resting place. A shiver ran down his spine as a particularly frigid breeze ghosted over his bare arm, causing him to halt in the mid-walk in order to pull down the sleeves of his tunic. He was just about to start his trek again when he heard a small voice off in the distance.

"…so tarnished…so filthy…"

Derek pulled in a deep breath and skulked to the corner of the hall, purposefully trying to avoid detection by his husband.

A sniffle sounded through the narrow passage before Spencer's feeble voice sounded off again, "I-I know he still loves me, mom…but I can't let him ruin his life – throw away his kingdom just because of me. And it would happen too because the citizens of Quantico don't deserve – no, want – they don't want someone as tainted as me to sit on a throne. I-I can see it in their eyes, momma. They know what Charles did to me. They know…they know what I let him do. I s-swear I didn't want to…but he made me. H-he made me do those things. I just kept telling myself to close my eyes and endure; let him do what he wanted until I could come back home. But…now that I am home, I realize I should have let him kill me. I should have just died down in Georgia."

Unable to listen to his beloved disparage himself any more, the king stepped out from his hiding spot. "If you would have died, than I would have died with you," he stated, his voice thick with emotion.

Startled, Spencer stood up from his position on the ground across from Diana's tomb. "Derek…I didn't think –" his voice trailed off into a mumble.

The king's brow creased. "You didn't think what?" he asked, stepping forward and reaching out for his lover's limp hand.

The younger king drew backward, away from his best friend's touch. His eyes cooled as he secured his emotions into the lockbox that was his mind. "I didn't think you'd get down here so fast."

Taken aback, Derek stuttered, "S-so…what? You wanted me to find you d-dead?"

Emotionlessly, Spencer answered, "Yes." Upon that daunting word, his hand wandered down to his side and slid into his pocket, pulling out a sharp blade that was nestled inside of it.

"Why?" Derek implored, longing to say more but tucking his words behind his teeth in order to give Spencer a chance to reveal his hidden thoughts.

"To set you free."

"Free?" Derek uttered incredulously. "Free?"

"Yes."

"You think that killing yourself would set me free?"

"Yes. Free of me."

"And why do I need to be freed from you?" Derek pushed, moving his body into Spencer's personal space.

The boy backed up into the damp wall behind him, sucking in his stomach in an effort to put more space in between him and his lover. Derek's proximity and confidence reminded Spencer too much of his former captor's, causing him to avert his eyes and stare down at the floor. "Y-you know w-why," he stammered, his emotions getting the better of him.

"No, I don't. Tell me," he ordered, wincing inside as he witnessed the reaction his beloved was having to his dominant tone.

"I-I'm so dirty," he suddenly sobbed out. "I-I let h-him do all those things to me. I knew that I was breaking our wedding vows every time he touched me but I still let him. I broke my word to you over and over because I selfishly wanted to come home. And now…and now I can't in good conscience allow you to touch me because of what he did – no, what we did together. I-I don't deserve you. And…and you don't deserve to have someone as foul as me sullying your good name."

Spencer's anguished eyes closed tightly, squeezing out the water that had gathered in their corners. Small trails of tears streaked silently down his cheeks; a visual representation of the turmoil that was tearing his soul apart.

Choosing his next words wisely, Derek raised his free hand up to cup his lover's wet cheek. "Listen to me carefully, Spencer," Derek instructed, ignoring how his husband flinched when their skin connected. "For the first time in your life, you have gotten everything all wrong. You are not dirty, filthy, tainted or whatever other word you've come up with to describe yourself. You are still my loyal loving husband who did what he had to do to survive. No one faults you – I don't fault you for doing…no, suffering through what he did to you. You never had any choice."

The younger man moaned, "But I did. I could've tried harder to get away. I could've done everything in my power to refuse him. I could've – "

"No you couldn't have. He would have killed you!" Derek interrupted with a snarl.

"Exactly," Spencer cried out, his eyes flashing miserably. "I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't have this embarrassing stone hanging around your neck."

"You're not embarrassing and you're not a burden," Derek assured, his tone softer than before. "You're confused and scared. What happened to you down there was horrible. I can't even begin to imagine what you endured and honestly it pains me to even think about it. But…but if we are going to have any hope at making it through this together than we are going to have to face it. You are going to have to start to opening up to me and I promise that I will be right here to listen." Throughout his speech he placed his torch in the holder above Spencer's head and then allowed his newly freed hand meandered down and grasped the fist that Spencer had clenched around the hilt of the knife. He used his fingers to break the other man's hold on the weapon and smoothly whisked it away into the pocket of his trousers.

The other king sniffled and lifted his now empty hand up to wipe his face, pulling his head out of Derek's gentle grasp. "I-I just don't understand," he mumbled.

"You don't understand what?"

Spencer closed his eyes again and licked his lips. "I…I don't understand how you can stand to touch me."

"I already told you that you're –"

"No…no, I know you said that," the younger man said, shaking his head. He cracked his eyes open and allowed his gaze to wander over to his mother's grave. "I know that you said that I'm not dirty. And though I don't believe you…"

Derek went to interrupt but Spencer pushed forth, "It's more than that…I…I'm the reason that mom is dead. I got her killed because of my cowardice. If I had been braver than she would still be here not buried…buried in there."

The king turned his head and looked at the white granite tomb that encased his mother's bones. "Oh sweetie. I don't blame you for that."

"You should," Spencer shouted; his anger with himself came pouring out with his words. "You should blame me. I got her killed. I allowed her to take on Charles by herself. She died because she was protecting me. If I would have stepped forward and acted like the king that I supposedly am, then she would still be here." His self-incriminating words seemed to take the fight out of his body. His legs seemed to collapse beneath him, sending his lanky body down to the floor.

Derek felt his heart breaking for his husband. How big of a load was Spencer supposed to carry on his shoulders?

"Spencer," he said gently, crouching down in front of him. "Did you read the epitaph?"

Behind him, carved deeply into the solid granite rock that encased Diana's bones was the following inscription:

Here lies Queen Diana Reid.

A braver woman was never known.

She gave her life so that others might live.

The world will forever mourn her loss but rejoice in her legacy.

"Yeah," he said with a sniffle. "It only made me feel worse."

"It shouldn't have. I wrote it with you in mind."

"Why? Did you want me to suffer more?"

"No, I wanted you to remember forever how much she loved you. She gave you the greatest gift of all…life."

"It should have been me," he sighed, missing Derek's point completely.

Fed up with his husband's unending guilt, the king fell to his knees and grabbed Spencer's face between his two hands. He felt the other man try to pull out of his grasp and tightened his grip.

"Let me go," Spencer ordered through clenched teeth as he brought his hands up and tried to use them to pry his head free of Derek's hands.

"No," he stated. His heart was beating wildly, for he knew that his beloved wasn't going to react well to such harsh treatment. "Now calm down…and look at me." Spencer squirmed a little bit more in response. "Calm down. It's me, your husband. I'm not going to hurt you. You are safe with me."

Spencer dropped his hands away from his husband's in defeat but still refused to meet him in the eye.

"Now, please look at me," Derek begged. "I want to tell you something but I need you to look in my eyes while I do it."

"Wh-y?" Spencer asked, his voice cracking on the simple yet complex word.

"Because I know it's the only way to prove to you that what I'm saying is true."

Reluctantly, the sullen king lifted his honey-brown eyes up to meet his lover's deep umber orbs.

"There we go," Derek said warmly. "Now, are you going to listen?"

Spencer nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Good," he uttered. "Because trying to get you to really hear me so far has been like trying to catch wind in a net," he teased before clearing his throat. "Now, I know that right now you are feeling worthless. You've pushed yourself down into a depression so deep there doesn't seem to be a single speck of light to help you find your way out. And I don't blame you…you have so much guilt weighing on your mind that you can barely stand. But please…please, let me be the light that brightens up your darkness. I-I can't just stand here and watch you suffocate in all of this sorrow. I want to help you become that carefree confident man that I left behind when I foolishly went to war. I want to see you smile again. I want to hear you laugh. And above all…I want to give you a reason to live again," Derek paused and took a deep breath. "Look Spencer, I love you more than you'll ever know and if you truly love me back you won't give up on yourself. You'll let me help you find yourself again. And…and you'll let me love you again." Derek allowed the tears that had developed in his eyes to fall freely as he leaned forward and planted a small kiss on Spencer's forehead.

The monarch drew his hands away from Spencer's face and waited for his beloved's answer.

The bronze-haired king let out a congested cough. "I'm not sure if I can."

"Why?"

"Because…it just feels like that person you're looking for…the one you want to bring back…it feels like he died down in Georgia," he admitted. "Derek, I'm not the same person anymore. The parts of me you're looking for…they no longer exist. All that's left of the Spencer you remember is his husk."

Derek shook his head emphatically, "No! That's not true."

"It is…"

"No. I'll concede that you probably feel like he's gone but I'm willing to bet that you've just locked him away in that big ol' brain of yours. You've just got to feel safe enough to let him out once again," he explained while his hand reached into his other pocket and pulled out the object that Spencer had left upon his pillow this morning. "See, you already had the key."

Spencer looked down at the key resting in Derek's palm.

"I want you to have this back. I don't need it but you do," Derek said tenderly. He stretched out the chain that the key was strung through and settled it over Spencer's head. "Now, anytime you feel scared or ashamed, I want you to look at that key and remember it's a symbol of my unending love for you. I want you to remember that no matter what I love you and nothing in the world is ever going to change that."

A ghost of a smile played on Spencer's lips as he reached his hand up and grabbed the symbolic piece. "Do you really think I will be able – we will be able to get back to normal?"

"Normal? I don't know. What is normal anyways? But do I believe that we can heal our relationship – that we can both move on from the horrible tragedy that befell you – us?" Derek let the question hang in the air for a few seconds, allowing his husband to ponder his words. "Yes. Of course I believe we can…but…but you've got to promise me you'll start trying and stop isolating yourself. If you need to be alone once in a while that's fine, but you can't get better by yourself. Separating yourself from the rest of us will only drive you down further into a depression. You've got to come out and slowly immerse yourself in your old life again."

Spencer's eyes flashed with worry at his suggestion. "I-I don't….what if…what if no one wants to see me? What if they aren't like you? What if they all hate me for getting mom and Lord Rossi killed?"

The king gave his lover a sad smile. "None of our friends blame you. Not a one. They are just worried about you. Heck, I think Lady JJ and Lord William are more worried about you than anyone else. Did you know that she is pregnant? She told me a few days after we got back. She's been longing to talk to you about it. I think they are planning on asking us to be the little lad or lass's godparents."

"They don't want to choose me for that honor," Spencer said, his eyes widening in horror. "I know absolutely nothing about raising a child."

"Sweetie, it doesn't matter. The minute you hold the little bundle you'll know what to do. I've heard that we are all ingrained with some sort of natural instinct when it comes to kids. I know you'll be wonderful with the baby. Just think…you can teach it all of that useless information you've got stored up in your brain."

"Hey," Spencer reacted indignantly. "My knowledge is not useless."

"Sure it isn't," Derek teased before changing the subject. "You could also teach the child all those magic tricks you refuse to share with us. I can picture it now, the two of you in front of the Great Hall entertaining everyone with your sleight of hand techniques."

"That would be fun," he admitted, smiling warmly as he pictured the scene Derek described.

Derek eyes danced with mirth upon seeing the genuine smile that painted Spencer's delicate features. He reached out his hands and grabbed both of his beloved's, squeezing them in a show of comfort and support. "So what do you say…can we get out of here and start the next chapter of our lives?"

Spencer's amber orbs scanned Derek's face before he nodded his consent, "I-I know it's not going to be easy…but for you…for us, I'm willing to try."

"That's all I can ask," Derek leaned in and nuzzled his nose against Spencer's.

A little whimper escaped Spencer's lips when his husband pulled back from his loving gesture.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you think –," he paused and licked his lips. "It's alright if you want to kiss me."

Surprise lit Derek's face. "Are you sure? I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I mean…I'm not ready for anything more intense but…I think I can handle this," he confessed, biting his lower lip nervously.

Derek grinned and leaned forward, capturing his lover's lips with his own. The two men seemed to mesh into one during their long awaited lip-lock. They were both pouring all of the emotions that they had locked up tight into the romantic gesture, telling each other without words how much they missed the other's presence.

They broke apart a few seconds later, panting from the emotional exertion that they had both put forth.

Derek leaned his forehead against Spencer's and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

The younger man gulp, "I-I think so."

Sensing his best friend's hesitance, Derek was quick to reassure him, "It'll be okay. I'm going to be right by your side from here on out."

"Thank you, Derek – for everything."

Derek let out a whoosh of air, "And thank you for not giving up. God, I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, Derek."

A bright beam of affection spread across Derek's lips as he uttered his favorite line, "I love you three."

And thus the story ends, friends. At least for now it's over. I'm not going to promise anything but I could totally see myself giving you a random update one day that happens a few months later...showing how much our boys have healed and adding in a little bit of slashy goodness.

I hope you enjoyed the journey.

Until next time!

Take care, friends.