It was dark when Seraphim trudged back to Grigori's room -- he had spent the day observing the trainers in action and had witnessed the arrival of a slave trader. He had spent a majority of his time taking notes, and trying not to think about speaking with Grigori.

He finally reached the hall where Grigori's room was, and when he looked up, his heart clenched.

There was a flock of Principial guards in peach and yellow uniforms milling about; the colors of the Prince of Dawn. Seraphim rushed past the guards, who did nothing to stop him, and fumbled with his Key for a couple of moments before trying to open the door.

His mouth went dry when he found out that the door was already unlocked.

He pushed the heavy wood door open to find Grigori standing beside the couch, his head bent as he spoke softly to the man that was sitting nearby. The man was going through Seraphim's various notes and smiling softly.

Seraphim had only met the Prince of Dawn once before -- in court, publicly, and was still shocked by his appearance. The Prince of Dawn had taken to altering his appearance through the use of strange arts and dangerous magicks -- he had changed his own eye color so that one was a blood-red with a velvety black cat-slit pupil, and the other was opaque silver-gray. The strangest thing about his pupils though, was the way it changed colors with his mood, shifting subtly constantly from inky black to deep maroon and blue. He had his hair today pulled into several platinum silver braids, with thick black streaks running down his temples. All of his coloration was only exaggerated by his clothes; he wore a tight leather top with slit sleeves that belled out at the wrists. Around his hips he wore a black leather wrap, and high, belted boots. On each ear he wore several rings, and silver traced their delicate high curves. He wore, unlike most men, a thin smattering of makeup around his eyes to emphasize their size and color.

Seraphim knew that the Prince of Dawn was the youngest of the three -- he was twenty-seven, and came from the nobility, like all his predecessors. This particular Prince of Dawn was rather virulent and commanded the armies with an ease and grace previously unseen in the Principy.

Seraphim fell into a graceless bow before stammering, "Your divine highness, what brings you here, to...my...room--"

The Prince of Dawn read aloud from his notes, his voice musical and mildly whimsical, "Ariel, the Leviathan Key, seems to be one of the most beautiful men I have met in my life, and when I held him in my arms and I could see him closer, I noticed that his beauty is not merely superficial but intensely personal..."

Seraphim went silent as his eyes flickered up, and he saw as the Prince stood to walk over to Grigori. In a hissing voice he grabbed Grigori's hair and pulled him down as he asked, "What -- gives -- you -- the -- right -- to -- touch -- my -- things?"

Grigori was silent, and the Prince released him suddenly, turning to Seraphim. His pupils were flooded with a deep maroon as he stepped forward. "You are a Principial scholar, if I'm not mistaken. And because of this...transgression, you may accept your punishment with a modicum of grace, I should hope."

Seraphim didn't move as the Prince commanded, "You. Key. Build me a fire, now."

Grigori went shock-still for some moments before finally shuffling towards the fireplace and slowly building a fire.

Soon, a fire was crackling, and the Prince turned harshly, "Mal. Throw every last bit of parchment into the fire."

Seraphim turned, panic-stricken as Mal stepped hesitantly across the room. In his earlier panic to appease the Prince Seraphim had not noticed him standing in the corner, in his peach and yellow uniform.

Seraphim watched, unable to make himself move as Mal picked up every scrap of precious parchment in the room and walked towards the fire. It was all that Seraphim could do not to cry out in protest, but he knew that would only earn him a beating from the rest of the guard.

He watched as Mal threw all of his research into the fire, and months of work crackled before dissolving into ash.

The Prince turned and softly said, "Don't ever, ever touch my things again."

He turned to leave before Grigori spoke, his harsh voice soft and supplicant, "Are you going to punish your Key for this?"

The Prince of Dawn turned, and his eyes softened, the maroon cast to his pupils fading quickly. He shook his head, the braids swinging about his shoulders as he said, "He didn't leave his rooms, and it wasn't his fault that he was invaded and touched without my permission." He smiled as he turned to leave, and it occurred to Seraphim that despite his harsh touch, the Prince of Dawn really loved his Key. It was a horrible realization, and when the Prince closed the door, he forgot instantly. Mal was still standing near the fireplace, and staring at him.

Seraphim stood silent for a couple of moments, and Mal tried to speak, "Listen, Sera, baby..."

"Save it, Mal." Seraphim's voice was harsh, shuddering, only a breath from crying. "I don't want to hear it."

Mal crossed the distance between them and took Seraphim's hand. "Sera, please...just...I'm sorry. I know what this meant to you."

There was an awkward silence, and Seraphim drew his hand away. His voice was soft, bitter, "Did you really? What do you really know about this, Mal? Why didn't you just...why did it have to be you? I...I worked hard to get this paper. I...all my cousins notes, they were invaluable, something that I couldn't replicate, even if I tried. Why...I'm...so...angry with you right now."

"Sera, please. This wasn't my fault. I had no choice. Don't be angry with me. I didn't ask him to let me destroy your notes. If you had just followed my advice, if you had just stayed away from things that didn't belong to you..."

"Are you saying that this was my fault?" Seraphim choked back, his voice thick and disgusted. "You're telling me that I deserved this?"

Mal's eyes went wide and his face became stern, "Why do you fight like a woman, Seraphim? Why do you turn all my words against me? I never said it was your fault! But you have to admit, if you hadn't poked around so much, you wouldn't be in this mess!"

"You just said it again, Mal!" Seraphim backed away, sitting on the couch. 

"No one was supposed to know! We went in the middle of the night -- he wasn't supposed to say a word!"

"I...I'm sorry that he found out. I'm sorry that Ariel told him. And I'm especially sorry that he burned all your notes! But why do you treat this as though it's my fault? I have no choice -- not if you plan to continue your studies, Sera. I can't question. I'm just a guard. I can't go around and do whatever I like -- I have to take my orders."

"I was right not to want to fall in love with you." Seraphim's voice cut Mal's speech like a knife. "I was right not to want to involve myself with an illiterate, thick-headed guard."

Mal went silent, and his coffee-colored eyes narrowed, "I'm not going to be offended by that, because I know that you're angry with me and don't mean it."

Seraphim looked up, but before he could say another word Mal covered his mouth with his own. They were kissing, intensely, violently, passionately. Mal picked Seraphim up, carried him into the bedroom, and drew the coverlet back.

Mal pushed Seraphim down on the bed, covering him in kisses before pushing his robes up, and slipping his hand up to fondle Seraphim roughly.

Seraphim's gasps were all the encouragement he needed before continuing, using his other hand to fumble with the laces to his pants. He pushed into Seraphim without pretense, thrusting hard and fast, listening to Seraphim's cries of pain and pleasure before he toppled over the edge. Mal followed soon after, his cries echoing through the chamber.

Seraphim whispered in the dark, 'I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry..."

Mal's voice was thick as he replied, 'It's all right. I forgive you."

Seraphim awoke to a pair of thick, scarred arms wrapped around him, and as he turned he saw Mal's sleeping face. Seraphim smiled and nuzzled closer, nipping his shoulder softly before kissing his lover's lips.

Mal woke, his sleepy eyes unfocused for a moment before he blinked and looked down at Seraphim. "Good morning Sera."

"Morning, sleepy." Seraphim smiled and snuggled closer. The incidents of the previous night lay forgotten, at least for this lazy morning. The rich smell of coffee gently wafted through the room, and Seraphim remembered how ravenous he was.

Mal reached over to the tray and picked a pastry up, examined it a little and took a bite. Seraphim looked up and watched, then blinked lazily and asked, "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Mal thought about it for a moment before kissing Seraphim on the top of the head and nodding. He got up from the bed, still mostly dressed from the night before and trudged to the bathroom.

Mal came back to the room to find Seraphim stretching, and he smiled as Seraphim ran over and gave him a hug. Mal kissed the top of his head and asked, "So tell me about your Key."

There was silence for a moment, then Seraphim confessed, "I don't know much about him, actually. I guess...I haven't spent much time here." Seraphim looked up at Mal and amended, "It's just that he's so difficult to talk to sometimes! He's so...quiet...and he never wants to talk about his past with me! There's this barrier between us...I don't know how to talk to him."

Mal raised an eyebrow, and Seraphim coughed slightly. Mal kissed Seraphim on the head as he put his clothes back on and smiled, "Try and make better friends with him; I'm paying quite a bit of money for you to stay here."

Seraphim nodded, smiling broadly at Mal, and agreeing.

Mal left, and Seraphim sat in the living room couch with Grigori, his voice nervous as he asked, "Look...I'm sorry that I haven't spent very much time with you...I apologize that I've been so self-centered."

"You don't have to apologize, Master Seraphim." Grigori was smiling and amiable.

There was silence, and Seraphim stammered, "I know about your friend."

"My friend?"

"The one who you saved. The one that you're here for." Seraphim looked up, biting his lip nervously.

Grigori nodded, took a deep breath and said, "You want to know about him?"

Seraphim nodded eagerly, and Grigori started, hesitantly, "Well, his name was Bastian."

Grigori's voice was steady as he spoke, "Bastian was a childhood friend of mine -- a real pretty boy, if you know what I mean. We used to spend days together, as the seasons turned especially. His father was the town's only banker, and was a bit frightening, though his mother was always very nice to me and would make us sweets and lemonade on hot days.

"The years went by, and we kind of drifted apart. I wanted to go into religion...become a monk. I wanted to help people. He was interested in the workings of the town -- he was born to live in the city, I think. But his father wanted him to inherit after him, you understand. Well..." Grigori stopped for a moment and swallowed, "Bastian was never one to be around women. My town was pretty much isolated and only there for the temple and monastery. Bastian fell in lust with another boy -- and the feeling was mutual. They were both in the haystacks, when his father caught him."

Seraphim bit his lip, and Grigori continued, "Bastian was sold. His father couldn't handle the thought of his son dallying with another man, and the next slaver that came into town left with him. I found out almost too late -- the slaver was leaving. But I followed, and found the party just outside the temple. I didn't want to hurt anyone, so I just intended on saving Bastian and leaving.

"I freed Bastian, and we were leaving when someone called the alarm on us. I remember that I told Bastian to run to the temple, to appeal to the priests, and I took off in the other direction, towards the fields. They...they followed me.

"The slaver caught me, and was angry when she couldn't find Bastian. She had paid good money for him; she intended for him to come to the Palace. So I came in his place. I tried to leave...but I couldn't get away. They chained me with iron, for fear of my strength."

Grigori's voice was quavering, and as he continued, his voice steadied a little, "I was depressed when I came here. It was humiliating for me. The teachings of the temple taught that everything was momentary, that the only thing that mattered was the happiness of people, because happiness was one of the two things that weren't momentary, but an emotion that could last forever. I forgot all the teachings and fell into a sadness I thought was going to kill me.

"It was one night, when I was alone that I snuck out for the first time. I ended up finding another Key, and he proved to me how necessary kindness was here. I found a way that I could help people, people who needed it more than anyone else in the world."

Grigori stopped and looked up at Seraphim, who sat in silence. "What about you, Master Seraphim?"

Seraphim looked up and asked, "You say that his name was Bastian?"

Grigori nodded, and Seraphim continued, "A pretty boy? Do you know what happened to him?"

Grigori shook his head, and said, "I assume that he left town and went to the city, if he wasn't caught. He was tattooed before I freed him, and he might have been caught again."

Seraphim's thoughts formed and he smiled. "I was born here, in the capital, to a family of scholars. My mother wrote the handbook on quarantine laws; my father worked with the general populace. When I was nineteen, I published my first paper, on the theory behind love and lust. I met Mal then." He sighed and admitted, "I'm really a very boring person -- nothing like you. You're fascinating."

Seraphim beamed at Grigori and asked, "Why do you stay a Key? Why don't you leave, Grigori?"

"Because...they need me. More than anything or anyone else. Here I do work that upholds the teachings of the temple." Grigori's answer was straightforward.

After another moment, Seraphim asked, "What would you say to Bastian if you saw him today?"

Grigori's answer was heart lifting, "I would tell him that he was the reason that so many people have had better lives, in a place where kindness is so difficult to find. I would tell him not to be sorry, and if he felt guilty, I would assure him that I forgave him a long time ago."

Grigori took Seraphim's hand and whispered, "I made you a present, Master Seraphim, but you'll have to fill it now. You have to promise me you will."

Seraphim's eyes went wide and he followed Grigori to the workroom. Grigori handed Seraphim a wrapped package, and Grigori muttered, "It's so that you can show the world how Keys live, and take away the romance involved. It's so that maybe more kind Masters will come and find Keys, so that broken Keys like Ariel will no longer have allure."

Seraphim removed the wrapping, and under there was a thick metal notebook, filled with several sheets of parchment. When Seraphim opened it, he saw his cousin's handwriting. "My notes! How...I thought they burned!"

"I put them there yesterday morning. I was organizing your notes when the Prince came in. He never saw the notebook -- he asked me to give him your notes. I only gave him the ones you wrote."

The look in Seraphim's eyes was one of pure joy. He turned up to look at Grigori, and whispered, "Thank you...thank you so much!"

Grigori smiled crookedly and whispered, "You're welcome, Master Seraphim."