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The night was crisp and cool, a hoarfrost covering the dying autumn flora. Former Guard Captain Nicholas Nelson’s lone shadow raged against the dying night, his wolf form rippling into a sturdy, strong human man as the last beams of moonlight disappeared. The raven-haired man who travelled with him was gone. He was alone. Always alone.
Brushing off the chill of the early morning, Ser Nick dressed his naked body in the black travelling armour he usually wore. He folded the heavily lined, navy blue cloak his partner wears by night and packed it away in the side bag on Nellie, the horse they shared. A piercing cry rang through the sky, and Ser Nick looked up to see a sleek hawk gliding through the pale pink fingers of dawn. Despite his loneliness, Ser Nick smiled at the sight of Charlie Spring, his love and lifemate. When night falls, Charlie will be human again, but by then Ser Nick will be trapped in his wolf form — two souls cursed to live eternally apart.
Over the years and months since they’d been cursed, Nick’s bitterness and anger about their cruel punishment had only grown harder, sharper. Benedict Hope, once Bishop of Truham Abbey but now something darker, had done this. It hadn’t been enough to stalk Postulant Charlie as he kept the hours of prayer, always sitting near enough to creep Charlie out, always with a comment meant to sound complimentary yet improper. Ser Nick overheard the occasional comment and witnessed Charlie’s discomfort.
One day after mass, Benedict cornered Charlie in the sacristy, forcing himself on Charlie and telling him how much he desired him. He ignored Charlie’s requests to stop, blaming Charlie for awakening this lust in him.
“I know you feel the same way about me,” he’d said as he mashed his mouth against Charlie’s and pinned him against the tapestry-covered stone wall.
“Get off me! Stop!” Charlie cried, but the Bishop overpowered him. It was only Ser Nicholas’ timely intervention that stopped the advance from going any further.
“He told you to stop, your grace,” Ser Nick said calmly, steeling the rage beneath the expected deference. Bishop Hope wiped his mouth and fixed his tousled hair, glaring at Nick, his fury on display. Ser Nick looked squarely at him. “You should leave.”
“You mustn’t speak–” he spat before Ser Nick moved towards him, imposing and protective, no longer hiding behind fealty to Benedict. The bishop, coward as he was, tumbled backwards over a lectern and scampered away. Ser Nick watched him retreat with disgust.
“That will cause trouble,” Charlie said, his voice quavering as he watched Bishop Hope disappear.
“I can manage, Charles,” Ser Nick said gently, scanning Charlie for any injuries. The postulant was not a weak man, simply thin and lean, boyish for his maturity.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said.
“You have nothing to apologise for,” Ser Nick scoffed. “The Bishop should be sorry. Come, let me escort you home safely.”
“I can manage,” Charlie replied with a shy grin. Ser Nick stepped forward and placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie gasped quietly as the contact, and Ser Nick felt a surge of sparks fly at the touch.
“I believe you. If you need anything, I’ll be here,” Ser Nick said, swallowing hard before dropping his hand from Charlie’s arm. While the guards protected the Abbey, they weren’t meant to socialise with the brothers and priests. They weren’t supposed to engage in physical or emotional relationships with each other, per Bishop Hope, but if the rules didn’t apply to him, they didn’t apply to everyone.
Thus began their love affair. Charlie maintained his routine, keeping the hours and making sure to linger long enough for Ser Nick to check in with him as they walked through the arched cloisters and monastic gardens. Under the guise of maths tutoring, Ser Nick and Charlie spent time together in the library under the watchful, knowing, and kind eyes of Father Isaac, the lead librarian.
“Following Pythagorus’ theorem…” Charlie spoke, guiding Nick’s hand to trace the triangle on the parchment. He felt Nick’s fingers twitch, stopped talking, and looked up. “What is it? You’re staring.”
“You’re cute,” Nick said, blushing. “I shouldn’t admit that as you’re a monk and I’m a guard, but Char…”
“Char?”
Ser Nick stopped talking as he heard the disrespectful name fall from his mouth. “I’m sorry, you holiness, I–”
“I like it,” Charlie said. “It’s cute, too.”
“Well, then I’m never saying it again,” Ser Nick laughed quietly. He allowed his booted foot to tap against Charlie’s sandals, longing for more touches than hands on parchment. A loud clearing of a throat brought Ser Nick back to his studying, and he looked towards the sound, seeing Bishop Hope watching them, his seething anger and envy clear. He wanted Charlie. That hadn’t changed, and it was clear his jealousy ate away at him.
As Ser Nick and Charlie’s love blossomed, they arranged a secret wedding with Father Isaac. He met them in his quarters, joined by Brother Tao Xu and Ser Christian as their witnesses. After performing the rite and binding them in holy matrimony, he swore Brother Tao and Ser Christian to secrecy, and Nick and Charlie shared their wedding night together before parting to maintain the secret.
Bishop Hope sensed something was different but couldn’t prove it. He ran through various ideas, trying to determine what had changed, but it was for naught. Until, hearing of their secret union from the loose lips of Brother Tao in a drunken confession, the bishop made a deal with a devil in his fury and jealousy.
He wanted them punished, to be forever separated. Instead, he cursed himself, binding his fate to theirs. By day, Charlie was cursed to be a falcon, and by night, Nick became a black wolf, never to be human together again unless Bishop Hope should die by their hands when both are human again.
Ser Nick fled into the forests surrounding Truham Abbey as Charlie flew above him, searching for a way to break the curse. They roamed the countryside looking for magicians and healers. No one could help them. They considered breaking into the abbey to kill Ben, but they couldn’t. They would remain cursed as long as they were never human at the same time as no one had ever been able to break through the defenses of Truham Abbey.
No one, that is, until Elle Argent — a clever thief and runaway who had escaped Truham’s and Bishop Hope’s cruelty. She was lithe and quick, the "Mouse" they called her, and she wanted nothing more than to be free. As news of her escape filtered through towns and villages, both Ser Nick and Charlie felt a flash of hope, a reflection of their own desperation.
Ser Nick tracked her to the nearby village of Kent, saving her from the Abbey Guard, now led by Ser Harry d’Vert, a foul and hateful sadist who had gloried in abusing the prisoners under his supervision. They had her cornered in the marketplace where she had been attempting to steal clothing so she could get out of her prison uniform.
“Stand down, Ser Harry,” Ser Nick warned, aiming a heavy crossbow at the new guard captain. He looked around at the guards on both sides of Ser Harry. “Gentlemen, I know you. You know me. We don’t have to fight. Let the Mouse go, and we can pretend she got away.”
“How like you to take pity on the foul rodents who infest our world?” Ser Harry sneered. “You’ve always had a weakness for pathetic wretches. To arms.”
Ser Nick watched his former colleagues look from him to Ser Harry. It was clear none of them liked Ser Harry, but he was their new captain, and they followed orders. Ser Nick gave Nellie a slight tap with his heel, and she reared to flank them as he began shooting. He shared a glance with Ser Christian, and the friends feinted their attack. Ser Otis and Ser Sai followed the dance, none of them willing to hurt their former captain and friend.
The hawk dove between them, distracting the guards who were not friends of Ser Nick’s and throwing them off balance. One guard tried to shoot him before Ser Harry shouted, “Don’t touch the hawk. He mustn’t be hurt.”
Ser Nick heard the reedy command, and as he rode by Ser Harry, he holstered his crossbow, leaned back, and delivered a hard kick, knocking the new captain off his horse. He withdrew his longsword and swept at Ser Harry, brushing his sword to the side. Ser Harry whimpered and waved his hands in front of his face, hiding.
“I beg of you Ser Nick, show mercy,” he whined. Ser Nick groaned in disgust at the cowardice on display. The other guards stopped fighting and looked down at their mewling captain as he cried, “Help me!”
Ser Nick reared back and started galloping away, slowing long enough to reach down and grab Elle the Mouse from where she was hiding. When they had ridden far enough away and Ser Nick could see the guards returning towards the Abbey, he whoa’d Nellie and dismounted, helping Elle down. He held out his forearm, and the hawk perched on it.
“You, I remember you,” Ser Nick said as he looked closely at her face while stroking the dark hawk’s crown. She had often been at the Abbey for alms. He’d assumed she was a boy, but he could clearly see her now. While her face was smeared with dirt and her hair was longer, she was recognisable. “You used to come for charity.”
“Yes, I suppose I did,” Elle said defiantly. “Until you guards made my life difficult.”
“I didn’t–” Ser Nick started.
“No, not you, but some of your men. Forcing me to cut my hair, calling me the wrong name and laughing. I remember you, though you were often with one of the monks. What do you want from me?” Elle said, appraising Ser Nick. She rested her weight on one of her long, lean legs and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You escaped the Abbey prisons,” Ser Nick replied calmly. Elle nodded. “I need you to get me back inside.”
“Why would I want to go back?” Elle scoffed. “I just got out.”
“Because I am going to kill the Bishop of Truham,” Nick said firmly. The hawk screeched. “And I need your help.”
Elle pursed her lips and considered her options. “Alright, I promise to guide you through the secret paths and forgotten tunnels of Truham Abbey. Then we’re even.”