Seraphim opened the door to the Gargoyle Key's room to find that Bastian, Grigori and Oberon had all fallen asleep in front of the fire -- Bastian and Grigori's faces were close to each other, as if they had been talking to each other late and Oberon was lying curled against Bastian's stomach.

Seraphim slipped into the bath, and opened the taps for the hottest water that he could. He wanted to scald the memory of the earlier events from his skin, and to just fall asleep.

When the tub finally filled, the water steaming in the cool night air, Seraphim slipped in. He grimaced when the heat burned him, but finally entered the tub, relaxing back as much as he could. He closed his eyes and wished for nothing more than to forget everything that had happened to him that night, to forget that he had been used like a whore for a man so much more powerful than himself.

His logical mind suddenly stopped the rampant track of his emotions. Seraphim opened his eyes and realized that he had experienced what a Key would, with a cruel Master. He had the Key's view of the Master/Key dynamic, and he had it from first-person experience.

Seraphim realized that he had been used like a Key would have been, abandoned like a Key would have been.

He held his hands up to his nipples and touched the tender wounds there. Battle scars, he thought. Mal had similar wounds, from a previous lover, he had told Seraphim. Mal told him that it was common for warriors to mark their lovers in the name of Kempt, to release the essence of life along with the act of sex. Seraphim wondered if every Key felt the helplessness from the act of domination, if they all felt the despair of being used so roughly.

Seraphim washed his wounds carefully, washing the dirt out of the shallow cuts. They opened again, and the hot water stung badly.

Finally Seraphim stood, dragging himself out of the tub and pulling on a simple robe. He brushed his thick, chin-length blonde hair and sat at the small desk in Grigori's bedroom. His notebook was buried under sheaves of parchment, and Seraphim began to write some more, working directly from his emotions.

Three days passed quickly. Grigori noticed his Master's intense focus on his studies, but dismissed them as a scholar's obsession.

He was more concerned with Bastian's departure. Every night Bastian had spent time with Grigori, and now he was preparing to leave the Palace to go back to the Principial home. Grigori had spent a great deal of time with the other man, and wanted to give him a "going-away" present.

Both men spent a majority of their time cloistered in separate rooms, not paying any particular amount of attention to each other.

On the evening of the third day Seraphim finally left his room looking more delicate than usual. There were signs that he had not slept or eaten in the time that he had been writing, and in his slim hands he held the metal notebook that Grigori had given him.

Grigori heard the movement, and he left his workroom to find Seraphim on the couch, his face hidden in his hands. Grigori wiped his hands on his apron and muttered, "Are you alright, Master Seraphim?"

Seraphim whimpered something indiscernible. Grigori crossed the room and sat down next to Seraphim, placing one broad hand on his back. "What is the matter?"

Seraphim's voice was low and hoarse. "I miss Mal, is all."

"Oh." Grigori lowered his head and hunched his shoulders a bit to look Seraphim in the eye. "He'll forgive you soon, I'm sure."

Seraphim sighed and shook his head. "I wish that I could simply talk to him. Just speak to him."

Grigori embraced Seraphim, holding him tightly as Seraphim sat silent, shock-still.

When Bastian arrived that night, Grigori was wearing a bottle-green velvet shirt, his hair loose and falling over his shoulders.

Bastian smiled and the two men clasped hands before Oberon popped out from behind Bastian and tooted a small horn in Grigori's face. "Party time!" Oberon cried, and a page entered bearing an enormous chocolate cake.

Bastian grinned and admitted, "Oberon insisted on cake. He said it wouldn't be a good-bye party without it."

Grigori looked back at the boy who was looking wistfully at the cake that was significantly bigger than his head. He laughed and asked, "Who chose the flavor?"

"Master did. He said it was your favorite." Oberon's eyes followed the cake, and the page nervously set it down on the table before he bowed deeply and fled the room. Oberon continued, "He said that you wouldn't be happy with strawberry." He looked up at his Master and begged, "Will you get me a strawberry cake for my birthday? One with lots and lots of fresh strawberries? And bigger than me?"

Bastian hugged Oberon and said, "You're birthday is in the winter, silly! There are no fresh strawberries!"

"There are if you ship them from the south." Oberon wiggled out of his Master's arms and pointed to the cake. "Can I eat it now?"

Grigori laughed and nodded, and Oberon proceeded to eat the cake.

Bastian looked around and asked, "And Seraphim? Where is he?"

Grigori sighed and fell back onto the couch. "He's fighting with his lover. He left the room, he said he wanted to go for a walk to clear his mind."

"Do you mind that he doesn't want to spend time with you, Grigori?" Bastian asked, then thoughtlessly called to Oberon, "If you get sick because you ate too much and ruin my last night here, Oberon, you will not be receiving those bracelets I promised." He turned back to Grigori and sighed, smiling slightly. "Sorry."

Grigori shook his head. "No problem, really. I'm not really attached to my Master, like your Key is attached to you. He purchased me solely to be able to study here. But I think that he doesn't have the money to stay here much longer -- his lover is no longer funding him."

Bastian looked thoughtful, and then looked up at Grigori. "I should thank him."

Grigori made an inquisitive noise and Bastian told Grigori, "I will fund him, if he needs the money. He is a Principial Scholar, after all, though he hasn't written anything for the court in quite some time."

Grigori smiled and said, "You should probably tell him that."

A whine filled the room, and Bastian turned to see that Oberon had eaten half of the cake. "Master...I think I'm sick..."

Bastian shook his head and smiled a little. "I warned you, silly."

There was a groan, and Grigori volunteered, "I'll help you carry him back, if you'd like."

"You can't, remember? Your Master isn't here." Bastian rolled his ornate sleeves up and picked up his sick Key. "I can carry him myself. Thank you for everything, Grigori."

Grigori nodded, "Safe journey, Bastian."

"I'm sending you a gift soon." Bastian left the room, and only then did Grigori remember that he had forgotten to give his friend the small gift that he had made.

Grigori waited for a few hours, but his Master did not return. Once the moon turned in it's apex, Grigori decided that he was not going to return until morning, and he decided to go out.

Grigori carefully picked his lock and once in the hallway, looked around. His knowledge of the Palace told him that he needed to head towards the page's wing to find where the guards were quartered that night, and he hoped that Mal was not on duty.

Grigori found the guard's quarters easily. When he entered, he found a majority of the guards playing a card game over a small table, but he didn't spot Mal.

One of the guards looked up and asked, "You looking for someone?"

Grigori nodded and asked, "Can you tell me if Mal is on duty?"

The guard shook her head and pointed, "He's probably off moping in his bunk. Be careful, though, he's liable to bite your head off if you look at him the wrong way."

Grigori thanked her with a polite bow and walked in the direction that she pointed.

Grigori found Mal lying with his face buried in his pillow, and he gently touched the other man on the shoulder.

Mal turned quickly, drawing a dagger from his sleeve and getting in a defensive position. When he saw it was Grigori, he sheathed his dagger and asked, "Why are you out of your room, Key?"

Grigori replied, "I needed to talk to you. It's about Master Seraphim."

"What about Seraphim?" Mal looked down, his eyes half-lidded.

Grigori sat down on the bed next to Mal and said, "He's going to die if he continues the way he has been. He hasn't slept, or eaten in three days. You are killing your lover."

Mal looked to the side, almost ashamed as he asked, "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. He leaves the room every night and usually does not return until morning. He takes his bath, then sequesters himself in the bedroom. He doesn't sleep. I can hear him scratching his pen."

Mal looked back at Grigori, "Why don't you force him to eat? Why don't you make him sleep! It's not good for him to go without food and sleep!"

Grigori was very calm as he replied, "I am his Key, not his lover. I cannot make him do anything."

Mal shook his head. "I won't go back."

"He misses you horribly. I suspect that he spends a good deal of time crying." Grigori paused. "You are his life. Without you to support him, he's falling apart."

Mal whispered, "Why did he sleep with you? Why didn't he come to find me?"

Grigori shrugged and answered as honestly as he could, "I woke him from a nightmare. He didn't know what was going on...he just turned to me, I think." Grigori looked at Mal's face and continued, "I have been a Key for a very long time, and I know that sometimes things just happen. You and I are of similar build. Perhaps he just needed something to reassure him."

Mal stood and muttered, "You don't look a thing like me. Are you saying that he mistook you for me?"

"No. I am saying that perhaps he just reacted to the closest body. I assure you that he is very sorry. He simply wants to talk to you." Grigori stood and stretched a bit. "I am just here to ask you to see him. You do not have to forgive him if you do not want to, but at least speak to the boy. He misses you. He does not know how to react to you leaving him, and feels horribly guilty."

Mal sighed and asked, "He doesn't sleep with you?"

Grigori shook his head, and Mal nodded. "I have time off tomorrow afternoon. Make sure that he is there. I'm only coming once, you understand?"

Grigori nodded and noticed, that despite Mal's verbal hostility to the idea, a great deal of relief crossed his face.

Seraphim curled up tighter and watched the moon begin setting. He was sitting on the banks of the pond again, and he had sat there for the past three nights. Every night he was too afraid of sleep, too afraid of sharing dreams with the Prince of Dawn again, so he had taken to watching the moon, and waiting for the sun to rise.

It surprised him when he head the Prince's voice break the silence. He didn't expect the Prince to come by.

When Seraphim turned, he noticed that the Prince's braids were now much more deeply tinted with black than with silver, and red streaks fell over his temples. The Prince himself wore a thick robe to ward off the cold.

"I thought I would find you here."

"I'm sorry, your highness." Seraphim apologized deeply, and stood. "I'll leave."

"No need." The Prince was almost nice as he put his hand on Seraphim's shoulder and sat him down. "Although this is my place, you may stay as long as you have need of it."

Seraphim sat down, his suspicion rising. It was not in his experience for the Prince of Dawn to be kind.

There was silence between the two men for a moment before the Prince laughed, the same sparkling sound as in Seraphim's first dream. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here, aren't you?"

Seraphim shrugged, and replied politely, "Your highness does what he wishes, I suppose. I have no place to question that."

The Prince sat and carefully ran his long fingers through Seraphim's hair. "Truth is, my wife has found me."

"Your wife?"

"Yes. My wife. She's a bothersome, annoying hag. She does not like me visiting the Palace. And she is sitting in the Leviathan Key's room, most likely chiding my guard for allowing me to disappear and scaring Ariel into hiding under the bed. I do not like her, and have no wish to deal with her." The Prince stared out at the setting moon.

Seraphim said nothing, and finally stood. "I have to leave."

"I'll tell Mal." The three curt words cut Seraphim to the core. He turned to look at the Prince of Dawn, who continued to look ahead. "I'll tell Mal how you were so willing to whore yourself out to me, if you leave."

Seraphim sat back down and begged, "Please don't. Please don't say anything to anyone!"

The Prince smiled and turned slightly, his fingers running through the grass. "I said that if you left, I would. At dawn I have to perform the ceremony anyway, so you may as well stay here with me until then." He turned to look Seraphim in the eyes. "First of all, you are now one of my lovers. Call me Celandine."

"I couldn't possibly...please." Seraphim begged again, looking down.

The Prince lifted Seraphim's chin and looked him directly in the eye. "I told you to call me Celandine. I did not think that was so difficult. You are not a Key, Seraphim. You are one of my lovers, and all of my lovers call me Celandine. Therefore, you will also call me by my given name."

Seraphim muttered, "It was only once...I'm not really your lover, am I?"

"You are."

Seraphim closed his eyes, but received only the harsh command, "Open your eyes, Seraphim. Do not hide them from me."

Seraphim opened his eyes and the Prince cocked his head. "It's strange, really. I find myself very oddly attracted to you. I suppose that you are prettier than I originally thought."

Seraphim said nothing, and the Prince continued, "I suspect that I am going to forgive you for touching my Key without permission." He jerked Seraphim's head to the side and smiled. "Maybe for another price, I will allow you to publish this paper, and mention Ariel in it."

Seraphim's stomach knotted, and he turned cold. "I...thank you."

"I said for a price. Remember that." The Prince released Seraphim's chin, and looked at the water. "And you will keep your mouth shut about the fact that my Key is my brother."

Seraphim nodded and tucked his chin on his knees and prayed for Kempt to allow the Sun-Lady to rise a little sooner this morning.

Grigori watched Seraphim enter the room, and greeted him.

Seraphim said nothing as he entered the bath, and in the middle of his bath Grigori entered. "Master Seraphim," he stated, "I am making you breakfast. Will you eat it this morning?"

Seraphim shook his head. "I'm not really very hungry, Grigori. But thank you."

There was silence as Grigori bowed his head respectfully and muttered, "As you wish, Master Seraphim."

Seraphim looked up and murmured, "I apologize, Grigori." He sighed. "I suppose I have been very neglectful of you. Again."

"No matter." Grigori sat down beside the tub and explained. "I have arranged for a surprise this afternoon, and was hoping that you would eat. But I suppose that you know your own body better than I."

"I slept with the Prince of Dawn." The words tumbled out of Seraphim's mouth before he could stop them. Grigori looked puzzled, and Seraphim continued. "He told me he would hurt Ariel. I begged him not to...and he took me in Ariel's place. I just...I just wanted to help."

Grigori looked down and asked, "Is that where you received those wounds?"

Seraphim looked down at the slightly puffy slashes that sliced his nipples. He nodded miserably, and Grigori sighed. Seraphim sunk a little deeper into the tub and whined, "Mal will never forgive me now. Even if he forgives me for sleeping with you, he'll never forgive me for whoring myself out."

Grigori smiled. "Don't say that. I'm sure that you don't know what Mal is capable of forgiving."

Seraphim smiled weakly, and got out of the bath. "Tell me when he gets here, will you, Grigori?"

Grigori nodded, and Seraphim sighed as he dried off.