BlackRoses26

DeathWalker's next offering to the pool drew his sleeping mind to a beach, where the two children had wandered once free of adult supervision. He almost smiled inside himself; his gift had carried him to much worse places! And these lads both were so crammed with innocence and what he could only think of as---potential---it was little trouble to read them, with a gift such as his.

He floated as a mere breeze on the edge of their attention, a part of the beauty of the night and their time together. He had no wish to draw attention to himself, and they were too focused on each other to notice him even if he'd tried to be obvious. Yet by only hovering there he could roughly understand their thoughts and emotions, gather wisps of their histories---and their futures. Often, he felt what one or the other was feeling as if the thoughts and emotions were his own. It was what his gift did. In pursuit of the inner workings of enemies, it could be harrowing. Now---at least at first---it was downright pleasant.

Like most demons, Deathwalker cherished children. He supposed that coming to know these two in their younger days would bias him horribly. But prejudice toward favorites was natural to a demon, so he didn't worry about that!

Rhion knelt down and scooped up a handful of the white sparkling sand, watched it glimmer under the fall of moonlight as it trickled through his fingers back down to the beach. De's friend was marveling at the way the simple fragments of rock caught the light and reflected it back at him, sparkling like stardust with just a hint of blue fire inside its depths.

Damian caught the spark in the other boy's eyes, bright and rich against the cool shimmering mask of the night. Such a contrast, this golden-haired boy against the backdrop of Damian's darkening world, it was almost too much to comprehend.

The beauty of Damian's world was an illusion, but one he wasn't willing to share. The true magic lay inside the large white moon that hung overhead; tomorrow the sand would be as droning and dead as it had been before the moon had risen but for tonight it danced at the feet of the frost moon---and as a result at Damian and Rhion's feet as well. Even the sand which lay beneath the water near the shore shone brightly, as if a million tiny candles had been touched to light beneath the water's surface.

It was quite a show, enough to impress Damian's new friend and for that the Vampire prince was grateful. He'd wanted something to catch the older boy's eye and though he'd been interested in the horses, weapons, and the grounds nothing had produced quite the effect Damian was looking for---that was until now.

Rhion looked upward toward the horizon. "This world is so different from ours---Terra has two moons and a sparkling yellow sun. The air smells sweet there, like honey and vanilla."

Rhion's whimsical tone was something that De couldn't fully understand because he'd never seen another world, but through Rhion's eyes he could imagine the wonder of it. It must have been magnificent; to have so much freedom that you could simply move from one world to another without worrying about securing an army of magically powerful escorts.

For Damian the journey would have been too dangerous, the magicks would have sensed him due to his---unique peculiarities and they in turn would have alerted those who'd befriended them.

At ten Damian was simply too vulnerable to be allowed near things that commanded that much power. "I suppose this place must be quite boring, then." De was teasing, he'd already sensed Rhion's pleasure but like his father he could deliver such comments flawlessly.

Rhion shot De a quick look over his shoulder, his smile brightening. "No, it's great here---the air's crisp and clean---Terra can get too bright sometimes. Did you know there's only eight hours of evening, the rest is daylight? And even then the nights are dull, compared to this! This---this is amazing." Rhion's eyes drifted slowly over the beach. "You're not going to get in trouble for this, for bringing me here are you?" Rhion rose unhurriedly, dusting his hands off on his pants and approaching De with a comically raised eyebrow.

Rhion laughed then, apparently impressed as well as approving. "I do that too. Like learning to cook when no fashionable noble would think of such a thing!" His tone suggested he was sharing an important secret; his faint blush confirmed it.

Rhion looked serious, all at once. "It's not much fun, is it?" he inquired softly, moving slightly closer to De as if to offer support.

For a second Damian was surprised, usually people assumed it was great, regardless of what he said. How could being a prince be bad---or at least that was the general consensus. Rhion was the first to catch on to the true hardship of it and for some reason that touched De.

"No, not usually." He paused, for a second thinking back on how he'd ruffled his bodyguard's feathers earlier in the day with his "improper" behavior around the Carlonday prince.

When Damian had suggested they have a look around the old ruins on the shorefront no one had seen any harm in it but when things had quickly erupted into a mock sword fight and a reenactment of the battle of Acken'sted (One of the rare battles that Lee had lost), De was sure Slade was gonna have a heart attack. Particularly when De set about mocking his own father and Rhion had joined whole-heartedly into the game.

No one said anything of course, because no one had the right to correct the prince's behavior in front of such important company---that was except for his father---and since Lee had been gloriously absent Slade had simply gritted his teeth and endured, though De had seen him sweating---and perversely he had enjoyed it! Which had a lot to do with the level the game had risen to.

"I don't think I'd like being a prince." Rhion stated this so firmly and with such near-disgust it could have come across as either insulting or very funny.

There was a moment that passed between them---when golden fire met Dark ebony--- everything that needed saying was said, and neither of them had to utter a word.

Rhion burst out laughing then, not mocking but full and hearty. "Thank goodness! If Antonio kept such a tight rein on me I think I'd go insane. You're a strong person, to endure it. I'd snap and do something foolish." He smiled at De in honest admiration.

De stared at the older boy for a few fleeting seconds, trying to place the feeling that was bubbling up in his stomach but to no avail. He smiled then; half embarrassed half something else and proceeded almost without thought. "Your people are much more fun. But admittedly being a Leviathan prince has its days." He was of course thinking about Slade when he said that, and apparently Rhion instantly understood cause he snickered loudly breaking the far too intense moment.

"Yeah, that fellow sure is up tight!" Rhion agreed. "Even my history tutors can take a joke easier, and the Fates know they're dour old coots!" He seemed to have gotten very relaxed in De's presence, all his "sociable" awkwardness was gone entirely. He was no longer trying to make a good impression, and he was a thousand times more charming because of it.

"Well, hopefully not yours, you seem more easygoing than that lot! Of course even the Templers have a more lighthearted outlook on life so I guess that ain't much of a compliment once I think about it!" De had been about ready to comment when Rhion began stripping off his shirt and boots. For a moment all the younger boy could do was stare.

He'd never seen anyone strip down to their skivvies outside for no apparent reason, it was either obviously horrid behavior or the human had a purpose---having known Rhion for only a day, Damian wasn't sure which to lean toward.

Rhion stopped long enough to give De a look between impatient and teasing, as if he knew his act might have flustered his new friend. "Well, what you waiting for, you can't tell me you dragged me all the way down here to see this and you don't plan on going swimming? C'mon! It'll be fun!"

At ten Damian had no idea what it was that drew him to Rhion, or why he felt the need to splash and grapple with the older boy under the moonlit sky. He also had no idea why it didn't bother him that Rhion was bigger and stronger than him. Some part of him knew it should have but the other parts simply didn't care.

For the first time in his life Damian felt the joy of being a child and experienced the simplicity of it. His life up until that point had been complicated. For as long as he could remember every joy he'd found had been stolen.

For the first time Deathwalker felt a kind of sorrow for this boy, a kind of mournful realization that most demons couldn't fathom. Pain, loss, those were just afflictions, things that would pass with time, but never knowing the simple joy of being a child until it was taught to you by the son of your enemy----that was both tragic and miraculous.

Tragic because the only true happiness Damian had ever felt up until that moment had been given to him by someone of foreign blood rather than his own kin.

It was miraculous because something other than the corporeal had stepped in and allowed them to merge---to become one in such a brief period of time.

No creature, be it god or vampire who had lived such a rigid life should have been able to shed such a scarred skin, to step out of the old and into the new without so much as a backwards glance.

This realization had a unique kind of weight to it, something substantial. Deathwalker could feel it pressing down on him, demanding to be noticed. The wind blew and the stars sparkled as if the universe gasped.

Like a wave, that gasp rippled through the mystical world, bringing with it the whispers of a thousand nameless entities that kept the universe in check.

Something important had happened. Some piece of prophesy had stretched its wings, had settled into place around both Damian and Rhion, locking them together in this lifetime.

It was a bond renewed, not one freshly kindled. It was old, far older than the universe itself and it had meaning. The kind of meaning that could raise nations from the ashes, and pull the stars from the sky.

For a moment Deathwalker glimpsed the great goddess, the only true creator and she held these two in the palm of her hand, the colors still fresh and alive around them, her brush still moving from her pallet to their canvas.

There weren't too many things that made a demon feel small and insignificant in a world where they were giants but glimpsing the face of the mother---that was the ticket. In all his travels he'd never seen the face of one who was truly god.

It was the first time in his life he felt the need to kneel, to bow down and worship something greater than existence but that would have been disrespectful. The mother desired no worshippers, and she demanded no sacrifices be made. Life was her gift and she expected nothing in return.

Deathwalker didn't know, nor was he sure he wanted to know. The fact that they were receiving her direct attention AT ALL, made them important. The fact that they might be the seed of existence itself, the thing from which she was inspired to begin with was terrifying even for a demon.

It was one thing to see visions, to graze the divine. It was another thing to breathe life into it and have it dropped into your lap.

Deathwalker watched as the goddess took a step back leaving him to his vision and stealing away the divine. For a few moments he was simply relieved that she'd taken no notice of him because what creature truly wants god's eye? Such a thing sounds good in theory but in truth it felt a lot like standing on the fringe of some unending void in the universe. Some foreign thing, that compares to nothing you've ever known. You're too small to see where it starts or where it ends----to even comprehend it. All you feel is terror at having glimpsed it at all.

For hours they played, splashing, giggling and generally being happy. De seemed to find great joy in having Rhion teach him how to dive and explore a world as alien to De as it was to Rhion never having been allowed to discover it---play in it the way children are supposed to.

Rhion knew about corals and shells, and the creatures that inhabited them. He spoke largely of the worlds that rivers could also produce, the wonders of caves, and promised De that when the visit was returned he'd show off his own secrets!

De kept silent on the likelihood of that, not wanting to spoil the time they were having. But the thought that Rhion *wanted* a return visit stirred him strangely.

A pocket full of seashells and a few crystals from the sand bed below them had become like great treasure to the pair despite the fact they were plentiful. They'd touched often, shared much and De had learned something about the joys of friendship, of connecting with another person without the necessity of etiquette.

By the time they collapsed on the beach they were exhausted and De was glowing with happiness. It was almost enough to make up for a life filled with loneliness, but not quite. No amount of happiness could ever erase the scars that years of isolation had inflicted upon De, but Rhion could conceal them, make him forget they existed.

"I feel like I've known you all my life." This De said while looking at the stars, his heart understanding where his mind did not.

"I feel the same; pretty weird!" Rhion's response wasn't light but it was colored with the happiness he too felt. "I don't suppose you'd be allowed to come to Terra---visit for a summer perhaps. My cousins from Ker come often, an exchange program to learn new things. New skills. No one there could hurt you, the portals don't let anyone with ill intentions through."

"Hey, come to think---" Rhion struggled to sit up, smile dancing as he changed the subject abruptly, maybe on purpose. "They call you guys vampires but I've never seen anyone with a set of fangs---you know, out?" There was a thoughtful pause as Rhion stared down at De still lying on the sand. "I'm just curious!" he insisted.

De looked hesitant, his eyes focused too intently on Rhion. If they'd been a few years older this might have slipped into other realms, intimate realms but now it was just about friendship and a connection deeper than either of them understood.

Gradually De opened his mouth revealing very white, extraordinarily normal looking teeth, but that didn't stop Rhion from slipping a finger past De's lips to brush just the tip of the digit across the ones he instinctually knew would lengthen into a pair of petite but lethal daggers.

Rhion watched transfixed as those fangs extended. Skillfully the boy used his index finger to coax them to their full length. In some circles this was a type of foreplay, and it was here as well, just innocent, unknowing. It was the butterflies in the stomach sort of play. It didn't mean anything if you had no idea where it could go and no desire to take it there.

Rhion skated his finger across the tip and seemed surprised when blood welled up from the surface. "That didn't even hurt?" De didn't answer right away; in fact he looked incapable of answering, his eyes so intense one might have believed him to be in pain.

Rhion didn't get a chance to ask before De closed his mouth on the finger and suckled gently, his eyes going closed. He didn't try and touch Rhion and Rhion didn't try and take the finger away. He just sat there and watched as De drained it of all the blood the wound had to give.

"What's that feel like?" He didn't ask what it tasted like; no he was already wayyy too close to De not to realize it had much more to do with feeling than taste. Though taste was definitely a factor.

"It feels like---?" De couldn't seem to find the words at first, and then he simply said. "It feels like tonight did." And Rhion seemed to understand.

De looked thoughtful for a second and then sat up reaching for one of the small crystals they'd dug up from the sand bed on the bottom of the ocean floor.

He found the edge and laid it against his wrist, sliding it across enough to make blood well up and then begin to drip. Rhion looked mildly upset. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not the way you think." De said, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as if he at least knew more about the fundamentals of sex than Rhion did.

He offered the bleeding wrist to Rhion who took it. For a moment Rhion just held the tiny wrist in his hand, watching as the blood pooled and then slid over the side and into his cupped hand below. Then he tasted it, hesitantly as though it might be something akin to whisky.

Rhion smiled wide then and took what could only be called a drink from De's wrist. It was deep and full and Deathwalker could see his throat work as he swallowed it.

"Really?" Rhion didn't sound as if he believed it. De only nodded and watched as Rhion licked the blood from De's newly healed wrist and his own hand below it. "You heal fast for a mortal."

De's eyes glistened then, as if he knew Rhion was offering him something profound but just hadn't voiced it yet. "You could---or I---?" Rhion reached for the crystal but De stopped him, his hand holding Rhion's wrist loosely.

Later, this taste of Rhion would cause another's death---a couple others in fact if Shining Moon could be considered. But the one that ghosted through Deathwalker's vision now, was someone with just a smidgen of Carlonday blood in his veins. He would be a servant-boy of no substantial value, fathered during the time before the Carlondays became a house in their own right.

By then Damian would be so starved, and the other would be so incomplete that no matter how much he drank De couldn't swallow what he really wanted and that was Rhion.

"Can I take from you?" De leaned forward and with his free hand brushed his fingers over Rhion's bare throat. "From here?" It was Rhion's turn to nod and without hesitation or embarrassment Damian simply crawled into the older boy's lap, and nestled his face into his throat.

For a moment, Rhion looked hesitant, but not frightened and then he gasped, his hand coming up to cup the back of De's head gently. His breath hitched and then returned, though shaky and sweet to the Demon's ear.

"Fuck!" It wasn't a child's word that spilled from Rhion's mouth and the breathy quality of it made sure it didn't sound like one playing at being an adult. "How can that feel good?" A moment or several passed and then De pulled back, settled against Rhion's chest and waited for the euphoria of the vampire's kiss to pass.

The older boy held the prince tightly, so hard his knuckles turned white and bruises started to color Damian's shoulder and arms where Rhion clutched him. "That was different." It was supposed to lighten the situation but it didn't.

Rhion's eyes looked wild and desperate and Deathwalker immediately understood. He'd touched his destiny and now he had to let it go, send it back to those who knew nothing of coddling it, of loving it. The problem was that he was a child, and a child couldn't understand the weight of the emotion that was bearing down on him making his heart hurt.

It was a promise that would never come to pass---at least not in the years between De being ten and his turning sixteen. It would be almost seven years before he'd be able to fulfill his oath to Rhion and by then the Carlonday prince with the beautiful golden eyes would have been forced from his mind by a father hell bent on having a dark god for a son.

Deathwalker's gift presented the knowledge to him abruptly, and he cursed even as he docketed it in the file cabinet of his mind. So much for a pretty moment on the beach! A Dreamwalker had no shields of pretense to keep him unwounded from what swirled around his subjects of Vision, even if they were oblivious to it. But Demons were able to stand such things, because their grip on sanity was absolute.

De leaned in, kissed Rhion softly. Not a grand over affectionate display, but a soft delicate touch of lips that spoke of both intimacy and innocence---of butterflies and honey so sweet it could even make a demon's heart ache.

"You are my brother, Rhion, more than any who have ever come before you." It was the vampire's oath; the tie that bonded two souls together in their custom but Rhion didn't know that. "Blood of my blood, I give you my word that we will be allies in all things."

Rhion laughed then, nervous but sure about one thing and that was Damian. "And I give you my word, the same as yours, in all things. Nothing can come between brothers, right?"

"We have to get back." It was De who spoke but this time Rhion listened. He untangled from the boy, gathered his crystals and shells---making especially sure to get the one De had used on his own wrist to keep for his collection.

He lied to Rhion, and he did it with the sweetest smile imaginable because for De it had been worth it. He knew even then that there would be pain beyond the scolding he'd eventually taken in front of Rhion. He knew that Lee would split his flesh under the crack of a whip, and mar his skin with bruises for days to come.

What he didn't know was the fact that his father would break one of their oldest laws and use the mind trick against him. That he'd mill together pain with psychology to chase away the memories of Rhion and what he thought that meant.

Vampires could scent when there had been a sharing of blood, and they could tell for days after when a couple had shared a space. The scent of intimacy would linger on the skin and in the air around them for weeks.

In De's mind he had bartered for days in the fortress of mortality (the vampires' torture dungeon). What he didn't know was that the price was much higher, that days would actually turn into weeks and that the world would shift into darker places than he had ever known.

Lee had believed them intimate, and he'd been right. It might not have been sex he'd scented on their skin when they'd come walking through the palace doors just after dawn but it was close enough to make the ancient vampire nervous.

A god couldn't be subservient to anyone, and frolicking about the seashore, with a boy visibly his superior---allowing that boy some advantage over him had been enough to send Lee into a silent rage.

He'd scolded them, talking about safety and the fact that assassins could have killed Damian but he hadn't gone to the darker places, the places he had after Rhion left.

And in that realization there was a new sadness. It spoke of loneliness and heartache. Of destiny and things beyond the understanding of children. It spoke of pains being endured in the name of faith. Of a destiny so vivid it would come into existence regardless of the obstacles placed in its path.

In the years that followed Rhion had been forbidden to return to Leal (Damian's home world) out of fear the two would get too close. In the vampire world, intimacy of that level paved the path for frightening possibilities.

Lee was no fool. He'd sensed it; the moment prophecy had spread its wings and he'd reacted. Rebelling against a force greater than himself, greater than anything he'd ever known. He hadn't realized what it meant, no one had but one look at Rhion and his son walking through the palace doors just after the kiss of dawn had convinced him that this was one prophesy he wanted nothing to do with.

Rhion had been banished from Leal before the clock had even made a full circle around its circumference. Antonio had pleaded Rhion's case, not understanding himself the gravity of the situation but in the end he hadn't swayed the vampire king.

He'd spoken of love, of keeping Damian safe but all of it had been a lie. They were words spoken to pave a path toward reason, where there was none in the fate's eyes.

In the end, Antonio had taken an apologetic but defiant Rhion away, with promises that they'd return once Lee had calmed down. At the time he hadn't been able to explain to Rhion why the adults had reacted so badly---he himself, thinking that it had been about sex, or rather the presumption that the boys had been that close.

After the scolding, which had come quickly and rested on the brim of violence Damian had been swallowed up by a living sea of bodyguards and teachers who'd hurried the uncharacteristically emotional boy away.

He'd begged his father, pleaded with him after he'd delivered the threat of permanent separation and when that failed he'd resorted to tears and fighting. Rhion hadn't been much better. It was a battle fought out of desperation and Antonio was sure that after things settled down Rhion would be allowed back.

He hadn't been. For months Rhion had begged Antonio to inquire, and months turned into years. Finally Antonio explained the truth as he'd known it. Rhion had been fifteen, then.

The idea that he'd somehow taken advantage of Damian had horrified him. It wasn't true, and the fact that Lee believed it----well, Rhion had started to sour on the vampire king long before that. The fact that every letter was returned unopened, and every gift no matter how trivial refused hadn't helped matters. All Rhion had wanted was for the boy to know he was thinking about him.

The knowledge that Lee had kept them apart for some ludicrous suspicion, well that had pushed Rhion's feelings for Lee into a brand new direction.

It wasn't until late in his fifteenth year that Rhion seized an opportunity to see Damian. By that time the boy was the hot topic on the Arena circuit. The only still mortal child to play in the immortal games.

He'd accomplished several wins against those believed to be his superiors. Rumors circulated about the boy's uncanny control in the arena, the way he wove the spiritual net around him like armor when he fought. Some could see such things but most had to rely on the word of others.

Walker himself had seen it, a mortal boy with the ability to make the Spiritual net dance around his body like whispers of shell colored flame.

They said he healed faster than normal, that he knew things about the past he shouldn't, that he rode into battle with men and he knew what war tasted like---craved it.

It was one thing to see a man covered in blood, lusting for the kill. It was another to see such a thing in a child, a being that was supposed to radiate innocence. To see one such as that with their eyes glazed over in bloodlust, that was what frightened people.

It worried even some of Damian's own, enough for them to make comment, enough for them to speculate openly about the boy's true nature---and that speculation stirred rumors---stirred fears.

If Damian had been older when he'd done such things he'd have been less frightening. It would have been easier to accept but he'd started young and that worried people.

It was the thing that first gained him the attention of several of the white council houses who up until that point hadn't been prepared to act on mere theory.

Rhion had managed to befriend a great number of important people by that time, through not out of political maneuvering but through his own good nature.

It meant good fortune for him. He had been able to insert himself into a certain group of people, on a particular night, which meant he was able to speak with Damian as he exited the Arena. It was a political meet and greet, arranged months beforehand so that House Storm could make the future king's acquaintance.

Apparently after some incident in Damian's tenth year it had become almost impossible to get near the boy without a very carefully made appointment. No one knew the reason for this but most assumed it had been an assassination attempt that had hit just a little too close to its mark.

Damian had officially been named the next heir to the Leviathan throne on his thirteenth birthday, he was no longer just a prince---but *the* prince. It had been the plan from the beginning, due to the purity of his blood but others had been named heir and never been placed directly in the line of ascension. And never before they were made immortal.

Rhion had been brimming with excitement, his hopes high. When he'd seen Damian it was clear he'd grown, and though still small he no longer looked as if a glance might shatter him.

Rhion had watched the fight, and he'd been perversely proud of the boy's abilities to kick ass. He'd also about bit through his own lip when he'd suffered blood-drawing wounds. To see him whole, and shining as he approached them had left him feeling relieved.

"Prince Damian, I see you fared well in this bout." The boy greeted the head of house Storm as he was expected to do. His smile bright and crisp.

"Ah." Suddenly a girl Rhion also remembered appeared and De accepted her into an embrace with a kind of warmth that made the Carlonday pause. "Lord Storm, please allow me to introduce my wife, Princess Shy'nnon."

"Mi'lord." The girl curtsied and it looked funny coming from someone who should have been so powerful. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The same to you." Storm was all pleasantness and formality so Rhion was more than pleased when he moved on to his introductions.

Damian's eyes had graced Rhion but he'd taken no real notice of him. He sat patiently through the introductions until Damian got to him, he hadn't expected him to break protocol in a public venue---or maybe he had. Rhion himself wasn't even sure of what he was hoping for but what he got wasn't it.

"This is Rhion Carlonday, I believe you two have met." Storm of course knew about the childhood visit but not the results. Only a few among House Carlonday had been privy to the disaster and even then they hadn't understood Lee's position.

"Husband, he is the one they groom for Arms Leader of Axe and Steel." Rhion missed the way she snagged his hand, pulled it back before they could touch. "He visited us, a few summers past."

De looked as if he were utterly baffled by her remarks, his eyes quizzical. "I'm sorry." And the apology seemed heartfelt, although he hadn't lost his obvious mystification. "I'm usually better with names than that, please don't take it as an offense."

He didn't reach for Rhion's hand again, mainly because Shy'nnon had wrapped herself around his arm in a show of wifely affection. She made a beautiful picture, and to everyone else the moment probably seemed flawless but Walker could see the nervousness in her eyes, in the way she touched De, it was hidden well but there nevertheless.

Rhion was usually sharp about the body language of those around him, but the shock of *not* being recognized by De---even after all this time, the hours they'd shared had been carved on his heart! It was like a body blow, to realize he'd been alone in his feelings (even though he wasn't sure precisely what those feelings were).

He didn't notice the girl's move or her worry that he might touch the Prince. He had eyes only for De, and emotions only for his own betrayal as the boy continued to frown in puzzlement. It was something Walker would notice in him later, how Rhion, more kind than most by nature, possessed an uncaring adder's tongue when he was hurt. At this age, though, he wasn't skilled at using it, and it came across as merely petulant.

"Offense?" He said it in a brisk, flat tone that his brother at least could have recognized as Rhion injured beyond bearing. "No, not at all. Leviathan lords have more to do than remember childhood acquaintances of lesser houses. Forgive me, it was probably someone different I knew after all."

Lord Storm stared after him with astonishment at the rudeness, which wasn't like Rhion at all. "He's probably worried about the new arms instructor his brother is bringing in from foreign parts," he explained a bit lamely. "Rhion is usually the soul of civility, but he's more emotional than some. Please excuse his discourtesy, I'm sure he meant nothing by it."

Damian stared after the boy for a few moments; his eyes still showed that he was trying to work out the puzzle that was Rhion. He felt an incredible hurt in the vicinity of his heart that made no sense to him.

He knew there was something more than just a memory he couldn't touch, there was an emotion, the Carlonday boy reminded him of Talen, of the very reason he'd seduced the older man in the first place. But the details of it were simply gone. Weeks spent in the fortress of mortality had made sure of that.

For a moment he'd been tempted to follow the older boy, and he'd made some small adjustment that had made Shy'nnon aware of that fact.

Like a tiny politician and a good wife she hugged his arm hard, making him take notice of her. "I'm sure such things weigh heavily on his mind."

"Yes, I'm sure they do. No offense was taken---tell him that." Damian added the last as his hand came up to rub at his temple; it was meant to chance away the headache that was already forming. It was an action he would repeat every time he focused too hard on that part of his past---on Rhion.

"So they tell me." Damian paused, his hand clutching his wife's in an uncharacteristic show of affection. Or at least that was what everyone saw. What Walker saw was pain, growing like a tidal wave before it broke on the seashore. "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, I have a pressing matter to attend to. Perhaps we could have breakfast in the morning?"

"Of course." The invitation was more than Storm could have hoped for. Little did he know that the only reason it had been extended was because of Rhion and the steadily growing headache trying to retrieve his memory had caused.

Later there would be rumors of the boy indulging in too much drink, of him partying till dawn with some nameless group of sycophants.

They were lies of course dreamed up to cover an illness his people recognized far too well. The mind trick wasn't supposed to be played on their own kind and especially to the extent that it had been played on Damian. Swaying someone's thoughts subtly and raping their mind were two entirely different things in the vampire culture and no one wanted to admit that their king had crossed such a line.

Many would claim attendance to this grand party in the days to come, they would tell magnificent stories of the prince's over indulgence, of his blood games. They would boast about his power, and the glory of being granted his favor.

Deathwalker began to wonder if even a fraction of the stories were true. If perhaps the boy's crucifixion was based more on lies than reality.

And what of Rhion, at this moment in the past? Walker's mind was very tired from what he had already shared, and usually he would have stopped at this point. Dropped back into his own body, his plain but comfortable bed more than welcome.

But this time, he pushed himself forward after the furious, churning blond boy. Walker followed Rhion to his chambers, was witness to his brisk, lying remarks to his servants that No! he needed nothing at all!

Gift? He owned a curse, not a gift! And yet, it brought him close to the destiny of the ages. The only way to spurn it was to die, and for that, Walker was not nearly ready.

All alone finally, Rhion sat on an ornate deep chair of crimson plush, staring into space. "Ohgreat gods! I'm an idiot!" he finally whispered, and sunk his head into his hands. "Why should he remember me? But---there was something wrong, dammit! Fuck, goddamn headache!" he added, almost as a side note but with a bitter sob that made the remark more wounded than amusing.

Deathwalker's poise evaporated, and he moved to touch the boy's head in comfort. Never in a thousand years had he succumbed to such an urge while Dreamwalking.

There was a scent of vanilla and cloves mingled with fire---not in his regular senses but moving like a shudder all though his being. His incorporeal hand was smacked away by something much more vital than his own whispering presence could ever claim to be. Really, the fact that he experienced the smell so strongly was a marvel; focused on Rhion, at best he should only have tasted what the boy's mortal senses gave him.

"No, no, tall and scary demon," a voice like wind and water breathed incongruously into his left ear, or maybe into his very brain. "No touches, not yet. Now isn't your time, to touch. Sleep, rest. Be a good scary demon."

The laughter was all around him, covered him like cinnamon silk and summer---like well-oiled steel. He felt himself falling gently into his own bed, understood the presence of magick more terrible than he'd ever dreamed. "My Lord," he whispered, acknowledging the fact. "I was only---!"

"Trying to help, yes, and so you are. So you will." A light and curious hand slipped over his rising cock, and he shuddered at the violence of his sudden need. "Thank you for helping," his Lord breathed wickedly, bending to kiss him with eerie gentleness.

Hundreds of years of searching ancient tombs, puzzling together vague clues past and present. Hoping and guessing that what he sought and believed in was a true creature, not just a myth---and to find him now, because of Rhion and De, because of a quest for something entirely different----! Irony upon irony!

"Disappointed?" Intyrekef breathed softly. A long, silky tongue curled around Walker's ear, and the demon almost howled as every particle of his body shook with pleasure. "Don't be. You've done well, Apprentice Gatewalker. I'm very pleased with you----but rest for now. Rhion will be cared for. I promise." The voice was a muted purr, laughing and scolding together. "And so will you---"