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Chapter Text

Caelum coughed again, the effort causing shards of glass to trickle down his throat. He leaned forward, pressing a few button combinations on the controller to make the car on screen go faster. The bright video game beeped and buzzed as Caelum approached the finishing line, earning a solid second place.

A knock on the door drew the empathy-daemon out of his focus. “Hiya, Caelum.” Freelancer leaned into the room, deliberately speaking quietly so as not to aggravate the headache Caelum had complained of earlier.

“Hi,” Caelum greeted. As glad as he was to see them, tiredness crept into his voice.

It was eerie for Freelancer to see the daemon sitting so still on their bed, wrapping up in their quilt and surrounded by pillows that engulfed his slight form. “Feeling any better?” Freelancer instinctively pushed their palm to Caelum’s forehead, only to realize they had no idea what his temperature should be or if daemons even experienced fevers when suffering from Magical Depletion Syndrome.

Freelancer was no stranger to M.D.S.. It was fairly easy for them to use up too much of their magic too fast without giving their core a chance to recover, especially when they were deep in their studies. Like most health-related conditions, M.D.S. showed up differently in different people. Apparently, the same was so for d(a)emons who used their magic without properly feeding. Poor Caelum had forgotten to feed for too long, and now, he had to suffer the consequences. For him, that seemed to include a sore throat, fatigue, and congestion, to name a few symptoms. Unfortunately, once enacted, the only medicine for M.D.S. was time and rest.

“A little better,” Caelum answered listlessly.

“Hmm.” Freelancer patted Caelum's back before they crossed the room to open the closed blinds. They’d never known Caelum to be anything but his bright, shining self. Maybe the sunlight would do him good.

As if cued by the sunlight, Gavin rifted into the middle of the room. He stretched one arm out into the air, the other clutching a package tightly to his chest. “Hello!” he greeted warmly. “How's my favorite patient?”

“Gavin.” Caelum gave a little clap of delight. He desperately wished he could get better right that minute. The last thing he wanted to do was miss out on fun with Gavin. “Yay! We could go out for ice cream. Or we could fly kites. Or-” He coughed again, holding his arm over his mouth.

“Or we could stay right here with you,” Freelancer suggested, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Until your M.D.S. goes away.”

“Stay here?” Caelum balked. The empathy-daemon’s mouth twitched into a grimace. “No. Here’s no fun. Maybe Gavin won’t want to stay here. Then you’ll be out voted, two-to-one, and we’ll have to go.” He looked at Gavin expectantly, knowing the incubus was always ready for fun and activity.

Gavin squashed the pity he felt for Caelum. The poor empathy daemon looked so hopeful, but the last thing Gavin was going to do was aggravate his M.D.S.. “Who’s ready to stay in bed all day and get better?”

Caelum snorted. “Aww, nuts!”

Gavin wasted no time pulling up a chair for himself and Freelancer. He beckoned his partner to sit next to him, which they did. “How are you feeling, little buddy?” He gave Caelum’s horns a small pinch. “Look, I brought you a special present.”

“What is it?” Caelum took the package and inspected it, feeling the smoothness of the paper.

The incubus handed a wrapped in shiny, gold paper to Caelum. “Go on. Open it up.”

Caelum tore into the package, mind racing as he wondered what it could be. Was it a new toy? A computer? Perhaps a cake? Or even…

“A book,” he said, deflating again. He looked up at Gavin with wide, confused eyes. “You got me a book?”

“That’s right,” Gavin grinned. “You see, when I was a young…” He looped an arm behind Freelancer. “... dashing, debonaire, hotshot incubus, so different than the demon before you today,” he joked, sharing a wink with Freelancer, “I, too, fell prey to M.D.S.. And even though I was too proud to ask for help, my steward came and helped me wait it out. When I was feeling my worst, she read me this book.” Gavin snatched the book from Caelum and waved it in the air. “It’s a special book. And today, I’m gonna read it to you.”

Caelum still looked skeptical. “Is there fun stuff in it?”

“Are you kidding? Loads of fun stuff!” Gavin gasped. “Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, shifters, stealths, vampires, chases, escapes, true love, mate bonds, miracles!”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Caelum considered. “I’ll try it.”

Freelancer snickered. “A real kind gesture.”

“Mhmm, yeah, sure,” Gavin huffed. “You say that now. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.” He relaxed in the chair, materializing matching pillows to help support his and Freelancer’s backs. “Alright,” he sighed, opening the book with a finger flick. “The Prince Shifter, by S. Morgan Kyne. Chapter 1.

“David Shaw was raised on a small farm in the country of Dahlia. He was a wolf shifter, the biggest wolf anyone in the town had ever seen. His favorite pastimes included going on long hunts in the forest, playing cards with his cousin, and tormenting the unempowered farmhand who he had hired to help with chores shortly after his father died. David never called the farmhand by their name, only, ‘Troublemaker.’”

Gavin peaked over the top of the book. “Isn’t that a wonderful beginning?”

Caelum gave him a skeptical huff. “Nothing happened yet.”

“You just wait,” Gavin scoffed. “Nothing gave David as much pleasure as ordering Troublemaker around the farm incessantly. And nothing gave his cousin as much pleasure as calling David out on his bad attitude.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Troublemaker!” David Shaw haughtily ordered, walking up to the barn. The chickens fled David’s path as he lumbered up to the pathway. He tossed a large pair of mud-caked boots in front of the human, who was busily and carefully raking out the sow’s stall so they could replace it with fresh hay. “Polish my boots. I want to see my face shining in them by morning.”

The human picked up the boots by their laces, not giving an indication of how heavy those boots really were. “As you wish,” they murmured, and turned back to their raking.

Without a word of gratitude or courtesy, David turned on his heel and started back towards the house. Again, the chickens balked and yelped, making way for him.

”‘As you wish,’ was all they ever said to David,” Gavin read.

“Troublemaker!” David’s voice rang out not unlike a howl. He brought two large buckets over to the human, who, this time, was wringing out a large sack of laundry. “Fill these with water.”

When the human stood to meet David’s gaze, pushing some of their hair out of their eyes, the wolf nearly stumbled back in surprise.

Had he ever seen such clear, deep, breathtaking eyes before?

Usually, the only one who ever dared look David in the eye was his cousin, whom this human had ironically nicknamed, ‘Babe.’ David had the suspicion that they had called his cousin Babe if only as a positive contrast to David, though he could prove nothing. And his cousin was no help. They weren’t intimidated by David in the slightest. He was eternally grateful for their presence, having moved in with David after he lost his father due to an accident and they had lost their parents in an epidemic that had hit their nearby village. In addition to their help managing the finances of the farm, Babe kept busy by teasing David about his surliness and nagging him to show the farmhand a little more respect, to no avail.

“Oh, c’mon, David!” Babe would protest daily. “Why do you treat them like that? They’re practically an angel for putting up with you.”

No avail until, apparently, that day David had looked them in the troublemaker’s eyes.

“P…Please?” David added to his request.

The farmhand raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on the shift in tone. “As you wish,” they said.

David trudged back to the house, unable to stop himself from looking backwards at them. Maybe his cousin was right. Maybe they were an angel in disguise.

”That day, David was amazed to discover that when the farmhand said, ‘As you wish,’ what they meant was, ‘I love you.’” Gavin's heart swelled at the thought as he read. “And even more amazing to David was the day he realized he truly loved them back.”

David was bent over the kitchen table, busily chopping a mountain of carrots when they entered to deliver more firewood for the stove. They arranged the logs in a crisscross pattern to ensure they would stay in place. Once they were finished surveying their work, the farmhand began to retreat back outside to get started on the endless list of chores that awaited them.

“Troublemaker!” David suddenly whirled around, heart aching at the thought that they would leave his presence for even a second. “Uhh…” He glanced around, throat suddenly tight as he spotted a large mixing bowl that was well within his arm’s reach. “Would you… fetch me that bowl, please?”

The human stared only at David, but they did slowly make their way closer to the empty bowl. Without breaking eye contact, they took the bowl in their hands and pushed it into David’s. “As you wish,” they whispered, a hint of a smile dancing across their soft lips. “Davey.”

David leaned forward, taking their face in his hand. “Angel,” he called them, the name sounding so right and perfect in his ears. A great, magnetic force drew him closer and closer to them, until finally, his lips grazed theirs and…

“Hold it, hold it, hold it!” Caelum exclaimed. “What is this?” he demanded. “Are you trying to trick me? That’s not very nice, Gavin. Where’s the sports?” He glared at the incubus. “Is this a kissing book?”

Gavin threw up a palm and waved it down. “Wait, just wait,” he assuaged.

“Trust him,” Freelancer interjected. “Gavin would never steer us wrong.” They tapped a finger on his chest. “Although, you did promise some revenge, and this seems very unrevengy so far…”

“So when does it get good?” Caelum asked, feeling his energy wane at the activity.

“Keep your shirt on and let me read,” Gavin gently scolded. He turned to mumble in Freelancer’s ear, “Later, your shirt is completely optional, though.” Before his deviant could respond, Gavin returned to the novel. “Angel had no money for marriage, and refused to be solely supported by David, so they packed their few belongings and decided to leave the farm to seek a fortune across the sea. It was an emotional time for them.”

Caelum flopped backwards against the pillow. “I don’t believe this!” he groaned.

“C’mon, lovebirds,” Babe announced, pulling up in the wagon. “I hate to rush you, but you’re going to miss your ship if we don’t leave now,” they told Angel.

“Do not call us that,” scowled David. He hugged Angel tightly, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Angel, please. Reconsider. If you go, I might never see you again.”

“Of course you’ll see me again,” Angel told him, perhaps with more confidence than they felt.

David wasn’t convinced. “But what if something happens to you?” His father’s sudden death had left David with an anguished grief that made him constantly worry about all the fatal fates that could befall anyone, especially those close to him. All he wanted to do was shield Angel from any danger, and here they were, seemingly walking right into the unknown.

“Hey.” Angel pushed up off of David so they faced each other. “Listen to me. I will always come for you, Davey. Just like I know you'll always come for me.”

David’s breathing grew rapid. As much as he loved it when Angel affirmed their love for him, David was a man of logic. Of probability. He wanted guarantees and predictability. “But how can you be sure?”

Angel threw him a genuine, if not a bit cocky, grin. “This is true love,” they answered. “A mate bond. You think this happens every day?” They kissed again, savoring the taste of each other before Angel ascended the wagon and left for his journey, waving at David until they couldn’t see each other anymore.

”But Angel never reached their destination. Their ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Keaton, who infamously never left captives alive,” narrated Gavin in a solemn tone. “When Babe broke the news to David that Angel was murdered—”

Caelum brightened. “Murdered by pirates is good!”

Freelancer covered their mouth to suppress a giggle at Caelum’s reaction.

Gavin paid them no mind.

“David went into his room, shut the door, and stayed there,” the incubus read. “For days, the wolf neither slept nor ate nor shifted, despite Babe’s very best efforts to support their cousin through his misery. It was only after Babe forced themselves into David’s room did he look up at them with vacant, indifferent eyes and vow, ‘I will never love again.’”

Five years later

The main square of Dahlia City filled like it had never been filled before to hear the announcement of the great Princess Alexis Getty Solaire’s husband-to-be. Up on the castle balcony, lavish trumpeteers played a fanfare as the royal Solaire family arrived, their blackout umbrella attendants keeping the vampires shielded from the sun, as did their specialized clothing. Prince Vincent Solaire was notably absent, though the kingdom knew had had departed on a diplomatic mission in Prenswick, a nearby country who had a long and complicated history with Dahlia. Second only to that feud was that between Vincent and Alexis, much to King William’s chagrin. Behind William was Alexis, who was waving to all her subjects and fawning as they clapped and declared their love for her. She was William’s first-made progeny, and therefore by law, it was she who would inherit his title. King William remained inside the castle, opting to allow his progeny to be in the spotlight, rather than his looming shadow. Beside Alexis was Count Quinn Fox, her most trusted advisor.

“My subjects!” Alexis called over the din to quiet the townspeople. “A month from now, Dahlia will have its 500th anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry a man who was once a commoner like yourselves. A shifter, no less,” she giggled like that fact was somehow amusing. “But perhaps, you will not find him common now.” The diamonds in her tiara shined as she moved her head. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes!” the crowd roared. To show Alexis anything other than avid devotion would've been a grave error. Her temperament was quite well-known throughout the land.

“My subjects,” Alexis declared, raising an arm to point to the entrance archway so everyone turned to look. “The Prince David Shaw.”

David walked carefully through the threshold, his face pulled into a tight, thin line. He was clad in stunning royal garb. Babe trailed after him, trying their best to do whatever royal consorts were supposed to do. They were quite uncertain about the social etiquette, but they tried their best to learn and to help David navigate his new royal role.

“The crowd quickly bent their knees as David walked forward, just as he had been instructed to do,” Gavin described. “The bows and courtesies unnerved Babe greatly, but David barely paid attention. His emptiness consumed him as he peered up at Alexis. For though the law of the land gave Alexis the right to choose her husband, he did not love her.”

Gavin paused to turn the page, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Freelancer and Caelum were growing more interested in the drama.

The incubus smothered a smug smile, knowing there would be time and occasion for that later. “Chapter 2.”

Chapter Text

Despite Alexis’s constant reassurance that David would grow to love her, the only joy the wolf found was in his daily hunts. Alexis had provided David with the ability to use the royal forests for his hunts. David elected to take Babe with him, claiming that they would help him carry back any quarry he didn’t eat. Truth be told, David had only wanted to steal away a few moments with his cousin. Ever since Alexis had selected him as her match, David’s days were full of nothing but political nonsense, disgusting decadence, and being told that his purpose in life was now and would always be to be nothing more than to hang off of Alexis’s arm like a trophy.

As David came to a clearing in the forest, he made a fluid shift from wolf to man. His black fur receded into skin, sharp claws shortened into nails, and his bones rearranged themselves into that of a human, including his massive teeth.

“A word, my lord,” a man called, walking out from behind a tree, followed by another, shorter man. It didn’t take David long to deduce from their auras that they, too, were wolves. “We are but poor, packless shifters,” the first man said. The pair stood there listlessly. “Is there a village nearby for us to find some food and perhaps, a place to stay?”

David shook his head, hackles raising. Something was off about these two fellows, but he didn't know exactly what. “There’s nothing nearby,” he answered gruffly. “Not for miles.”

The shorter man smiled, resting his hands at the hilt of the sword hanging on his hip. “Then there won’t be anyone to hear you howl.”

David began to initiate a shift when a sudden waft of sleeping magic suddenly enveloped his every sense. He swayed on his feet, reverting back into a human before he could finish the shift. Now he knew something was wrong, very wrong, but he couldn’t possibly muster up the strength or the coherence to do a thing about it. Babe wasn’t too far behind him. They always rode on horseback to keep up with David while he was shifted. David’s heart lurched as he wondered what would happen to Babe if they stumbled upon this scene. His cousin was formidable, but how could they face off against two wolves?

“Watch it, Sweetheart!” the second wolf ordered. “He’s going down hard!”

David’s sluggish brain tried to make sense of what that was supposed to mean, but he felt his knees buckle and his face smack into the forest floor. A person in a green shirt and black vest materialized in front of his eyes, but David couldn’t keep them open for a moment longer. The blurry haze was too irresistible, and David succumbed to cozy, comfortable darkness.

“Mission accomplished,” Sweetheart announced triumphantly. “One prince shifter: immobilized.” They scoffed. “Easily.”

“Milo, help me get his wrists and ankles bound in the magic-muting cuffs, would you?” the taller man beckoned. Milo quickly obliged, kneeling next to David. “Last thing we want is for him to wake up and shift.” He put a hand up in the air. “All that stealthy-stuff would’ve been for nothing.”

“There’s nothing inherently stealthy about sleeping magic,” Sweetheart corrected. “But, I do appreciate the thoughtfulness anyway, Asher.” They reciprocated the high-five, earning a giggle from him.

Sounds of galloping interrupted the victory for the trio. “Hey!” Babe yelled. “Get away! What did you do to him? David? David!?”

Milo tightened the clasp of the handcuffs around David’s wrists. “That was not part of the plan,” he mumbled.

“Let him go!” Babe ordered. “That’s Princess Alexis’s fiancé, so if you harm even a hair on his head, you’ll have committed treason against the royal Solaire Family,” they threatened. “And the Solaires aren’t known for treating their enemies with mercy.”

Without warning, Asher shifted into his wolf. He grew into a long and lithe beast, leaping into the air and unseating Babe from their horse, careful to break their fall on the way down. He snarled and growled, hoping that would be enough to earn their submission. He had to keep focused on the job at hand, which apparently now included taking this human as well as David hostage, and not let his mind wander to how undeniably attractive this unempowered babe was.

Babe tried to struggle, but they were no match for Asher’s wolf form. He was large, almost as large as their cousin, but his coat was unlike any wolf Babe had ever seen. His coloring was complex, a mottled mess of browns, whites, and grays, all interspersed with a bright auburn color that matched his hair. “David!” Babe cried again in vain, knowing if he were conscious, he’d shift and tear this wolf apart in an instant. “Just, don’t hurt him, please!”

Asher huffed out a sharp exhale, leaving Babe to figure out what the wolf meant.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sweetheart transfigured a stick into another set of cuffs. “I got it covered.”

Babe swallowed nervously.

“What’s that you’re ripping?” Milo asked as he fiddled with the boat’s sails.

“It’s a uniform of an army officer from Prenswick,” Sweetheart explained.

“Who’s Prenswick?” Asher asked, using his strength to guide a drowsy David and Babe onto the boat.

“Prenswick isn't a person. It's the country across the sea,” Sweetheart answered. “The sworn enemy of Dahlia. Where Prince Vincent has been on a diplomatic mission for the last few months.” They gave the pinto a gentle pet. “Go!” the stealth ordered, sending the horse into a trot. “Once the horse reaches the Solaire castle, the fabric will make the princess suspect that the Prenswickians have abducted her love. When she finds David’s wolf pelt lying on the Prenswick coast, her suspicions will be totally confirmed.”

Asher’s face fell. “You never said anything about killing anyone.”

“I told you we were hired to start a war,” Sweetheart defended, though if they were being honest, the thought made them feel sick, too. They made sure not to give too many details about the job, aiming to spare Milo and Asher from the weight and worry that sat upon their shoulders. “It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition. And, occasionally, that tradition includes killing.” Sweetheart glanced at David and Babe, who were sitting in a heap in the corner of the boat.

“I just don’t think it’s right, killing innocent people,” Asher insisted. “Our jobs are usually investigation, personal security, maybe some persuasive intimidation,” the wolf pointed out. “Not killing.”

Sweetheart bristled. “And you think it’s just fine and dandy with me, is that right?” they snarled. “You think I just woke up one morning and said I wanted to take the murder gig?” They stalked over to Asher, boots knocking against the hollow wood of the boat. “Well, you listen to me and you listen well, you lonely lupine loser…”

“Sweetheart…” Milo sighed, knowing that when his mate experienced any emotion, anger was usually the first to manifest. “Take it easy. Asher wasn't criticizing you, just the j–”

Sweetheart was in no mood to hear either of them. “... we were hired to do a job, and we are getting that job done, you hear me? No one here has the luxury of having a moral compass. No you, not me, not Milo,” Sweetheart seethed. “Not anymore.” They pushed away the memories that threatened to flood their mind.

“I agree with Ash,” Milo added quietly. “Who even hired us?”

“Who hired us is completely irrelevant!” Sweetheart blew out an exasperated breath. “So you’re both ganging up on me now?”

David and Babe watched the scene before them in their bonds, the violent and menacing nature of their captors giving way to dysfunction and disagreement.

“Neither the prince nor his cousin are truly your concern,” Sweetheart decreed, their stomach flipping over itself. “I will kill them both!” They hoped they could pass off their anxiety at the thought of slaying an innocent soul as mere seasickness. Sweetheart reminded themselves that what they were doing would save Dahlia from plunging into an era of despair and corruption. King William Solaire was not much longer for the world, and Sweetheart knew Alexis could never be allowed to take the throne. If she did, it would be the end of peaceful life for Dahlia’s citizens as they knew it. Sweetheart silently fretted over whether Milo would ever look at them the same way again once they became a murderer, but they were doing this as much for him as they were for anyone. “And remember this, never forget this.” They pointed a finger in Asher’s face. “When we found you, you were nothing but a slobbering puppy. You could barely shift yourself! Friendless, brainless, helpless, packless, hopeless!” they growled. “Do you want me to send you back to where you were, full of hypno-magic and collared like a trained little pet, obedient to your telepath master’s highest bidder of the day?” Sweetheart stormed off to the other side of the boat, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Asher looked out in the distance and heaved a sigh, remembering that horrific period in his life. It didn’t take long for Milo to come up behind him and offer a comforting clap on the shoulder. A reminder that Asher was packless no longer. It was a strange, small little pack, but the trio truly considered each other family. “They’re just extra high-strung today. You know they don’t mean it,” Milo excused, making a mental note to talk with Sweetheart, sensing there was more to their outburst than the stealth’s typical abrasive personality. They’d never bring up Asher’s past so callously without cause. “Look, my mate,” Milo said with an impish grin. “They can fuss.” Milo made sure to emphasize the final word.

“Fuss, fuss…” Asher mumbled. “I think your mate would like to scream at us.”

“And you know they mean no harm,” Milo continued.

“They’re tall, but very, very short on… charm!” Asher finished with glee.

Milo gave Asher a slight bow. “Oh, Asher, you’ve a great gift for rhyme.”

“Yes, yes,” Asher agreed, taking the ship’s steering wheel in his hands. “Some other time.”

Sweetheart crossed their arms over their chest and stared at a spot on the floor, hoping to quell their growing nausea. Guilt from their outburst crept up in their gut, but thankfully, Milo had intervened to help distract and soothe Asher. The stealth wondered how in the world someone as compassionate and kind as Milo had ever ended up with them in a mate bond. “Enough of that!” they said, pretending that they weren’t trying to get in on the rhyming fun.

“Asher!” Milo burst, picking up on how Sweetheart's words aligned with the meter of their impromptu poem. His mate never could resist good wordplay or linguistic antics. “Are there rocks ahead?”

“If there are,” Asher responded in a sing-song voice, “then we’ll all be dead!”

“No more rhymes now,” Sweetheart warned. “I mean it!”

Milo was quick to interject, “Anybody want a peanut?”

Through his gagged mouth, David let out a miserable groan. He didn’t know where they were going, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long, long journey.

Before long, darkness crept over the sky. Only the shimmer of moonlight reflected across the calm sea to offer David a scant bit of light. The sleeping magic that the stealth had used to subdue him had all but worn off. Babe, too, was feeling more alert, but still pressed into David’s side as they tried to make sense of the day’s events. They were grateful that their kidnappers had granted them the small mercy of only cuffing their hands, but letting their legs stretch out and the circulation return. A gentle breeze passed through the air, just enough to keep the humble boat on its journey.

“We’ll reach the cliffs by dawn!” Sweetheart declared, staring out into the distance. They took another bite of the apple in their hand.

Asher gave them an uncertain scoff from behind the wheel. “This coming from the person who doesn’t know east from west, who has gotten us lost more times than I can count, and who needs directions for anything more than six steps away.” He threw a look at Babe, who certainly didn’t share Asher’s amusement.

“We get where we need to go eventually,” Sweetheart defended.

Milo looked over his shoulder for the third time in as many minutes.

“Why are you doing that?” Sweetheart said through apple chews.

“I want to make sure no one’s following us,” Milo responded, craning his neck again.

Sweetheart shook their head. “That would be inconceivable.”

“Despite what you think, you will be caught,” David warned, low and deep. He hid his wrists behind Babe, trying not to draw attention to the way he tried to rub at the binding. “And when you are, Princess Alexis will see you all hanged.”

“And probably drained first,” Babe added. “Mercy isn’t exactly her style.”

“Of all the necks on this boat, Your Highness,” Sweetheart quipped, “the one you should be most concerned about is your own.” They chucked their apple core over the edge of the boat, suddenly losing their appetite. “Milo, relax!” Sweetheart snapped as Milo twisted himself to look backwards again. “It’s almost over, okay?”

Milo pointed out to the blackness of the sea. “Are you sure no one’s following us?”

“Like I said, it would be totally, absolutely, and in all other ways inconceivable,” Sweetheart insisted, willing themselves to be that claim. “No one in Prenswick knows what we’ve done. And no one in Dahlia even realizes anything is amiss. He’s a wolf!” They gestured at David. “He wouldn’t even be back from his hunt by this hour.” Sweetheart crossed their arms and laid their head against the boat, hoping they could squeeze in a little sleep before the morning came.

“Damn,” Babe whispered under their breath. “There goes my rescue plans.”

Sweetheart’s moment of tranquility lasted a mere second, when their eyes popped open and they turned back to Milo. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

“Because I’m looking behind us and something is there,” replied Milo, letting his finger trace along the hilt of his sword.

“What?” Sweetheart leapt up from their seat. They joined Milo to get a good look at the sea. Even Asher, after double-checking the steering wheel would hold course, joined them, leaning over the edge of the boat. Sure enough, off in the distance, was a small sailboat.

Sweetheart shrugged. “Probably some local water-elemental out for a pleasure-cruise at night,” they explained. “Through…” Sweetheart swallowed realizing the implausibility of that situation. “Shade-infested waters.”

A sudden splash interrupted the conversation.

David was in the water.

“No!” Sweetheart groaned. “We can’t let him get away!”

David swam with all his might, stroke after stroke. The bindings around his limbs prevented him from shifting, but he had freed himself enough so that he could move his arms independently.

“Veer left!” Sweetheart called, watching as the water took David further and further away from their ship.

Asher did as they asked, only to earn a groan from Sweetheart.

“I meant ‘right!’” they corrected, haphazardly trying to make L shapes with their thumbs and index fingers. “Right, right!” they called.

“Go, David go!” Babe cheered. “Don’t stop swimming until you reach land!”

Growling and grinding noises had David halt in his tracks. He treaded water, trying to use his enhanced hearing to place where the deafening noise came from so he could avoid it.

“Do you know what that sound is, Highness?” Milo yelled from the boat, cupping his hands over his mouth so the sound would carry. “Those are the Shrieking Shades! If you don’t believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they’re about to feed on human lifeforce.”

A shade darted towards David and he flinched out of the way.

“If you swim back now,” Sweetheart offered, “I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the shades, Your Highness.”

Another shade glommed onto David’s ankle, and he furiously kicked it away. Soon more descended upon him, trying to bite and claw into his core, yanking at his magical threads. David jerked and splashed, trying to rid himself of the ugly things. One charged at him, mouth agape. David was frozen in place when…

“David doesn’t get killed by the shades at this time,” Gavin said, dropping his narrative bravado.

Caelum blinked, almost coming out of a trance as he processed Gavin’s words. “What?”

“The shades don’t get him,” Gavin explained patiently. “I’m telling you this because I can feel some nervous-knots forming in you, little buddy.”

“No, I don’t have nervous-knots,” Caelum refuted. He let go of the vice-grip he held on the blankets.

Freelancer rubbed Caelum’s back, feeling the muscles in the empathy-daemon’s. “Oh?”

“Well,” Caelum relented. “Maybe I have a few concern-knots, but that’s not the same thing. Not the same thing at all.”

“Because if you need a break, we can stop now,” Gavin offered.

“No!” Caelum whined. “I mean, no,” he repeated, much more steady and calm. “You can read a little bit more. If you want to.”

“Alright then.” Gavin resumed, “‘Do you know what that sound is, Highness?’ Milo yelled from the boat, cupping his hands over his mouth so the sound would carry. ‘Those are the Shrieking Shades! If-’”

“Gav, you’re past that part,” Caelum corrected. “You read it already.”

“Oh, my my my!” Gavin clapped a hand on his forehead. “I’m sorry, I humbly beg your pardon.”

Freelancer leaned over to look at the page. “Let’s see here. David was in the water, the shades were coming after him, he was fighting them off, one shade started to charge him and then…”

Asher, in wolf form, leant over the edge of the ship, and took the shade’s neck between his teeth. He sank his canines into the squealing shade, tossing it around like it was nothing more than a chew toy, growling and snarling all the while. When he was satisfied that the shade was returned to death, Asher carefully took David by his shirt collar and jerked his head upwards, mentally cursing how much heavier the water made David.

“Up, up, up!” Milo and Sweetheart chimed, each one holding onto one of Asher’s furry back legs for dear life. They heaved and hoed until Asher and David were back on the ship, leaving the pair panting and sweating. After a few misfire shifts, Asher finally got himself back into human form.

“Good job, Ash,” said Milo.

“You saved him,” Babe said in awe. “I…” They huddled closer to David, making sure their cousin wasn’t hurt by the Shrieking Shades. “I… thank you,” they finally said, brow furrowing as they tried to make sense of their overwhelming gratitude towards one of the people who was kidnapping them.

Asher wished he could've thought of something else to say, other than, ‘I would swim through a sea of a million shades for you.’ So instead, he just accepted the towel Sweetheart draped over him and dried himself off. “Water’s cold this time of year.”

“That ship!” Milo gasped, bolting upright. “Look, it’s getting closer!”

“We’ve got enough problems right here,” Sweetheart grumbled. “Let’s just keep going. Sail on!” They gave David a hard stare and a second towel. “Bet you think you’re brave, don’t you?”

David didn’t shy away from Sweetheart as he begrudgingly accepted the towel. “Only compared to some.”

Chapter Text

“Now they're right on top of us!” Milo reported, pulling at a rope to reshape the sail. All throughout the night, Milo had offered update after update of the following little boat. “I wonder if they’re using the same wind we’re using.”

“Whoever they are, they’re too late.” Sweetheart jumped with excitement. “See? The Cliffs of Insanity!” Sure enough, a steep mountainous range came into view. “Let’s go! Veer right!”

Asher shrugged and obliged them. The whole boat shifted violently, causing everyone to stumble and smack into each other.

“I mean, ‘left,’” Sweetheart groaned. “Left! Towards the Cliffs! There! Whichever way that is!”

Quite amused with himself, Asher readjusted the boat’s trajectory so they reached the land. Milo quickly helped to gather up Babe and David.

“You weren’t kidding when you said only a wolf could carry someone up these rocks.” Milo whistled. “Pretty steep there!”

“That other sailor will have to go around and around the isle looking for a harbor. That could take hours. But…” Sweetheart leaned forward to place a quick kiss on Milo’s forehead. “With Asher taking David, and you his cousin, plus me using air-elemental magic, we’ll make it up there in no time.”

“Make it up there?” Babe repeated incredulously. “Up there as in up the cliff? As in not on the ground?” They felt their face go cold when the blood drained out of it. “No. No, no, no. No way.”

Milo rolled his eyes, “Look, Babe,” he said, unintentionally using a name they often heard. “You ain’t got a choice in the matter. Up and away we go. Now,” he said. “Are you going to hang on tight like a good human, or do I gotta take you by the scruff of the neck?”

Babe gaped at the vertical cliffs.

“Milo won’t let you fall,” Asher promised.

Babe couldn’t understand why Asher saying that seemed believable, but it was. Everything he said seemed believable to them.

“I’ll hang on,” Babe assented, earning a grunt from Milo before he shifted into his wolf form. The human almost let out a laugh when they saw Milo’s wolf form. His coat color was a beautiful gray color, his build stocky and muscular, but his size was far, far smaller than Babe expected. After all, they had grown accustomed to David’s hulking wolf form, and Asher’s was pretty comparable in size.

But this small wolf was supposed to take them up this cliff?

“I can practically hear your thoughts,” Sweetheart warned, charging up a bit of air-elemental magic as practice. “He’s more than capable. Size isn’t correlated with strength, stamina, or skill. Trust me, there aren’t many people you should trust to get you up that cliff in one piece. But Milo? He’s all that and more.” They blew a kiss to their mate, whose tail wagged. “And if you say just one word about his wolf form size, I will toss you over the cliffs myself after I drag you up there by your hair.”

Babe clamped their mouth shut and climbed onto Milo. They squeezed him tightly as he began to ascend the cliff. Sweetheart followed close behind, conjuring wind to levitate up the mountain.

“I could just shift and climb myself, you know,” David grumbled into Asher’s fur. He made the mistake of looking down and decided to close his eyes against what he would always claim was the bright sun.

Inch by inch, step by step, the group made their way up the cliff. They strained under the effort, but kept progressing upwards, hoping that the top of the cliff would appear soon. Meanwhile, the sailor they had all but forgotten about pulled up their small boat to the land. The figure, clad in all black, docked the small vessel, and set foot onto the land. Without a second thought, they caught the gusts from Sweetheart’s air-elementalism and used the residual magic to help them climb the mountain traditionally.

“They’re climbing the mountain,” Babe observed. “And they’re gaining on us.”

“What?!” Sweetheart frowned, gleaning that the stranger was using their magic to give chase. Didn’t this person have a shred of sense in them? Sweetheart could tell by the lack of aura they were unempowered. What sane unempowered person just jumped on the first gust of air-elementalism they felt and used it to help climb a mountain? “Inconceivable.”

David scoffed. “You’re the one who planned this whole thing,” he mocked. “And one random person is gonna bring it all down? You three are ridiculous.”

“Worst kidnapping I’ve ever had,” Babe added.

Eventually, the group did reach the top of the cliffs. As soon as everyone’s feet hit solid ground and the captives were settled, Sweetheart ceased their magic. It was difficult to contain their power so suddenly. A gradual decline was much more comfortable to initiate, but Sweetheart couldn’t let this person get any closer than they already were. “Ah!” they cried above Milo and Asher shifting back into humans and rephasing their clothes. A ripple of magic erupted from Sweetheart, cutting off the air-elementalism in one fell swoop.

Still, five pairs of eyes couldn’t help but look out over the cliff…

… to see a person in all black clothing and a matching black mask clinging onto the cliffs for dear life.

“They’ve got great upper body strength” Asher complimented.

“They didn’t fall!?” Sweetheart sputtered. “Inconceivable.”

“You keep using that word,” David chided. “I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

Still hanging onto the rock, the figure in question made a tentative pull forward. A few rocks crackled away from the cliff.

“Jeez Lousie, they’re climbing,” Milo realized. “They’re actually climbing.”

Sweetheart felt their breath hitch. “Whoever they are, they’ve obviously seen us with the prince and must therefore die.” They grew dizzy at thought. One killing was bad enough, which became two when Babe witnessed their crime, but now three? “Change of plans. I’ll take David and head for the Prenswick border with both of us cloaked. Asher, you take the cousin and split from us. If anyone else is following, the trail and scent will confuse them, for at least a little while. Meet us at the border after sundown.”

“Okie dokie,” Asher nodded. He picked up Babe and started his journey, ignoring their protests and beating fists across his back.

David watched them go, worry seizing his gut. Split up? Though he did feel a bit of pride for the way Babe kept up their frenzied punching attack on Asher, not to mention the absolutely filthy string of insults they hurled at him as he carried them away.

Sweetheart clenched their jaw. “Milo, I…” They glanced back at the one in black. “I hate to say this, but you’ve got to stay here.” Their heart lurched at the thought. “Catch up with us when they’re dead. If they fall, fine. Not a problem. If not…” They shrugged. “Use that sword you use so well, Love.”

Milo nodded solemnly. “I’ll duel them left-handed.”

Sweetheart’s jaw dropped. “Milo, please, be reasonable,” they sought. “I don’t want you getting hurt. This isn’t the time to show off.”

“Aww, c’mon, now.” Milo framed Sweetheart’s face with his hands. “It’s the only way I can feel alright with it,” he argued. “If I use my right hand…” He snapped his fingers. “It’ll be over too quick.”

“Well…” Milo’s touch was probably the only thing that could distract Sweetheart from a well-calculated plan. And they loved him for it. “O-Okay,” they relented. “If you’re sure. But just, please, be safe?”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart.” He sealed that promise with a kiss.

“I mean it,” Sweetheart added, trying to blink away the lightheadedness Milo’s lips always left them with. “Be careful, okay?” They looked down at the stranger again, protectiveness suddenly flaring as they realized this person might be soon fighting Milo, if they ever made it up the cliff. “People in masks cannot be trusted.” Sweetheart tore their gaze away from the climbing figure. “You’ll find me when you’re done, right?”

Milo grinned a wolfish, toothy smile. “How could I miss your aura?” he retorted. “You’re practically a big, shiny NorthStar for me to follow.”

Sweetheart nearly melted into a stealthy puddle. They didn’t know what was more moving: Milo’s poetic expression or the fact that they knew he meant every word. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Milo whispered. “Now get going so we can get this done with, hmm?”

Sweetheart gave a curt nod before stalking up to David. “Alright, Your Highness. This won’t hurt a bit.” Despite David trying to shimmy out of their reach, Sweetheart laid a hand on him and concentrated. In a flash, both shifter and stealth were completely cloaked. The only reason Milo could even feel the slightest bit of their nebulous aura was due to the mate bond. He sensed, rather than saw, Sweetheart and David make their way deeper into the woods, headed towards the Prenswick border.

As long as Sweetheart didn’t get lost on the way.

Milo opted to distract himself from that worrisome thought by pantomiming a few fencing warm ups. The habit always calmed him.

For about thirty seconds.

Milo marched over to the top of the cliff to see his soon-to-be adversary. “Hey!” he called awkwardly, waving at the person. “Slow going there?”

The person ever so carefully tipped their head to the sky so Milo came into their view. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks.” They grasped at the small, unstable shelf of rocks with all their strength. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me.”

Milo stepped backwards. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” said the stranger.

Milo took his sword out the hilt and began cutting the air with quick slices, tossing the sword from hand to hand. He growled, returned the sword to its scabbard, and returned to his perch at the edge of the cliff. “Don’t suppose you could speed things up?”

“If you’re in such a hurry,” the person in black sighed, “you could lower a rope, or a tree branch, or find something useful to do.”

Milo looked around the barren, empty landscape. “Well, I don’t have any of that,” he answered. “But, I’m a shifter. And I could drag you up here if I shifted, but I don’t think you’d accept my help, since I’m just standing around here waiting to kill you.” He watched as the figure considered that piece of information.

Even with the mask, their face left no question about their reaction to Milo’s murderous intent. “That does put a damper on our relationship.”

“But!” Milo added with fervor. “I promise I won’t kill you until you reach the top.” He rested his hands on his knees and squatted, as if that stance made him any less imposing.

“That’s very comforting,” the human said. “But I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.” They turned their attention back to the rocks, trying to ignore Milo’s sly smile.

“I hate waiting.” Milo paced back and forth, looking not unlike a pouting child who didn’t want to be perceived as pouting. He turned on his heel and faced the stranger again. “I could give you my word as a wolf!” he offered.

“No good.” The human’s grip on what they thought was solid rock disintegrated through their fingers. They gasped. “No good,” they choked out. “I’ve known too many wolves.”

Milo threw his hands up in surrender. “There’s no way you’ll trust me?”

Even with their thick, black gloves, the person’s fingers ached from the pressure and tension of holding upright on the cliff. “Nothing comes to mind.” They could feel their muscles threatening to give out any moment, until Milo spoke again, this time clear and steady.

“I swear on the soul of my mother, Marie Rose Campenella Greer, you will reach the top alive.”

Despite themselves, the figure in black gave a short, quick nod. “Carry me,” they said, somehow convinced.

In a flash, Milo shifted into his wolf form. He stretched himself over the cliff, careful to keep his paws firmly in the rock work. With absolute care, he took the human’s outstretched hand in his mouth and yanked them up, moving backwards as he did. Ever so slowly, the two inched their way to the top, letting their hold linger for an extra second until Milo finally shifted back into his human form.

“Thank you,” the person panted, pulling at their sword.

“Wait, wait,” Milo refuted. “Not until you’re ready. It wouldn’t make much sense if we use steel to make things even, only for us to start before you catch your breath. I’m no cheater.”

Their sword swished back into its scabbard. “Again, thank you.” They hobbled to a boulder and took a seat, unable to remember the last time they were sitting down comfortably. The human removed their long, black boots and emptied the bits of rock and debris that had made its way into their footwear.

Milo took a seat next to them. “I don’t mean to pry,” the wolf said, “But by any chance, do you happen to have an extra canine tooth on your top right gum line?”

The person in black recoiled at the thought, still holding their boot in the air. “Do you always start conversations this way?”

“My mother was slaughtered by a man with an extra canine tooth here.” He pointed to the spot on his own mouth.

The human’s demeanor changed from skepticism to sympathy. They dropped their boot and opened their mouth to show Milo they possessed no extra teeth.

Milo waved them off, quite used to that reaction. “My ma was a great healer. The best. When the man with the extra tooth came to her, injured and nearly dead, he begged her to save him. So she did. He promised to return and pay her for the service. She would’ve done it for free, but he insisted.” Milo’s eyes darkened with anguish as he repeated, “He insisted.”

The person in black nodded.

“But when the man returned, he didn’t come with money. Instead, he informed my mother that he wanted her to be his own personal healer, and that offer was worth more than any riches he could’ve given her. His idea of ‘personal healer’ had much less to do with healing and much more to do with ‘personal,’ if you get my drift.” Milo spit at the thought. “Well, my ma was sure as shit not going for that. Never. To pick up her whole life and be some jackass’s arm candy? To deny her the ability to use her healing gift to help people? She refused and told him to leave. And a few other choice sentiments.” Milo’s throat tightened. “Without a word, the man with the extra tooth slashed her through the heart.” His gaze dropped to his feet, but the person in black could tell Milo was seeing something very different than the sandy terrain of the cliff top. “I loved my mother. So naturally, I challenged her murderer to a duel. But, I failed,” he reported with a guilty shrug. “The man with the extra tooth left me alive. And, to remember that great mercy, he gave me this and this.” Milo traced a finger along two mirrored scar-lines on either side of his cheek. They were faded, but still had the semblance of bite marks.

“How old were you?” the human asked.

“I was eleven years old,” Milo recalled. “Couldn’t even shift yet, nor could I sense the man’s aura to know his magical specialty. When I was strong enough, I dedicated every moment of my life to the study of fencing and fighting, so the next time we meet, I will not fail.” The determination in his voice was palpable. “I’ll be ready in wolf or human form. I will go up to the man with the extra tooth and say, ‘Hello. My name is Milo Anthony Greer. You killed my mother. Prepare to die.’”

It was obvious that Milo had practiced that line many, many times over the years.

“You’ve done nothing but study swordplay and shifting magic since?” the human said warily. That didn’t bode well for their upcoming fight.

Milo curled his lip. “Well, more pursue than study lately,” he admitted, taking a seat next to the masked person. “Y’see, I can’t find the bastard. It’s been twenty years now, and I’m starting to lose hope. My mate and I keep a lookout, but we gotta take jobs like this one to pay the bills, y’know? Not a lot of money in revenge.”

“Well…” The human pushed into a standing position and took a few steps. “I certainly hope you find that guy some day.”

“Aha, you ready?” Milo asked eagerly.

“Whether I am or not,” the human answered, taking up their sword in their left hand, “You’ve been more than fair.”

“You seem a decent person,” Milo observed, drawing his sword. “I hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent person,” they parroted. “I hate to die.”

Milo smirked. “Begin.”

The fight started slow. Deliberate. A few well-placed cuts and dodges, both fighters feeling the other out. They moved back and forth, always keeping the same distance from each other as they took turns advancing and retreating. Their blades clashed and clang as they met, as if singing out with joy that the two fighters had finally met someone who matched their skills. Every time Milo tried to attack, the human defended and managed to attempt an offense. Every time the human tried to force Milo into a defense, Milo found a way to gain the advantage. The fight’s intensity grew, their moves getting bigger and their strategies more complicated as the pair danced across the terrain.

The human tried to cut across Milo’s shoulder, but the wolf spun out of their way.

“Ah!” he called. “You’re using Elliot’s defense against me, aren’t you?” Milo easily recognized the fencing technique.

“I thought it fitting considering the rocks,” the masked person replied. They hopped up onto a steep bunch of rocks, with Milo only a fraction of a second behind them.

Milo shifted his weight and pressed forward. “So naturally, you expect me to attack with Regulus?” His blade moved back and forth with lightning speed.

“Naturally,” the stranger confirmed, quite familiar with the terminology. “But I find that Hush cancels out Regulus, don’t you?”

“Unless someone has studied his Guy attacks…” Milo vaulted forward, landing in front of them. “Which I have.” The fight continued, each trying their best to outdo the other. “You are wonderful!” Milo burst, somehow having more fun than he thought possible as he aimed to end this fascinating person’s life.

“Thank you,” the human smiled. “I’ve worked hard to become so.”

“I’ll admit it. You’re better than I am,” Milo grinned.

The human wasn’t amused. “So why are you smiling?”

“Because, I know something you don’t know…” Milo bowed for dramatic effect, and to avoid the person’s blade. “I… ain’t left handed.” He fluidly shifted his sword into his dominant hand and attacked with renewed vigor, putting the human on the defense. “Ha!”

“You’re amazing.” The human struggled to keep up with Milo’s newfound agility, backing away until they felt their back hit a shaky ledge.

“I oughta be after twenty years,” Milo brushed away. He took the opportunity to push them against the ledge, one slab of it teetering off the side and falling down into the abyss below.

“There’s something…” the human ground out between clenched teeth, trying not to let Milo push them into following that rock slab. “I should tell you…”

“Tell me,” Milo demanded.

They winked. “I’m not left handed either.” The human took advantage of Milo’s utter shock to push him away, straighten up, and toss their sword in the air. They expertly caught the sword and, after a few fancy moulinés, charged at Milo.

And so, the fight continued. They cut and parried. They slashed and feinted. They advanced and retreated. They zigged and zagged. It was a dashing, dazzling show of skill, but no matter what Milo did, it always seemed like the masked person gained the upper hand.

“Who are you?” Milo asked at a slight pause.

“No one of consequence,” was the answer he received.

Milo balked. “I gotta know!”

The stranger scoffed. “Get used to disappointment.”

Unsatisfied, Milo renewed his attacks, grunting and growling as he tried to subdue his opponent.

Said opponent took advantage of that slight lapse in judgment, hitting Milo with a frenzy of moves. Milo tried to put up a defense, but it was too late. As their blade cut through the air with record speed, the wolf suddenly realized that he had been involuntarily disarmed. His sword dropped into the sand with a dull thud.

The stranger was circling him, sword pointing at Milo’s exposed throat.

Milo’s first thought was an apology to his mother for letting her murder go unrevenged. His next was for Sweetheart, wondering how long they’d wait at the shore until admitting their mate was dead. “Kill me quickly.” Milo dropped to his knees, steeling himself to wear a stoic expression, even if his heart was screaming at him for failing the people he loved again.

“I would sooner jump over that ledge I worked so hard to climb than destroy a warrior like you,” the person declared. They sidled up behind Milo. “However, since I can’t have you following me either.”

Milo felt the hilt of their sword connect with the back of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

“Please understand,” the figure said to the insensible man. “I hold you in the highest respect.” They dashed away, taking as long strides as their short legs would allow.

Chapter Text

“Whoa!” Babe exclaimed, tapping Asher at the small of his back as they dangled in his arms. “Look look look! They didn’t fall!” Babe squealed. “Talk about inconceivable.”

“No way!” Asher unceremoniously let Babe fall to the ground so he could see the figure in black moving fast along the countryside. “Way!” He pursued his lips and put his hands on his hips. “Well, that was not part of the plan.”

“You think being kidnapped was mine?” Babe shot back. “It. Was. Not!”

Asher snickered. This human was not shy when it came to smart comments or snappy comebacks. Just hearing their voice made his heart thump with glee, but the content of their speech had him nearly ready to whisk them away to a faraway land and start a new life. He would’ve done it, too, but he couldn’t betray Milo and Sweetheart like that. After all, they were his pack.

“Hmm… I could just shift and tear them apart limb from limb when they come around that bend,” Asher considered. “I’ve got such an advantage from up here.” He kicked at the elevated ground. “But… that doesn’t seem very fair or sportsmanlike.”

“Sportsmanlike?” Babe stared at him incredulously, folding onto a rock. Thankfully, Asher had granted them the small mercy of removing their bonds. Babe couldn’t fathom trying to run at this point. No food, no water, no sense of where they were or how to get back home. “Your priorities are very strange, Asher.”

“My priorities are unique,” Asher corrected. “And I couldn’t be more proud.” He turned back to the clearing, seeing the person in black sprint up the bend.

Asher shifted in his wolf form and crouched behind the rock. When the human came closer, he leapt in front of them, teeth bared. He growled menacingly, stopping them in their tracks.

And then, he shifted right back into his human form. His shifting process was much longer than any other wolf either Babe or the stranger had known, as if his body weren't quite certain how to arrange itself into human form. “I did that on purpose, you know,” Asher informed. “Holding back an attack. I could’ve had your guts coming out of your body like ribbons before you even knew what hit you.”

“I believe you,” the human relented. They clumsily grabbed at their sword, but it was clear drawing would’ve done them no good against Asher.

The ferocity and strength Asher housed in his body amazed Babe. He seemed so jovial and easy-going, but as soon as something was amiss, he was ready to jump into the fray and bite to the bone.

“So, what happens now?” the person in black wondered.

“We face each other as humans. Fair and sportsmanlike.” Asher declared. “No magic.” He pointed to himself. “And no weapons.” He pointed to their rapier. “Skill against skill alone.”

The masked stranger relaxed a bit. “You mean, you won’t shift, I won’t use my sword, and we try to kill each other like civilized people?”

Babe let out a groan. “A whole woods full of thieves, vagrants, and outlaws, and I get stuck with not one, but two kidnappers obsessed with sportsmanship.”

Asher nodded brightly. “Not a bad reputation, if I do say so myself.”

The person in black looked up at Asher warily as they removed their sword, noting his height and the muscles hidden by his loose-fitting shirt. “I think the odds are still slightly in your favor for hand fighting.”

“It’s not my fault I’m bigger and stronger,” Asher shrugged. He flexed his biceps and kissed each one, flashing a grin at Babe. “I don’t even exercise.” He removed his shirt, casually dropping it to the ground and letting his physique speak for itself.

Babe suddenly found their eyes drawn to Asher’s lean, muscular chest.

The person in black ran towards Asher. They hugged around his middle, ignoring the fact that they barely came up to Asher’s torso if they got up on their tiptoes. The stranger yanked as hard as they could, groaning with effort. Asher stood still, letting them try their hardest.

The person released Asher and tried the same tactic again, with the same results.

“Are you just toying with them or what?” Babe jeered from their rock.

“I want them to feel they're doing well,” Asher answered. “I’d hate for someone to die embarrassed.” He took a long step towards the human, who took the opportunity to roll under Asher’s open legs in a somersault. “You’re quick!”

“A good thing, too,” they remarked.

“Why the mask?” Asher wondered, throwing a punch with a massive fist. “Were you burned with acid or something?” When the human dodged, he threw another with the other hand, only to connect with air.

“No, they’re comfy,” the person said, avoiding Asher’s fists. “I think everyone’s going to be wearing masks in the future." They hopped up on a rock and dove for Asher, landing on his back. They clung to the shifter for dear life, arms looping around his neck.

And they squeezed with all their might.

Asher instinctively wrapped his arms around their calves, piggy-back style. “I just figured out why you’re giving me so much trouble.” Asher smacked himself into a nearby rock, letting the smaller human take the brunt of the hit.

But they kept squeezing.

“Oh?” the human hummed once they recovered from the blow, still squeezing. “Why is that, do you think?”

Asher stumbled forward. His hands and feet began to feel tingly. “It’s been so long since I’ve fought in my human form,” he explained, again smacking into the rock.

The human tried to blink away the stars forming in front of their eyes. “Why should that…” They were cut off by yet another hit, the thump-thump of their skull reverberating through their brain. “Make such a…” Another bang into the rock. “... difference?” they weakly finished.

But they kept squeezing.

“Fighting as a human is way different than as a wolf!” Asher’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “The proximity, the growling, teeth work, the fact that you’ve got a t-t-tail.” It was growing more difficult to speak by the syllable.

“What’s… a…” The person in black struggled to regain their train of thought every time Asher bashed them into the rock. “Tail got to do with it?”

And they kept squeezing.

“Well, y’see, a tail helps with b-b-balance…” Asher’s knees buckled.

And they kept squeezing.

“And you use it to generate f-f-f-force…” Asher fell forward, completely unconscious.

The human triumphantly raised their hands, stepping off of Asher. “You should be a little less worried about your tail, and a little more worried about oxygen, I think.”

Babe rushed to Asher’s side. They couldn’t help but ask, “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” the person in black assured, feeling for Asher’s pulse. “Help me roll him on his back.”

Together, the two unempowered humans moved Asher so that he was flat on his back.

“I don’t envy the headache you’ll have when you wake up, wolf,” the masked stranger said. “But in the meantime, rest well.” They looked at Babe, the mask not concealing their knowing expression. “And dream of them.”

Babe sputtered. “Dream of who now?”

“Of you,” the figure replied before extending a hand out to Babe’s shoulder and yanking them upright. “Now c’mon, we’ve got to catch up with the stealth and your cousin. We can’t waste any more time.” They used their toe to lift their sword up from the ground, caught it, and put it back in its place upon their belt. “Let’s hit it.”

“You’ll take me to David?” They quickly stood and tore their gaze away from Asher. They weren’t sure why, but they believed the stranger’s claim Asher would be alright in time.

The pair set off through a clearing, jogging as quickly as they could.

“Hey!” Babe asked above the rhythmic sound of boots on the ground. “How did you know David’s my cousin?”

The person merely shrugged. “Family resemblance,” they said without skipping a beat.

Babe would’ve asked what that was supposed to mean, since they didn’t really look anything like David, but they were too focused on keeping up the pace, so they stayed quiet.

Princess Alexis Solaire carefully stepped her feet into the footprints that had been left behind not too long ago. “There was…” She moved back and forth, following the pattern and strides into a twirl. “A mighty duel.” Her glittering skirt rose up at the twirling movement. “It ranged all over.” The vampire scaled up a pile of boulders. “They were both masters,” she noted.

“Who won?” her advisor, Count Quinn Fox called. He was idly fingering a triangular dagger that he always carried. “How did it end?”

“The loser ran off alone.” Alexis continued her analysis. “But the winner…” She paused for dramatic effect, something Quinn was quite used to enduring. “Followed those footprints towards Prenswick.”

Quinn nodded. “We should follow them both.”

Alexis scoffed. “The loser means nothing,” she sneered. “Only my prince matters.” She turned to address the handful of guards who waited for instructions. “Clearly, this was all planned by warriors of Prenswick!” she accused. “So you must all be ready for whatever lies ahead.”

“Your Highness,” Quinn interrupted. “Could this be a trap?”

“I always think everything could be a trap.” Alexis tossed her luscious hair across her shoulders and straightened the diamond pendant that sat upon her neck. “And that’s why I’m still alive and undead.”

Meanwhile, the person in black and Babe came across a grassy area. The sun beat down on them mercilessly, but there was a gentle breeze at their backs that almost encouraged their journey. The pair audibly gasped when they found Sweetheart and David sitting on a wide tree stump beside a rock that functioned like a table. Apparently, they had stopped for lunch, as indicated by the goblets, canteen, apples, bread, and cheese spread along the table.

Sweetheart was quite the master planner. Something they always took care to plan, no matter how dangerous or adventurous the job, was ensuring they and everyone around them ate and drank properly. The habit helped Sweetheart avoid the embarrassing situation of throwing up, fainting, or suffering from a migraine attack mid-excursion.

The masked stranger took in the dire situation. David’s wrists were bound in magic-muting cuffs and his eyes were covered with a cloth tied around his head. Sweetheart had their hands near David’s throat, clearly ready to conjure enough magic to strike a killing blow immediately.

“So, it is down to you and it is down to me,” they observed, lips twitching into a frown. “I take it your presence denotes the deaths of my pack members?” The stealth tried to hide the sorrow that gripped their throat.

“I left them both alive, though if they stay that way is entirely up to them,” the person refuted. “But they are not my concern at the moment.” They pointed a gloved finger over at David. “He is.”

Sweetheart let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. Milo and Asher were okay, if this person was to be believed. Sweetheart wasn’t entirely convinced that was the case, but they desperately wanted to believe their mate and best friend were alive and well.

The person in black stepped forward, tentative but unmistakably firm. Babe followed suit.

“If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward.” They pulled at their threads, charging their fingertips with electro-energy.

“Let me explain,” the empowered human beseeched.

“There’s nothing to explain,” Sweetheart interrupted. “You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.” They gestured at David.

The masked stranger put their palms up in surrender. “Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?”

“There will be no arrangement,” Sweetheart insisted, wiggling their now-glowing fingers. “And you are killing him.”

David tensed, trying hard not to react to what was going on. He was deprived of his sight, but focused hard on his hearing and olfactory senses to figure out exactly what was happening. He could tell his cousin was present and alive, which filled him with relief. He wasn’t going to risk making a move that might jeopardize them, even if it meant his own demise.

The figure stopped in their tracks. “Well, if there can’t be an arrangement, then we’re at an impasse.”

“I’m afraid so. I’ve no rapier to duel with you,” Sweetheart confirmed sourly. “And you’re no match for my magic.”

“Then, how about something other than physicality or powers?” the masked person suggested. They pointed to their head. “How do you fare in the brains department?”

Sweetheart trilled a laugh. “Not to brag, but I fare quite well.” Their eyes narrowed. “Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates?”

The stranger nodded. “Yes.”

“Morons,” Sweetheart denounced confidently.

“Get a load of this one,” Babe mumbled, rolling their eyes.

The masked person was unfazed. “Really?” They crossed their arms, black sleeves puffing out with the wind. “Then in that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits.”

“For the prince?” Sweetheart interrogated.

They nodded once.

“To the death?” Sweetheart clarified.

They nodded again.

“So be it.” Sweetheart let their electro-energy dissipate. “I accept.”

“Good,” the person eagerly took a seat across from Sweetheart. “Pour the water,” they invited.

David relaxed a bit. Babe took a seat not too far from him, though they remained quiet.

The masked person removed a small pouch from their pocket. They carefully opened the pouch and handed it to Sweetheart. “Inhale this, but don’t touch.”

Sweetheart did as they asked. “I smell nothing,” the stealth reported, handing the pouch back to its owner.

“What you do not smell is called Aria Powder” the person explained. “It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and it is among the most deadly of poisons known to humanity.” They took the two goblets and turned their back to Sweetheart. The iron glasses clinked together. When they were finished, they returned the goblets to the table, faking a switch as to which goblet they put in front of themselves and which in front of Sweetheart. “Alright. Where is the poison?” they asked in a jubilant voice. “Our battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink. We’ll find out who is right and who is dead.”

David bristled at the last word.

Sweetheart blinked thoughtfully. “Well, it’s so simple,” they said. “All I have to do is glean what I know of you. Are you the sort of person who would put the poison into your own goblet or your enemy’s?” Sweetheart tapped their palm on the table. “Now, a clever person would put the point in their own goblet, because they would know that only a great fool would reach for what was given. I am not a great fool,” they bragged, “So I can clearly not choose the glass in front of you.” They held up a finger. “But! You must’ve known I am not a great fool. You would’ve counted on it. So I can clearly not choose the glass in front of me.”

The masked person considered that logic, or lack thereof. “You’ve made your decision then?”

“Not remotely!” Sweetheart laughed. “Because Aria, as you said, comes from d(a)emons. And as everyone knows, d(a)emons live in an astral plane of pure magic governed by the Chorus. And the Chorus is used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the glass in front of you.”

The person cocked their head to the side, letting their thumb and index finger hold their chin. “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.”

“Wait until I get going!” Sweetheart burst, then frowned. “Where was I?”

“The Chorus,” Babe answered.

The stealth snapped their fingers. “Ah yes, the Chorus. You must’ve suspected I would know the ins and outs of d(a)emonic politics, so I can clearly not choose the glass in front of me.”

“You’re just stalling now,” the disguised human accused.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Sweetheart claimed. “You’ve beaten Asher, and that means you’re exceptionally strong. So you could’ve put the poison in your own goblet, relying on your strength to save you. So I can clearly not choose the goblet in front of you.” Their mouth struggled to keep up with their racing thoughts. “But you also bested Milo. And that means you’ve studied. In studying, you must’ve learned that people are mortal, so you would’ve put the poison as far away from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the goblet in front of me.”

“You’re trying to trick me into giving away the answer,” the human gathered. “Not a bad strategy, but it won’t work.”

“It has worked!” the stealth claimed. “You’ve given everything away! I know where the poison is.”

“So make your choice,” the masked stranger demanded, growing impatient.

“I will! I choose-” Sweetheart gasped, pointing to a tree behind the human. “What in the world can that be?”

The human twisted to follow the line of Sweetheart’s hand. “What? Where?”

When their back was turned, Sweetheart switched the goblets.

“I don’t see anything,” the person in back said as they returned to face Sweetheart.

“I could’ve sworn I saw something,” Sweetheart shrugged. “No matter,” they giggled.

“And what is so funny?” the figure demanded.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Sweetheart waved off. “First, let’s drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours.” They picked up their own goblet and let it hang in the air, as if to propose a toast.

The human did the same, offering Sweetheart a little bow before the pair drained the water from their respective glasses.

“You guessed wrong,” the human in black revealed.

Sweetheart shook their head. “You only think I guessed wrong,” they refuted. “That’s what’s so funny! I switched glasses while your back was turned,” the stealth revealed. “Haha, you fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is never fall in love with a deathwalker, but only slightly less known is this: Never go in against a stealth when death is on the line!” They began to laugh in earnest.

Strangely enough, the human didn’t react. They just watched as Sweetheart laughed.

And then suddenly, Sweetheart stopped laughing.

Their whole body slumped and they fell off their rock, completely still on the ground. Their body cloaked out of visibility, clearly not in their control.

“Whoa,” said Babe. “Plot twist.”

The human walked up to David and untied his blindfold.

“Who are you?” the wolf barked.

“I’m no one to be trifled with,” the human spat. “That’s all you ever need to know.” They helped David to his feet, motioning for Babe to come join them. “That’s all either of you need to know.”

David’s eyes tracked to where Sweetheart’s prone form was. “To think, all that time, it was your cup that was poisoned.”

“They were both poisoned,” the human in black corrected. They inspected the magic-muting cuffs to ensure the mechanism was intact. The last thing they wanted was for David to shift. “Aria Powder only affects empowered people. I, as you can tell, have no powers. No magical powers, anyway,” they added wryly. “That dosage might be deadly for someone their size, or it might not. Depends on their constitution.” They, too, glanced where Sweetheart was, even though they couldn’t see the poisoned person. “A pity we won’t be here long enough to find out if they survive.”

Chapter Text

“Should we contact His Highness, Prince Vincent?” a guard asked curiously. “Since he is in Prenswick at the moment. Perhaps he could be of assistance?”

Alexis snorted at the thought. “Vincent would hardly be an asset in this quest.”

“He is hardly an asset in any situation,” Quinn cackled.

Alexis touched the ground, using a bit of tracking magic to discern any information she could. “Someone has beaten a shifter,” she deduced. “There will be great suffering in Prenswick if my beloved dies.” The princess let the vow hang in the air before she waved her arm to indicate that the party continued with the search. “And I won’t need Vincent’s or anyone else’s assistance to inflict suffering.”

The trio reached a spot with shade from a large, looming tree. “Catch your breath,” the masked stranger callously told David and Babe.

David certainly wasn’t tired, but he was uncertain and anxious, which were two emotions that exhausted one quickly. Plus, he knew his cousin had to be dragging with no magic to draw upon for strength. They were hardy, but that could only get them so far. Poor Babe was doubled over the rock, just trying to push away the dizziness so they could soon resume traveling. “If you release us,” David told his new captor, “Whatever you ask for ransom, you’ll get it. I promise you.”

The figure gave a mocking laugh. “And what is that worth, the promise of a shifter? You’re very funny, Highness.”

David growled. “I was giving you a chance,” he spat. “It doesn't matter where you take us. There’s no greater hunter than Princess Alexis,” he boasted. “She can track a stealth amongst a pack of newborn vampires. She can find anyone, including you.”

“You think your dearest love will save you?” the masked human pressed.

“I never said she was my dearest love,” David snapped. “But yes, she will save us. That I know.”

The figure in black took a few steps towards David. “You admit to me you do not love your fiancée.”

“She knows I don’t love her,” David said nonchalantly.

“Are not capable of love is what you mean.” The stranger scoffed.

David raised his chin in defiance. “I would advise you to keep your dumbass comments to yourself as a means of self-preservation,” he quipped. “But of course, you are in control of your choices.”

“Aria Powder!” Alexis identified after sniffing the air. “I’d bet my life on it!”

Sweetheart’s body was still cloaked, and no one cared enough to notice their faded aura.

“And look!” Alexis yelped, pointing at the muddy ground. “Prince David’s footsteps. He is alive, or was an hour ago.” She sighed. “If he is otherwise when I find him, I shall be most displeased.”

Quinn hummed, quite aware of the unbridled chaos that was most-displeased-Alexis.

“I know who you are,” David said with confidence. “Your cruelty reveals everything. You’re the Dread Pirate Keaton. Admit it!”

The person offered a grand bow. “With pride,” they answered. “What can I do for you?”

Even as incapacitated as they were, Babe managed to spit in their direction.

“You can die slowly as I chew you up and spit you out into a thousand pieces,” David suggested.

The pirate tsked their tongue playfully. “Hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why use those big, sharp teeth on me?”

“You killed my mate,” David informed darkly.

“Possible,” the pirate confessed. “I’ve killed a lot of people.” They paced a bit around David. “Who was this mate of yours? A royal vampire like this one? Rich and selfish?”

“No!” David denied. “A human farmhand. Poor. A real troublemaker,” he recalled. “A perfectly poor troublemaker. With eyes like a sea after a storm.” The thought of Angel made David’s heart seize up into stillness. “On the high seas, your ship attacked. Everyone knows the Dread Pirate Keaton never takes prisoners.”

“Well, I can’t afford to make exceptions,” the human relented. They sat down on a fallen tree trunk across from David. They let their hands cradle their head. “I mean, once word leaks out that you’ve gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then, it’s nothing but work work work all the time.”

“You mock his pain,” Babe groaned. “Disgusting.”

“Life is pain,” the pirate insisted hotly. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.” They pushed up from the ground, hovering close to David. “But, I can say that I remember this farmhand of yours, I think,” they said. “This would be, what, five years ago?” They crouched in front of a despondent David. “Does it bother you to hear?”

David looked off into the horizon. “Nothing you say can upset me.”

“They died well,” the pirate reported. “That should please you. No bribery attempts or blubbering. They simply said, ‘Please.’”

David’s stony face made way for one of tender grief.

The pirate continued. “‘Please, I need to live.’” They exhaled sharply. “It was the ‘please’ that caught my memory. So I asked them, what was so important that they needed to live? ‘True love. A mate bond,’ they replied. And then they spoke of a man who surpassed all others in looks, strength, and faithfulness. They praised your wolf form and your human form alike. I can only assume this person meant you.” The disguised pirate shook their head at David. “You should be on your knees thanking me for destroying your mate before they found out what you really are.”

David arose, his core simply aching against the magic muting cuffs so he could shift and show this despicable pirate the wolf Angel had so deeply cherished. “And what am I?”

“Faithfulness, your farmhand talked about, Highness. Your enduring faithfulness!” Their voice rose. “Now tell me truly, when you found out they were gone, did you get engaged to your princess the same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?”

Babe shuddered at the mere idea of that dark time in their cousin’s life.

“You mocked me once. Never do it again!” David threatened. “I died that day.”

Voices in the distance pulled the pirate’s attention towards a faraway hill. They twisted around to get a better look, back to David.

The magic-muting cuffs meant David couldn’t shift, but he sure as hell could still attack. “And you can die, too, for all I care.” He slammed his weight into the small human, pushing them down a steep, grassy hill.

The push took the human, usually so nimble and balanced, completely off-guard. They tumbled down the hill, a mess of limbs rolling and gaining speed, twisting and turning at unnatural angles all the while. “As… You… Wish!”

“Hey!” Babe yelped. “That’s what…”

“Angel, Angel!” David called in horror. “My Angel, what have I done?”

As they rolled down the hill, Angel’s black mask untied and blew away in the wind.

That was his Angel. Angel was alive! They were here with him. They were… a pirate now, which was not at all something he could’ve anticipated, but David didn’t care in the slightest. All he wanted was to hold them close and never let them out of his sight again. He began to sprint towards them, only to trip down the steep hill and roll after Angel.

The pair landed in a heap at the bottom of the hill together.

“Weren’t there just two other people there?” Alexis inquired of her advisor. “They disappeared!”

“Your Highness,” a guard called, spotting Babe atop a rock. “Look.” He identified them as David’s cousin. “Permission to retrieve them?”

“Granted,” Alexis responded without interest. Babe was, quite frankly, the least of her concerns, though she knew it was important to David that she accepted the unempowered human as family, so she pretended for the wolf’s benefit.

At least, for now.

“The rest of you, come with me to find David!” ordered the princess. “The kidnapper must have seen us closing in, causing them to panic and flee.”

Quinn nodded dutifully.

“Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong,” Alexis prefaced, “They are headed straight towards the Fire Swamp.”

Angel blinked owlishly against the bright sun, trying to discern if they had finally come to the bottom of the hill, or if they simply couldn’t sense their constant movement. They rubbed at their eyes, noticing the lack of their beloved black mask. The pirate attempted to collect their thoughts so they could figure out what to do next, but before they could move a muscle, David straddled them, one hand supporting their head and the other grabbing at their waist.

“Angel,” David fretted. “Angel, you’re alive!” He stared into those beautiful eyes he had seen every night in his dreams for the last five years. David hugged them close, relishing the way they clung to him. Their bodies fit together like they were made for each other.

“Oh, Davey.” Angel felt tears prick behind their eyes as they sunk into David’s hold. “I told you I’d always come for you,” they said, the hurt and betrayal that had festered in their heart for five years feeling as though David’s hold erased such pain. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

David sniffed. “Well, you were dead,” he said, trying to ignore the crack in his voice.

His logic amused Angel. “Death can’t stop a mate bond,” they admonished. “All it can do is delay it for a while.”

“I’ll never doubt again,” David promised, feeling his wolf jump and leap with joy as he gazed upon Angel.

“There will never be a need,” Angel finished, curling a fist into David’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Aww…” Caelum whined. “C’mon…” He took a bite of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Freelancer had made for him, careful not to let the grape jelly spurt out the side of the sandwich.

“What? What now?” Gavin grumbled, taking a sip of the latte Freelancer had just brewed. Even though the caffeine did nothing for Gavin, he savored the heat and subtle sweetness of the drink. “What’s the matter?”

Caelum sighed. “They’re kissing again.” He pointed to the open book resting across Gavin’s lap. “Do we have to hear the kissing parts? It’s boring.”

Gavin threw a glance at Freelancer. “Someday, you might not mind so much,” he advised the young daemon. Romance was a very specific emotional flavor that, Gavin knew, could sometimes be a bit of an acquired taste, but in time, it was something that most d(a)emons enjoyed. That was something especially unique to romantic love. It transcended so many emotional classifications that a variety of d(a)emons, no matter their specialty, were able to feed on it.

Though, to be fair, incubi did have a particularly natural tendency to prefer that emotion.

“Can you skip to the Fire Swamp?” Freelancer intervened, refilling Caelum’s cup with orange juice. “That part sounded exciting.”

Caelum took another bite of his sandwich. “Yeah!”

After draining his latte and placing it on the nightstand, Gavin said, “Alright, alright. You’re the one with M.D.S.. I’ll humor you.” He flipped a few pages forward, searching for the paragraph he wanted. “Okay, here we go. Angel and David raced along the ravine floor…”

“Ha!” Angel pointed towards the peak of the land where Alexis and her party were searching. “Your leech fiancée is too late!” they laughed. “A few more steps and we’ll be safe in the fire swamp.”

David’s face twisted. “I don’t think ‘safe’ is the correct word to use for people entering the Fire Swamp,” he protested, though he did follow Angel’s lead.

“Oh, please,” Angel teased. “You’re only saying that because no one who entered the swamp has survived.”

Chapter Text

The Fire Swamp was a dank and dreary place. As soon as David and Angel set foot into the area, it was as if the sun had been swallowed whole, leaving behind deep darkness in its absence. The dense vegetation was somehow thriving, thick weeds and branches hanging all over the path, tangled up in each other and covered in moss. A few unseen creatures groaned and shrieked in the distance.

David and Angel crept through the forest, David having taken the lead. It was the shifter instincts in him, and Angel didn’t protest. Shifters often insisted to lead the charge when it came to unexplored territory, driven by an innate sense of protection, especially when with a mate. This way, if anything dangerous were to jump out of them, at least David would be between the threat and Angel right from the start.

“It’s actually not bad,” Angel evaluated.

An owl-bat hybrid flew over their heads and let out a high-pitched scream.

David glared at them. “Still want to stick with that story?”

Angel shrugged. “Well, I’m not saying I want to build a summer home here or anything,” the pirate relented. “Just that the trees are kind of nice.”

David grunted, took Angel’s hand in his so he knew exactly where they were at all times, and continued through the Fire Swamp. Mindful of their step, they walked past the looming trees to stay on a winding pathway. The humidity felt as though it doubled in the matter of seconds.

“No further!” a strangled voice echoed through the air. “No further!”

Angel leaned closer to David. “Did you hear that?”

David had, of course. Just as he was about to shift, a great popping sound rang out and a zip of fire-elementalism rocketed through the air.

“Ah!” Angel cried, their loose shirt sleeve suddenly ablaze. “Ah, my arm!”

Before the fire could spread, David sprung into action. He remained in his human form, using his large palms to smother the fire. He gathered up the material of Angel’s sleeve to quell it, waiting out the burning heat without flinching to ensure that his mate was safe.

“I said, ‘no further!’” the voice asserted, clearly exasperated with the couple. “Idiots. I can’t control my fire. Not anymore. You’ve been warned. Keep going at your own stupid risk.”

“Don’t call them idiots,” the ground itself seemed to rumble. “They’re lost, Damien. How are they supposed to know what your cryptic messages mean?”

“They’re not cryptic!” Damien huffed. “They’re concise.”

Angel huddled close to David, shaking as they realized their arm was burned but still very much attached to their body. “Umm, hello?”

“You’re gonna give us away, Huxley!” Damien scolded in a hush. “Be quiet!”

Another flash of fire erupted through the first, but this time, David was ready for it. He plucked Angel up from where they stood, hoisted them into the air, and deposited them to his other side so that the fire missed Angel entirely.

“Me?” Huxley countered, voice deep and echoing. “Sure. You’re the one who set one of them on fire, but it’s my fault we were discovered.”

Angel searched in vain for the speakers. “Well, we can’t go back, no matter what the disembodied voice of the fire says,” they gathered. “Onward.”

So, the pair continued their harrowing journey through the Fire Swamp.

“Soon, we’ll laugh about this day,” Angel optimistically predicted. “It’ll be a happy memory. Because, the Keaton ship, Revenge, is waiting for us on the other side. And I, as you know, am Keaton,” they grinned.

“But, how’s that possible?” asked David. “Keaton has been marauding for at least twenty years. You left me only five years ago.” He ripped a low-hanging vine out of their pathway.

“Aren’t life’s little quirks just the best?” Angel hopped over a protruding tree root. “What I told you before about saying ‘please’ was true. It intrigued Keaton, as did my description of you. Finally, Keaton decided something and told me, ‘Alright, Troublemaker. I’ve never had a valet. We can try it for the day. I’ll most likely kill you by nightfall.’” They shrugged. “For three years, that was our arrangement. And every night, like clockwork, Keaton would tell me, ‘Goodnight, Troublemaker. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’”

“I can’t believe it,” said David.

“It was stressful,” Angel acknowledged. “But, overall, I had a decent time of it. I was learning to fence and to fight. I studied history and poetry. Anything that the crew was willing to teach me, I was willing to learn,” the human explained. “Keaton and I eventually became friends. And then it happened.”

“What?” David put a hand at the small of Angel’s back to steady them as they walked over an uneven patch of ground. “What happened?”

“Keaton had grown so rich, all that was left to do was retire,” Angel narrated. “So I was summoned to the cabin, and that’s when he told me, ‘I am not the Dread Pirate Keaton. My name is Gregory. I inherited this ship from the previous Dread Pirate Keaton, just as you will inherit it from me. And the person I inherited it from was not the real Dread Pirate Keaton, either. Her name was Elena. The real Keaton has been retired for at least fifteen years, living like royalty in Feris.’”

David tried to wrap his head around the bombshell of information Angel dropped on him.

“Then Gregory explained to me that it’s the name that’s the important thing,” continued Angel. “It’s the Keaton name and reputation that inspires the necessary fear.”

David scoffed. “I don’t suppose anyone would surrender to the Dread Pirate Angel.”

Angel gave an indignant harumph. “So, then we sailed ashore and took on an entirely new crew. Gregory stayed aboard for a while as first mate, always calling me, ‘Keaton.’ Once the crew believed, Gregory left the ship. And I’ve been Keaton ever since.” Angel halted. “Except, now that I’ve found you, I will retire and hand the name over to someone else. We can be together forever. Go anyway you want to go. Do anything you want to do.”

David wished it could’ve been that easy. Maybe it could be just that easy? They’d escape Alexis, flee Dahlia, and start a new life together. He’d make sure to send money to take care of his cousin. Was this going to be the triumphant end of their story? That they would sail off into the sunset together and make up for the lost time that had been so cruelly stolen away?

Just as David started to believe that he and Angel could make that dream a reality, the human took a big step forward and gasped when their foot didn’t hit solid ground. Instead, the ground seemed to suck them into its depths. Angel instantly sunk into the sandy ground, not a trace of them left.

David froze, fighting every instinct he had to dive in after Angel. He knew that if he jumped in after them without a plan, he’d never be able to pull them back out of the ground.

“Oh, man!” the booming voice returned, earth shaking with each sound. “I really thought I had it under control this time.”

“Yeah, well, that’s an elementalism curse for you,” the fire-voice said.

David used his strength to yank off a long vine from a nearby tree branch. He secured the vine in one clenched fist, took a breath, and dove into the sand head first.

“He’s going in after them,” Huxley realized. ”Aww, that’s sweet. I hope I don’t accidentally suffocate them. That'd be a real bummer.”

Everything was eerily quiet. The only signal that two humans were trapped within the ground was the occasional pull at the vine David held onto while under the dirt.

Meanwhile, a sleepwalking figure stumbled around the area. His eyes were barely open and his short arms stretched out in front of him like a half-awake zombie. His feet shuffled and scuffled along the floor. The slumpy man stopped at the edge of the lighting sand for a minute, as if sensing the life beneath the surface, and then he continued on his way.

Suddenly, a large, beefy hand arose from the sand and grabbed the vine. David and Angel emerged from the pit, gasping and coughing as the wolf pulled them up to safety. The couple was covered in sand and completely disheveled. They flopped onto their backs as soon as they crawled to solid ground, guzzling air as quickly as they could. It only took a minute for Angel and David to find each other in another tight hug.

“He saved them!” Huxley boomed. “Aww, that’s awesome.” The whole forest shook, almost like it was doing a celebratory dance. “Good job, dudes!”

David and Angel searched for the source of the voice, but still stayed glued to each other on the ground.

“Is it?” Damien lamented sadly. “C’mon, Hux. You know the survival odds of people who poke around here. Zero.” Both David and Angel noticed the dirt surrounding them warmed, nearly bubbling with heat as he spoke. “And you know the strength of Alexis’s curse on us.”

“Alexis?” David asked. “Princess Alexis Getty Solaire of Dahlia?” He straightened into a sitting position, pulling Angel onto his lap as they caught their breath. “She cursed you?” He squirted. “And who are you? Show yourselves!”

“Don’t tell them,” Damien cautioned.

“They seem trustworthy. And besides, they’ve gotten this far and still are sticking together. That’s true love. And you know I’m a sucker for true love, Dames.” The leaves on the trees rumbled. “I’m gonna tell them,” Huxley decided, whimsy clear in his deep voice. “We used to be scholars of elemental magic. We served the royal family of Dahlia, to make sure that elemental citizens were governed and taken care of properly, despite the ruling family being made up of vampires.”

“Until Princess Alexis decided she didn’t have a use for us anymore,” Damien cut in. “As she prepares to take the throne, she decided to empty her court of non-vampires, or so she claimed. What she meant was that she decided to empty her court of anyone who might argue with her.”

“I thought you weren’t gonna tell them,” Huxley playfully mocked. “When we tried to resist and appeal to King William, Alexis cursed us to take these forms. And it’s hard to keep control over our magic when we’re like this. We try, but…”

As if cued, the earth rumbled and a bit of fire popped up from the ground.

“I had no idea Alexis had removed you or anyone else from her court,” David gaped. He looked around the forest with newfound admiration. It wasn’t the death-trap he had presumed it to be. It was a testament to Damien’s and Huxley’s efforts to contain their unwarranted punishment to themselves. The wolf took Angel’s hands in his, interweaving their fingers together as he stood and took his mate along with him.

Angel swayed a bit, leaning on David until they felt strong enough to stand on their own.

“We isolate here together as the Fire Swamp to manage the damage,” Damien finished. “We’ve given up hope Alexis will break the curse, and we’re certainly in no shape to advocate for that like this. No doubt Alexis told some lie to explain our absences anyway.” Smoke wafted up from a pile of brown leaves. ”We try our best to keep people away. To protect people.”

“It doesn't always work,” Huxley finished sadly.

“Alexis did this to you.” David’s brows pulled into a tense, taut line. “I knew she had a vindictive streak, but to be so cruel…”

Angel, too, felt a deep sadness upon hearing the elementals’ confession. “So you’re here all alone?”

“Not alone,” Damien corrected. “We have each other.”

“Forever and ever,” Huxley added. “And, occasionally, the C.U.N.T.s wander in and out, looking for a meal or a place to craft a dreamscape.”

“One has territory in here,” Damien noted with annoyance. “Pest.”

Huxley supplied, “We call him Blake. Their magic insulates them from ours, so we don’t mess with C.U.N.T.s.”

“Creatures of Ultra Nightmares and Terrors?” Angel deciphered skeptically. “I thought they didn’t exist.”

As if on cue, the creature leapt out from a bush and tackled Angel to the ground, groaning and grunting as he fought to put his clawed, sweaty hands upon Angel’s temple. As soon as he made contact with them, Angel suddenly stopped fighting and began screaming in pure, abject terror. “No, David!” they cried, eyes seeing whatever nightmare Blake was conjuring in their mind. C.U.N.T.s were notorious for their ability to subject a victim to their very worst fears. “David! Come back! Please!” The C.U.N.T. struggled to keep his hands on Angel as he closed his eyes and made a pleased chuffing noise, no doubt twisting Angel’s imagination into something even worse, even as tears of fear and despair began to cascade down their sand-caked cheeks. “No, no, no! I’m sorry. Please, David!”

To hear Angel desperately call out for him was almost more than the shifter could bear. David immediately shifted in his wolf form. He let out a great, bellowing growl and pounced on Blake, teeth sinking into the creature’s flesh. It was rare that David ever allowed himself to indulge in such violence, but when it came to protecting his mate, this C.U.N.T., had no idea of the torture that awaited. Blake fought valiantly, clawing at David with intense desperation, scratching his face and leaving a trail of blood across David’s snout, snarling and screeching.

But it was no use.

David rolled over and over, feeling Blake’s bones splinter and crack as he pressed his weight into the hysterical creature. The wolf took another bite into Blake, this time aiming for the C.U.N.T.’s neck. Blood spurted along the ground and into David’s mouth, but that metallic taste didn’t deter David. Instead, it only fueled him. As Blake’s frenzied movements weakened, David lifted him into the air and dragged him back and forth like a chew toy. Blake let out a pitiful cry of pain each time he was dragged along, which only intensified David’s fury. It was only when the creature grew quiet and its battered body flopped around without resistance did David drop the C.U.N.T.’s dead remains onto the ground.

“Apparently their magic isn’t resistant to wolf attacks,” Damien observed.

David shifted back into his human form, wincing as his own wounds stretched and contracted under the process. He darted over to Angel, who was kneeling and breathing heavily, trying to figure out what was reality and what had been a terrifying nightmare.

“Angel!” David hurried over to them. “Angel, hey, I’m right here. Right here with you.” He checked them over for any injuries, pleased to find that although they were roughed up, nothing looked bruised, broken, or bloody. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. Everything’s okay.”

“A dream? Oh… A dream.” Angel nodded, burying their face into David’s chest as they tried to regain their composure. “Just a dream. But it was a really bad dream.”

A comforting, rumbling warmth surrounded David and Angel as they tried to erase the harrowing ordeal with the embrace. Next to their feet, a lone rose bloomed and a bit of steam released from its petals.

“Guess we still have some control over our magic," said Huxley.

“Guess so," answered Damien. ”You’re almost through the Fire Swamp,” he told David and Angel. “Keep going, keep looking out for each other, keep loving each other, and you’ll make it out safely. Of this and any other obstacle you face.”

Hand in hand, David and Angel said goodbye to their cursed elemental friends and continued to walk through the Fire Swamp.

“We did it!” Angel beamed as the vegetation thinned enough for the skylight to return. “Now, was that so terrible?”

“Menace…” David grumbled. He leaned forward, about to take them into a kiss.

Before his lips could reach theirs, however, a whoosh of air ripped through the forest, kicking up the foliage underneath their feet.

Then another.

And another.

And more, all circling the pair.

Chapter Text

David shifted, curling his large tail around Angel as he struggled to track each unknown figure. Angel drew their sword, moving in tandem with David to protect him, too.

Alexis stepped into their view, motioning for the rest of the vampires to let themselves be known. “Surrender!” she ordered.

Angel grinned. “You mean you wish to surrender to us?” they asked innocently. “Very well. We accept.”

The princess let out an ear-piercing laugh. “I give you full marks for bravery,” she complimented in that condescending tone with which David was all too familiar. “Don’t make yourself a fool.”

“I’d offer you the same advice, but it’s too late for that,” Angel jeered, leaning on their impulse to talk until they formulated a plan. “How do you propose to catch us, Your Highness? We know the secrets of the Fire Swamp, all the secrets, and we could happily live there for the rest of our lives!” Angel fibbed. They wished they could've called out her abusive curse on Damien and Huxley, but Angel knew now was not the ideal time. “So whenever you feel like dying again, I suggest you drop by for a visit.”

David was only half-listening to Angel’s prattling. He was too busy noticing the vampires that were stationed on either side of him and Angel. The wolf didn’t like the way their muscles twitched and jerked involuntarily. Their fangs were dropped and their eyes were beet-red.

These vampires were hungry. Maybe even newborns in the midst of bloodlust. And Angel’s blood was on their menu.

“I’ll tell you once again, human,” Alexis said, raising her voice. “Surrender!”

Angel shook their head. “Will not happen.”

David watched as the vampires-in-waiting inched closer to his mate, licking their lips.

Fed up with their insolence, Alexis let her own fangs drop. “For the last time,” she demanded. “Surrender to me!”

“Death first!” Angel snarled.

David watched in horror as the vampires readied themselves to attack.

There was no way he could protect Angel from that many vampires, especially with how exhausted both he and Angel were after their journey. David had promised to do anything and everything in his power to protect Angel. And that is why, despite the pain it caused him, David let out a warbling howl to silence the princess and his mate. He shifted back into a human, all his defiance draining away as he forced himself to say the one thing that might save Angel from certain death.

“Will you promise not to hurt them?” David said, the stoicism in his words betraying the emotional turmoil coursing through his core.

Alexis gave him a quizzical look. “What was that?”

Angel whipped around to face David. “What was that?”

“If we surrender,” David offered, “And I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this person?”

Alexis and Quinn blinked in confusion.

“May I live a thousand centuries and never feed again,” Alexis quickly agreed.

“They’re a sailor on the pirate ship Revenge,” David explained, not swayed by Alexis’s grandiose vows. “Promise to return them to their ship.”

Alexis gave a stern, professional nod. “I swear, it will be done.” She gestured at two of the vampires to collect Angel peacefully. She used their loud footfalls to disguise her voice, telling Quinn, “Once we’re out of sight, take them back to Dahlia and throw them in the Pit of Despair.”

Quinn suppressed a cackle. “I swear, it will be done,” he echoed under his breath.

David took Angel’s shoulder’s in his hands. “Angel, please, you have to understand,” he said. “I thought you were dead once. And it almost destroyed me. I will not stand by and let you die again. Not when I could’ve saved you.”

“Well, now, say ta-ta to your little pirate friend,” Alexis chirped. She pulled David away from Angel and sped away with her vampire speed, leaving Angel to their fate.

They didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Come, human.” Quinn extended a bony hand. “We must get you back to your ship.”

Angel scoffed. “We’re people of action,” they surmised, looking directly into the silver eyes of the old-blood advisor. “Lies do not become us.” Angel did not take Quinn’s hand.

“Well-spoken.” Quinn let his hand drop to his side and attempted a friendly, feigned smile.

That’s when Angel noticed that Quinn had an extra canine tooth on his top right gum line.

“What is it?” Quinn asked, unnerved by Angel’s stare.

“You got an extra chomper there,” Angel replied, tapping on their own mouth. “I know a guy who’s looking for you.”

Quinn’s punch to their jaw sent Angel into unconsciousness.

He unceremoniously tossed them across his back. “You’ll be lucky if you have any teeth when I’m finished with you, human.”

Angel became aware of the feeling of wind gently blowing across their face. They sighed contentedly, letting their head roll towards the pleasant sensation. Their nose twitched. They had expected to take in the scent of a spring day, but instead, they inhaled musty wood and the faintest residue of blood. Angel’s eyes popped open, and they realized they were lying on their back, staring at the rock ceiling of an unfamiliar place.

Angel tried to sit up, only to discover that their wrists and ankles were tightly bound to the table. A zap of healing magic surged through their burned arm. They yelped and attempted to jerk backwards, coming face to face with an air-elemental.

“Who are you?” Angel asked. “Where am I?”

“L-L-L-Lasko,” the air-elemental answered, voice tinny and crackled. “This is th-th-the P-P-Pit of De-De-De-Despair. D-D-Don’t even th-th-think-k-k-k ab-” Suddenly, he coughed violently, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. He cleared his throat, sounding as though he was hacking up a lung. “Don’t even think about trying to es-es-escape.”

Angel felt their blood run cold at the notion of being held in somewhere called the Pit of Despair.

“The ch-chains,” Lasko continued to explain, hooking a finger into Angel’s bindings. “F-Far too thick. No h-h-hope of rescue either. The only w-w-w-ay in is secret,” he warned sadly, hating how practiced this very speech was for him. “Only the princess, the c-c-count, and I know how to get in and ou-ou-out.”

Angel frowned. “So, I’m here until I die?”

“Until they k-k-kill you,” Lasko corrected. He bent over Angel and inspected their burns. “You’re healing nicely,” he complimented, as if it were due to some skill on Angel’s part, rather than the healing magic he had methodically infused into their injured body.

“Why bother healing me?” the pirate asked. “If I’m just going to die anyway. Isn’t this… wasted effort?”

“Princess Alexis and Count Fox always insist on everyone being healthy before they’re broken,” he reported sadly. The air-elemental pointed over to the corner of the dungeon. “S-S-See?”

Angel had to tip their head at an unnatural angle to see the subject of his gesture.

There, in the corner, Angel realized, sat Babe. The human didn’t say a word. They were in a rigid posture, as if someone had instructed them to do their best to mimic a T-Square. They look exhausted and dirty, but Angel was much more concerned about the unnatural way Babe stared straight ahead and didn’t react to anything.

“The Count tranced them,” Lasko supplied. “A very common punishment for prisoners who talk back. And there’s m-m-more to come for them.” He shuddered at the thought. “Always more. Always worse. M-m-more and w-w-w-worse.”

Comprehension fell over Angel, and their stomach tightened. “So it’s to be torture for us all here.”

Lasko nodded vigorously.

“I can cope with torture,” Angel declared.

This time, Lasko furiously shook his head.

Angel’s lip curled. “Don’t believe me?” they challenged.

“Uh…” Lasko stuttered. “I d-d-don’t know. You s-s-survived the Fire Swamp, so you must b-be very br-brave.” A great, powerful exhale escaped Lasko’s lips. “But nobody withstands the Machine.”

David trudged through the halls of the castle, head down and pace slow. He had been thoroughly healed, cleaned, and dressed after what Alexis deemed his, “great kidnapping adventure.” But he looked far, far more uncomfortable in the lavish trappings of palace life than he ever experienced being hauled up the Cliffs of Insanity or tumbling down the mountain at the mouth of the Fire Swamp. The wolf refrained from his daily hunts, the activity unbearable now that Alexis required guards to accompany David any time he set foot outside and due to Babe’s absence. According to Alexis, Babe had fallen ill upon their rescue, and they had been transported to the physician’s office, where they were under strict quarantine measures. No one, not even David, was allowed to visit them.

David paced across the hall, not bothering to acknowledge either Quinn or Alexis as they approached from a connecting hallway. What did courtesy or courtly manners matter?

His father was long dead. His cousin was gravely ill. And his mate was gone again.

“He’s been like that ever since the rescue,” Alexis lamented of her betrothed. “It must be William’s failing health that’s upsetting him.”

“His Majesty’s health,” Quinn answered dutifully, not believing the preposterous lie for a minute. “Yes, of course.”

David Shaw might have been blissfully unaware of the Pit of Despair, but he, too, being tortured and broken at the hands of the very same people who kept Angel and Babe captive.

Chapter Text

Gavin turned the page. ”The King died that very night.”

Caelum gasped. “No!”

”And,” Gavin continued, “Before the following dawn, Alexis and David were married.”

“Oh no!” Caelum yelped. “No, no! Gavin, you read that wrong. They can’t be married. What about Angel? What about the mate bond? What about Asher and Milo and Sweetheart?”

Gavin was about to tell Caelum to be patient, but before he could, his own partner’s voice interjected. “And Damien and Huxley?” they added.

“David doesn’t marry Alexis,” Caelum corrected. “He marries Angel. I’m just sure of it!” he insisted. “After all they did for each other, if they couldn’t be together, it wouldn’t be fair.”

Rather than join forces with Caelum as they had been doing, Freelancer offered him the tender understanding that simply radiated from their aura. “Caleum,” they said. “Sometimes, stories, just like in life, don’t work out fairly.”

“There’s no rule that says life is fair,” Gavin added. It was a hard lesson for a young daemon such as Caelum, but Gavin knew it was important to take the opportunity to affirm that very truth to prepare Caelum for the part of his life that took place on Elegy.

Caelum did not relent. “I’m telling you. You’re messing up the story! So, get it right!”

Gavin showed no surprise at the outburst. “Do you want me to go on with this or not?” After all, M.D.S. was a difficult condition. For d(a)emonic kind especially, sometimes heightened emotions were a symptom. Apparently, Caelum exhibited just such symptoms. That fact only served to confirm for Gavin that reading this story was beneficial for the young empathy-daemon.

Just as quickly as his emotional eruption had occurred, it ended. “Yes,” Caelum answered sheepishly.

“You’re not wrong to have questions, though, little buddy,” Gavin consoled. “So keep them in your head as I read. Maybe those questions will be answered if you just let me read the story,” Gavin suggested. He rapt a knuckle on the book. “Now, no more interruptions… ’At noon, Alexis met her subjects again, this time as their Queen.’ ”

Alexis, complete with a very thick, very bedazzled, very ostentatious crown, addressed the crowd of her clamoring subjects. “My maker’s final words were, ‘Love Dahlia as I did,’” Alexis proclaimed. “‘And there will be joy.’ And today, there is joy despite out loss.” Alexis stretched out an arm. “I present to you your queen's new husband: Prince-Consort David!”

A great fanfare rang out as David stepped into sight, looking very much like the royalty Alexis declared him to be. He was draped in the finest robes money could buy, purple and gold adorning his body. A thin band of gold encircled his head, leaving behind an indentation on his skin.

The citizens of Dahlia bent low and averted their gazes as David stepped forth. No one dared to disrespect the husband of Queen Alexis.

No one, except for one proud inchoate demon who stood up straight, raised his chin high, and moved to the front of the crowd. “Boo! Boo! Boo!” he called, disgust evident in his voice. He was dressed in rags, hair a disheveled mess, and his expression one of complete disgust.

Aghast, David pinned the demon with his gaze. “Who are you? Why do you do this?”

“My name is Avior,” he answered. “But my name is irrelevant to you, Your Majesty.” The title dripped with sarcasm. “I boo you because it is what you deserve.” Avior stretched out his fingers in sheer desperation. “You had love in your hands!” he cried. “And you gave it up like it was nothing!”

David growled, hating how true Avior’s words were. “Those vampires would’ve killed Angel if I hadn’t done it,” he defended, not bothering to question how this ragamuffin inchoate could know such details.

“Your mate lives!” Avior yelled. “Your mate lives, and yet you marry another.” He turned to Alexis’s balcony and spit. The inchoate faced the crowd, jumping up and down. “True love saved them both in the Fire Swamp, and now he treats it like garbage. And that’s what he is!”

David stood stoically against the onslaught of Avior’s accusations.

“The King of Refuse!” Avior termed. “So go on. Bow down to him, if you want. Bow to him. Bow down to the King of Filth! The King of Dirt! The King of Putrescence.” Avior’s face curled and twisted into a scowl. “Boo! Boo!” he resumed, moving towards David.

David felt as though he was glued in place. The whole crowd seemed to dissipate into thin air.

“Rubbish! Dreck! Sewage! Muck! Grime!”

All David could see and hear was Avior.

“Boo! Boo! Booooooooooooo!”

David bolted upright from his bed in a cold sweat.

“It was ten days until the wedding,” Gavin read. “King William still lived. And David’s nightmares were growing steadily worse.”

“Aha!” Caelum triumphantly clapped. “See? Didn’t I tell you that David would never marry that rotten Alexis?”

“Mhmm, yes,” agreed Gavin, rapidly losing grip on his patience. “You’re very smart. Now shut up.”

David strode with purpose as he approached Alexis in her study, ignoring her request that he leave her be when she was attending to political matters she claimed were beyond David’s common shifter understanding. She and Quinn noisily sipped blood from their goblets. Alexis was leaning back in their chairs with her feet stretched out on the edge of the desk while Quinn perched himself in a large, comfortable chair. There were a few scant documents splayed out on the desk, though clearly neither were paying much attention to whatever the documents said.

“It comes to this,” David said, leaving no room for interruption. “I love my mate. I always have and I always will. That is what it means to enter a mate bond.” He rested fists on Alexis’s desk opposite her. “So if you tell me I must marry you in ten days, please believe me when I say that I will shift into my wolf form and live as a wolf in the wilderness for the rest of my days.”

Alexis placed her feet on the floor and placed her drink on her desk. “I would never do anything to cause you grief, David,” she claimed with saccharine condescension. “Consider our wedding off.”

Quinn nearly choked on his drink.

Alexis turned to her advisor. “Have you returned this… angelic so-called ‘mate…’” She used air quotations with the term. “... back to their ship?”

“Yes,” Quinn replied.

“Then, we’ll simply have to alert them,” Alexis resolved. “But, Beloved…”

David’s spine tingled whenever she called him that. It was so hollow, so empty, so meaningless. David ached to hear Angel call him “Davey,” even just one more time.

“Are you certain that the pirate still wants you?” she asked, hoping her question might make the wolf hesitate. When it came to her own interests, the vampire was a master at nurturing even the smallest seed of doubt into a ripe, blooming flower of insecurity that she could twist into anything she wanted. “After all, it was you who did the leaving in the Fire Swamp. You made that quite clear to us all.”

Shame and regret burned through David’s gut. His only aim had been to save Angel from certain death, not reject them. He replayed the memory of the Fire Swamp confrontation in his mind, but it was hard for him to gauge Angel’s perspective on the situation. It was no secret David struggled with emotional expression, more so after the death of his father. He sought practicality and logic, finding those qualities to be much more telling than emotional intuition.

“Not to mention,” Quinn added, “Pirates are not known for their trustworthiness.”

“We are mated,” David insisted. “And that means we belong together. Period.”

Alexis linked her arms behind her back and paced around David. “Hmm, what to do? What to do?” she murmured to herself. “Ah, I’ve got it!” She clapped gleefully, as if to offer herself a small round of applause. David, you will write four copies of a letter. I’ll send my four fastest ships, one in each direction. The Dread Pirate Keaton is always close to Dahlia this time of year. We will run up the white flag and deliver your message.” Alexis wiggled her head, apparently pleased with her ingenuity. “If your mate wants you, so it will be.” She took David’s hand in hers. “But, if not.” She kissed the back of David’s palm, letting her tongue linger for a bit longer on his skin. “Please do consider me as an alternative to feral living.”

Little did Alexis know that David had already made that consideration, and he had made his decision regarding such a choice.

Chapter Text

Far away from prying eyes of the court, Alexis and Quinn marched through the forest, taking a path they had so frequently taken together.

“Your shifter is really quite a winning creature,” Quinn noted. “A trifle grumpy, perhaps. But his appeal is undeniable.”

“I know,” Alexis boasted. “The people are quite taken with him.” She giggled. “Insipid fools. The whole lot of them.” The princess kicked at a rock near her feet for no other reason than she was capable of doing so. “You know, it’s funny. When David was initially kidnapped, I was so put out. After all, I had selected him purely for the optics of it.” She scoffed. “How in the world could anyone claim I would not rule with the citizens’ best interests in mind after I marry one of them?”

“And a mutt, no less,” Quinn agreed as the pair came up to a large tree. “Oh, it was a perfect plan, Your Highness. As soon as you say, ‘I do,’ you’ll be in their perfect position to take the throne and mold Dahlia to match our vision.”

Quinn and Alexis had spoken at length about that vision. It included citizens being used to provide the royal family with an endless blood supply, no matter what. It included government take-overs of every business and institution, replacing citizens in any sort of leadership positions with state-approved, and thus state-loyal, vampires. It included anyone who would like to hold such a job to be turned into a vampire, and, by extension, be bound by an invocation of obedience.

Alexis straightened her tiara. “Yes, yes, it was. But now, I’ve come up with a new, even more perfect plan,” she revealed with excitement. “If David thinks I am so inferior to his precious little mate, then so be it. He’s nothing but a mongrel anyway. It’s going to be so much more moving when I slaughter him on our wedding night. His body will be nothing but a mangled, bloody corpse. It will be easy to claim he shifted and attacked me. Giving into his beastly instincts and all that nonsense.” She parroted the stereotypes with gross indifference. “The whole nation will be simply outraged. And we can seize that outrage into demanding all shifters be put under a trance for the protection of everyone else. The people will practically demand it. We’ll certainly claim the trance will not be overly authoritative…”

“You?” Quinn grinned. “Overly authoritative? Perish the thought.”

“Total shifter submission will be the first step in making our dream a reality, Quinn,” Alexis predicted. “Ah, and what a glorious reality it will be, when Dahlia is nothing more than an endless supply of blood and labor for us.” She cackled at the thought. “And people will be so deeply enthralled, they won't even realize what's happened.”

“Wonderful, Your Highness. Simply wonderful,” Quinn said over his shoulder. Quinn faced the large tree, examining the knotty bark carefully. “Now, where is that secret knot?” he muttered to himself. “It’s impossible to find.” After a few tentative presses, Quinn finally found the correct tree knot. “Ah!” When he pushed on it, the trunk of the tree slid away, revealing a passageway and a flight of stairs going underground. “Are you coming down into the Pit?” he invited. “I'm starting the pirate, or should I call them, as your groom-to-be does in his nightmares, ‘Angel,’ on the Machine today.”

Alexis stamped her foot. “You know how much I love watching you work, but I can’t,” she pouted. “I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my husband to murder, and an attack on my life to fabricate.” She threw her hands into the air. “I’m simply too overwhelmed to have any fun.”

“It is my official recommendation that you get some rest, Your Highness,” Quinn suggested, his extra tooth showing through his smile. “If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”

After double-checking that Angel was properly bound to the table and the machine’s clamps were hooked up to their body, Lasko rolled Angel over to the large contraption. It was the size of a small room, full of gears, wires, and pulleys. Angel could see that the clamps connected to their head, neck, chest, thighs, feet, and hands, all tracked back, one way or another, to the Machine.

Quinn gazed with awe at his invention. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he marveled, using the triangular dagger that he always carried to point to each component of the contraption. “It took me decades to design, and more decades to build.” He looked at Angel hungrily. “I’m sure by now you’ve discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain. In fact, I’m currently writing what I hope will be the definitive work on the subject.”

Angel suppressed a shudder at the thought. There was something deeply unsettling about someone as unhinged as Quinn being qualified and capable of writing a dissertation on pain, especially if he was going to use them as part of his research.

“And so,” said Quinn, “I implore you to be totally honest about how the Machine makes you feel.”

All Angel could do was glare daggers at Quinn, though they presumed he could read their expression. They would refuse to give Quinn the satisfaction of a reaction from his precious Machine.

“This being our first try, I’ll use the lowest setting,” Quinn explained. He raised a lever on a scale that ranged from one to fifty. True to his word, the arrow on the lever pointed to the “one” line. A bit of magic sparked from his fingertips to trip the Machine.

The Machine groaned with life, magic rushing through the tubes and wires, pushed along by hydroforce and gravity, the energy changed and grew, causing steam to discharge from the device. The great wheel of the Machine turned, picking up velocity until it spun so fast that Angel’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the movement.

That was when the pain hit Angel.

They tensed instinctively, their brain barely able to register all the different ways their body suddenly hurt. Their muscles burned. Their joints stretched. Their head pounded. Throughout their body, cramps exploded and erupted. Angel struggled against their restraints, violently trying to escape the Machine, but the bindings kept them firmly in place.

And the pain only grew worse for Angel. They felt as though something was piercing through each eye and ear, all while a great, gargantuan force crushed them. Angel tried to cry out, but even the action of trying to speak made them feel as though they were swallowing glass. They shook and seized, completely unable to control their body’s reaction to the torture.

Quinn watched with rapt attention.

Lasko flinched and turned away.

As previously instructed, Babe knelt in the corner, stayed completely still, and watched.

Angel moaned, dizzy and dazed as ultimate pain filled their every sense.

After a few more minutes, though it seemed like hours to Angel, Quinn carefully returned the lever to the “off” position. As quickly as it had animated, the Machine slowed and then stopped, leaving Angel in the wake of its effects.

“Did you notice the suction action?” Quinn asked, tone obscenely conversational. “The concept is centuries old, but I’ve redirected its purpose. That’s all this is. You see, instead of sucking water or, my favorite, blood, my Machine sucks life.”

Angel’s muscles twitched and shook as they struggled to process Quinn’s words. The Machine was off, but every nerve ending of their body was on and had one clear message for Angel: pain.

“This is a simplistic reduction of the mathematical equations imbued in my Machine, but in short, I’ve just sucked one year of your life away,” Quinn revealed.

Angel panted feebly, trying to catch their breath and wondering when had breathing become so difficult.

“One day I might go as high as five on my scale,” he droned. “Perhaps ten for an empowered human, though such a project is quite beyond the scope of my current interests.” He summoned his notebook and a quill pen. “But, let’s just start with what we have.” He leaned forward, ready to document the data. “What did this do to you?” Quinn asked. “And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.”

His prompt hung in the air for a moment, but then, just as every other victim always did, Angel mustered up an answer.

They cried.

They didn’t even try to stop their pitiful sobs. There was no point. No reason to be strong, not anymore. Angel was exhausted. They were scared. Everything hurt. They wanted David. They wanted to leave this awful place and go home, or at least go back on their ship. They felt powerless, completely at the mercy of a pain-obsessed murderer with no hope of rescue. Their entire body hurt in a way they couldn’t have imagined.

And so, with nothing else to do or to say, Angel cried. It was an eerie, strangled sound.

“Interesting,” Quinn remarked, notating that in his parchment notebook.

Sergeant Kody shifted his weight from foot to foot as he shrunk under Princess Alexis’s gaze. She pointed for him to approach. He hastened to her side, dropping to one knee. Kody reached out to steady himself, his elbow finding the armrest of Alexis’s chair so that he wouldn’t topple over onto the floor.

Alexis cleared her throat. Kody instantly retracted his arm. “A thousand pardons, Your Highness.”

“Yes, I should think so.” Alexis dragged her long, polished fingernails across the armrest. “Now then. As my Chief Enforcer, I am going to trust you with this secret.” She leaned in close and whispered in the water-elemental's ear. “Something is amiss with my groom. Nightmares plague him endlessly. It is beginning to affect his disposition and his senses, I’m afraid. My heart aches for my poor love.” She let her lower lip quiver. “I fear his nightmares are the product of malicious actors aiming to manipulate him and infiltrate our family. To drive poor David insane. I cannot tell if it is dreamwalkers or telepaths behind this attack. Perhaps d(a)emons… Truly, it could be anyone.” she huffed. “I cannot allow this danger to David's psyche to exist, especially on our wedding night.”

Kody blinked in consternation. “My spy network has heard of no such news or plan.”

David entered without knocking, as was his wont lately. “Any news from the Dread Pirate Keaton?” he asked. He posed that same question to Alexis every day, multiple times a day.

“It’s too soon to expect an answer, Beloved,” she tutted. “Patience.”

Face unreadable, David shut the door. “They will come for me,” he said to himself.

Alexis scowled. “He will not be plagued with these attacks any longer, Kody!” She pounded a fist on the oak table beside her. “On the day of the wedding, I want the Thieves' Forest emptied. Every inhabitant arrested. I don’t know who is bothering David, but they must be stopped, and that is the most certain way to do so.”

Kody bit back a whine. “Many of the thieves will resist. My regular forces are not adequate to perform that task.”

“So form a brute squad then!” Alexis barked. “I want the Thieves’ Forest emptied before I wed. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Kody acquiesced. “Yes, of course, Your Highness.” Although he was on his knees, the sudden impulse to bow his head came over Kody, so he did. “It won’t be easy.”

Alexis scoffed. “Try ruling the world sometime, and then tell me about ‘easy.’” She flicked her wrist. “Dismissed.”

With one last deep bow that nearly had his head connecting with the floor, Kody scurried away.

“Yes, yes,” the vampire nodded, struck at how clever she was. “That should keep the guards quite busy on our honeymoon night. So busy, there won’t be anyone left to disturb the newlyweds…”

Chapter Text

“The day of the wedding arrived,” Gavin read. “And the Brute Squad had their hands full carrying out Alexis’s orders. For the first time in a long time, Kody was right. Emptying the Thieves' Forest was a tall, difficult order. The area was crawling with thieves, vagabonds, and criminals of all kinds. Magical and not. Human and not. Kody’s forces descended upon the space that was once a sanctuary, rounding up everyone and anyone without question.”

“Is everyone out, Adam?” Kody asked, safe from his seat atop a wagon full of captured prisoners.

“Almost, sir,” his assistant answered with a salute. “But there’s a shifter giving us some trouble.”

Kody rolled his eyes. “Well, you give him some ‘trouble,’” he advised. His wispy mustache wilted. “Move,” he ordered his driver.

Deep in the center of Thieves' Forest, a large wolf with a mottled-color coat sat on his hind legs. His huge paws waved in the air, like he was begging some invisible figure for praise or a treat. But no such reinforcement came. He was completely alone. His long tongue drooped out of the side of his mouth, a stark contrast of docility against the razor-sharp teeth that peeped out from his muzzle. When it became clear that no one wanted him to beg, the wolf tried another trick, this one sure to make his unseen master happy. He rolled over in the dirt, high-pitched whines utterly pleading for even the slightest bit of approval from some sort of authority.

“Ho there!” Adam called.

Startled, the wolf suddenly bared his teeth and growled. He snapped his teeth, crouching to prepare himself to spring into an attack.

“Princess Alexis gave orders,” the guard demanded.

The wolf leapt at the guard. sinking his claws into Adam. The vampire squealed, untangling himself from the clearly crazed shifter. Dealing with a feral animal was well below his duties as Kody’s right-hand. “You two! Brutes!” he ordered, pointing at Asher. Adam didn’t even bother to check that they understood his message to subdue the wolf. Instead, he stood back and let his subordinates handle the problematic, resistant beast.

“It's Asher! We finally found him. Asher! Asher? Hey, take it easy,” a voice gasped, but the wolf couldn’t quite place it. He was on high-alert, not ready to be dragged away. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. He was supposed to stay, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what his master told him? ‘Be a good boy and stay until I collect you at the end of the day.’ How long ago was that? How long had he been here? Where was here anyway? The wolf’s ears twitched as he tried to take in as much information as he could to discern his surroundings.

“He’s freaked,” another voice noted. “I hate to say it, but we’re not getting anywhere like this. Try our telepathy bond.”

“He hates when people just pop into his head without warning,” the first voice countered.

“We’ve got no choice. Either you do or I will,” the second voice suggested. “We’ll limit it to one so it won’t be too overwhelming. But we can't let him stay reverted like this.”

The wolf lunged at the voices and violently swung his muzzle through the air, lost in a world of confusion and frustration. What was happening? What was he supposed to be doing? He let out a ferocious growl.

Suddenly, a small, stocky, gray wolf tentatively approached Asher. He wagged his tail to signal that he was friendly. Asher, it’s me, Milo.

Asher blinked, nearly collapsing with relief. Memories of his pack beat back the trauma and anxiety that his previous life had inflicted upon him. He wasn’t anyone’s pet. He was his own wolf, with a life of his own to live, any way he so chose.

Milo? It’s you! It’s really you!

True. Milo chuffed, hoping that the rhyme would help soothe Asher. I'm here, Asher. Right here. Everything's gonna be okay.

“Haha! Got him, don’t you?!” Adam gleefully cried, coming up behind a distracted Asher. His mouth was open, fangs dropped. “Time to teach this fleabag a lesson!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Sweetheart threw a wave of graviton-energy at Adam. A sickening crack rang out when his head smacked into a nearby tree. He slid to the ground, collapsing into a heap.

Milo? Milo, what happened? I couldn’t… I… Asher keened, lumbering over to Milo and pushing his face into the other wolf’s chest. He felt Milo nip at his ear and rumble a growl. It was a familiar reminder to Asher that pack never left pack behind.

With gargantuan effort, Asher shifted into his human form, needing multiple tries to rid himself of his fur and claws. His clothes were ripped and damaged. Bruises marred his face, which seemed thinner and tighter than it had only a few weeks ago.

Milo returned to his human form, easing himself out of Asher’s mind now that he seemed to have regained his senses. He took Asher into a strong hug.

Sweetheart sidled up to the pair. “You don’t look so good,” they commented, which Asher knew translated into, ‘I’m glad you’re alive. Are you okay?’

Asher blew out a breath to dismiss the stealth’s worry.

“Whoo-wee,” Milo complained. “You don’t smell so good, either.”

“Perhaps not,” Asher asserted, already sounding much more like himself. “But I feel fine.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Quinn strolled up to Adam’s prone form. “You lazy, good-for-nothing idiot,” he criticized harshly. “Lying and lazing about on the job? You’re not fit to lick the blood off Princess Alexis’s boot, let alone serve in her guard.” He squatted down, took Adam’s head in his hand, and yanked it off without a second thought. “Much better,” he smiled, before he zoomed away in the blink of an eye.

It was when he smiled, however, that Milo felt his blood run cold.

The extra tooth.

The extra canine tooth on the upper right side of his mouth.

It was him.

Count Quinn Fox was the one who murdered his mother.

The information was almost too much for Milo to process.

And he promptly fainted.

Had Sweetheart and Asher not been there to react by grabbing him, Milo would’ve fallen flat on his face.

Chapter Text

“The trio was reunited once again,” Gavin reported, turning the page. “Together, they supported each other through their respective recoveries and shared their stories after what had happened to them after the pirate had defeated them all.

“Milo, however, was still struggling to get his emotions under control. He shifted from wolf to human and back again, as if unsure which form he needed to be to finally fulfill the promise he made to his mother twenty years ago.”

“That’s it!” Milo bellowed. “That’s it! I can’t just stand here like some scared little kid anymore, pacing around and growling.” He turned to Asher and Sweetheart. “Where is this Quinn now? I’ll kill him.”

“An advisor’s place is beside the royal,” Sweetheart surmised. “So, if I had to guess, I’d say with the princess in the castle.”

Milo frowned. “That castle gate is guarded by thirty people.” He kicked at the ground. “How many could you each handle?”

Asher shrugged. “I don’t think more than ten at once.”

“Seven, on a good day,” Sweetheart answered.

Milo softly counted on his fingers. “That leaves over a dozen for me.” He scowled. “Even at my best, I can’t handle that many people.” He plopped down onto a fallen tree trunk. “What I need is a whole pack of fighters.” He let his forehead rest into his palms. “No!” He jumped to his feet. “I don’t need a whole pack. Do you know who I need?”

Sweetheart and Asher shared a dull look.

“I need the masked stranger,” Milo declared with certainty. “Think about it! They bested me at steel.” Milo grabbed Asher’s shirt collar. “They bested you at strength, your greatness.” Milo let Asher go and took Sweetheart's cheeks in his palms. “They out-thought you, and that’s saying something. You're the smartest person I know.” He kissed their forehead. “Someone who can do all that can plan my castle onslaught any day.” Milo turned on his heel and began to march towards the city-center of Dahlia. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Asher queried.

“We don’t know where they are,” Sweetheart reminded Milo.

“Don’t bother me with trifles!” Milo boomed from behind his shoulder. “After twenty years, at last, my ma’s soul will be at peace.” He motioned for his pack to follow him. “There will be blood tonight!” He shifted, threw his head back, and howled.

Alexis bent down to look at herself in one of her many mirrors that sat upon her desk. She carefully flossed between each and every pearly tooth. Pleased with her reflection, she licked one of her fangs and tousled her hair.

Kody entered, falling to his knees so quickly that one would’ve thought he was made of liquid.

“Rise and report,” Alexis invited.

“The Thieves’ Forest is empty,” Kody confirmed proudly. “And the castle is guarded by thirty people.”

Alexis, however, was unimpressed. “Double it,” she ordered. “My prince must be safe.”

“The ward for the gate has but one key,” Kody reminded her, holding the object in his hand. “And it is I who carries that.”

When the prince in question heard his name, he curiously peaked into the room. Alexis often talked about him, and it endlessly annoyed David. When he asked her about the topic of her conversation, Alexis never answered him, so he had taken to simply inserting himself into the conversations when the opportunity arose, hoping he could figure out what she had been saying.

“Ah, my brilliant beloved!” Alexis beamed and he kissed David’s cheek.

David’s face twitched, as if her lips left his skin irritated.

“Tonight, we marry!” Alexis declared. “Tomorrow morning, Kody and his troops shall personally escort us to the Dahlia Channel, where every ship in my armada waits to accompany us on our honeymoon.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Every ship but your four fastest, you mean.”

For perhaps the first time in her life, Alexis wavered. “Uhh…”

“Every ship but the four you sent,” David reminded her hotly.

“Yes!” Alexis chuckled nervously. “Yes, of course. Naturally not those four.”

“What four?” Kody stupidly asked. “All of our ships are docked at th-”

“Dismissed!” Alexis blinked pointedly.

Kody practically jogged away. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“You never sent the ships,” David quickly surmised. Honestly, he had been skeptical since Alexis had made the offer. “Don’t bother lying,” he told her. “It doesn’t matter. My mate will come for me anyway.”

Alexis seethed, not used to be spoken to in the imperative. “Oh David, sometimes, you can be such a dumb beast.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am. I am a dumb beast,” David growled. “I’m a dumb beast for not having seen sooner that you’re nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear.”

Alexis’s eyes went red for a moment. “I would not say such things if I were you.”

“Why not?” David challenged. “You can’t hurt me. My mate and I are bonded for life. And you cannot track that, not with all the tracking magic in the meridian. And you cannot break it, not with a thousand bites.” He stepped forward. “And not only are you a coward who hides behind her maker’s authority, but you are also the most selfish, spoiled creature ever to crawl this earth!”

Alexis snatched David and used her speed to move them through the halls unseen. “I would not say such things if I were you!” she screeched.

Before David could even try to resist, he found himself in his bedchambers. When he tried to grab the door handle, a strongly warded lock kept it from moving. He was trapped.

“And stay like that until you learn your place, bloodbag,” Quinn ordered of Babe, arranging them like a puppet to sit on the floor with their feet curled under them and their arms over their head, facing the wall under his desk. In time, the posture would cause Babe excruciating pain as their weight settled onto the small surface area of their toes. Quinn had thought he was making good progress with them, but they were still fighting his trance. Just a moment ago, after an hour of serving as his footstool while he took notes about the frequencies of Angel’s weak moaning, did Babe muster up the fleeting autonomy they needed to bite Quinn’s heel.

Alexis stomped down the stairway entrance of the Pit of Despair, pure rage in her eyes. She loomed over Angel, face inches away from theirs. “You and David truly love each other,” she mocked. “And you might’ve been truly happy together. But not one couple in a millennia has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say.”

Still restrained, Angel had no choice but to listen to Alexis’s vitriol. They choose to stare her down as they fantasized about all the ways they’d rip her apart, hoping the vampire could sense their defiance.

“I think no person, whether in a storybook or reality, will suffer as greatly as you will,” Alexis threatened, teeth clenched. She hauled the lever of the Machine as far upwards as it would go.

Quinn jumped to his feet. “Not to fifty!”

A guttural scream roared out of Angel. Their whole body arched and spasmed against the unbelievable pain. Every single cell of their body was suddenly in absolute, brutal torment.

Alexis smiled, watching carefully so she could memorize Angel’s suffering.

Quinn blinked, shaken but intrigued.

Lasko tried to ignore the savage screaming.

Babe sat in their corner, still and silent.

Angel’s screams rang throughout the land.

The castle guards looked up to the sky, wondering what sort of creature would bellow such an ugly noise.

David flinched as he sat in his room-turned-prison, heart going out to whatever poor soul was in such visceral pain.

Chapter Text

“Asher! Asher!” Milo exclaimed, cupping his hand to his ear. “Listen! Do you hear? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when Quinn slaughtered my mother.”

Asher paused. “It’s the person in black,” he realized. “They’re making that sound now.”

“Them? That’s them?” Sweetheart’s jaw dropped. “But, how do you know?”

“Their true love is marrying another tonight,” Milo rationalized. “So who else has the cause for ultimate suffering?”

“Then let’s go!” Sweetheart quickened their steps. “Excuse us,” they said, trying to push past the sea of people walking to and fro, completely unaware and uncaring of the horrific, agonized screams. “Pardon us,” they tried, bumping into a crotchety lion shifter. “Sorry…”

Milo said nothing, instead gesturing an open palm to Asher.

Asher shifted into his wolf form and let out a great howl.

The crowd quickly cleared a path for Milo, Sweetheart, and Asher.

“There we go,” Milo approved as the trio trotted towards the castle. “Thanks, buddy.”

Lasko hastily pushed the empty wheelbarrow towards the Pit of Despair. Quinn hated it when he took too long to complete his chores, so he always made it a point to move as quickly as he could as he dodged the tree roots and shrubbery of the forest. He had the route practically memorized at this point, aware of each little bump or divot in the ground upon his path.

What Lasko hadn’t expected was for a stealth to suddenly materialize atop his wheelbarrow. “Where is the person in black?” they demanded.

Lasko screamed, letting go of the wheelbarrow. The action would’ve sent Sweetheart tumbling to the ground if they hadn’t been using graviton-energy to keep their balance.

Asher and Milo flanked either side of Lasko, the former pointing the tip of his rapier at Lasko’s throat. “Answer the question,” he suggested.

A hissed rush of air leaked out of Lasko, but he was so terrified, he couldn’t shape the sound into words.

Milo rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the time or patience to bother with this. “Ash, jog his memory, will you?”

Asher shifted into his wolf, ready to intimidate Lasko into confessing, but when the air-elemental took one look at the wolf before him, he promptly fell to the ground.

“Whoa.” Sweetheart peered over the edge of the wheelbarrow. “I didn’t know you could faint out of fear.”

Asher focused on returning to his human form as Sweetheart ensured that Lasko was merely unconscious. “I didn’t mean to scare him that much,” Asher protested.

But Milo didn’t pay attention to any of that. Instead, he had knelt down, closed his eyes, and took his beloved sword in both hands. “Ma,” he said softly. “I’ve failed you for twenty years. Twenty long years.”

When Sweetheart opened their mouth to tell Milo he’d never, not once, failed his mother for even a day, Asher extended his arm to keep them quiet. They realized with a pang of pity that Asher was right. Milo needed the chance to express himself.

“But now,” Milo continued. “Our misery can end. Somewhere, somewhere close by is the person who can help us, but I can’t find them alone. I need you, Ma.”

Sweetheart and Asher looked upon Milo, grieving along with him.

“I need you to guide my sword to track him,” Milo begged. “Please. Please, Ma. Guide my sword.” He rose to his feet, keeping his chocolate eyes closed.

Asher and Sweetheart watched with quiet reverence. Milo took a few swaying steps, first to the right, then to the left.

Was it Marie truly guiding him? Was it merely a figment of Milo’s imagination? A trick his mind had played on himself so he could rationalize that deep need for a connection every child who had lost a parent felt in one way or another? Neither stealth nor wolf knew for certain. What they did know was that Milo clearly believed Marie was aiding him in his pursuit.

Milo stumbled forward, arms outstretched like he was being pulled. His steps quickened to keep up with the force…

…until the point of his sword hit a large, oak tree.

“Wh-” He stared at the tree, shame and frustration gnawing at his gut. “No, I…” He threw an arm across his face and leaned against a large knot of the tree, content to stay there for the rest of his life as atonement for his inability to avenge his mother.

The knot pushed back into the trunk, and the doorway that revealed nothing but pitch blackness and a shoddy staircase.

Led by Milo, the trio stepped into the tree and followed the steps downwards, wondering what they might find at the bottom.

Chapter Text

Asher pressed his ear to their chest, drawing on his magic to listen intently for even the slightest bit of sound from the now unmasked stranger's still, cold body. “They’re dead,” Asher sadly reported.

Sweetheart gripped the lifeless hand and squeezed. They didn’t know exactly what had come to pass to kill the unempowered human, but judging from the myriad of torture devices and contraptions surrounding them, it couldn’t have been an easy death.

Milo rifled through the notebook that had been left behind on the desk, scanning each page and flipping through it. “We got a name for them now,” he said sadly, sharing the name with the group so everyone could at least pay their respects. “And according to this, David called them ‘Angel.’”

Sweetheart’s lip quivered. “Oh, God. David. Does David even know?”

“It’s just not fair.” Asher slumped, resting a palm on Angel’s forehead.

“Gavin, Gavin!” Caleum cried. “Wait. What did Asher mean, ‘They’re dead?’” The empathy-daemon flinched at the mere thought. “I mean, he didn’t mean ‘dead.’ Angel’s only faking, right?” He clutched Freelancer’s beloved platypus plush friend. “Right?”

Gavin gave Caelum a stern but soft look. “You want me to read this, or not?”

Sensing that Caelum was more upset than Gavin realized, Freelancer cut in. “So, who gets Alexis?”

Gavin startled at his partner’s question. “I don’t understand.”

“Who kills Alexis?” Caelum clarified. “At the end. Someone’s gotta do it. Is it Milo? Who?”

“Nobody,” Gavin answered. “Nobody kills her. She lives.”

“You mean she wins?” Freelancer gaped.

Caelum hiccupped, one second away from a tearful meltdown. “Gavin, why are we reading this sad story?”

“Okay, okay.” Gavin closed the book. “Look, everyone is clearly taking this story a little bit more seriously than I anticipated. I think maybe we should stop for now. That way, you can get some real rest, Caelum.” He pressed down on his knees as he began to arise from his chair.

“No!” Caelum’s fingers grazed the book. He tapped on the cover, willing Gavin to sit back down. “No, no, no, I’m okay. Please.”

“Gav, c’mon,” Freelancer admonished. “Sit down. Listening is very restful.” They winked at Caelum. “Isn’t that so?”

Caelum dutifully nodded. “Yeah. Please, Gav. I want to hear the rest.”

Gavin obliged their requests. “Okay, okay. Now, let’s see. Where were we?” He opened the book and thumbed through the pages. “Ah, yes.” He resumed his narrative cadence. “In the Pit of Despair…”

“It’s just not fair.” Asher slumped, resting a palm on Angel’s forehead.

“He’s a monster!” the wolf bellowed. “He deserves to die for what he did to my ma. But to know what he’s done since…” Sickened by page after page of excruciating detail, Milo slammed Quinn’s notebook down on the desk with enough strength to make the drawers rock forward and back.

A groan from under the desk drew the trio’s attention.

“What the…?” Asher squatted down, shocked to find that babe of an unempowered human he thought he had lost forever, sitting on their feet in what had to be terribly uncomfortable, staring blankly at the floor in front of them. “Babe!” he called, wrenching them out from the desk. “Babe, what are you doing down there? What are you doing here? Are you okay? What happened?”

They answered none of Asher’s questions. Although their body was pliable and the change in position finally allowed circulation to return to their painful feet, Babe gave no indication that they even saw Asher, let alone understood what he was saying.

“Asher, easy,” Sweetheart cautioned. They reached out with their magic, investigating the human’s listless state. “A trance,” the stealth quickly decided. “They’re tranced. And judging from the signature, it’s a strong one.”

“Quinn,” Asher growled. Even he was unprepared for the surge of protectiveness that he felt from that knowledge. “It had to be Quinn.”

“Bastard,” said Milo. “No, no more. Not if I have anything to say about. If there’s one thing I learned from my ma, it’s to never take defeat easily.” He clapped Asher on the back. “C’mon, Sweetheart. Help me with the body.” Milo moved to lift Angel off of the table, motioning for Sweetheart to arrange their limbs across his back.

Sweetheart recoiled. “The body? What are we gonna do with them?”

Milo ignored them. “How’s our money situation?”

Sweetheart adjusted Angel’s arms so they looped around Milo’s neck. “We’ve got some,” they answered. Long ago, Sweetheart had mostly taken charge of any money they earned as a couple. It was a good system that prevented Milo from spending his earnings on yet another new belt or knapsack.

Milo slowly made his way towards the steps as Sweetheart shuffled beside him, keeping Angel’s body steady. “We’ll hope it’s enough to buy a miracle from a healer.”

“Babe, come with us,” Asher told them, hoping against hope that the invitation might spontaneously break the trance.

“Asher…” Sweetheart sighed. “They can’t. Whatever commands Quinn has filling up their head, they’re clearly specific and exact. They can’t disobey. It’s not their fault.”

Asher’s face fell, but a fire ignited deep in his core. “They can’t disobey, but I sure as hell can do whatever I want.” For once, Asher felt no inclination to do what he was ‘supposed’ to do. He gathered Babe into his arms, tenderly cradling their exhausted body to his chest. “We’ll get you help, Babe,” he hummed into their ear. “I promise.”

Babe had been so full of life and energy when he met them. To see them reduced to a state of helpless obedience, condemned to serve the whims of a sadistic freak such as Quinn, with no regard for autonomy or humanity, was equal parts infuriating and terrifying for Asher. Quinn saw Babe as nothing more than a piece of property to do with as he pleased…

Asher knew first-hand what that felt like. If he had had the blessing of beginning to forget about that horrific experience, the shifter’s recent regression had provided him with a stark reminder. Years ago, Asher had been snatched from the brink of the kind of permanent mindlessness that came from the constant, dehumanizing brainwashing that he was sure Babe was experiencing under Quinn’s trance.

He felt his core blaze with determination to rescue Babe from that same fate.

Armed with nothing more than a little money and a lot of hope for a miracle, the friends exited the Pit of Despair. Milo carried Angel, Asher carried Babe, and Sweetheart carried the burden of knowing that one way or the other, Alexis’s marriage to David that night had to be stopped.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

Sweetheart pounded on the small, sliding window of the modest cottage’s front door.

“Go away!”

Sweetheart pounded harder.

Finally, the window swung open to reveal a very perturbed face. “What? What?” He squinted against the sunlight, his silver vampire eyes so sensitive against the sun.

Milo pushed in front of Sweetheart. “Are you the Miracle Magic Healer, Sam Collins, who worked for King William all those years?” He had only heard stories of Sam from his mother, but if even half of those stories were true, then Sam was the answer to Milo’s problem.

“The King’s petulant progeny princess fired and banished me,” Sam explained harshly. “And thank you so much for bringing up that happy little memory. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a nice papercut and pour lemon juice on it?” He slammed the window shut, rattling the whole cottage. “We’re closed!”

“Hey!” Sweetheart resumed their pounding.

The window opened yet again to reveal that same fed-up vampire. “Beat it, or I’ll call the Brute Squad,” he threatened.

“I’m on the Brute Squad,” Sweetheart boasted with a little bit of pride. “So’s he.” They pointed to Milo.

Asher bent down so at least some of his face made it into the window. “And I gave the Brute Squad trouble!”

“Well, isn't that just nifty?” Sam grimaced, noting Asher's stature.

“We need a miracle,” Milo told him. “It’s very important.”

Sam curled his lip. “Look, I’m retired,” he insisted. “And besides, why would you want someone King William’s petulant progeny princess fired and banished? I might kill whoever you want to heal with a miracle.”

Milo didn’t waver. “They’re already dead!” He spun around to show Angel on his back.

“Oh, they are?” Sam shrugged. “Alright, I guess I can take a look. Come on in.”

This time, the whole door swung open. The pack wasted no time in filing into the cottage. It was dark, but most vampires’ homes were. Half-full bottles of glowing concoctions and dusty spell-books lined the shelves that ran along the walls.

Asher deposited Babe into a nearby sofa and stretched his back. He tried to arrange them comfortably, despite hating how he manipulated their limbs without their consent.

“What’s with them?” Sam snorted. “Exhausted by your galavanting around the outskirts of Dahlia and foisting yourselves into humble healers’ homes?”

“Tranced,” Asher answered through tight lips.

“Tranced?” The vampire’s face softened. “I can help with that. Won’t take but a minute.” He knelt down in front of Babe, ignoring the way his knees cracked as he did. Sure enough, Sam could feel the magical signature of none other than Quinn Fox. Before his firing and public banishment, Sam had dealt with Quinn more than a time or two.

Asher hovered close. As desperate as he was to rid Babe of their trance, he was loath to let anyone else lay a finger on them.

Sam’s silver eyes morphed into crimson red. “Look at me,” he instructed Babe, imbuing the words with as much magic as he could. “Just look into my eyes, okay?”

Babe’s head tipped upwards and they locked onto Sam’s gaze. It was the first movement they'd made since leaving the Pit of Despair.

“Keep looking.” The vampire strained for a moment, though the only outward sign of that effort was the vein that arose from his neck as he concentrated on obliterating the cloying control Quinn had forced into their psyche.

Babe suddenly went slack and they groaned.

Asher was quick to catch them so that their head didn’t collide with the wooden floorboard underneath.

“That should do it,” Sam confirmed, offering them a gentle pat on the shoulder. “The trance-hangover isn’t fun, but I’m sure it’s a lot better than what you’ve been dealing with since Quinn.”

“Th-th-thank you,” Babe stuttered out. It was nice to hear their own thoughts come out of their mouth, rather than the slew of heinous mantras Quinn had forced them to repeat, over and over again for his own enjoyment. “I… I…” They shook violently, mouth dry and feeling full of cotton.

“Babe, it’s okay,” Asher consoled. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Babe hurled their body into Asher, clinging to him with every iota of strength they could summon. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t cry. All they did was hold tightly onto Asher, hoping he’d know their silence was full of gratitude, relief, and, despite their very best efforts, the budding beginnings of love.

Asher was, among many other things, a very astute wolf. He held them close, stroked a hand through their hair, and let them take the time they needed to come back into their own mind.

Sam was quick to remove himself from the pair, sensing when a patient needed time. “Alright. Now onto patient number two.” He examined Angel as Milo and Sweetheart laid them out on the table covered by a dingy tablecloth with a paw print embroidery pattern. Sam lifted up Angel’s arm by the wrist and then let it drop to the table with a thump. “I’ve seen worse,” he noted.

Sweetheart and Milo watched curiously.

Sam tented his fingers and palpated Angel’s chest, mumbling to himself as he made his way to their belly. “Gonna poke around a bit. Holler if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

“Sir,” Milo said. “Sir?”

“Huh?” Sam snapped his face to Milo.

“We’re in a terrible rush,” Milo informed him.

Sam blew out a dismissive breath. “Don’t rush me, wolf,” he warned. “You rush a miracle healer, you get rotten miracles.” He booped a finger on Angel’s nose repeatedly. “You got money?”

“Sixty-five,” Sweetheart supplied.

“Sheesh!” Sam whistled. “I’ve never worked for so little.” He inhaled sharply. “Except once! And that was a very noble cause.”

“Oh, this is noble,” Milo assured, pounded a fist on his chest. “Their wife? Dead. Children? Five. Quintuplets. And all on the brink of starvation.”

“Boy, are you a terrible liar.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Milo leaned against the table. “I need them to help avenge my mother, murdered twenty years ago by Count Quinn Fox.”

Sam blinked. “Hmm. Your first story was better.” He rummaged through some shelves, hoisting a large instrument that Sweetheart thought must’ve been a cross between an umbrella and an accordion. “Ah, the bellowscram!” He held it up triumphantly. “They probably owe you money, hmm? Well, I’ll ask them myself.”

“They’re dead,” Sweetheart said. “They can’t talk.”

“Well, whoopdie-doopdie-doo,” Sam sarcastically sung. “Look who knows so much.” He gave Sweetheart a mock salute. “Well it just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. There’s a big difference between ‘mostly dead’ and ‘all dead.’” He shoved the end of the bellowscram into Angel’s mouth, wrapping their lips around it. “Sorry about that,” he apologized to Angel. “Now,” he continued to lecture, “Mostly dead is slightly alive.” He moved the two ends of the bellowscram back and forth, clapping them together to pump air into Angel at a steady rate. “All dead? With all dead, there’s only one thing you can do.”

“What’s that?” Sweetheart wondered.

“Go through their pockets and look for loose change,” Sam answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the bellowscram out of Angel’s mouth and set it back onto the shelf. He bent low so that his face was close to Angel. “Hey!” he yelled in their ear. “Hello in there!”

Sweetheart recoiled. “Are you sure this guy does miracle magic?” they whispered to their mate.

“Hey!” Sam didn’t pay any attention to the stealth’s criticism. “What’s so important? What you got here that’s worth living for?” When no answer came forth, Sam flattered a palm on Angel’s belly and added pressure.

“Truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu llllllll’vvvvvveeeeeee,” Angel groaned as Sam pushed air out of them. Their lips barely parted, but the words were clear.

“True love!” Milo repeated. “True love! You heard them?”

Sweetheart nearly jumped up with excitement at the sign of life in their friend. “You can’t ask for a more noble cause than that.”

“Look, kiddos, true love is the greatest thing in the world,” Sam agreed poetically. “Except for a nice BLT. Blood-lettuce-and tomato sandwich, where the blood type is B+ and the lettuce is nice and crispy.” He smacked his cracked lips together. “Oh, I love that. But!” Sam squawked. “That’s not what they said! They distinctly said, ‘To blave!’”

The mates cast a glance at each other, silently asking if either had heard of the term.

“And as we all know,” Sam nervously rambled. “To blave means to bluff! So, obviously, they were probably playing cards, and they cheated…”

“Liar!” The howl rang out from the back of the cottage. Each vowel sound was shrill and elongated. “Liar!” A shifter suddenly burst into the room, pointing at Sam as they ran at him. “Liar!”

Sam tried to dodge their accusatory finger. “Get back, mutt!”

“I’m not a mutt, I’m your mate!” they argued, lightly pushing at Sam. “But after what you just said, I’m not even sure I want to be that anymore.” They stamped their foot.

“Aw, Darlin’, no,” Sam quickly refuted. He clasped their shoulders, knowing that his touch soothed them. “C’mon, you don’t mean that.” Sam threw an anxious glance at his guests, trying to hold onto some semblance of authority in the eyes of his clients as his mate continued to rave.

Darling didn’t mean that. Not really. But they’d be damned if they let Sam sabotage this opportunity for redemption. Darling had seen just how bitter and frustrated Sam had become since his banishment from Solaire court. Finally, he had been gifted the chance to prove himself to be the healer Darling knew he still was, even without the title and famed he had rightly earned. They surely weren’t going to let Sam’s insecurity ruin things.

“True love. They said true love, Sam!” the wolf insisted.

Sam spoke right over them. “Don’t say another word, Darlin’.” The words were definitive, but his tone was pleading.

Darling, however, wasn’t listening. They had already moved on to addressing Sweetheart and Milo. “He’s afraid,” they explained quickly. “Ever since Princess Alexis fired him, his confidence is shattered.”

“Ah!” Sam grumbled. “Why’d you say that name? You promised me you would never say that name!”

“What?” Darling gave Sam the look that would make an ingénue seem witty. “Alexis?”

Sam put his hands over his ears and shirked away from Darling. “Ah!” he groaned.

“Alexis, Alexis, Alexis!” Darling warbled. When Sam tried to flee their screaming, Darling followed at his heel, all while continuing to repeat, “Alexis, Alexis, Alexis!”

Sam paraded around the table, shuffling through the narrow pathway of the home.

Milo and Sweetheart took in the absurd scene together, relieved the other was there to witness it, too. Otherwise, no one would ever believe them.

“I’m not hearing a thing!” Sam shouted over his mate.

“A-LEXXXXX-Is!” Darling sang, elongating the syllables long enough for vibrato to color the syllables. “True love lies expiring.” They gestured at Angel. “And you don’t even have the decency to say why you won’t help?”

Cornered and forced to face his mate, Sam tried to wave them away. “I can’t hear you!” he responded fervently.

Darling did not relent. “Alexis! Alexis! Alexis!”

“Hey! Hey hey hey!” Milo tried to yell over the bickering pair. “This is Prince David’s mate!” he explained. “If you heal them, they will stop Alexis’s wedding.”

Amazingly, Milo’s words must’ve made their way into Sam’s ears.

“Hush, hush,” he told Darling. He took his mate into a hug and pressed their face into his neck to muffle their speech before turning to Milo. “Wait a minute,” said Sam. “I make them better and Alexis suffers?”

Sweetheart quickly answered, “Humiliations galore.”

“Ahahaha!” Sam exclaimed. He rounded the table, grabbing a cowboy hat that had a layer of dust lining the surface and happily scatting to himself. “Now that is a noble cause,” he announced, donning the hat. “Give me the sixty-five. I’m on the job.”

“Whoo-hoo!” Darling cheered.

Chapter Text

Sweetheart curiously observed Sam and Darling as they hunched over their desk. Sam was using a pair of wooden tweezers to hold an oval object while Darling was using a brush to carefully paint it with a sticky, brown substance. “So… That’s a miracle healing-magic pill?”

“Mhmm,” Darling nodded. “But the real miracle is the chocolate coating.” They finished painting the pill and then stuck the brush in their mouth. “Makes it go down easier.”

“This way, the healing magic gets absorbed directly through the body,” the healer explained. “But, you have to wait fifteen minutes for full potency.”

“And, you shouldn’t go swimming after you take the pill for…” They faced their mate. “What, Sam, an hour?”

“A good hour,” Sam advised, placing the pill into a small box.

“Thank you for everything,” Sweetheart bid as they accepted the box. Milo had is hands full with Angel. Babe was up and walking on their own, proving quite resilient in the face of their torture, but the stealth could see the way they clung to Asher, and how Asher attentively let them.

“Thank you,” Babe said for what seemed like the millionth time.

Sam awkwardly accepted the group’s gratitude. “Oh, no trouble, not trouble at all!” He and Darling followed them out the door.

“Bye-bye now!” Darling called out.

Sam gave a few small waves. “Have fun storming the castle!”

Once they were sure the group was out of earshot, Darling leaned towards Sam and whispered. “So, you think it’ll work?”

Sam shrugged. “Oh, Darlin’, it would take a miracle.”

When Sweetheart turned their head to offer one last wave, Sam and Darling resumed their pollyanna waves and smiles. “Bye!”

The group crawled along the edge of the wall, ducking down to use it for cover. Angel’s unconscious body was sandwiched between Milo and Sweetheart, their feet dragging limply on the ground. Asher and Babe followed closely behind. Finally, everyone settled on the ground, hidden behind the rockwork well enough to not be seen, but able to peek out to see the well-guarded castle gate.

Babe counted a row and column of guards, multiplying the values in their head. “Asher, there’s more than thirty guards there.”

Milo settled Angel onto his lap. “What’s the difference?” he flouted. “We’ve got them.” Milo used his hand to straighten Angel’s head. As soon as the wolf moved his hand, the unempowered human’s head flopped back to their shoulder. “Hmm,” he grunted. “Sweetheart, c’mon. We’ll have to force feed them that pill.”

Sweetheart yanked on Angel’s arm to get them into a seat, back to the wall. “Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“We can’t wait,” Milo shrugged. “The wedding’s in half an hour, and we’ve gotta strike before the hustle-bustle of all that.”

Babe watched as Sweetheart dug into their pants pocket for the pillbox before Milo had even asked them for it. Those two always occupied the same wavelength. The unempowered absently wondered if that was something that developed over time, or if Milo’s and Sweetheart’s souls simply synchronized into understanding from the moment they met.

“I’ll get their head,” Asher offered, titling Angel’s skull and squeezing their lips so their mouth opened.

Milo popped the pill into Angel’s mouth, pushed it down their gullet, and held their lips closed to prevent any gagging reflex.

“How long did they say to wait before we know the miracle magic kicked in?” said the larger wolf.

Sweetheart shrugged. “Your guess is as good as any.”

Angel’s eyes sprung open. “I’ll beat you all apart! I’ll take all five of you together!” they ranted at the circle of people staring at them. "Let me go!"

Asher clamped a hand over their mouth. “So, not very long then.”

Angel frowned. “Why won’t my arms move?”

“You’ve been mostly dead all day,” Babe answered, recalling their time in the Pit of Despair together.

“We had a healer, Sam Collins, give you a miracle magic pill to bring you back,” Milo further explained.

“Milo,” Angel recognized, searching Milo’s face. “And Asher?” Their eyes rotated in their sockets, trying to get a glimpse of everyone as they identified Babe and Sweetheart, too. “How did you find me? Where are we? What am I doing on this wall? Where’s David?”

“Let me explain,” Sweetheart offered. As soon as they tried to utter even a word of the dizzying, twisted adventures that had led to this moment, their lips grew dry and their tongue thick. “No,” they pivoted. “There’s too much. Let me sum things up. David is scheduled to marry Alexis in a little less than half an hour. So, all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the prince, and make our escape.”

“After I kill Quinn,” Milo reminded them.

Angel pursed their lips, thumb anxiously tapping their chest. “That doesn’t leave a lot of time for sight-seeing the palace, does it?”

“Hey!” Asher pointed to the movement of their thumb. “You just wiggled your finger. Good job!”

“I’ve always been a quick healer,” said Angel. “So, give me the details. What are our liabilities?”

“There’s only one working castle gate,” Babe listed. “And there are about sixty people guarding it.”

Milo and Asher maneuvered Angel so that they could look backwards over the wall to see the gate in question.

“Assets?” Angel prompted.

“Your brain,” Milo emphasized. “My steel. Asher’s strength. My mate’s cunning. And,” he pointed to Babe, “Their resilience.”

“That’s it? Impossible,” Angel declared. “If I had a month to plan, maybe I could come up with something, but this?” Angel moved their head back and forth like a chicken pecking its way against the ground. It was their best attempt at shaking their head in the negative.

“And now you moved your head!” Asher said. “That doesn’t make you happy?”

Angel’s head rolled around their neck, clockwise and then counterclockwise. Since when had their head felt so heavy and their neck so unequipped to handle the weight? They couldn’t get their head to stay straight, so they settled for leaning against Milo’s chin as they gazed incredulously at Asher.

“Two wolves, a stealth, and two unempowered humans, one of whom is unarmed and hopped up on miracle magic, against a castle gate guarded by sixty people,” Angel stated. “And you think a little head jiggle is supposed to make me happy?” They slumped. “If we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.”

“Lasko had a wheelbarrow,” Babe interjected. “I saw him bring it back and forth into the Pit.”

Milo snapped his fingers. “I know right where we left that!”

“Yeah. Over Lasko,” Sweetheart informed Angel. “Though, I’m sure by now he roused and crawled away.”

“That should’ve been listed among the assets,” Angel chided. “Okay, so, a wheelbarrow…” They gave an exasperated sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for a fire-resistant cloak.”

“Cloak?” Sweetheart blinked, twitching their fingers. “I could probably handle that.”

“Good enough for me,” Angel confirmed. “Now, help me stand up.”

Asher and Milo tugged Angel to their feet. Both wolves were very aware that Angel was only able to support a fraction of their weight. Their limbs were like jelly.

“I’ll need a sword eventually.” Angel’s head fell forward. Babe quickly righted it.

“Why? You can’t even hold one,” Milo balked.

“True, but that’s hardly common knowledge.” Angel’s head fell backwards. Babe, again, quickly righted it.

“Let’s walk and talk,” Sweetheart suggested, noting the time. “We don’t have time to dilly-dally.”

‘I’ll say,” Milo agreed, leading the motley crew. “How do I find Quinn? And once I do, how do I find you again? Once I find you again, how do we all escape? Once-”

Asher took the top of Angel’s head and twisted it away from Milo. “Hey, don’t overwhelm them,” he said sharply. “They’ve had a tough day.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Milo apologized, returning his focus back to the castle. The five friends moved as quickly and quietly as they could, working together to devise a plan.

“Asher,” Babe whispered.

He whispered back, “What?”

Babe squeezed his shoulder. “I hope we win.”

Chapter Text

“You don’t seem excited, my little sheep-in-wolf’s-clothing,” Alexis pouted. She straightened the formal jacket around David’s collar. It was impossible for her stare not to linger on his inviting neck.

“Should I be?” David snorted, looking disdainfully at the ridiculous royal costume he was wearing.

“Grooms often are,” Alexis retorted. She traced a finger around the stacked strings of exquisite pearls around her neck. The pearls were snow-white, save for the ones resting against the left side of her throat column. Those pearls were splashed in crimson, and a trail of glimmering, petite rubies dotted her neck and cascaded down her chest. Truly, the chicest accessory any vampire could’ve hoped to wear. “Or so I’m told.”

David fiddled with the clasp of the watch on his wrist. It was one of the few things he had saved from his father’s belongings. “I will not marry you tonight,” he said, the calmest rejection Alexis, or perhaps anyone, had ever received. “My mate will be here.” He strode out of the room without a second glance at Alexis.

“A dumb beast,” she grinned to herself. “Though, a dumb beast who will be very useful to me.”

The five friends took one last look at the castle gate from their safe spot. Darkness had fallen, but just as earlier, sixty guards surrounded the door. They all look at each other knowingly.

Milo thrust his hand out into the center of the circle. Sweetheart’s soon followed. Then Asher’s. Babe’s. And finally, after Angel haphazardly flailed their arm a few different directions, they added theirs to the pile.

As one, they raised and then lowered their hands.

It was the silent, strong promise of pack.

”Meanwhile, inside the castle,” Gavin read, “A grand wedding was beginning.

The Royal Officiant motioned for the couple to rise from their knees and stand before him. He looked out into the crowd, thriving on the attention.

“Marriage,” Porter Solaire, the bastard progeny of William and Earl of Feris said. “Marriage is what brings us together today.”

King William had asked Porter to perform the ceremony. Of course, Porter had obliged. William hadn’t, however, instructed Porter as to how he should perform the ceremony. Or rather, how long said ceremony should last.

“Marriage, that blessed arrangement!” Porter delivered passionately. “That dream, within a dream…”

Quinn sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to Porter drone on and on, offering some drivel masquerading as a sonnet that compared blood to betrothal, lobbing metaphor and metaphor like he was getting paid by the letter.

Not even the dull din outside and the call that strangely sounded like, ‘Stand your ground!’ could rescue Quinn from Porter’s monologue.

“Stand your ground!”

A huge wolf howled, floating towards the castle gate. The sound struck fear into the sixty guards who watched the monster approach. They didn’t know what it was, but surely, that was no normal shifter.

Asher initiated a shift, letting it pause just as his human form started to return. “I am the Dread Pirate Keaton!” he growled, the harsh, deep warble of his wolf still evident. “There will be no survivors.”

Behind Asher was Milo and Babe as they pushed the invisible wheelbarrow forward, straining to keep the slow, steady pace while also holding up Angel’s weight.

“Now?” Babe asked.

“Not yet,” a hushed voice from an invisible Sweetheart answered roughly. They conjured more magic, weaving and casting it over Asher.

“My pack is here, and I am here,” Asher continued, taking full advantage of his wolf-man hybrid tone. “But soon…” He raised a paw at the guards, claws extended. “You will not be here.”

“Stand your ground!” Kody said, hoping to keep the guards in position. Already, a few had clumped up.

Milo strained and struggled. “N-Now?”

Sweetheart secured their magic around Asher. “Light him,” they ordered, focused on keeping both the fire-resident cloak and invisibility cloak active.

Babe took the lit candle in their hand and pressed it to Asher. In a blink, the cloak Sweetheart had conjured flamed and burned, while Asher remained safe inside their cloak. Smoke poured off of him, transforming him into a haunting figure.

The guards looked on as a large wolf-monster thing that had just burst into flames inched closer towards them. They erupted in chaos, fleeing as quickly as they could. An earth-elemental borrowed into the ground and dug a hole away from the castle. Two lion shifters transformed into their feline forms and ran away with their tails between their legs. A freelancer simply dropped her weapons, put her hands up in surrender, and sprinted as far as her legs would go.

“The Dread Pirate Keaton leaves no survivors!” Asher ghoulishly cried. “All your worst nightmares are about to come true!”

“Oh, and love!” Porter lamented. “True love! It will follow you forever.”

The noise outside was growing worse. Alexis threw a look to Quinn, raising her eyebrow.

All too happy to have Alexis’s permission to leave, Quinn snapped his fingers to summon his invoked assistants as they made their way towards the door. “Secure the interior of the castle,” he ordered.

David felt his palms grow sweaty as the ceremony continued.

Asher flung his limbs out, taking full advantage of his half-shifted form on fire. “The Dread Pirate Keaton is here for your souls!”

Kody tried everything. He tried ordering his guards. He tried appealing to their sense of bravery and duty. He called them cowards. He even tried to use water to muddy up the ground and make everyone slip. But, ultimately, it was no use. Every single guard escaped, fearing for their lives.

And Kody was left alone to guard the castle gate. He shakily drew his dagger, not enough magic left within him to even try to put out the fire of the wolf-monster-pirate-thing.

“So, I say to you, treasure your treasure as if they are treasure…” Porter slowly advised.

“Skip to the end,” Alexis commanded, rolling her eyes.

Porter grinned, barely believing it had taken Alexis this long to speak up. Porter had just been spouting nonsense at that point. “Do you have the rings?”

Alexis grabbed David’s hand and shoved a silver ring onto his finger. The force she used nearly dislocated his finger.

A loud blow sounded outside.

“That sounds like my Angel now,” David remarked, ignoring the pulsing ache in his knuckle.

Once the fire was out and Asher was back to his human self, Sweetheart relinquished their cloaking and came back to visibility. They quickly fell in step with their pack, helping Babe to carry Angel.

“Asher, the portcullis ward!” Milo alerted.

Asher leapt forward to grab at the portcullis ward, which was indeed forming quickly to insulate the castle gate. The ward glowed and hummed as it fused along the castle door in a criss-cross pattern. Using his strength, Asher tore at the ward. As soon as the ward deactivated under the assault of his teeth, Asher grabbed at the door and swung the tonnage back upward. He groaned from the effort.

Kody watched in horror as Asher stepped forward towards him, sweat pouring down his forehead.

“Your Angel is dead,” Alexis sneered. “I killed them myself.”

David saw red at her braggadocious confession. They couldn’t be dead. They just couldn’t be. “Then why is there fear behind your eyes, Princess?” he pressed.

Alexis blinked in surprise.

And, although she would never admit it, in fear.

“Give us the gate key,” Sweetheart ordered Kody, leveraging Angel’s limp body with their hips.

Kody shook with fright, still not quite comprehending what was happening. “I have no gate key.” He tried his best to put every last bit of honesty he had into that claim.

Milo sighed. “Asher, tear his arms off.”

Asher took one step closer to the water-elemental, licking his mouth in the way a hungry predator licked his chops before devouring his quarry.

“Oh!” Kody fished the key out of his pocket. “You mean this gate key.”

Babe snatched the key from his wet, trembling hands. “Thank you very much.”

Chapter Text

“And do you, Prince David Gabriel Shaw,” Porter intoned. “Take Princess Al-”

“Husband and wife!” Alexis seethed. “Husband and wife! Say ‘husband and wife,’ you blowhard fool.”

“Husband and wife,” Porter parroted, adopting Alexis’s accent and higher pitch.

David’s face fell. His whole world came crashing down.

The ceremony was over.

He was married to Alexis.

Where was Angel?

“Now take the groom to the honeymoon suite.” Alexis shoved David to the side. “I’ll join him shortly.” She dashed off to see what the commotion was. Quinn hadn’t returned. That could mean trouble. And Alexis had an obscenely low tolerance for trouble.

King William bobbed his head up and down, taking David into a hug. “Congratulations, my boy,” he told the wolf. “Welcome to the Solaires.”

David numbly walked along with William, matching the old man’s slow pace. “Angel didn’t come.”

Ever so slowly and cautiously, Asher, Babe, Milo, Sweetheart, and Angel tromped through the shaded castle hallways. The shading of the interior offered the group enough light to see in front of them and to make out the general shapes of gaudy art and vampiric statues that lined the area.

Asher had grabbed a fistful of Angel’s shirt, ready to throw them across his back and take off to safety if needed. Because their pace was slow enough, Angel had insisted on moving their legs, even though their steps resembled more of a dragging gait. Still, as Babe had noted, it was an improvement.

Milo and Sweetheart led the way. The wolf’s sword was drawn, ready to cut into anything that moved suspiciously. Sweetheart had their magic at the tips of their fingers, ready to be externalized in the blink of an eye. The pair peaked over the corner of a hallway’s end, assessing the space before they stepped forward.

“All clear.” Milo beckoned, walking down the empty hallway.

Except the hallway didn’t stay empty for long.

Quinn and his invoked lackeys abruptly appeared, speeding down the hallways towards the group. All their vampires had their fangs dropped, their hands and mouths twitching uncontrollably as they let loose yodel-like moans. “Kill the wolves, the stealth, and the one in black,” he casually commanded, as if he were doing something as innocuous as requesting a sandwich for lunch. “But leave the other human for questioning and…” His extra tooth cast a shadow on the wall as he spoke. “More education.”

Babe flinched, training their gaze to the floor so Quinn didn’t have the opportunity to trance them again. Asher held their hand and pushed himself in front of Babe, ready to fight tooth and nail against their would-be captor.

The invoked vampires charged, probably barely understanding the situation at hand. All they knew was the need to obey their maker. They attacked in a frenzy, mouths chomping and gulping as they descended all upon Milo at once.

Milo’s rapier skewered each vampire without hesitation. He lunged and cast his sword at them all, expertly aiming as he removed the blade from one, it instantly found its way into the next. One by one, the vampires fell to the ground. Even if they had been able to conjure their accelerated healing processes, which they couldn’t due to Quinn keeping them so hungry as a means of instilling obedience and loyalty, the wounds Milo inflicted upon them were too serious for any hope of recovery. They bled out at the wolf’s feet, grunting and gurgling as their breaths faded away into stillness.

And Milo did all of that without taking his eyes off Quinn.

“Hello,” Milo said, just like all those times he had imagined himself saying since he was eleven years old and alone in the world. “My name is Milo Anthony Greer. You killed my mother. Prepare to die.” Milo took a deep breath and stepped into a fencing posture, ready for the fight of his life.

Quinn inclined his head at Milo. Without a word, he turned his back and fled zooming down the hallway in a blur.

Milo gave him chase, sprinting as fast as he could to follow, but he was faced with a choice to go to the right or the left. “Pick one and I’ll take the other!” Sweetheart yelled, following him as closely as they could.

Milo felt his heart thump against his chest. “Sweetheart…”

“I’ll leave him for you to finish,” they vowed.

He gave his mate a quick, thankful nod and dashed off the right. Sweetheart cloaked and took off towards the left.

Angel rolled their head to look at Babe and then Asher. “Well, that wasn’t part of the plan,” they remarked dryly.

When he reached a large heavy door, Quinn slowed himself to a halt. He pushed the door open, passed through the threshold, and slammed it shut. The reverberating boom shook through the hallway, as did the clicking noise that signaled a ward’s enaction.

“Aha!” Milo raced around the corner and up to the door. He grabbed the doorknob and threw all of his weight into the solid door. It didn’t budge. He tried again. And again. And again.

But the door stayed shut.

There was only one person who Milo knew was strong enough to open that door.

“Asher!” Milo called out. He took a few steps backward to give himself a running start before charging into the door. “Asher! Asher, I need you!” Milo’s screams rang throughout the hallway.

It took all of Asher’s willpower not to shift at the sound of Milo’s desperation. “I…” He was torn between his deep desire to protect the two unempowered humans in his charge and to help his very best friend in the world.

“He’s getting away from me, Asher!” Milo yelled like a crazed animal caught in a steel trap. “Please!”

“Go,” Babe instructed, already taking the brunt of Angel’s weight from him. “We’ll be fine. Just go.” Their tone left no room for disagreement.

Asher took long strides before skidding to a halt. “Just… stay there and stay safe,” he said before breaking into a full run. “I’ll be right back!”

Later, there would be time for him to gush over Babe’s bravery. Right now, Milo needed his help.

“Asher! Asher!” Milo ran at the door again, trying to overpower the ward with all his might. “Argh!” he grunted.

It didn't take long for Asher to track Milo’s voice. He extended one arm at Milo to prevent him from futility running at the door again. Then, Asher sized up the door, sensing the ward. He drew back a massive fist and punched the door with all his strength.

As the ward fizzled and deactivated, the door tipped over and fell to the ground. Asher opened his palms and stepped to the side for Milo.

“Thank you!” he said quickly as he continued his pursuit.

Angel awkwardly elbowed Babe in the gut. “Hey.” They jutted their chin to catch their friend’s attention. “You know, with the wedding happening, and Quinn running away from Milo, and all the guards gone or dead, there’s not a safer time for two unempowered intruders to take themselves on a castle tour, is there?”

“A strange wedding,” King William Solaire told David as he took hold of David’s elbow for balance. He took small, shuffling steps. David didn’t know how the feeble vampire could’ve possibly held himself upright, let alone held himself upright with the heavy crown sitting atop his head. “Yes, indeed. A very strange wedding.”

David didn’t bother to confirm what William already knew. It was the definition of a strange wedding, as if someone had cut out all the good parts of matrimony but chose to leave the bad cliches. No vows, no kiss, no joy, and yet there was plenty of disgusting royal decadence and adherence to old traditions.

When they reached their destination of the honeymoon suite, David formally extended his hand to William.

Always a gentleman, the king took David’s hand in his own and shook it. “What is this for?” he queried.

“Because ever since Alexis brought me here, you’ve been very kind to me,” David answered. “And I won’t be seeing you after tonight, since I’m going to live the rest of my life as a wolf in the wilderness and never resume my human form again.”

William gave David a cheery smile. “Oh, won’t that be nice?” Whether he did or didn’t hear what David had said remained a mystery.

Milo had followed Quinn through an array of labyrinth passages and rooms. His lungs burned. His muscles ached. But he couldn’t have cared less. He would’ve followed Quinn to the River of Death itself if it meant having his revenge.

When Asher returned to where he left Babe and Angel, he found the same dreary art. The same pile of vampire bodies. And the same alcove space.

What he did not find was Babe or Angel.

Asher raised his hands into the air. “That wasn’t part of the plan, either.”

Chapter Text

Quinn zoomed through the corridors, realizing that he finally had come to a room that did not lead anywhere else. He glanced backwards, sensing Milo close on his heels. He pulled out that triangular dagger, gripping it between his fingers.

Milo burst into the room.

Quinn drew back his arm, taking aim with the dagger.

“No!” a voice called, sounding as though it had been muted as it passed through the thick wall of the room. “Milo!”

Just as Quinn was throwing the dagger, he felt an unexpected force knock him off balance. The force wasn’t enough to prevent him from being able to throw the blade, but its path was askew.

The dagger embedded itself in Milo’s gut, rather than piercing through his heart. He groaned and stumbled back against the wall, surprised at the pain blossoming through his body.

“You can’t cloak from me!” Quinn roared. “Not for long anyway.” He reached out with his magic, momentarily forgetting about Milo. He locked onto the aura and grabbed what he felt to be a fistful of hair. “Gotcha!” He drew them closer, biting at their shoulder with unrestrained ferocity.

“Ahh!” Sweetheart yelped. “No!”

The pain in the wolf’s stomach was nothing compared to the dread Milo felt when Sweetheart materialized into view. He watched, heart lurching, as they struggled valiantly against Quinn’s grip and screamed in pain. Blood spurted from the holes Quinn left in their flesh.

“Sweetheart!” Milo felt ice run through his veins. The room was starting to go white on him, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away from Quinn, the man who had so brutally killed his mother, attack his mate.

It was, without a doubt, the worst possible scenario for Milo. It was almost more than the poor wolf could take. He had failed his mother for the last two decades. And now, he had failed to keep his one, true mate safe from the same monster.

“Sorry, Ma,” Milo whispered, blinking to keep himself conscious. Somehow, he felt hot and cold, like the air was too thick to breathe, yet his body heat was draining out along with his blood. “I tried. I… I tried.”

Quinn’s head swiveled to see Milo. The vampire never could resist taking in a scene of agony. He casually tossed Sweetheart aside. Their head cracked against the floor. Sweetheart groaned. Their few slow, groggy blinks were not enough to keep them from blacking out as their body went limp.

“You must be that little mongrel pup I taught a lesson to all those years ago,” Quinn surmised, recognizing his handiwork of Milo’s cheek scars. He strode over to Milo. “Simply incredible. Have you been chasing me your whole life only to fail now? I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard” The vampire let out a laugh, puffy and amused. “How utterly marvelous.”

Milo shrunk under Quinn’s steely gaze.

“Your mother didn’t know what was good for her then, and so, it appears, neither do you now.” Quinn bent low so that his face was even with Milo’s. He didn’t want to risk the wolf not understanding him. This was entirely too good of an opportunity to inflict not just physical, but mental, pain to pass up, especially for a pain aficionado such as Quinn. “They’re your mate.” He flicked a wrist back at Sweetheart, nothing bothering to glance at the unconscious stealth. “And your stupidity has roped them into this little vendetta. What shall I do with them, Milo?” he posed. “Shall I turn them into my own personal feast and drain them? Or perhaps keep them alive as my own personal bloodbag for who knows how long? Or!” He inhaled excitedly. “Shall I turn them into my own personal little invoked soldier?” Quinn tsked his tongue, his extra tooth on full display. “Or maybe, I’ll keep you in suspense as to what horrors await your mate and let you die first.”

Milo sank further to the cold, hard floor.

Quinn let his fingers trace Milo’s scars. “By the time I’m done with you, Pipsqueak, you’ll be ready to thank me for killing your mother so quickly.”

For the second time in his life, Milo was completely powerless to stop Quinn from hurting someone he loved.

David silently and solemnly entered the bedchamber. He lit a candle to brighten up the room. It was sumptuously decorated. The thread count of the sheets probably rivaled the number of trees in the Dahlia Forest. There was a bottle of blood-infused champagne chilling in a basin near the foot of the bed. No expense was ever spared when it came to the whims of Princess Alexis.

It sickened David.

He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his fancy jacket. The mattress groaned under his weight. David folded the jacket neatly and placed it aside. He then began to strip, taking the hem of his shirt in his hands and hoisting it over his head.

After all, wolves didn’t need clothes.

David paused, reflecting on the magnitude of what a life lived only in his beast form might do. Would he be able to sustain that level of magic as long as he kept himself nourished and energized? Would he be able to live without the comforts of civilization? Would he be able to survive as a lone wolf, evading other predators and hunters? Would he lose his sense of humanity after one year? Five years? Fifty?

Would his heart ever feel as though it wasn’t shattered into a thousand pieces?

No matter what horrors awaited him in his life as a wolf, David knew none could ever be so terrible as the knowledge that he could not be with his mate.

He took a deep breath and prepared for the final shift of his life…

“There’s a shortage of perfect chests in this world. It would be a pity if I never got to feel up yours again.”

David’s jaw dropped. He spun around to find Angel leaning awkwardly on Alexis’s desk, pushing her many mirrors to the floor.

“Angel!” The wolf leapt over to his mate and took them in his arms.

Babe stepped out from behind the grand armoire with a big smile on their face. “Hiya, cuz!”

“You’re not sick,” David beamed at Babe. The rage he felt upon realization that Alexis had lied to him about his cousin's health was overshadowed by joy, but David made a mental note to revisit that subject later. He didn’t let go of Angel, but instead, pulled Babe into a hug with them. “You’re alive! Both of you! I… I… I’ve never been so glad to see you.”

“Us too,” Angel answered, burying their face into the chest they had just complimented. “Us too, Davey.”

Babe graciously stepped back. As relieved as they were to see David, they also wanted to give the mates a chance to reunite after such a harrowing experience. Plus, they needed to keep a lookout in case anyone found them in the suite.

“Angel!” David murmured. He plucked them up, not even noticing the way Angel’s body flopped in the air, and placed them on the bed. He straddled them, devouring them with kisses as he embraced them. David scooped up Angel’s head, tipping his head to kiss them in that slow way he knew they enjoyed, earning a moan of pleasure from his mate even as they longed to take David in their immobile arms.

Angel sank into the onslaught of kisses, content for that moment to last their lifetime. For the first time in what felt like years, they let themselves forget about lurking danger or struggle. Instead, they focused only on the present moment of their mate.

Chapter Text

“Awoooooo-Awoooooo!”

At the sound, David scrambled up from the bed and shifted on the spot, sniffing the air for any semblance of information. He didn’t know who that was or what they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let anyone else touch his mate, or, for that matter his cousin.

Angel sank back to the bed, head thumping against the mattress.

Once David shifted, however, he was surprised to hear the desperation in the other wolf’s howl. Desperation and… something akin to desire?

Babe stuck their upper body outside the door. “Asher! Asher, in here! We’re in here!” They threw their arms open to catch the huge, multi-colored wolf as he tackled them. They fell backwards, arms flailing out for balance, causing some papers from Alexis’s desk to float to the floor. His tail wagged rapidly as he licked Babe’s face and whined a happy greeting.

Remarkably, it only took him one attempt to shift back into a human. “Babe, you okay?” Asher took hold of Babe’s shoulders, searching them over for any evidence to the contrary.

“I’m good, I’m all good,” they explained, pushing up so that they and Asher could sit up onto the floor. “Better, now that you’re here.”

For perhaps the first time in their life, Babe didn’t think about proper behavior or social contracts. They didn’t rationalize away their feelings with a smart comment or a snarky retort. Instead, they slowly leaned forward and pressed their lips to Asher’s.

Asher readily accepted the kiss, entangling his hands in their hair.

David shifted back into his human form. “Are you…?” He tried to find the right question to ask, but too many rushed into his head at once.

Babe swallowed shyly, not used to being so open with their emotions and certainly not used to being open with their emotions in front of others. “Let me explain,” they offered David, pausing for a beat, only to falter. “No, there’s too much,” they determined, borrowing Sweetheart's phrasing. “Let me sum things up.”

As Asher helped Babe up from the floor, he instinctively began to clean up the mess he had made. One glance at those papers, however, had him frozen in place.

Alexis’s and Quinn’s plans for Dahlia were outlined in what Asher could only hope was red ink.

“After you sum up that, I need you to look at this.” Asher pointed to the paper, a look of horror fixed on his handsome face. “Because, in summary, it's a nightmare.”

Milo grasped the hilt of the dagger, ignoring the way even that slight movement sent ripples of fire through his stomach. He held onto the weapon tightly and forced himself to yank it out of his body. The wolf’s breath caught in his throat as he let the weapon clatter to the floor.

Quinn inclined his head, genuinely surprised. “Oh, my, my, my,” he commented. “What’s this? Are you still trying to win?”

Milo didn’t answer Quinn’s mockery. He was too busy trying to push himself up to his feet, sword still in hand. Bent over and keeping his left hand pressed against his stomach, Milo tried to take one shuffling step, only to tip backwards into the waiting wall again.

“You’ve got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance.” Quinn couldn’t take his eyes off the pitiful sight. “It’s going to get you into trouble someday.” He sauntered over the gravely injured wolf, enjoying the metallic scent that began to fill the air. The vampire licked his lips.

Quinn lunged and bit Milo in the cheek. There wasn’t much Milo could do to stop, but he did attempt a weak parry to protect himself. Quinn’s fangs sank into Milo, but in truth, he didn’t feel Quinn tear into his flesh at all. He was too preoccupied with the fiery need for vengeance that burned in his heart.

Finally, when Quinn had decided he played with his food long enough, Quinn drew his own sword, circled it behind him, and lunged to deliver the point directly into Milo’s heart.

Except, Milo blocked the attack with his own sword. He pushed himself up off the wall that had been supporting his weight, blood trailing down his cheeks and staining his shirt.

Quinn backed up a bit, tightening the grip on his sword. This wasn’t what he expected. Not at all. His curiosity about pain was quickly giving way to frustration that his food was refusing to die.

“Hello. My name is Milo Anthony Greer.” Milo pitched forward, landing hard on the corner of a long table covered with dinner plates and centerpieces, no doubt discarded place settings for the now-skipped reception banquet. “You killed my mother,” Milo whispered. He pulled himself upright, walking towards Quinn. “Prepare to die.”

Alarmed, Quinn mounted a fierce attack. He struck with great power and precision, each blow that of a trained swordsman with an intent to kill.

And Milo answered each blow with a defense. The blades clanged against each other loudly, echoing through the hall.

“Hello,” Milo repeated, his footwork picking up speed and his arm adding more strength behind his slashes. “My name is Milo Anthony Greer. You killed my mother. Prepare to die.” This time, his speech was louder and carried through the large, cavernous room.

The fact that Sweetheart had not roused at the noise demonstrated just how deeply out of it they were. The stealth remained totally still, unaware that their mate was engaged in a deadly duel with the man he’d been tracking since the moment his mother took her last breath.

Milo looked Quinn square in the eye, his voice growing steadier and louder still. “Hello. My name is Milo Anthony Greer. You killed my mother. Prepare to die!” He locked his sword with Quinn’s and took control of it until Quinn disengaged.

The vampire stumbled backwards for a moment, flinging out his arm for balance. One of the tables toppled over from the force. How in the world could this half-drained, sniveling wolf have been putting up this good of a fight against an old-blood vampire?

“Hello!” Milo howled, screaming at the top of his lungs. He charged at Quinn, sword slicing through the air as he forced Quinn into the corner. “My name is Milo Anthony Greer! You killed my mother! Prepare to die!”

“Stop saying that!” Quinn snarled. He went to attack Milo, only to have the wolf take the opportunity to stab him in the shoulder. “Ahh!” Quinn groaned, but he didn’t let the wound slow him. He tried again to hack through Milo, only to feel the wolf’s sword slide into his other shoulder.

Quinn was getting sloppy. And desperate. Milo could sense the shift in dynamics.

He had hunted Quinn for more than half his life. Finally, he had his prey, just a claw’s reach away.

He wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t. If it was the last thing Milo would do, he was going to kill Quinn Fox.

“Hello!” Milo growled with all he had, charging forward with his sword ripped through the air at Quinn. “My name is Milo Anthony Greer! You killed my mother. Prepare to die!”

Quinn’s back hit the wall.

A crazed, determined look flashing in his eyes, Milo twisted his blade against Quinn’s, sending it flying across the room. Quinn tried to flatten himself against the wall. He was injured, exhausted, and unarmed. “Offer me money,” he ordered, keeping his blade at Quinn’s throat.

Milo had dreamt of this moment every day for the last twenty years. He’d be damned if it didn’t go exactly the way he pictured.

“Yes. Money,” Quinn assented, panting. His knees sagged towards the floor as more blood poured out from the gaping holes in his body. “Lots of money.”

“Power, too. Promise me that!” Milo flicked the tip of his sword in Quinn’s eye.

“Ah!” Quinn cried. “All the power that I have and more. Please.” His deep voice was flat, devoid of any true regret.

Milo leaned closer, teeth bared as he prepared himself to kill his prey. “Offer me everything I ask for!”

“Anything you want!” Quinn grunted. He lurched forward with an open mouth, one last-ditch attempt to bite the wolf’s neck.

Before Quinn could move an inch, Milo thrust his sword through Quinn’s heart. “I want my mother back, you son of a bitch!” The wolf twisted the sword so that it ripped into Quinn’s guts.

Quinn slumped into Milo’s sword, offering one gurgling breath as protest. His silver eyes gaped open, unseeing and full of fear, as Milo used his heel to rid his sword of Quinn. The vampire’s body rolled into a heap upon the floor. His chin thwacked on the hard ground, dislodging the extra tooth from his mouth. It left a bloody trail as is skidded to a halt in front of Milo.

Milo stared for a moment in disbelief. He had done it. He had slaughtered his mother’s murderer. There lied Count Quinn Fox, dead at Milo’s feet, wounded by Milo’s sword, blood strewn across Milo’s face.

The wolf could’ve wept with sheer relief. Finally, the soul of Marie Rose Campanella Greer rested peacefully.

Never again would Quinn kill a mother in front of her child. Never again would Quinn subject an innocent person to a cruel trance or invocation. Never again would Quinn ever think of laying a slimy finger on Milo’s mate…

The thought of Sweetheart broke the reflective trance that had come over Milo as he stared at Quinn’s dead body. He made his way to Sweetheart as fast as his feet would take him, gathering them up into his lap.

“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, wake up,” he begged. Blood laced their curly hair. Milo gently combed his fingers across their scalp, feeling a large, swollen knot. “Sweetheart, you gotta wake up now!”

Even in their deep sleep, Sweetheart instinctually leaned into the touch of their mate, nuzzling into his palm. “Hrmmmm,” they moaned, a pounding headache rudely pushing them into consciousness. “Oh, my head… My head really hurts,” they whined into Milo’s chest. “Milo? Milo!” They straightened their spine, swallowing the rush of nausea that bubbled up into their chest. “Is…”

“I killed Quinn,” Milo reported, taking them into a celebratory kiss. “He’s dead.”

“Knew you could do it,” Sweetheart sighed once Milo broke the first of many kisses. “You did it, Milo. You really did it. Totally, completely, one-hundred percent,” they coughed, “Conceivable.”

“I did.” Milo nodded. “I did it with your help.” He trembled at the memory of Sweetheart interfering with Quinn’s cowardly dagger attack. “Sweetheart, you saved my life, you know that?”

“You’ve saved me every day since we’ve met.” Sweetheart gave Milo a wink. “Guess my sense of direction isn’t too bad when it counts, hmm?” they joked, recalling the maze of hallways they’d run down and even through to locate Quinn and Milo. The sight of Milo’s blood sobered them. “I don’t always know where I’m going, but I do know that I’ll always find you.”

Milo laughed, even if only to cover a single sob of joy. “Me, too,” he confirmed softly. The tremble in his voice didn’t have anything to do with his wounds. “My stealthy northstar. My Sweetheart. My mate.” He kissed them again, stopping only when pain pulled at his muscles. “Ooh,” he moaned, feeling himself sag as the adrenaline began to wear off.

“Stay still,” Sweetheart instructed, laying their hand across Milo’s stomach wound. “I don’t have enough magic to take care of all of this.” They shuddered at the sight of the gruesome wounds. “But I’ll give you all I’ve got.”

Milo mirrored their posture, except his hand landed on their head. “Same goes for me.” When Sweetheart tried to protest, he cupped their cheek. His look of determination silenced the stealth. “Now and always.”

Neither had the energy or interest in trying to convince their injured, exhausted mate not to heal. Together, they set their magic to mingle with each other, a tribute to the true love that sustained a mate bond.

Chapter Text

Babe hovered close, wanting to give the pair the chance to reunite, but also not willing to let their dear cousin out of their sight after having been separated for so long. David looped his arms around Angel, their back resting on his chest. He couldn’t keep a gentle sway from side to side out of his body as he pressed the mate he thought he had lost even closer.

Until reality set back into his senses.

“Oh, Angel,” he murmured into their hair. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Angel giggled lightly. “And what heinous sin have you committed lately, Davey?”

“I got married,” David confessed. “I didn’t want to! It all happened so fast.”

Angel pressed their weight back into David and tipped their head backwards to rest their cheek in the pillow of David’s neck. “Never happened,” they denied.

“What?” said David.

“It never happened,” Angel repeated.

“Yes, it did,” David insisted. “It did! I was there. A vampire named Porter stood up and said, ‘Husband and wife.’’”

“Did you say, ‘I do’?” Angel countered.

David blinked in surprise, wondering how he could’ve overlooked that important detail. “No. No. Porter skipped over that part when Alexis grew impatient.” The wolf brightened when consequences dawned on him. “So it didn’t count,” he asserted, relief flooding him. “Alexis’s impatience ruined the marriage before it could even happen.”

“Then you’re not married. You didn’t say it,” Angel summarized. “So you didn’t do it!” They weakly curled a finger against David’s chest, but that sensual moment fizzled away when Angel inclined their head to look at the doorway. “Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?”

There, at the doorway and still in her exquisite, glittering wedding dress, stood Princess Alexis Getty Solaire.

“A technicality that I shall soon remedy,” she vowed. “But first thing’s first.” She let her fangs drop and her eyes turn red. “To the death!”

“No!” Angel refuted, the strength of their voice betraying the weakness of their body. “To the pain.”

Alexis hesitated. Her eyes danced to Babe and Asher for explanation, but neither offered intervention. “I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase.”

“I’ll explain,” Angel assured her. “And I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you egomaniacal, pampered leech.”

Alexis gasped, completely scandalized. “That may be the first time in my life an unempowered person has dared insult me.”

“It won’t be the last,” David sneered.

“When is it my turn?” Babe added.

Angel tried to summon up the energy they’d need to verbalize the passionate vitriol in their heart. This woman had subjected them to hideous, physical torture. She’d forced David into entertaining her stupidest whims, probably while taunting him every chance she had. She’d cursed Damien and Huxley into isolation and fear. She’d forced Lasko to serve as Quinn’s lackey. She’d employed an old-blood maniac who had killed many people, including Marie all those years ago, to be her advisor. She’d had plans to enslave the country she was supposed to serve as soon as she got her grimy hands on that crown.

“To the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet below your ankles,” said Angel. “Then your hands at the wrist. Next your nose.”

Alexis jiggled her head. “And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.” She took a step forward, licking her lips.

“I wasn’t finished!” Angel interrupted, thinking back to their horrible experience with the Machine as Alexis pushed it to its most extreme level. “The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right.”

Alexis shrieked, her very limited patience long gone. “And then my ears!” she finished. “I understand. Let’s get on with it!”

“Wrong!” Angel seethed. “Your eyes you keep. And I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every baby that weeps at your approach. Every person who cries out, ‘Dear God, what is that thing?’ will echo in your perfect ears.”

“And that’s not all!” Babe interjected, standing close to Asher. “You keep your ears, but lose your mind. You lose the very thing that made you you.” The memory of Alexis cackling over them as Quinn enacted that trance would forever remain burned in Babe’s brain. “You lose the ability to think for yourself, to decide for yourself. You’re left just a shell of nothingness, hopelessly obedient to the whim of a cruel lunatic as you try to remember what it felt like to have control over your own senses.”

Asher took their other hand in his and threaded their fingers, letting his thumb track across Babe’s knuckles. “You lose the will to be more than someone else’s property. You forget who you are, and end up getting bent and twisted into someone’s version of you,” he said. Asher couldn't think of a more awful fate.

Alexis swallowed. She wasn’t familiar with the phrase ‘to the pain,’ but she certainly wasn’t familiar with multiple people standing against her. This was new. And most unpleasant. She had anticipated finding a despondent, despairing David in her room. It was supposed to be all too easy for her to slaughter him and then concoct a story about how the shifter-gone-mad had tried to attack her first. Her scribe was supposed to be drafting the new mandatory trance law for shifters by the morning.

That, however, was not happening. And Alexis didn’t like it one bit.

“And that version of yourself is one of grief,” David then supplied. “One of loneliness. One of complete and total desolation. Everything you loved, gone in the blink of an eye. Everything you had known turned upside down. Everything you thought was yours ripped away without warning.” The agony of David’s existence boiled in his gut, the wolf within him howling a call to attack Alexis. “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to get it back, but you try anyway, knowing it’s a losing battle.” He was fully human, but crouched at the ready to pounce on Alexis if she made a move towards any of them.

Angel sighed, quite grateful for the interlude their friends had granted them. It allowed them the chance to summon more energy even as their muscles screamed for rest. “All of that is what ‘to the pain’ means,’” they said. “‘It means we leave you in anguish, wallowing in your freakish misery forever.”

Alexis’s lip trembled. “I think you’re bluffing,” she flouted, like a child who didn’t want to believe that the clock’s chime meant bedtime.

“It’s possible, leech,” Angel shrugged. “Maybe we are bluffing. It’s conceivable, you miserable, hemophilic mass of makeup and malice. Maybe I’m saying all this lying here because I lack the strength to stand.” They raised their chin, glanced at David.

Angel had no magical core, but they could’ve sworn they felt a twinge of something.

“Or perhaps, maybe I do have the strength after all.” Angel valiantly leaned forward off the pile of pillows that had no doubt all been for Alexis, swinging their legs to the edge. They let their feet connect with the floor. Their legs wobbled a bit, but Angel continued their effort to stand, pushing up from the bed. They took a steadying breath, trying to keep the joy of standing on their own for the first time since Quinn had thrown them into the Pit of Despair what seemed like a lifetime ago. Angel raised their chin in defiance of their weakness, in defiance of Alexis, in defiance of the dystopia she wanted to create for everyone in Dahlia. “Close your mouth.”

Alexis could only stare slack-jawed as the unempowered human she had been so sure she killed stood before her. What kind of power did you have to have to withstand a life-sucking machine on its highest setting? What kind of a bond did they share with David that he believed, despite every sign pointing to their demise, that they were alive? Alexis had spent her life obsessed with lauding the power she held over everyone while simultaneously seeking more, more, more of it. She was poised to become the ruler of Dahlia, yet she could not fathom the kind of magic within Angel and David.

And so, what other choice did the princess have?

She closed her mouth. Her fangs clicked against her teeth and then receded into her gums.

Angel smiled triumphantly at the subdued vampire. They pointed to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

As if invoked, Alexis did as she was bid, plopping into the empty seat near her. She adjusted the train of her dress with lithe, shaking fingers.

“Tie her up,” Angel beckoned, much too focused on staying upright to consider what to use for restraints.

“With pleasure,” David answered, using the gaudy tablecloth that had been used as a cover to keep the champagne chilled. He wondered if Alexis had requested the champagne to keep up appearances as a happily married woman, or if she had ordered it to toast herself after killing her husband and using his death to oppress all shifters.

“Make it as tight as you can,” recommended Babe. “Wouldn’t want her trying to slip out of it.”

David used all his strength to pull the cloth tightly over Alexis and knot it.

“Oww! That hurts!” Alexis complained. “Quinn? Quinn, help me!”

She had inflicted so much pain into so many people during her tenure as princess. It was almost comical to hear her complain of an inconveniently placed knot.

Upon hearing Alexis call out for her advisor, Milo and Sweetheart burst into the room through the door. They were clinging to each other for support, as if between the two of them, they could share enough strength to stumble about without collapsing. Their injuries were crudely healed, though some sluggish bleeding did ooze out of Milo’s gut and drip down from Sweetheart’s head.

“Call all you want for that bastard, Your Highness,” Milo spat. “He’s not coming to help. He’s not doing much of anything anymore.” He angled his sword to Alexis’s chin, forcing her to stop her incessant screaming.

“Quinn is dead,” Sweetheart confirmed. Their skin had a waxy sheen and their head still pounded mercilessly, but they were alert and oriented.

A wave of dizziness washed over Angel before they could reply. They reached their hand out in a poor attempt to balance themselves. Before their feeble body collided with the ground, however, David made his way to their side with two long strides. He caught Angel at the waist, hooked an arm under their floppy knees, and lifted them up into his chest. “Don’t strain yourself, Angel,” he gently scolded, lines creasing at his forehead. The wolf sat down on the bed, Angel seated on his lap. “I thought you were recovered.”

“They are healing quickly,” Babe assured their cousin. “But recovery is far off. Quinn’s Machine stole all their strength.”

“I knew they were bluffing!” Alexis giggled.

Just as Milo pushed the tip of his sword one side of her throat, Asher shifted and brought a massive, clawed paw to the other side of her throat.

“I…” Alexis’s fleeting glee disappeared. “I knew they were bluffing,” she mumbled compliantly.

“Want me to dispatch her for you?” he asked the group. “The Milo special: two vamps for the price of one.”

“N-No,” Angel wavered. “Thank you, but no. Whatever happens to us, I want her to live a long life, alone in her selfishness and cowardice.”

“That can and will certainly be arranged,” a new voice interjected. None other than Prince Vincent Solaire entered the room, surveying the scene before him. “Oh, Alexis…” His lip curled as though he had found a dead roach in his blood-infused French onion soup. “You will pay dearly for this treachery.” He snapped his fingers, imbuing the tablecloth with magic muting powers.

She haplessly struggled against the bindings before sagging against them, utterly defeated.

“We are here to serve our subjects.” He gestured at the three bruised, battered, and altogether traumatized couples. “It is our duty and honor to use our authority for that sole purpose.” He shook his head sadly. “That is something our maker has spent his life teaching us. And instead, you throw it away for your own gain.”

Babe quickly seized the moment. “Your Highness,” they said, ignoring every bit of courtly protocol they had tried to master since being brought to the castle with David. “You must read these documents. Please.” They gathered up the papers and shoved them at the prince. “They detail Alexis’s plans as to how she will rule the kingdom, her strategies for tyrannical rule and oppression. For shifter, and then for everyone. Please, you have to help us!”

Vincent blinked at the distraught human and nodded. He glanced at the parchments, each word causing a spike of rage to surge through his core. “Not only did you believe you could get away with subjecting all of Dahlia to such a cruel fate, but you had the stupid audacity to document it?” He frowned. “It took me weeks to gather even the slightest bit of intel via my network of spies based in Prenwick, and even so, that was all just hearsay and eavesdropping. I had no idea Alexis was so systematic and mobilized as all this.”

“Vincent, please, there’s still time!” Alexis begged. “You can see from my notes. You know how easy we could make those changes. We could rule the country together! Think about it, Vincent. Unlimited power between the two of us.”

“You heartily misunderstand,” the prince said. “Though, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. What a sad worldview you must hold to think everyone is as sinister as yourself.” Vincent slapped the papers with the back of his hand. “No, I’m afraid my response to this information was too shortsighted. I foolishly hired a group of rogues to kidnap and to kill your fiancé, framing Prenswick, which was where I happened to have been visiting and smoothing over our relations for the last few months. Alexis would’ve most certainly overreacted to the alleged crime and, when she tried to declare war without real cause, citizens’ outrage would’ve most certainly seen Alexis unseated from the throne.” He wiggled his fingers in a wave to Sweetheart. “I am most grateful to you that you did not follow through with part of our deal.”

Milo gasped. “Sweetheart?” His bushy eyebrows jumped up at least an inch. “You’re telling me that Prince Vincent was the one who hired us for this job?”

The stealth shrugged. “I didn’t tell you or Asher because if things went wrong, you wouldn’t have any information, and then only I would’ve been charged with treason,” they revealed. “Prince Vincent said discretion was of the utmost importance. That Dahlia’s future was at stake. He couldn’t ask anyone at the castle to do it, because they might’ve told Alexis.” They bit their lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest, but it was too important to make sure the government didn’t turn into tyranny.” Sweetheart glanced at Milo and Asher. “Could you ever forgive me?”

Milo’s heart burst at the thought of Sweetheart taking on that burden and carrying it alone for so long. He hugged them fiercely. Asher nodded, nearly in tears at the thought of his friend making such a sacrifice on his behalf.

“And so do I,” David added wryly. “Y’know, for kidnapping and almost killing me.”

“Yes,” Vincent grimaced as Sweetheart suspiciously hiccupped what sounded like a sob of relief into Milo. “I have realized now that that specific element of the plan was an insensitive overweight on my part. I, too, seek your forgiveness, David.” Vincent folded the parchment and stuffed them into his pocket. “Thank you for bringing this information to my attention,” he told Babe, offering the slightest bow of his head. “I will see that these records are shared with my maker, as well as the rest of the court council during Alexis’s trial. A trial that I hope you and the rest of your group here will attend and testify.”

“Trial!?” Alexis echoed incredulously. “I will not be put on trial but the likes of you! I am the Crown Princess of Dahlia! I-”

Vincent snapped his fingers again, summoning a gaudy decorative ribbon to slither over to Alexis and tie itself around her mouth as a gag.

“Much better,” he noted with playful nonchalance. “Her indulgences have reached much too far,” the prince explained. “That ends today.”

“And, yes, I think I speak for us all when we say we’ll be happy to testify at her trial,” David answered. “We have a lot to say about Alexis’s political alignment, the allies she chose to forge, and the actions she has taken to further her goals.”

Angel coughed. “Like cursing Damien and Huxley!”

“And giving Lasko to Quinn in the Pit of Despair,” Babe supplied.

“Not to mention firing and banishing Sam Collins,” Milo listed.

“Or amassing an army of invoked guards,” Asher included.

Sweetheart was about to add some scathing comment, but instead their movement pulled at the shoulder wound that still bled sluggishly. The pain caught them off-guard, causing them to gasp.

“Alright,” Milo hushed. “Alright now.”

Sweetheart plastered a tight smile on their face and nodded against Milo. “It hurts,” they whispered, no louder than a whisper.

“All excellent points that shall be taken care of with due haste.” Vincent vowed, mind racing as the full picture of Alexis’s corruption came to light. It was only thanks to these brave citizens that Alexis’s plan was foiled. How could he ever repay them for their service not just to his family, but to all of Dahlia? The vampire cast a glance around everyone, heart sinking as he read everyone’s expressions and body language to realize just how close Alexis had come to achieving her dastardly goal.

David was clutching Angel tightly, like he thought the only thing that could keep his mate safe was keeping them surrounded by every muscle, tooth, and claw he had.

Angel was struggling to stay awake, their limp body melting into David, thoroughly exhausted after the hellish experience they endured.

Asher’s eyes were wide and dilated as he nervously paced a few steps back and forth, aiming to patrol the room as his territory to keep his friends secure while also standing right beside Babe.

Babe was taking deep breaths and staring at the floor, exhibiting the tell-tale signs of a human dealing with the lingering after-effects of a nonconsensual trance.

Milo was whispering something to Sweetheart as he leaned back to rest against the desk, shirt stained with blood and muscles trembling.

Sweetheart pushed further into Milo, flickering in and out of visibility without noticing, as their typically expressionless face crumpled into a gut-wrenching frown and they huddled closer to their mate.

Vincent swallowed. “But, we have more immediate matters at hand.” He had never fancied himself to be a particularly good leader. Alexis was the one who had been trained and readied for reign, not him. And jealousy had burned the younger vampire to no end. Now, he had a chance to prove to himself that he could handle the responsibility of inheriting his maker’s authority. “Right now, I believe our priority should be getting all of you healed, fed, and taken care of.”

Chapter Text

”True to his word, Vincent provided the pack with ample time and resources to recover from their ordeal,” Gavin read. Only a few pages remained in the book.

Freelancer and Caelum were completely focused, not wanting to miss a minute of what promised to be a fantastic ending.

“Eventually, they were ready to depart the castle together.”

“...I saw the royal stables and there they were!” Asher explained enthusiastically to the five others. “Six horses! And I thought, well, there are six of us. That’s perfect. The stable-hand, nice guy, his name was Brachium,” the wolf continued, just gave them to me. Said that he was grateful for our service to Dahlia.” Asher moved his shoulders excitedly, since his hands were full with six pairs of reins. The horses, each one a different color and equally majestic, contently grazing on some browse of a nearby tree. “We’re heroes!”

“Damn straight we are.” Milo petted the bay horse in front of him and whistled. “Wow, what a beauty!” he marveled before turning to Asher. “Hey, Ash, you did good.” The horse Milo pet bucked a bit before settling. “Hmm, feisty guy, aren’t you?” he noted. “Think I’ll call you Aggro.”

“Don’t worry,” Asher winked. “I won’t let it go to my head.” He swung his leg to mount the gray horse. “Much.”

Babe ran up to the pinto, tenderly stroking her face. “This is the pinto I was riding when you kidnapped me!” They kissed the horse’s muzzle. “Aww, I think she remembers me.”

Meanwhile, Angel hung halfway off the smallest horse, attempting to generate enough momentum to get their leg over the onyx animal’s body.

David reached over and used his palm to give Angel the boost of force they needed to complete the mount. “Troublemaker,” he grinned, heart swelling in his chest as he watched his mate pull down at a branch so their horse could eat the green leaves.

“Oh my gosh! This horse is gorgeous!” Sweetheart claimed the appaloosa horse. “You look like you know exactly where you’re going,” they told the animal, who nickered in response. “You do! You do know! Perfect. Perfect! This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

David outstretched an arm, signaling for Milo to climb onto the waiting steed.

Milo hesitated with a sigh. “You know, it’s… It’s pretty strange,” he told David. “I’ve been in the revenge business so long. Now that it’s over…” He huffed. “I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life.”

David clapped him on the shoulder. “Have you ever considered piracy?” he posed. “You’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Keaton. And I happen to know there will soon be an opening.”

Milo considered the question, then looked to his mate, who was busy chatting with their horse. “That’s a really tempting offer, but…” He searched for a polite way to say that suddenly, all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his days at Sweetheart’s side. He knew Marie would approve of that choice. “I get seasick.”

“Got it,” David nodded, all too familiar with the glint in Milo’s eyes. Perhaps the era of the Dread Pirate Keaton had come to a glorious end. Finally, David mounted the last remaining horse, who was white and strikingly regal. “Let’s go!”

”And so, the pack of six rode to freedom,” Gavin read. “As dawn arose, David, Angel, Asher, Babe, Milo, and Sweetheart knew they were safe. A wave of love swept over them. As David and Angel reached for each other…”

Gavin abruptly closed the book.

“What? What!?” Caelum asked.

“Nah,” Gavin waved off. “It’s kissing again. You don’t want to hear that.”

Freelancer remained quiet, noting the thoughtful way Caelum stared at the blanket.

“Well, I don’t mind so much,” he admitted, complete with puppy-dog eyes.

“Okay.” Gavin put up his best attempt at an indifferent nod, though Freelancer could tell just how proud he was of the empathy-daemon. He opened the book and turned to the last page.

As David and Angel reached for each other, they felt their mate bond dance with joy. Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

The end.

“The end.” Gavin closed the book, with one hand, the cover snapping shut.

Caelum smiled. “Wow, Gavin, that was amazing!”

Freelancer applauded.

Gavin put a hand on his chest and took a bow. “Now, I think you oughta try to get some rest,” he advised Caelum.

Caelum wanted to argue, but he did feel tired. “Okay,” he yawned, wiggling himself under the covers. He watched as Gavin helped Freelancer out of their chair and returned both to their place across the room. Freelancer waved their hand to turn off the light.

“Alright,” Gavin sighed. “So long, Caelum. Feel better.” He made his way to the bedroom door, arm looped around Freelancer’s shoulders.

“Gavin?” Caelum asked as the incubus’s hand met the doorknob. “Maybe you could come over and read it again to me tomorrow?”

Gavin turned to face Caelum and winked, letting the corner of his lip pull into a smile. “As you wish.”