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"All right, you little terrors," Jayce said, "time for bed."
"No," Amaranthine whined. "I want a story!"
"Get changed, brush your teeth, and get into bed," Viktor suggested, "and then I will come and tell you a story."
"One for each of us," Naph bargained.
"Perhaps," Viktor said. "We shall see how well-behaved you are between now and the end of the first story."
Naph looked at his sister. Ama looked back at him. Some wordless communication passed between them, and then they were racing for the bathroom.
Strong arms caught Viktor by the waist and pulled him back against his husband's broad chest. Jayce nuzzled at his neck, beard tickling. It sent a familiar thrill through Viktor's body, and he tipped his head to invite more.
"Are you really going to tell them two stories?" Jayce wondered quietly, breath spilling warm against Viktor's skin.
Viktor chuckled. "Do you really think our hellions will be able to behave for that long?" Already, he could hear Ama complaining that Naph was hogging too much space at the sink.
Jayce laughed. "You have a point." He kissed the curve of Viktor's neck. "Do I get to listen to the story, too?"
"That depends," Viktor teased, "on whether you are able to behave at least as well as our children."
"Mm, what if I am well-behaved during the story, and promise to behave badly after they are asleep?" Jayce asked, his voice a soft growl against Viktor's ear that pulled out a shiver of anticipation.
"Well then, Mr. Talis," Viktor said somewhat breathlessly, "you may have yourself a bargain." He turned within the circle of Jayce's arms to claim a kiss.
That stretched out, because it was Jayce and because it was Viktor, until a small, piping voice said, "Gross, kissing."
Jayce laughed into Viktor's mouth as they parted. "Someday you may want to kiss someone yourself," he told their daughter.
"Gross," Ama opined again. She was in her pajamas, at least, when Viktor turned back around to face her.
To his surprise, her hair had already been braided, which was a task that usually required his or Jayce's help. The braid was lumpy and somewhat crooked, but would suffice to keep it from tangling while she slept. "Your hair looks very pretty," Jayce observed diplomatically. "Did you do it all by yourself?"
She shook her head. "Naph."
That was a surprise. "I did not know that he knew how to braid," Viktor admitted.
Even as he spoke, the children's bedroom door opened and Naph emerged in his own sleepwear. "It's not hard," Naph said dismissively. "She could do it herself if it wasn't behind her head." He eyed Ama critically. "It would look better if she wasn't so squirmy."
Ama scowled at him. "Papa said it was pretty!"
"Are you guys ready for your story?" Jayce asked, interrupting the squabble before it could gain momentum.
"Yes! Yes!" Ama lifted her arms. "Carry me!" she demanded.
"All right, princesita," Jayce said, and released Viktor to pick her up and settle her against his hip.
"No, carry me crazy!"
"We are not crazy this close to bedtime," Viktor reminded her. "You and Papa can play tomorrow." He put a hand on Naph's shoulder as they followed Jayce and Ama into the bedroom. "That was a kind thing that you did," he told Naph.
Naph shrugged it off, embarrassed, and Viktor dropped it with amusement.
Finally, they were all assembled, Jayce's back to Ama's headboard as she leaned cozily against his side; Viktor sitting on the side of Naph's bed. "Once upon a time," Viktor began…
The wind howled around Jayce and his mother as they struggled through the snowstorm, huddled close together against the cold. It was hard to see the path, buried under all the snow; the only sign of its presence was the narrow, snaking opening between the trees that grew densely all around them.
Jayce's mother was growing weak, though she was trying to hide it from him. But if she collapsed and was unable to walk, he would have to pick her up and carry her. Normally, that wouldn't be much of a problem—Jayce was tall and strong from working at the smithy, and his mother wasn't very heavy—but the wind and cold had sapped his strength, and carrying her meant he would move even more slowly.
If they didn't find shelter soon, Jayce realized, they might well die.
"Help!" he called, as loud as he could, but his words were swept away by the wind.
"Mijo," his mother said, groping for his arm and pulling him close. "Don't shout. You will loose too much warm breath, too quickly. You must keep your heart warm."
"Mama," he started, but then she swayed and her knees buckled, and he barely kept her from falling into the snow.
He picked her up, despairing, and resumed trudging through the snow.
Suddenly, he found himself looking up at a wall, as if it had burst into existence between one step and the next. It was tall, stretching up even above the trees. "Hello?" he yelled. "Is there anyone in there? Please, help us!"
A massive door appeared in the wall, weathered and stained as if it had been there for decades. Jayce was startled, but too desperate to question it. He pushed on the door, and despite its age it swung open at his touch, as if inviting him in.
"Hello?" Jayce stepped through the door, and suddenly found himself surrounded by warmth, the snow and ice that was clinging to his clothes and hair immediately beginning to melt. The sun was shining with the heat of a late spring afternoon, there was grass and flowers under his feet, and the only wind was a light, pleasant breeze.
Dizzy with the sudden change of temperature, Jayce collapsed to his knees. He set his mother down as gently as he was able, then turned to look back through the door—but it had swung silently closed behind him.
He took a slow, steadying breath, then looked back to his mother. She was still breathing, and the line of pain between her brows was easing as she grew warmer.
Reassured, he looked at what else was on this side of the wall and found a castle, tall and strong and sturdy aside from the tallest tower, which was covered in scorch marks and cracked stones as if it had been repeatedly struck by lightning. Jayce stared at the castle in disbelief. There was no castle along this path, in these woods. But here they were, and here it was.
There was no pennant, no coat of arms displayed to tell him who owned this castle and its lands. All Jayce could see was the shredded ruins of a single banner, sky-blue with a strange symbol marked on it. It wasn't the sigil of any nobleman that Jayce knew of.
"It was a rune, wasn't it?"
"Shh, princesita, just listen to the story."
His mother was resting more peacefully now. Jayce heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe they could wait out the storm here, and resume the walk to their village when it was over. He laid down next to her in the soft, sweet-smelling grass, and finally slept.
"Who dares to trespass on my domain?" a voice said, and Jayce jolted awake and sat up as if he'd been yanked on a string.
Before him stood… he didn't know what it was. A beast, a monster, a god? It was tall—at least a full head taller than Jayce, who was the tallest person in their village—but slender. It looked like it was made of some kind of metal that Jayce had never heard of, and had a mask where its face should be, featureless aside from two small, glowing lights for its eyes. It wore nothing but a cloak, and it held a staff in one hand. It was terrifying to behold, beyond terrifying.
As if on instinct, Jayce scrambled up onto his knees and then bowed deeply, until his head nearly touched the grass. "Forgive me, your lordship, I meant no harm! I only sought shelter from the storm for myself and my mother."
The monster did not speak for a long moment, and Jayce shivered in fear as he waited. Did it think he was lying?
Behind him, nearly silent, the door opened again, and Jayce could hear the shriek of the storm outside, could feel the cold of it creeping in after him, like something blindly groping for his leg to drag him back out into that frozen hell. A far worse monster than the one in front of him. "Please, your lordship," Jayce pleaded. "Have mercy, I beg you. Let us stay until the storm is ended, or it will surely kill us both!"
Another long silence, but finally—
"Very well," that voice said, and it sounded like dozens of voices at once, a whole chorus, but somehow emotionless, devoid of either cruelty or compassion. "You both may remain until the morning, on one condition: you will remain here with me when your mother leaves."
Forever? What use a being like this might have for Jayce, he feared to contemplate, but if they were sent back out into the storm, his mother would die for certain, and Jayce might well also succumb. "I… yes," Jayce said, though his heart was pounding in terror and his eyes filled with tears. "I will stay, my lord, if my mother is able to return home in safety."
"I will bring her there myself," the creature promised in its strange, musical accent. "I will leave her with gold and jewels, and provide one of my own servants to remain with her and keep her safe from harm. And from this day forward, you are mine. Do I have your word?"
Jayce had to swallow several times before he could speak. "Yes, my lord. I give you my word."
"Good. Get up, then, and take your mother indoors. You shall be provided with food, and hot baths, and soft beds. If there is anything you desire, you need only speak your wish aloud and it will be provided."
Jayce stood slowly, then bowed again. "You are… generous, my lord."
The beast only hummed softly, and then strode away without another word.
Jayce gathered his mother up and carried her into the castle, where he was met by one of the monster's servants.
"Isn't he one of the monster's servants now?"
"Perhaps if you listen, Naph, you will find out."
The servant was nearly as frightening as its master, but beautiful, a porcelain doll-like being all of white and gold, nearly as faceless as the lord of the castle.
It led Jayce to a set of rooms where, true to the lord's word, there was a table groaning with food, and two lavishly-decorated bedrooms, and two bathing rooms with tubs that were already filled with lightly steaming water.
Jayce's mother started to rouse as he set her on one of the beds, so he stayed with her until her eyes opened, not wanting her to wake in a strange place and find herself alone.
"Jayce?" She reached for him, and he let her take his hand. He felt the shock and tremors of her grip as she looked around. "Where are we?"
Jayce wasn't sure how much the creature could hear of what they said—it had certainly realized quickly enough when they'd come onto the grounds—so he summarized what had happened as simply and factually as possible.
"No," she said when he told her of the bargain he'd struck. "Absolutely not. I will stay, and you must return home."
"I have already given my word, mamí," he told her, gently but firmly. He did not want her to sacrifice herself for him, true—but he couldn't explain the strange sense that had been growing within him that he was meant to be here. That it needed to be him for reasons that had nothing to do with his love for his mother. "Perhaps he will allow us to visit, from time to time."
She wept at that, and clung to him, but seemed to understand that he would not be swayed. Eventually, she calmed enough that he was able to urge her to take advantage of the beast's hospitality, and do the same for himself.
When he got out of the bath, he found his clothes waiting for him on a nearby chair, cleaned and neatly folded, even though the door to the bathing room had been closed the entire time. It was somewhat unnerving, but the smell of the waiting food was too tempting to worry overmuch.
He and his mother ate together, as they always had. The food was still hot, despite the time he had been in the bath, and very good, though Jayce barely tasted any of it, too aware of the fact that this might be the last meal they shared together.
They stayed up long into the night, sitting by the fire and talking as she tried to pass on what knowledge and wisdom she hadn't yet shared. But all too soon, they were both nodding off in the fire's warmth. Reluctantly, they parted ways to sleep on the soft beds.
When Jayce woke, the morning light was streaming in through a high, glazed window, and there was a folded note on the pillow next to his.
My dearest Jayce,
Forgive me for leaving without bidding you farewell, but I could not bear to leave you here if I looked into your face again. A mother is destined to be parted from her children from the very moment of their birth, but I admit that I had hoped I would lose you to love.
I hope, whatever your destiny, that you are able to be happy. I will pray to have word from you soon.
Go with my love, mi corazon,
Mama
Jayce's eyes stung with tears, and for a while, he gave in to them, mourning the life he'd always thought he would have and now, it seemed, never would.
But he had never been one to wait passively, nor was he about to begin now. After a time, when he was calmer, he got up and pulled on his clothes and set out to explore the castle and its grounds and perhaps speak with its mysterious lord.
One of the servants was waiting outside of the room when he emerged; it bowed to him but didn't seem inclined to herd him in one direction or another.
"Is there a dining room?" Jayce asked it. "I would enjoy some breakfast."
The servant bowed again and led Jayce through the castle halls to a large dining room, easily big enough to host a feast with dozens of guests, though there was only a single table in it at the moment. That table was large enough for a dozen all on its own, but only two places were set—one at the head of the table, and another to its right.
Jayce took the lower seat, though he wasn't sure his host required food, since it had seemed to be made of metal.
As soon as he placed the napkin in his lap, the table was instantly filled with food—meat and cheese and eggs and fruits and pastries and more. Tall silver pitchers were filled with sweet juices; steaming pots of the thinnest porcelain held tea and drinking chocolate; fresh-baked breads made with the finest flour were heaped on gilded platters.
"And will his lordship be joining me for the meal?" Jayce asked of the servant, who had taken up a post at the wall.
It did not respond with either speech or gesture.
Jayce waited a few minutes, to be polite, but the smell of the food was making his stomach growl fiercely. Eventually, he gave up and began to serve himself. The food was excellent; still, Jayce thought he might enjoy it more if there were someone there to talk to.
When at last Jayce had eaten his fill, he got up, politely bowed in thanks toward the empty chair at the head of the table, and began to explore in earnest.
The servant followed him, but did not attempt to interfere. He peered into several parlors and a ballroom that dwarfed the dining hall. There was an office that despite being immaculately clean still somehow felt long-disused. A solarium overlooked a beautiful garden, filled with roses and other flowers in a whole rainbow of colors. There were more than a dozen guest quarters ranging from the lavish suite Jayce and his mother had shared to simple (but still elegantly appointed) single bedrooms. There was a kitchen that did not appear to contain a cook or any food, despite the meals Jayce had eaten.
He paused for a while in a massive library that contained more books than Jayce could read in his lifetime, even if he were to devote every hour of his day to the task.
The first restriction on his movement that Jayce encountered was when he approached what he calculated would be the blasted tower. A pair of servants appeared when he moved toward the door; when he reached for the handle, one of them blocked his way. Gentle but unyielding, they pressed him back, making it plain in their silent way that he was not permitted to enter that tower.
He didn't try to argue, just moved on. When he glanced back down the corridor, the servant-guards were no longer there, though he was certain that if he turned around and tried again, they would re-appear.
The next thing he found was the master suite—the door opened onto a receiving room of sorts, with the lord's chambers to one side and a spouse's to the other. Each had their own dressing room and bathroom and bedroom and parlor. The dressing rooms were filled with clothes, but Jayce got the odd feeling that they had been empty until the moment he opened the doors. The whole suite, bigger than Jayce's mother's house on its own, had the same unused feeling as the office he'd found earlier.
Still, Jayce was surprised that he'd been allowed entry—even if the monster who ruled here didn't use the suite, it certainly did not belong to Jayce—but the servant was still placidly following him around, merely posting itself against a wall if Jayce stayed in a room for a while.
It took Jayce most of the day to explore the castle, and even then he doubted he'd seen everything. But eventually hunger pulled him back down to the dining room.
He was just beginning to serve himself when the beast appeared.
Startled, Jayce dropped his plate with a clatter and quickly stood so that he could make his bow. "My lord," he said. "Forgive me; I did not realize you would be joining me for this meal."
"I require no obeisance from you, Jayce," the creature said in its musically-accented voice. It had more life to it now than it had the previous day, not quite so impassive and flat. "Nor should you wait on me for meals. I do not eat… often. Anymore. Please, resume your dinner." Long metal fingers curled elegantly over the arms of its chair as it sat.
Cautiously, Jayce resumed his own seat. "May I ask a question, my lord?"
"Yes." It did not reach for any of the food in front of it; the unnerving glow of its eyes was fixed on Jayce.
"What, ah... What will be required of me?"
"Very little," the monster said. "Conversation, once in a while—my servants are efficient and beautiful, but incapable of speech. I shall join you for dinner each evening that I am able. Also, I must insist that you not attempt the north tower again. That is where I do my work, and it is not safe for you. Otherwise, you are welcome to go anywhere in the castle and grounds. You may occupy whatever rooms please you, and pursue whatever interests or pleasures you wish."
That was… far less terrible than Jayce had feared. "Thank you, my lord. Do— Do the servants have names? How should I address them?"
"They had names, once. But they are not living beings. To speak to one is to speak to them all. Address them as you will. They have been instructed to attend to your desires, within the scope of their ability."
"You are very generous. May I— Please forgive me if this is rude, but… Are you living? What I can see of you seems to be metal."
"Parts of me are still living tissue," the lord said. "For now."
"For— What does that mean?"
The beast did not respond.
"Okay, don't ask about that, got it," Jayce muttered, then asked, "May I at least know your name?"
The mask tipped, ever so slightly, to the side, as if the monster was surprised by the question. "…It's Viktor."
The sheer normalcy of the name took Jayce by surprise, and a startled laugh escaped. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Thank you, Lord Viktor."
"Just Viktor," it—he?—corrected. "I am no lord."
"You rule an entire castle," Jayce pointed out, daringly.
"True," Viktor agreed. "But a lord has subjects, and I have none."
"Well," Jayce said, "you have one." Viktor did not move, but Jayce could swear he was surprised.
"Still," Viktor said after a moment, "I would prefer that you call me Viktor, unadorned by titles." He stood up then, and Jayce stood to match him. "I will take my leave of you now," Viktor said. "Please enjoy the rest of your meal, and the castle's hospitality."
Jayce bowed, just a little this time. "Thank you, my l— Viktor."
Viktor looked at him with that blank, impassive mask for another moment, and then he was gone.
Jayce sank back into his chair with a sigh.
Viktor didn't make an appearance again until the next day, when he came into the library where Jayce was reading.
Jayce immediately rose to his feet, only to be waved back with the elegant wave of a hand.
"I do not intend to disturb you," Viktor said, heading toward the shelves with a purposeful stride. "I need only consult a few references."
"The disturbance is not unwelcome," Jayce ventured. "This place is beautiful, but too quiet."
Viktor paused as he was drawing a book of anatomy off the shelf. "I had not thought of it like that," he admitted.
"Which?" Jayce asked. "Beautiful, or quiet?"
"Either, I suppose," Viktor said. "I have been here for so many years that I no longer see its beauty." He tucked the anatomy book under his arm and observed, "You are wearing the same clothes you arrived in." He moved down the wall and selected an almanac. "Was the provided clothing insufficient in some way?"
"The… provided clothing?" Jayce asked.
"Is there not clothing in your room?" The mask of Viktor's face did not change, but somehow, Jayce felt him hovering between confusion and annoyance.
"There is," Jayce said quickly, "but it seemed rude to rifle through someone else's clothes."
"It is not rude," Viktor said, shifting slightly. "Everything in this place is available for your use."
"Ah. I will… keep that in mind."
"Good," Viktor said. He reached up to a high shelf and withdrew a treatise on alchemy. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "you will join me this afternoon, and show me what you find most lovely about my domain. It would be good to see this place with new eyes."
"I am at your disposal," Jayce said, and managed to keep his voice steady, for which he was glad—he wasn't certain which would have been worse to allow Viktor to hear: the bitterness he felt for being trapped in this gilded cage, or his pity for Viktor being unable to appreciate its beauty.
So later that day, he escorted Viktor through the castle, stopping often to point out the elaborate decorations and magnificent architecture, the spray of color created by the sun's rays passing through stained-glass windows. The tour made its way into the gardens, where Jayce showed Viktor rare and beautiful flowers and sweet-smelling herbs. They watched a spider spinning her web, and a bee covering itself in pollen, and a butterfly sunning itself on a broad leaf.
"I had forgotten," Viktor said as they returned to the castle, "in the focus of my studies, that there was so much beauty to be found in the world around me." He took Jayce's hand and bowed over it with courtly grace. "Thank you, Jayce."
"I didn't— You are welcome, of course," Jayce fumbled, distracted by the surprising warmth of Viktor's metal hand.
"I hope to see you at dinner," Viktor said.
"Yes," Jayce said. "At dinner."
When he made his way to the dining room again a few hours later, Viktor was waiting for him just outside the door.
"You have changed your clothes," Viktor said. The mask was impassive as ever, but Jayce thought he could hear a smile in the voice.
"Yes," Jayce agreed. Since it seemed that Viktor had hoped he would use the clothes, he had looked through the wardrobe in his room for several long minutes after his bath and eventually asked the thin air—feeling rather foolish—to help him select something appropriate for dinner. When he'd turned around, two different suits had been laid out on the bed.
The one Jayce had chosen was white, with red and gold accents that reminded him of his family crest. The material was soft and comfortable; the fit perfect.
"You look… very nice," Viktor said. A slim metal finger traced down the lapel of Jayce's coat, but he didn't comment on the lack of decoration there. Instead, he offered Jayce his arm. "Shall we?"
Jayce hesitated a moment before putting his hand on Viktor's arm, bemused by this sudden display of fine manners.
The door opened of its own accord, and inside the dining hall, Jayce saw a cluster of the servants, four or five of them—more than he'd seen together at once—clustered on the far side of the room. "What are they doing?"
"Ah," Viktor said. "I have arranged a small gift for you."
Musical instruments appeared in the servants' hands, and as one they began to play music.
"You may summon them as you like. I hope this will help, when things become too quiet," Viktor said, and Jayce had to smile, charmed despite himself.
The music was nothing that Jayce recognized, but it was well-executed and pretty.
"Do you dance?" he asked his host.
Viktor startled, visibly. "I— Not for many years," he said.
"But you know how," Jayce said, and nodded. "Will you indulge me, before we eat?"
"I… Yes, if you like." Viktor turned to take Jayce's hand.
It was not an elegant dance. Jayce was used to leading rather than following, and he tripped over Viktor's feet or turned the wrong way several times. Viktor was inherently graceful, it seemed, but had forgotten many of the steps. But there was no one there to see their fumbling aside from the silent servants, and the third time he tripped, Jayce started laughing.
"No, princes always knew how to dance!"
"Neither of them are actually princes, remember? Shh, I'm enjoying the story."
"More than the children, it would seem. Perhaps we should leave them to sleep and I can finish telling you the story in our room."
"No! I'll be quiet! Like a mouse!"
Jayce was still laughing, slightly hysterically, when the song came to an end. "Thank you," he told Viktor. "I enjoyed that."
"We danced very poorly," Viktor noted.
"It was still fun," Jayce said. "Not everything needs to be perfect. Some things are more wonderful because they aren't perfect."
Viktor stopped, clearly surprised. "Perhaps you are correct," he said after a moment, and gestured toward the table. "You should eat."
"You're not eating, again?" Jayce asked as he took his seat.
"It is not necessary," Viktor stated. But he made no move to leave, either. He sat in his own chair and ignored his empty plate and watched as Jayce ate, and they talked, a little. Jayce wasn't certain it qualified as an entire conversation, but it was something.
The days that followed were much the same. Jayce slept, he woke, he amused himself around the castle and its environs—sometimes encountering his host, and sometimes not—and eventually he would make his way to dinner, where Viktor would meet him. Sometimes the servants played music and they danced; they were improving with practice, Jayce thought. Sometimes they would talk about the books that Jayce was reading—though never the books that Viktor studied. Occasionally Jayce would tease Viktor into doing something different or silly: a picnic lunch, a sack race in the garden, weaving flower crowns, painting, going to the pond to hunt for frogs and make sailboats, attempting to cook their own food in the deserted kitchen.
Every interaction seemed to make Viktor a little more human—in his speech and reactions, if not physically. Or perhaps it was only that Jayce was learning better how to interpret the subtle shifts of Viktor's voice and body language; it was hard to say.
Slowly, Jayce found that he often enjoyed Viktor's company, even if he was still sometimes sad that he couldn't leave.
The first time that Viktor missed dinner, it was without warning. Jayce waited in the dining hall for nearly an hour, bemused and then concerned and then worried, before he turned to his own omnipresent servant and said, "Where is Viktor?"
The servant hesitated for only a fraction of an instant before its head turned and looked up, through the walls and ceiling, to where—Jayce guessed—the blasted tower loomed over the rest of the castle.
Viktor spoke occasionally of his "work," though he'd never defined that work for Jayce; it was one of the few topics that seemed to be taboo.
"Is he all right? Is there anything I can do to help him?"
The servant looked at Jayce again, or at least pointed its face in Jayce's direction, but it made no other movement.
Well, it was an answer of sorts. Jayce sighed and sat down to eat his dinner in silence.
Viktor returned the next evening.
"How did your work go, last night?" Jayce asked.
"All went as expected," Viktor said, his voice as flat and expressionless as it had been when Jayce first arrived.
He had not realized, until it was gone, just how much more demonstrative Viktor had become, over the few weeks they had shared. "Are you… all right?"
"I am not unwell," Viktor said. "It is time for you to eat." The door to the dining room opened, unbidden, but Viktor did not offer Jayce his arm or call for music to accompany the meal. He sat in impassive silence as Jayce slowly filled his plate.
"Why is he being so mean?"
"Naph, if you—"
"I know, I know, be quiet and listen."
"Have I done something to offend?" Jayce asked finally. "I will beg your forgiveness, if so, but I must know what it is so I can avoid it in the future."
"I am not angry with you," Viktor said, and the mask turned toward him slowly, those glowing eyes contemplating Jayce for a long moment, and then his posture eased a fraction. "I am only… tired."
"Is there... anything I can do? To help you?"
"No more than you are already doing," Viktor said, and his voice thawed a little more. "Your companionship is a boon to me, truly."
It happened twice more, each instance several weeks apart. Every time, Viktor was stiff and emotionless for most of the next day, thawing slowly over dinner.
The morning after the third occurrence, Jayce woke to the sudden realization that it was happening, each time, on the new moon—which only inflamed Jayce's curiosity about Viktor's work. But every time he tried to ask, Viktor pushed him gently away.
Other than these occasional events, very little changed within the walls of Viktor's estate. Jayce had been there for three months, but the weather remained caught in a perpetual springtime, warm and sunny. It never seemed to rain, but the plants didn't seem to suffer for the lack. The moon shifted through its phases as always, but it rose and set in the same place every day. He would have entirely lost track of the passage of time, he thought, if his beard and hair hadn't continued to require regular trimming.
And then one day, Viktor found Jayce in the library and said, "Your mother has sent you a letter."
Jayce surged up out of his chair. "How? This place isn't on any maps or routes, it—"
"As I promised," Viktor said, "I left one of my servants with her, to provide assistance. She sent it with the letter." He held out a sealed envelope.
It was all Jayce could do to take it calmly instead of just snatching it out of Viktor's hand. Trembling, he opened it.
My son,
I pray that the
creaturebeingperson with whom you reside will permit this note to be delivered. He was most generous with his gifts, though I would rather have you at my side than all the riches in the world.I hope that you are well, and well-treated. I fear that I am not. I cannot say for certain that I will breathe my last before summer's arrival, but I fear that may be the case. I beg you to entreat your host to permit you to visit me for a short while, as it would soothe the pain in my heart.
With love,
Mama
Jayce's breath caught in his throat. "Viktor," he rasped.
"What is it?" Viktor asked.
"My mother says that she is very sick. Perhaps dying. She asks if it is possible for me to go and see her." He looked up into Viktor's immobile mask. "Please," he said softly. "She is all that I have left in this world."
"I— I must consider," Viktor said. His voice was more emotive than Jayce had ever heard it, and he left the room quickly, almost stumbling over the threshold.
Jayce watched him go, open-mouthed with astonishment and more than a little anger.
What could be so important that Viktor would not allow Jayce to go to his own mother's aid?
He had mostly forgotten that he was a prisoner, here, with the freedom he enjoyed within the castle and Viktor's strange but largely friendly companionship. But this awoke that feeling of being trapped, no longer a master of his own fate. No matter how much he enjoyed himself, if he could not leave, then it was a trap.
Jayce stormed out of the castle and followed the path down to the gate. He hadn't approached the gate since he'd arrived, not wanting to torment himself with the possibility. He had, after all, given his word. Now, half-desperate, he tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge.
He yanked and yelled and pulled and pounded on it, to no avail.
He could not leave without Viktor's agreement.
With one last shout of frustration, he went back into the castle, into his room, angry and disappointed.
"Ama looks like she's going to cry."
"I am not! It's just sad!"
"Naph, if you call your sister a crybaby again—"
"I didn't!"
When it was nearing time for dinner, Jayce tried to decide if he was capable of being civil or if he should just remain in his room, where his foul mood would not make Viktor less charitably-inclined toward him. He had almost decided to go to dinner anyway, to try to plead his case once more, when there was a knock at the door.
Which had never happened before. The servants came in only when Jayce requested it, and otherwise waited for him in the hall. Viktor had only ever sought Jayce's company when he was in more public parts of the castle.
But when Jayce opened the door, there he was.
Jayce pressed his face into something pleasant, or at least neutral. "My lord," he said.
Viktor's shoulders shifted, just a little. "You are angry with me," he said.
"Yes," Jayce admitted. "I swore to be yours, but that doesn't mean I ceased loving my mother."
"I know," Viktor said. "The magic of this place is not all my own. There are consequences to what you suggest. I needed time to… to study, and to ensure it is even possible for you to depart this place."
That… was not something Jayce had considered. He stared at Viktor as he thought, and then sighed, the tension leaving his body. "You could have told me that," he said.
Viktor's head inclined in a slow nod. "Yes. I will remember, should a similar event ever occur."
"And what did your studies reveal?" Jayce asked.
"There is, indeed, a way for you to leave," Viktor said. He lifted his hand and in it was a gem, about the size of Jayce's thumb, perfectly spherical and glowing blue. "Hold this in the palm of your hand and tell it to take you wherever it is you wish to go." He placed the stone in Jayce's hand.
Jayce's hand closed around the stone. "Thank you."
Viktor held up his other hand, and in it was a cloth-wrapped parcel. "Books," he said. "Anatomy and other things. Perhaps you will find a way to help your mother."
"Don't you need these? For your work?"
"No. That work is... nearly complete."
"Oh. Thank you, then."
Viktor caught his hand as he reached for the books. "One moment. I must ensure that this place will allow the stone's magic to work for you."
There was something… odd about the tone of Viktor's voice. Odder than usual. It was flat, but not emotionless. Almost as if Viktor were grieved.
"What—"
"I release you from your oath."
"What? Viktor—"
Viktor pressed the books into Jayce's hands. "Go," he said. "I have… Enjoyed. Our time together. Perhaps you will think of me, from time to time."
"But—"
"You must go, Jayce. The magic that binds me to this place will catch you in its web again if you are here too long, even without an oath."
Jayce opened his mouth, then closed it. "All right. I… Thank you, Viktor." He held up the stone and looked into the glow of its depths. "Take me to my mother's home."
He felt no movement. Not even a breeze stirred his hair. But when he looked up from the gem's glow, he was standing in front of his mother's house.
A cry of relief choked him, and he ran inside.
"He's going to go back, though, right? He's not going to just leave, right?"
His mother recovered from her illness quickly, once Jayce was there to take care of her. So quickly, in fact, that he suspected her of exaggerating her condition in her letter. But he was so glad to see her improving that he couldn't bring himself to ask.
Only a few days after he'd returned, she was on her feet again, though still easily tired. She was overjoyed to have him home and released from his oath to Viktor. Jayce was, to his own surprise, somewhat less happy about it. Delighted though he was to be in familiar surroundings, he found himself missing Viktor's conversation, the cool touch of that smooth metal skin.
When a full week had gone by, his mother began to speak of taking him into town, not for food or supplies, but to socialize.
Jayce found himself making excuses to put it off for almost another week. Which was unusual for him, but there was a restless energy building in him, something impatient and anxious. As if he had forgotten something.
She assured him that meeting with his old friends would settle his nerves and determined that they would go into town the next morning.
Jayce couldn't sleep that night, and finally got up to pace. As he did, his eye fell on the bundle of books that Viktor had given to him when he'd left.
Since his mother had recovered so quickly, he hadn't bothered opening it, but he reached for it now, hoping that reading something would help soothe his frazzled state of mind.
When he untied the cloth, he found it was a small banner, the sort that might be hung over the chair of a visiting nobleman. This one was decorated with the same unknown symbol that had decorated Viktor's castle.
"It's the rune!"
"Shh!"
A memento, of sorts, Jayce thought. He smiled and lifted it to his nose, and was immediately overwhelmed by barrage of scents—the fresh spring air of Viktor's garden, perfumed with flowers; smoke from the fireplace in the library where Jayce had spent so many pleasant hours reading; the mingled, rich smells of sweet and salt and meat as he came down the hall into the dining room.
And most strongly, the steely scent of Viktor's metal skin.
Jayce closed his eyes and it seemed he was there again, Viktor's hands leading him in a dance while the servants played their unfamiliar music.
He shook off the feeling after a moment, and examined the two books he found folded in the cloth.
The one on top was the anatomy text he had seen Viktor consult often; he set that aside for now, suspecting that the detailed diagrams of the inner workings of the body would do the opposite of lulling him into sleep.
The other book was rather tediously titled, A Compendium of Spells, Curses, and Diverse Other Magickal Conditions, Effeckts, and Variants: How to Identify Eache and Counter, Succor, or Provide Comfort for the Afflickted.
"That is a stupid title. It's way too long."
"I cannot disagree. But that is what it was called."
Why Viktor had thought this might help him heal his mother, Jayce had no idea, but it sounded interesting. He threw himself into a chair and turned up the lamp so he could read.
The book fell open naturally to an often-consulted section, and Jayce examined the beautifully-rendered diagram on the page, a fascinatingly complex device that didn't look at all magical to Jayce's eye.
The Core is a hexed device that is triggered with a few drops of the victim's blood. The Core then begins to summon the victim to itself with an irresistible compulsion and—in extreme cases—an exertion of magical control over the victim's own body. Reliable accounts report victims tearing through ropes and chains and other methods used to attempt to restrain them in order to heed its call. There are also tales of lame and maimed victims regaining the use of long-withered or even severed limbs, though these reports should be treated with some skepticism.
Once within its physical presence, the Core begins to slowly turn the victim's body to an unidentified metal. Any attempt to remove the victim from the physical presence of the Core results in a violent and immediate end for the victim's would-be rescuer; most accounts report the Core turning the interfering party into ash, although it is unclear if this is a direct conversion, or if it creates a fire that burns the individual alive.
The transformation of the victim's body is usually slow, with a small amount transfigured each new moon, starting from the outer reaches of the body and working inward—from digits to limbs to the victim's core (from which this curse takes its name). The metal body parts are fully functional (some say even stronger than the fleshly equivalents) throughout the process until the final transformation, that of the victim's heart, seven years after the onset of the hex. At this point, the victim dies. Various accounts describe the victim's body returning to flesh, becoming an immobile metal statue, or simply disappearing. No such remains have been identified and studied by a reputable researcher.
The most consistent and reliable accounts report that the Core itself is consumed by this transformation, but that the transformed heart becomes the seed of a hex that will eventually become a new Core, awaiting a new victim.
Once begun, this process seems to be irreversible according to all reliable accounts. A rumor persists that it can be held at bay by removal of the heart (cf., Self-Inflicted Curses: The Hidden Heart), or cured entirely by replacing the victim's heart with that of a willing volunteer. These rumors are most likely attributed to the wishful thinking of victims' loved ones, however.
"Oh," Jayce whispered, ignoring the remainder of the article, which went into detail regarding specific cases. "This is what happened to you, isn't it."
Those strange disappearances had coincided with the new moon. Jayce could imagine that Viktor had taken the Core into the tower to attempt to destroy it, and when that failed, posted a guard to at least prevent it from dooming anyone else. Were the castle's servants its former victims? Condemned to forever usher each new victim through their last years?
It was too terrible a fate to imagine.
And Viktor had said that his work was complete…
Dread sinking into his very bones, Jayce opened the anatomy text. There were a series of diagrams at the end of the book, peeling the body apart in layers—the exterior, the muscles, the nerves, the skeleton, the internal organs. Each had been carefully colored in except for the heart on the last page. The margins were thick with notes, hopeful at the start and then growing dispirited, and finally frantic with desperation as none of his attempts to rid himself of the curse worked.
At the very bottom, Viktor had written, "Remember me."
Gods. Jayce should have returned as soon as his mother had been seen to. The next time the Core would strike would be the last. And the next new moon—
The next new moon was tonight.
He could still be in time.
He jumped up, letting the books tumble to the floor, and dove for his old room. But the small drawer where he'd put the blue gem was empty.
Jayce stared for a long moment in dumbfounded shock.
He pulled out the other drawers to check them. Unfolded and shook out the clothes in them. Checked all the pockets and socks. Got down on the floor to look under the bed and behind the furniture.
"Jayce, what are you doing?"
"Trying to find the travel gem," Jayce said, prying up his mattress to check underneath.
"It isn't here," Jayce's mother said.
Jayce paused, replaying the words to make sure he understood them, then looked up at her. "It isn't here," he repeated. "Where is it?"
"I got rid of it," she said, a touch defiantly. "I was afraid that… thing would use it to force you to go back."
"No! Why would she do that?!"
"She just said, it's so he wouldn't go back!"
"But he has to go back!"
"Nuh-uh, he doesn't have an oath anymore."
"But the monster is going to die!"
"Children. Please."
"Mama!" Jayce cried, horrified. "He isn't a thing, he's a person. A person who was cursed!"
Her lips thinned. "Did he tell you what he did to earn that curse?"
"No. It doesn't matter. He doesn't deserve that, no one deserves that. It ends tonight, and he's all alone there." His voice cracked in anguish, but it only firmed the resolve in her eyes.
"I was right," she said. "He's bewitched you."
"I'm not bewitched," Jayce sighed. "I'm his friend."
"He imprisoned you, Jayce!"
"The start was rocky, yes," Jayce admitted. "But all he wanted was companionship. He treated me very kindly, within the boundary of the curse that he's under. And he released me from my oath so I could come and help you. So if he is going to die tonight, I'm not going to let him do that alone." Jayce gave her his own determined look. "So either tell me where the gem is, or get out of my way so I can find another way to get to him."
She took two short steps, until her toes were nearly touching his, and looked up into his face, searching deeply. He gave no ground, but allowed her a moment to understand that he was serious. Finally, she sagged a little. "Ah," she sighed, and turned to the side to let him past. "I threw it into the woods, near the stream. I don't know if you'll be able to find it. But that's where it is."
The woods were deep, but his mother could only throw so far, and Jayce doubted she would have gone into the woods on her own. The blue glow of the gem would be easier to spot in the dark, but he didn't want to wait that long, so he started searching.
It had only been ten days since his mother had been able to leave her bed, and the weather had been fine and calm. He hoped the gem would not have been buried already. He prayed it hadn't been found—by animals or other humans—and moved somewhere he couldn't find it.
Hours later, it seemed that his hopes and prayers had been in vain. He was walking an ever-widening circle, his eyes strained to their utmost to scan every inch of the forest floor.
It was mid-afternoon when he finally found it, lodged up against a stone beside the stream. If it had rolled even an inch further, the stream would have carried it away entirely.
Heart in his throat, Jayce snatched it up and held it protectively in both hands. Staring into its peculiar depths, he told it, "Take me to Viktor's castle."
It hesitated oddly, almost as if it were having trouble finding the castle beyond its protective enchantments, but then the world rippled around him, and he was back on the castle grounds.
"Viktor!" Jayce rushed into the castle and all but threw himself up the stairs toward the blasted tower, calling for Viktor over and over.
The sentinel-servants still stood by the door that led up to the tower.
"You have to let me in," Jayce panted, "I need to see him— Viktor!"
Gently and inexorably, the guards turned Jayce away, deaf to his frantic protests.
Perhaps the travel-stone could move him to a specific place within the castle? "Take me to Viktor's worksho—" The stone was dark and inert in his hand. Two trips, apparently, were all it was capable of.
Frustrated, Jayce raced outside to look up at the tower, hoping for evidence of an alternate entry point—a servant's stairway or maintenance ladder or anything.
Nothing. It didn't even have any windows.
There was, however, at the very center of the largest blast mark, a stone that was cracked. If Jayce could get up there, he might be able to pry it loose and squeeze in that way.
He found a sturdy smith's hammer and hung it from his belt, then began to scale the castle wall.
"He's climbing up the castle? On the outside?"
"Yes."
"That's impossible!"
"Nah. I'll take you rock-climbing with me next weekend."
"I wanna come!"
"All right, let's settle down. You too, Jayce. Everyone be quiet until the end of the story, please. Can we do that?"
The climb wasn't impossible; the exterior walls were rough-hewn stone, not smoothed like the inner walls. But it was very difficult. Jayce's hands and arms ached within minutes of beginning, and when he started to sweat, his grip grew slippery. He stopped to rest where he could—on windowsills and rainspouts and the exterior walkways for guards and watchmen.
He fell, once, landing with a sharp jolt on one of those exterior walkways. He was grateful not to have plummeted all the way back to the ground, which would likely have killed him, but as it was, his leg screamed in agony, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to continue.
He sat on that walkway for almost an hour before the pain began to fade, and he decided it was sprained and not broken. He broke off a couple of pieces of railing and tied them to his leg with strips of cloth torn from his own shirt, a makeshift splint to keep it from rolling again.
He resumed climbing.
The sun was kissing the horizon by the time he made it up to the blast mark.
Hang on, Viktor. I'm coming. He didn't have enough breath to speak, but he thought it as hard as he could.
He pulled the smith's hammer from his belt, and his cramped fingers ached in protest as they wrapped around its haft. He swung at the weakened stone.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
Again.
Thud-crack!
Again, and small chips broke free, falling down to the ground below.
Again.
And again.
And again, until finally, with a rumbling scrape, the stone fell to pieces and clattered down.
The hole it left behind was only barely wide enough for Jayce's shoulders, but it would do.
He let the hammer fall; he didn't need it any more. He pushed through, and trembling with exhaustion, hauled himself into Viktor's workroom.
He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.
There was no one in this room. Jayce had farther to climb.
Laboriously, he got to his feet and stumbled toward the staircase at the far side of the room that led upward.
The top of the stairs ended in a stout door. Jayce leaned against it for a moment, desperately trying to breathe, until he heard a sound on the other side. Viktor's voice. Jayce couldn't make out any words, but the tone was pleading.
Almost there.
He shoved his way through the door.
He took in the scene at a glance: Viktor, crumpled on the floor, alternately cursing and whimpering in what appeared to be terrible pain; and the Core, glowing with a sinister purple and black fire that the drawing in the book hadn't been able to convey, malevolent and ominous.
The Core's fire brightened, and Jayce threw himself between it and Viktor. "Viktor!" he rasped, and flung his arms around Viktor's neck. "Don't die," he begged. "Please don't die."
"—Jayce?"
"I'm here," Jayce said.
"Why now?" Viktor asked, sorrowful within his mask, even as hesitant arms returned the embrace. "Another hour and I will be dead. Why bother?"
"Because I love you," Jayce said. "Give me your heart, Viktor. Live."
Viktor sighed. "I gave it to you months ago."
Viktor's metal mask of a face had no mouth, but Jayce pressed his lips to the metal where the lips should be. "Live, Viktor," he said. "My heart is yours."
Behind him, the Core shrieked in fury, metallic and grotesque. Viktor pulled Jayce closer and touched his forehead to Jayce's. Small, glowing eyes met Jayce's gaze. "I love you, too."
The Core flared, bright as the noonday sun, and screamed so loudly that it felt like he was being torn apart by the sound. Jayce squeezed his eyes tightly closed but gripped Viktor tighter, unwilling to let go even to protect his hearing from the Core's ravages.
It went silent all at once, a huge, echoing silence that seemed almost louder than the howling had been. Cautiously, Jayce opened his eyes.
Golden eyes looked back at him, entirely human and wide with wonder. Jayce blinked. There was a small mole below the right eye. And a nose. And a mouth. Another mole dotted the skin just above the lips.
"Um. Viktor?"
"Yes."
The skin under Jayce's hands was skin and not metal. He sat up and looked around, but there was no sign of the Core anywhere.
Viktor pressed his hand over his chest and blew out a breath. He looked startled, then drew in a deep breath and blew it out again. "I forgot," he said, "what breathing feels like." He held up both hands, examining them. "I am human again." He lowered his hands to look at Jayce. "You saved me."
"Maybe," Jayce said. "I guess. A little bit. Yeah."
Viktor reached up and wrapped his arms around Jayce's neck. "Thank you," he whispered.
Jayce pulled Viktor close, almost too tight. "You don't have to thank me for loving you," he said, and kissed Viktor again.
"And they lived happily ever after," Viktor concluded.
Naph wasn't asleep yet, but he was blinking sleepily up at Viktor from his pillow, one arm clutching his big stuffed robot. "'Nother story?" he asked drowsily.
Viktor glanced over at Amaranthine's bed and felt warmth flood through him: she was fast asleep in Jayce's arms, her limbs gone slack with the utter relaxation that only small children seemed capable of. Jayce was dozing, too—not quite asleep, Viktor was fairly certain, but neither was he awake.
Viktor leaned over to smooth Naph's hair. "Once upon a time, there was a boy, and his little sister, and when they went to sleep, they dreamed of wondrous things," he said.
Naph tried to pout, but it wasn't much of an effort. "'S not a real story," he mumbled.
"Realer than you know." Viktor kissed his son's forehead. "Have exciting dreams, and tomorrow you can tell the story, hm?"
"'kay."
Viktor brushed his had over Naph's hair again, then stood up and shook Jayce's foot. "You will have a sore neck if you sleep like this."
"Not sleeping," Jayce denied. "Just resting my eyes."
"Come, miláčku, it is time for us to go to bed as well. I believe we made a bargain earlier, yes?"
"Yeah, okay, that's worth waking up for." He sat up and carefully dumped Ama onto her bed, then pulled her blanket up while Viktor found her toy to tuck in with her.
A moment later, as Viktor eased the children's door closed behind them, Jayce said, "Thanks for letting me listen in. I like your stories." He reached out and pulled Viktor closer.
Viktor let himself melt into his husband's embrace with a contented sigh.
"Now," Jayce rumbled in his ear, "I think it is my turn to be the beast."