It was the voice of the Prince of Night that drew Seraphim back to the conversation. "Seraphim, are you alright?"

Oberon's slightly nasally voice interrupted with, "Master, he's very strange."

There was a shush, and Seraphim turned, and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. Please, let me continue."

The Prince nodded, and Seraphim bit his lip. "Do you know a Leal Grigori?"

There was silence for a couple of minutes, and the Prince stood, bowling his Key over onto the floor. "How do you know that name?"

Oberon cut in. "Maaaster! You dropped me! Why did you drop me?"

The Prince of Night ignored his Key as Oberon scrabbled up to the couch. The Prince asked once more, "How do you know that name? Where is he? Do you know?" 

Seraphim nodded, and the Prince swooped down to sit beside him. "Where is he? Please, tell me!"

Seraphim stood and muttered, "He's in this Palace as we speak. He's a Key here."

There was silence again, and the Prince murmured, "He's a Key? He'sÖhere?" Seraphim nodded, and the Prince's face dropped. "Poor Grigori. He did it all for me."

Suddenly the Prince stood and asked, "Can you take me to him? Please? I would very much like to right the wrongs done to him. I would like to see himÖI would like to apologize to him."

Seraphim nodded, and Oberon called, "Master, can I go with you? Please?"

The Prince of Night turned to his Key, who stood with his head cocked and his eyes huge in supplication. "Please?" Finally the Prince nodded, reaching his hand out to the boy. Oberon took the Prince's hand firmly, and smiled radiantly, bouncing slightly in response.

Seraphim fumbled with the key to the room and unlocked the door. The heavy wooden door opened, and Seraphim sniffed a bit to discover that dessert had been brought to the room, and Grigori looked up when Seraphim entered.

"Master Seraphim, welcome backÖ" Grigori's greeting trailed off, and he stared at the space behind him. "BastianÖ." His whisper was hoarse, and he stood.

The Prince of Night rushed past Seraphim to stand before Grigori. He looked up and studied his face intently before embracing the other man. "Grigori! By the blood of Ekks, you're alive!" Grigori stood stunned for a moment, and Seraphim turned to Oberon, who was picking at the remains of dessert. He took Oberon to the bedroom and closed the door between the two rooms, letting the two old friends have their reunion in privacy.

Grigori finally sat on the couch, inviting Bastian to sit with him. Finally Bastian broke the silence. "You've been here all these years? I've looked for you, you know."

Grigori nodded and sighed. "Fifteen years I've been a Key here in the Palace. For fifteen years, I hoped to all the gods I knew that you were alright."

Bastian closed his eyes and hung his head a little. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't find you sooner; that I couldn't save you like you saved me. I beg your forgiveness."

"I do not accept."

Bastian looked up, shocked, and Grigori smiled crookedly. "There is nothing to forgive."

Bastian made a slightly confused sound in the back of his throat, and Grigori continued, "Here I have helped more people that would have never received things. You can ask your Key. I know Oberon well -- when he was without a Master, he often needed company to sleep through the night."

Bastian nodded and smiled fondly at the thought of his Key. He then turned back to face his old friend and shook his head. "I'm glad that you found something here for you -- but do you not wish to leave? At all? I can arrange it, if you'd like. I would like to buy out your contract."

Grigori looked aside slightly, then replied, "I'm not sure I can accept that kind of generosity from you, Bastian. Even as an undesirable Key, my contract is high. I don't wish for you to put yourself in any sort of economic trouble."

"I assure you, that is not an issue." Bastian waved the thought away with a slender hand. "I would like to buy your contract out, make you a free man, like you made me one."

Grigori smiled and laughed a little before he asked, "What has made you such a wealthy man? Have you made up with your father?"Bastian cocked his head at Grigori and replied, "No. I'm the Prince of Night."

"You're the Prince of Night? How did that happen?" Bastian smiled broadly and told his story. "When I parted with you on that night, I ran for the monastery, like you told me to. I thought that you were right behind me, or that you would follow soon. The monks gave me shelter for the night, then gave me enough provisions to get to the city the moment it was obvious that you were not coming after.

"I spent a year and a half in the city, begging for food, stealing sometimes. I would visit the temple of Ekks and always offer him some of my food in thanks. One night, I decided to sleep in the temple because it was bitterly cold, and sometimes the priests would leave us alone.

"I heard a strange sort of chanting coming from the back of the temple, and I snuck out to see what it was. It turned out to be the Prince of Night doing his evening ceremony. He was gravely ill, and looking for a successor. I didn't know that at the time, and I just thought he was some rich fellow who was trying to get Ekks to extend his life. I thought that if he was going to give to the temple, I might as well get a piece of the pie because Ekks certainly didn't have to worry about eating the next day. So I tried to steal from the cache of money that he had happened to bring with him that night.

"A guard caught me and brought me to face the Prince. The Prince was going blind, I think, and was enormously fat, which is unusual in the Princes because we all exercise daily. He had some sort of disease, and he could hear only a little.

"He took pity on me. I reminded him of himself. He told me that I could take his generosity and bear the mantle of the Prince of Night, or he would have his guards toss me out of the temple without a second thought. Either way, he wasn't going to have me punished for stealing.

"I accepted his offer. I didn't know what being Prince entailed, but it had to be better than begging to survive. He died only a week after I met him, just after he taught me the ceremony. I had to learn the trails of dealing with the economy myself." Bastian stopped, sighed and shook his head. "I never forgot you, though. I sent so many people out to find you, Grigori! I didn't know that they had brought you here. When I first purchased a Key, they never even gave you as an option!"

Grigori smiled. "I'm glad you have done so well for yourself, your highness."

Bastian groaned. "No, please. Not you too. Call me Bastian; you at least deserve that right."
Grigori's smile turned mischievous. "Of course Basti. Or did you forget?"

"Fiend!" Bastian laughed and grabbed a pillow. "For that, you shall pay!"

Oberon pressed his ear against the door and hissed, "What are they doing in there? It sounds like my Master is laughing!"Seraphim shrugged, and closed his eyes into his pillow. He had gotten Grigori and Bastian together -- it was one accomplishment. His next one was to finish his paper, which seemed to expand by the minute. Incest? In the Palace? Surely the Trainers had to know about it, though Seraphim thought that it was probably never discussed. He couldn't understand why anyone would stoop so low as incest. To him, it was almost a perversion in the way of nature; but at least they were both men.

Seraphim grabbed his pillow and rolled onto his back, smothering himself with the thick material. What was he supposed to do? So much of the goings-on of the Palace had to be kept secret, for obvious reasons. He couldn't publish a paper depicting the Prince of Dawn as a sadistic and incestuous bastard! It would send him directly to the executioners block!

Oberon threw a pillow at Seraphim called, "They're doing something! I know they are, and you can only sit there and mope or something! Come over here and help me listen to what they're saying!"

Seraphim sat straight up and asked, "Don't you have any manners? Don't they teach you not to boss around Masters?"

"You're not my Master, and besides, I want to know what they're saying! You would want to know too, if you had the slightest interest in your Key!"

Seraphim grumbled as he dragged himself off the bed and to the door. He heard muffled laughing, and general sounds of pleasure coming from the other room. Suddenly he found his curiosity piqued and he attempted to open the door a crack.

He looked out into the living room, and closed the door. "They're having a pillow-fight." Seraphim announced, and Oberon looked horrified.

"My Master is way too old to be having pillow-fights! He doesn't even like to play with me, and I'm his Key!"

Seraphim cocked his head, and Oberon opened the door. A cream pillow hit him squarely in the face, and Oberon charged into the battle with a loud cry.

Bastian turned and caught Oberon. They both fell on the floor laughing, and Oberon called, "Master! You're playing with him, but you never play with me!"

Grigori laughed and picked Oberon up then told him, "I can tell you that your MasterÖ"

A pillow to the head stopped Grigori's speech, and Bastian yelled, "Fiend! You will not corrupt my Key!" 

Seraphim stood at the door, watching the three fighting each other with pillows. He took a deep breath and slipped out, leaving the key to the room on the table.

Seraphim walked around several times, aimless in his pursuit. He finally found a path out, and followed the dappled road. He reached a clearing -- a small stream ran through it, and a there was a small pond. Seraphim sat down next to the pond and tucked his chin on his knees.

He closed his eyes, and in his head he could replay all of the fights he had ever had with Mal. They numbered in a total of fifteen, but each one always resolved itself in less than an hour.

He had never been so aware of the fact that Mal was not there as he was now.

The water lulled him to sleep, and he didn't feel the slight chill of the frost settling over him. He curled on the banks of the pond and fell asleep.

He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was in an extremely luxurious house that he had never seen before.His father was there -- but it wasn't his father. It was instead, a man with thick brown hair and bizarre amber eyes, just like his younger brother's.

His younger brother was so pretty, even as a baby. He was only five, but he would grow to be such a gorgeous youth. His father had several papers in one hand, and he smiled when he spotted Seraphim. "Son, you were nominated."

Seraphim blinked once and was about to ask for what when a small, terrifyingly small force hit him in the back of the knees. When he looked down and back, Ariel's amber eyes looked back up at him as he called, "Play with me, play with me, PLAY WITH ME!"

Suddenly the dream stopped. Water filled Seraphim's nostrils, and an overwhelming sense of panic came over him as he flailed against the force holding him underwater. He flung his eyes opened and reached up, panicked, then tried to scream. The image above him was blurry, silver, black and gray.

Water filled his lungs, and Seraphim stopped struggling. As suddenly as he had been pushed into the water the hands holding him down released him. Seraphim took a violent gasp of air, and then began to hack, vomiting onto the grass.

He looked up and saw the Prince of Dawn sitting on the bank, his eyes filled with pain and rage. Seraphim hacked some more before coughing, "You tried to kill me!"

The Prince hissed, "You invaded my dream. Fitting retribution."

Seraphim took deep gulps of air and finally looked at the Prince. He was in a hastily put on robe, and his braids were coming undone. He had grass stains on his knees and hands, and there were tear tracks running down his face. Seraphim asked, against his better judgment, "Why are you crying?"

"Why did you have to invade my past?" The Prince asked bitterly.

Seraphim apologized, and the Prince of Dawn frowned.

Seraphim realized that he had lost his dignity, coming out to the woods in the middle of the night and trying to drown someone that he hated. Seraphim crawled closer and asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Are you going to shut up?" The Prince scowled at Seraphim, then hissed, "I will not accept you telling anyone about my past."

"What are you going to do to Ariel?" Seraphim asked, ignoring the implicit threat. "Are you going to hurt him?"

"Yes." The word was curt, and held an eternity of stored pain.

Seraphim's heart lurched and he begged, "Please, don't hurt him. He doesn't control it."

The Prince looked sideways at Seraphim, and suggested, "I'll take you in his place."

Seraphim turned, and slowly nodded. The Prince bridged the distance between them and kissed Seraphim on the lips, biting his lower one and tugging it gently. Seraphim opened his mouth to the Prince and spread his legs, leaning back on his elbows. The Prince of Dawn tugged Seraphim's wet clothes off, leaving the smaller man naked on the grass of the glen. Seraphim tried not to return the kiss, but found that he couldn't control himself.

The Prince ran his fingers over Seraphim's nipples, brushing them into stiffness. Seraphim whimpered and limped back, swallowed hard and looked up at the stars. Each one burst into amazing clarity as the Prince moved away for a moment, and when he returned he held in one hand a small dagger. He leaned over Seraphim and whispered hoarsely, "For Kempt."

Seraphim glanced up and tried to hold back his fear. Pain rippled through him as the Prince slid the dagger over each nipple, causing shallow wounds.

The Prince whispered again, "Scream loudly, and I may just take pity on you."

Seraphim panted and lifted his hips in supplication. He wanted this encounter over with as fast as he could, and the Prince didn't seem to notice.

Penetration left Seraphim dazed as brilliant light danced over his vision. Pleasure began to take dominance over pain as the Prince thrust harder.

Seraphim kept his hands at his sides and screamed when the Prince reached down and gripped him, tugging in counterpoint to his deep thrusts.

The Prince growled and pulled out of Seraphim, turning him onto his stomach. Damp cold earth filled Seraphim's nostrils and mouth as the Prince continued to thrust. Vaguely Seraphim was aware of the pain over his nipples, but pleasure overrode any other sensation as the Prince continued to jerk his wrist. Finally Seraphim's screams ripped out of him, seemingly deafening.

The Prince pulled away and flicked one braid carelessly away, presenting Seraphim with his fluid-covered hand. "Clean it." Was the only hint of a command that the Prince gave him.Seraphim took the Prince's hand and looked dubiously up, then carefully licked the palm. The Prince smiled at the humiliation that Seraphim was obviously experiencing and turned his hand carefully, guiding Seraphim's tongue.

Seraphim held back the tears and continued before the Prince took back his hand and entered the pond, signaling for Seraphim to follow. Seraphim obeyed without question, and while he helped the Prince of Dawn he was told, "You're good enough, you know. You're as good a whore as my brother." There was a smirk, and Seraphim looked directly into the other man's oddly colored eyes. "Maybe I'll forgive youÖmaybe."

Seraphim said nothing else that night, not even when the Prince of Dawn kissed him and left. Seraphim was silent as he dressed and dragged himself back to the Palace.