Queer Big Bang: With demons

[pippi]

 queer_bigbang 

Title: With Demons
Author: pippi
Artist: evian-fork
Fandom: Original
Word Count: 19,763
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bernard, Glyndower, Florina, Frank, Melinda the bargirl, Errinerung the butler
Warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, PTSD
Summary: Bernard is about to become the king. But as he runs away from his queen-to-be, he accidentally stumbles upon an unknown room in his castle. He opens the door to find a prisoner shackled in chains. The two men start talking, and discover they are both in a very unpleasant situation for the same reason – they dared to kiss another man. Glyndower talks his way out of the chains, and Bernard talks his way out of the castle. They set on a path to find Glyndower’s long lost love.
-

Glyndower falls in love with another man and gets himself imprisoned. The love of his life runs away to save himself, and Glyndower is certain he’ll never see the man again. He spends the next three centuries shackled in chains, never seeing a single person and with no hope of getting out. When some day a young prince stumbles into the room by accident, Glyndower knows this is his only chance to get out of the castle and find the man he loves. He is set on manipulating the prince any way he knows how. But the prince is entirely too kind and adorably awkward, and also in a bit of a bad situation himself. Without quite knowing how, Glyndower ends up as a nanny to a young human running away from his tyrannical wife-to-be. Also there are demons. Or well, there used to be.
Author's Notes: The art is by the lovely evian-fork on lj, who was awesome to work with. I'd also like to thank my lovely betas, Aze and Kakau. Aze is the light at the end of all my tunnels, and this story would never exist without her. Kakau was a pair of fresh eyes when I desperately needed them, and she is one of the reasons why I continue to write. Thanks to everyone else who kicked my butt when I was being lazy. And to my little brother for believing I can do this (and who promised to podfic this story asap). 
The amazing art: here

 



He is standing in front of Florina, his hands in fists and his eyes stinging. Because if he blinks, tears that he’s been holding back for hours will spill over. The last thing he needs is for his queen-to-be fiancée to see him crying. So he squeezes the bunched cloth in his fists harder and gulps down the embarrassment, then slowly draws a breath.

“That’s enough, Florina,” he says almost in a whisper. “Enough. You’ve made yourself clear, and you’ll have ample opportunity to harp on me for years to come.”

He can see Florina’s eyes light up with anger again. She didn’t expect him to talk back, he’s sure. Not after what she’s caught him doing, not after he’s watched her expression go from quiet delight at seeing him to utter disgust when she saw the other boy. When she saw that they were – What they were doing.

“You don’t talk back to me,” Florina says. “You’ll stand there and listen, for as long as I want you to. You have no choice.”

Bernard can feel the tears starting to spill at the disgust splashed all over her face. He turns around and scrambles for the door with no regard for the consequences. He won’t let her see his sadness. She humiliated him and made him feel completely powerless, but he refuses to let her see she also made him feel so empty and hurt he can’t help but cry.

He doesn’t look where he’s going, just tumbles out into the corridor and lets himself almost run away. Away from Florina, because he can’t be anywhere near her anymore. And his mother, he can’t happen upon his mother like this. The thought of her seeing him this broken, of having to explain what happened, of having to lie – he cannot stand it. He starts walking even faster.

Tears are streaming down his face and it’s dark already. He forgot his candle, and he can barely see anything. He comes to a door and pushes past it, but the room on the other side is entirely dark.

He reaches for the wall. The cold rock beneath his fingers feels oddly alien, and that is when he realizes he’s really cold. He wipes the tears from his face, suddenly frightened. There are no torches on the walls. He’s never been to this part of the castle.

He closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath, then slumps against the cold wall. Everything is going wrong today, he can’t even find his way around his own home anymore. He slides to the floor, just letting his body crumple in on itself. He’s had enough, he needs a moment to feel utterly miserable.

He puts his face in his hands and fully intends to sulk and mope for the next few foreseeable moments. Or at least until he gets cold enough to justify getting up and finding the way back to his room. He leans back and bumps his head against the stone, cursing loudly when it hurts more than he thought it would.

As if in response, a weak moan comes from his right. He freezes, his heartbeat suddenly pounding hard against his temples. He pulls his legs to his body slowly, trying to be quiet. He tries to make himself small, disappear into the wall. His breath is coming shallow and fast, despite how hard he wants to not breathe at all.

But then a soft “Please. Is anyone out there?” comes from the same direction, and the voice sounds even more frightened than he is. “Please, anyone. Can anyone hear me?” A bit louder this time, the voice raspy and breaking on every word.

Bernard takes a deep breath and whispers into the darkness. “I — I hear you. Where are you?” He is still scared, his impulses screaming at him to just run, push the door open and get away. But the other person sounds so desperate and sad, and he can’t just leave them.

He gets a broken sob in reply, and he pushes himself up, keeping one hand on the wall. He starts walking towards the voice, trying to see anything in the dark room. “Keep talking, I can’t see anything,” he says into the darkness, hoping he isn’t walking straight into some trap.

“I’m here. You’re going the right way,” the voice says, a bit steadier.

Bernard flinches slightly. He’s closer than he thought he was. He stops where he is, still almost completely blind. He thinks he can see a silhouette in the corner straight ahead from him. “I’m not coming any closer,” he says.

The voice sighs quietly. “I’m bound in chains, I can’t hurt you,” it says. Then Bernard can hear the rattling. “See?”

Bernard frowns and stays where he is. “I can hear, but I can’t see anything,” he admits. “I’m staying here.” And after a moment of silence, “Why exactly are you chained to… whatever you’re chained to?”

All the prisoners are supposed to be down in the dungeons. And besides, this part of the castle has been deserted for as long as Bernard remembers. When the prisoner doesn’t reply right away, Bernard realizes just how bizarre a situation this is. He is standing in the middle of a completely dark room he didn’t know existed in a castle that’s supposed to be his home. Today has been one of his worst nightmares coming to life, and now he’s trying to talk to someone who’s obviously some sort of a criminal, considering their current state.

“You know what, never mind. I’m leaving,” he says when the prisoner doesn’t respond. “I’m in no state for another nightmare.” He turns to leave.

---

“I’m not a nightmare,” he snaps.

He doesn’t like the word, it’s been hurled at him way too much by people trying to make him feel bad for what he was.

The human turns back around. “I’m sorry?” he offers. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He bows his head and forces his breathing to slow down. He can’t lose this opportunity, it might be his only one. He has no idea how long he’s been here, but it’s been ages since he’s heard another voice. A long time even since he’s heard his own.

"No, I’m sorry,” he lies. “I’m sorry I snapped. Just… stay a while, talk to me, please.” He makes his voice sound desperate, and it’s way easier than he’d like. He dreads that door closing behind the human, leaving him alone again. He isn’t afraid of the darkness, he can see well enough. But there is nothing to look at.

The human doesn’t leave, and he’s grateful. The boy retraces the few steps he’s made away from the voice and asks, “Who are you? What should I call you?”

He laughs and shakes his head. Of course this is the first question the boy would ask. He can see the human frown at the laugh, and he hurries to explain. “Oh no, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that I haven’t been asked this question in a long time.” He pauses, the past bitter on his tongue. His name was what got him here in the first place. He will never make the mistake of giving his name away that easily again. Look at where trusting people had gotten him. “You can call me Glyndower,” he says finally, settling.

He can see the human relax, his shoulders loosing the tension. Having a name makes him feel safer somehow, Glyn observes. He stores the information away for later use, just in case.

“Alright, Glyndower,” the boy says. “I’m Bernard.”

“Hello, Bernard,” Glyn says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, believe me.” Good, he thinks. He will get out of this room, get away from the chains and the freezing ice around his wrists. He just has to convince the human to release him. He scrambles for a plan, his mind working to find a way to keep him interested, keep him here, and then keep him coming back.

“Why are you here?” the human asks, making Glyn realize that he’s been quiet for too long. He has to start paying more attention, but it’s hard to remember how conversations go. Hard to remember he should say things out loud. He realizes he’s doing it again, the lost-in-his-own-mind thing, and shakes himself mentally. Right. Focus.

He smiles, though the human can’t see him. “I’ll tell you a story, Bernard,” he says with a leer. “Will you listen?”

---



Bernard thinks for a moment about decisions and talking to strangers, about the warnings his mother has been trying to get into his head since he’d been a child. But then he shrugs it off. He knows people closest to you are monsters more often than any stranger.

“I suppose,” he says, “that I can stay a while.” He sits down on the cold floor.

“A long time ago, when I was barely just grown up,” Glyndower stars his story, “I decided I wanted to see the world. I said goodbye to my family, promising to return soon. I didn’t know I would not see them again for a very long time. I can still feel my sister’s hand on my shoulder, reluctant to let go. I remember my brother crying, begging me to stay. He couldn’t go with me, you see, he had a little daughter to take care of. And my heart cried with him, but I had to leave. To find myself, I said.”

Glyndower stops abruptly, and Bernard can hear the pain in the broken sound he makes.

“I’m so sorry,” Bernard says. If he had a family that actually loved him that much, he’s sure he’d find it excruciatingly hard to leave.

He has the strongest impulse to go up to Glyndower and hug him. Or at least take his hand. He knows better than to let himself, though. He doesn’t even know what he looks like. Doesn’t know what he did to end up here. He could be some repulsive criminal still, he reminds himself. He can’t let himself forget that.

He doesn’t have to be cruel, though. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” he says. “I can’t release you, I can’t trust you not to harm me. But I don’t want you to torture yourself.”

He gets a bitter laugh from Glyndower at those words. “You are very kind, Bernard,” he says. “But I am quite alright. I’m fine. Let me continue my story.”

Bernard shrugs and stays quiet. If the other man wants to pretend he is not hurting, Bernard won’t push the issue. He knows how convenient it is to delude yourself.

“So I said goodbye to my family, and I set out for the great city of Galark, hoping to find an adventure. But unfortunately, the adventure found me.”

Glyndower pauses again, and Bernard wishes he could see his face. He can feel the tension seeping from Glyndower and it’s making him nervous. “What happened?” he says quietly.

“Come back tomorrow,” Glyndower says. “I can see you shivering, you’re freezing. Tomorrow, and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”

Bernard realizes he really is cold, he can barely feel his feet. “Aren’t you cold as well?” he asks. “Do you want me to bring you some warm clothes tomorrow?”

Glyndower chuckles and a shiver runs down Bernard’s spine. He’s forgotten to be afraid while the other man was talking, but now he’s reminded that he doesn’t know anything about this stranger. He remembers how bizarre this situation really is.

“That’s quite alright,” Glyndower says then, stopping Bernard’s head from spinning. “I’m used to the cold. But bring some candles, you will feel better if you can see me.”

Bernard picks himself up, wrapping his arms around his body. “I will. See you tomorrow.” He turns around, using the wall to guide him to the door.

“It’s right in front of you,” the voice says softly. “Just a couple more steps.”

Bernard smiles despite himself and pushes the door open, stepping into the hallway.

---

Glyn hears his steps on the hallway, still a long way off. He’s grateful he slept lightly and not much at all – he doesn’t like being caught sleeping. Too vulnerable. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. He needs to get out of these chains soon. He’s been alright for the past— however long he’s been here, because there was no other way. But now that he’s glimpsed a chance of escape, he can’t stand it anymore. Every hour is torture in a way it hasn’t been for a very very long time.

He opens his eyes just before the door slides open. He can’t see the human for a moment, the light from the candle too bright in the dark room, but his eyes adjust quickly enough. The human stops in the doorway.

“Bernard,” Glyn says, making his voice sound surprised. He didn’t doubt the human would return, but the boy would expect him to. “You came back.”

The human smiles and finally steps in, closing the door behind himself. “I said I would,” he says.

He comes closer, walking quickly. Glyn presumes he’s excited to finally see what he looks like. Glyn will enjoy his reaction – most humans find him pleasing to the eyes. He smirks to himself.

But when the human comes close enough for the light from the candle to reach Glyn, he stops abruptly. “I — You —“ he stutters.

Glyn raises his eyebrows. “You? Me?” he asks, trying to smile pleasantly.

“Your skin is green,” the human finally manages to get out.

“Good observation,” Glyn says, deadpan. “It is, indeed. Does the particular shade not suit your taste? I can change it easily once you let me go, should that be the case.”

The human shakes his head and gets closer, observing Glyn with much interest. “No,” he says seriously, “I don’t want you to change it.”

He simply looks at Glyn for a while, and Glyn feels weirdly exposed. He doesn’t mind being admired, but this feels oddly wrong. He tries to stay still, but he can’t stop his wings from struggling against the chains. That seems to jerk the human out of his staring, and he says, “And you have wings.”

Glyn rolls his eyes, comforted by the boy’s stupidity. “Another astounding observation, I’m sure,” he says. “Well, do feel free to look as much as you like, and don’t hesitate to inform me once you’re done. I have a story to finish, I believe.”

The human shakes his head again, his eyes huge in the candlelight. “No,” he says, “I’m sorry. Staring is rude. I’m sorry.” He averts his gaze and sits down with sudden determination. “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before. I mean, I’ve seen paintings and I’ve heard tales, but I never thought…” He trails off, not knowing how to continue.

“You never thought?” Glyn prompts. His heart is pounding in his ears for no obvious reason, and his palms would be sweating were it not for the ice around his wrists. He is nervous, he realizes. “No, wait,” he says. “Forget about that. You’ve never seen somebody like me? How —“ He has no idea how to finish that thought. How is that possible? But there are so many demons out there. Nobody at all? In your whole life? But he says nothing, because he is desperately trying not to panic. He can’t let himself think that — No.

The human stands up and gets closer still, and Glyn realizes he is suddenly not afraid of him anymore. This would upset him considerably under normal circumstances, but there are more pressing thoughts to attend to right now.

“I have never seen a demon before,” the human says very quietly, “because there are none left. I’ve only ever heard stories, but hardly anyone believes them anymore. I’m so sorry.” His voice is almost a whisper by the last word.

Glyn can feel the room spinning around him. All his blood seems to be in his head, and he can barely hear anything. But the human’s words are ringing in his ears, clear as the day. None left, he thinks. There are none left. None at all. Nobody but me.

“Can I touch you?” the human asks, and the urgency in his voice breaks through the mantra in Glyn’s head. “You look like you’re about to panic. No, scratch that. You look like you’re already panicking.”

Glyn shakes his head, and to his surprise the human keeps his distance. He just needs to… He needs to get a grip on himself. Alright, so he’s the only one left. So there are only humans in the world now, no demons. Good. That simply means he’s all the more powerful in comparison, if he can get out of the chains. Chains. Right. Let’s focus on that.

He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the mild burning of the skin of his wrists, the numbness that’s always there. He focuses on how the chains are draining his power, slowly but surely, as it builds up. The steady flow of energy from his core through his arms to the chains, and then nothing.

He opens his eyes and smiles softly when he sees the concern in Bernard’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he says. “Give me some space.”

The human takes a few steps back, worry still written all over his face. “Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything I can do? I’m sure this must’ve been quite a shock. I would’ve told you a bit differently, had I known. I’m sorry. So sorry. I should’ve handled this better, I’m always s-“

“Shut up,” Glyn says. “You’re rambling.” He takes a deep breath and pretends his world isn’t upside down. “And what would you say, I wonder? I’m really sorry to inform you of this, but you’re the only remaining being of your species still alive today? I don’t think there’s a way to break this to someone gently.”

The human smiles slightly, with just a corner of his mouth. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Glyn smirks. “Of course I’m right, I’m always right. Now stop apologizing and sit down. The rest of my story, as I’ve promised.”

---

Bernard lets Glyndower talk. He’s only half listening while Glyndower tells him about the huge party for the king’s birthday, about street performers, knights fighting each other, about kids running around and drunken people singing. Instead, he’s observing Glyndower. It’s not about the skin or the… marks or whatever they are, he tells himself. Not about the way Glyndower looks at all, no matter how strange his looks might be.

But Bernard can’t stop looking at the way he’s holding his arms like they’re terribly fragile, moving his hands gently and carefully. His wrists are encased in ice and it looks heavy, slowing down his movements. Bernard desperately wants to see his hand gestures without the chains dulling them down. He can almost see Glyndower’s hands flying through the air, his gestures faster, sharper, less careful.

He catches himself thinking this, and he blushes furiously. He shifts on the floor, uncomfortable and ashamed. But then he glances back at Glyndower and the pain on his face is almost a physical shove, and Bernard has to pay more attention.

“I told him my name,” Glyndower says. “I just handed it over to him without a second thought. So naïve.” He smiles at himself bitterly. “He was the king and he asked, and I had no idea how to refuse. I’ve always been particularly bad at saying no to beautiful people, and he had all this power and he thought he was entitled. I believed him.”

Glyndower pauses and Bernard thinks he’s expecting a reply, but he has nothing. He’s too busy wondering what Glyndower’s real name is.

Glyndower smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Do pay more attention,” he says, but it’s gentle. Not the cutting tone from before. “This is the interesting part.”

Bernard nods and listens. Glyndower tells him how he got himself trapped into service to the king. He was to stay at the court for as long as the king lived, to amuse him and grant him any wishes he could.

“I was bursting with magic back then,” he says. “I could change my form freely, make my body like liquid and almost disappear, I could conjure up water from thin air. I could perform many tricks. And the king liked me, he gave me many gifts. He treated me kindly, as kindly as any master can treat their servant. I couldn’t leave, but I was not miserable. I used to sneak around the castle with other servants, whispering about the secrets of the court. We gossiped about the love affairs of our masters and mistresses, about how the court was one big cheating game.” Glyndower laughs at that, his face happy for the moment.

Bernard can’t help but smile at him. But that makes Glyndower frown and say, “We didn’t talk about how we were playing the same game, sneaking moments behind bushes and just around the corners. I loved so many of them I can’t recall all their names anymore.”

Bernard raises his eyebrows. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that. I know for a fact our own servants are quite the same, and nobody minds.” He shrugs. “You take love where you find it.”

Glyndower shakes his head. “Oh yes,” he says. “As long as men love women and women love men everybody finds everything perfectly acceptable.”

Bernard’s heart beats faster and he has to gulp down a lump in his throat. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice somehow not breaking.

Glyndower grins. “Oh, I see,” he says slowly. He stops and thinks for a while. Then he grins even wider. “Tell me what brought you here yesterday, and I’ll tell you what I mean,” he says.

Bernard gulps again. “I’d rather not,” he says. “I’d really rather not.” He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to think about yesterday evening or this morning. He doesn’t want to think about his future and Florina bullying him into every single thing she wants. Running the country instead of him. He can’t even blame her, he’d really messed up. But he can’t say it out loud no matter what.

---

Glyn’s grin fades really quickly at the look on the boy’s face. Oh, dear. He would rub his face with his hands if he could reach that far up, but a sigh will have to do.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If it helps, I can tell you that the shame goes away eventually.”

The boy looks up and his eyes are huge. Glyn can see he’s trying really hard not to start crying. He braces himself, forcing the sympathy he feels to show on his face despite disliking the vulnerability of it. “Look,” he says, “like you said – you take love where you find it. So why should it make a difference if it’s a man or a woman?”

The boy looks back down, hiding his face. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t know what to think about it. But it hardly matters, does it?” He raises his voice, suddenly angry. “I can’t change the fact that I’d be cast out at best if anyone found out, and killed in the worst case scenario. My opinion doesn’t count for anything, my mother is still the Queen. I could lose my life, and for what? I don’t even love him. It was just one time and he was just a pretty face. But of course Florina walked in on me this time, it’s just my luck.”

Glyn smiles at those words. Well, he did not expect that. He expected a great love story, numerous stolen kisses and whispered promises. It’s just as well – he would not wish his own experiences on anyone else.

“You’re lucky,” he says. “I fell in love.”

The boy looks at him with interest then. “Is that what got you in here?” he asks. “You didn’t kill anyone?”

Glyndower laughs. “I couldn’t kill anyone, despite the fact that I wanted to,” he says. “But wait, we’re not there yet.”

The boy relaxes again, his shoulders losing some of the tension now that the focus is off him. “Alright,” he says, “tell me.”

“Like I said, it was usual for servants to fall in and out of love, and occasionally some of them would get pregnant and get married, and sometimes they even married out of love. The King didn’t care for such things, we were free to do as we pleased as long as we did our jobs. When I was at the court for a few years already, one of the king’s counsellors got a new servant. He was a bit older than newcomers usually were, but an absolutely striking man. He had the most amazing eyes.”

Glyn pauses, taking a moment to remember seeing Frank for the first time. He hadn’t thought about it in a while, wasn’t even sure he could think of it without sending himself spiralling into painful memories. Having somebody there helps, though. He doesn’t cry in front of strangers.

“He was incredibly smart,” he says to distract himself, “had the best eye for details. He chose the counsellor’s clothes so well even the King noticed it. He was very quiet normally, didn’t chat and gossip with the other servants, but for some reason he liked me. We spent a lot of time just talking whenever we could find the time.”

Glyn pauses to look at the boy, folding his hands in his lap.

“I fell in love,” he says, his voice intentionally quiet. “It was inevitable, really. He was the first person I could really talk to in years, and he was so beautiful I longed to touch him from the moment I saw him.”

The boy raises his eyebrows at him.

“What?” Glyn snaps. “It’s true. Tell me you didn’t find your boy pretty? I’m quite certain you wouldn’t have kissed someone who was repulsive to you.”

The human smiles and shrugs. “True,” he says. “I just haven’t thought of it that way. I mean, men being beautiful.”

It’s Glyn’s turn to raise his eyebrows now. “Do you ever look in the mirror?” he says. Then he realises what just came out of his mouth and is suddenly extremely grateful he can’t blush. He schools his face into a serious expression, refusing to let on that he didn’t mean to say that. Completely planned, alright.

But luckily the boy isn’t even looking at him. He seems extremely interested in the floor, his cheeks pink. Glyn can’t tell whether it’s with embarrassment or pleasure. Likely both.

“I don’t, really,” the boy mutters and then looks up, smirking. “Would also be a bit strange if I fancied myself, wouldn’t it?”

Glyn grins at him. “There is nothing wrong with a healthy dose of self-admiration. I think you should start. Looking at yourself in the mirror, I mean.”

When the boy’s cheeks flush a pretty pink again, Glyn silently congratulates himself. He might’ve just found a way to speed up his rescue from the chains.

--

Bernard can’t stop smiling. Nobody has ever called him beautiful before, and no matter how shallow it might be, he feels a rush of pleasure at the thought. He knows many people are attracted to him, but he’s always assumed it comes with the power. He was brought up knowing he’ll be king one day, after all. But beauty, that was another thing. Beauty was reserved for women and nature, for paintings and music.

He forces himself to stop wringing his hands in his lap and looks up at Glyndower. “Thank you,” he says. “I —“ He pauses, not sure whether he should continue. He shouldn’t let the demon fill his head with stupidities like these, charm him into sympathy. But oh well, it’s done. He can at least try to play the game. He braces himself and puts on his best smile.

“I think you’re stunningly beautiful as well, if you don’t mind my saying so. I’ve been struggling not to stare this whole time.” He watches Glyndower’s reaction and notes the way the muscles in his arms tense and then slowly relax. He grins wide. “Oh I’m sorry, was that inappropriate? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Glyndower grins back at him. “Oh, just shut up and listen to the rest of the story.”

Bernard laughs. “Alright, I’ll be quiet,” he says. He looks down to hide his smile, but then realizes there’s no point. He looks back up into Glyndower’s eyes. He’s still grinning at him, and Bernard’s confidence suddenly wavers and he’s blushing again. Great.

“So, did your servant fall in love with you as well?” he asks, mostly to distract himself from how Glyndower is looking at him.

Glyndower’s smile fades to something sadder, softer. “Yes,” he says, “yes he did. It took us a long time to confess it to each other, but we did eventually find the courage. We stole as much time together as we could after that, hiding in his room or mine mostly. He told me he loved me, that he wanted us to make a life together. I couldn’t leave, though. I was bound to the King and there was nothing that could break the bond until the King’s death. And while it was alright for me to wait – a few decades don’t mean much compared to centuries – Frank would be very old by the time I’d be free.”

Bernard leans forward, and notices he’s unconsciously managed to scoot closer to Glyndower. He shrugs mentally. Moving away now would attract more attention than their closeness. “What did you do?” he asks.

Glyndower lets his hands fall to his lap, and he doesn’t smile this time, not even sadly. “I gave him immortality,” he says. “It was… not as simple as I just made it sound. First of all, we needed space and a lot of time, and we had neither. We planned it months in advance, and even asked a few other people to help. There were very few who knew about us, but they were good friends. We arranged it so that we would have the whole afternoon off, and we used one of the dining rooms. We pushed the furniture to one side and I tried to protect as much of the room as I could with simple shield charms. I wasn’t sure what exactly the magic would do, I’d never done a ritual that big before. I tried to explain it to Frank, that it wouldn’t be simple. That there would be a price, and I had no idea what kind. That he had to be absolutely sure he wanted to pay it. He didn’t even think about it, just held his hands out to me.”

Glyndower stops and Bernard can see the tears on his face. He reaches up to brush them away, but the chains stop him. Bernard gets on his knees, reaching forward, but he stops himself.

“May I?” he asks. “I’m sorry.”

Glyndower doesn’t ask him what about. He simply nods. Bernard has a second to wonder if Glyndower’s skin will feel any different, and then he touches his cheek firmly with his thumb. It doesn’t. He wipes the tears away quickly, trying to be as efficient as possible. He wouldn’t want the moment to last if it were the other way around.

---

Glyn still feels the touch of Bernard’s fingers on his skin, and he is terribly conflicted. On the one hand, this is what he’s going for, right? He has to make the human sympathise with him enough to release him. On the other hand, the boy is so very… nice. Glyn can’t help but like him, with his easy sympathy and his sad face.

He doesn’t want to get attached, because his objective is to leave. He should not consider the boy anything but a means to an end. But they’re sitting all huddled together and the boy is the first person who’s dared touch him in centuries, and all this sharing is making him feel connected. He knows he shouldn’t do this to himself. But then again, he’s always been this way. Flinging love at anyone who’s willing to catch it. And after the last one, this parting surely won’t even deserve to be called heartbreak, no matter what happens.

He doesn’t thank him when the boy sits back down, closer still than he was before. He simply looks at him and continues his story.

He tells him of how stupid they were, thinking they could hide the transfer of magic that big. It wasn’t an explosion, at least not on the outside, but everyone could feel it anyway.

“We simply held hands and I made the connection. It was startlingly easy. There were already strong feelings between us, and we were both willing. When the magic hit him, it was a shock. It bound us together so quickly I felt the pain through him, and it was like his bloods had turned into ice. I had no idea – I’d always stupidly thought it would feel hot. This was so much worse. And it wasn’t easy anymore after that, I had to force the energy into his body. There was just no way – you humans are so fragile. His body couldn’t hold all those years. I was standing there, holding my lover’s hands, and he was in so much pain and he had no way to stand it. I wanted to break the ritual, but I couldn’t. I had no option but to go through with it. I have no recollection of how I did it, but I looked at him and pushed the magic over.”

Glyn stops and looks into the boy’s eyes. “It completely wrecked his body,” he says. “I should’ve known. I should’ve realized it wasn’t possible to make someone immortal without their body cracking. I knew there would be a price to pay, but believe me – I had no idea.”

The boy looks right back at him, never averting his eyes. He reaches out with his hand, palm up. Glyn makes his hand feel normal, the little magic he can perform even with the chains. Then he puts his hand into Bernard’s. He swallows thickly. He needs to finish the story.

“When it was done, we both fainted. I woke up to terrible shouting and half the castle standing around us. The energy was so strong everyone had felt the blast and seen the light. Before I could do anything, the guards picked me up and set me on my feet before the King. I didn’t – I only saw Frank for a second before they took him away, still unconscious. I couldn’t do anything to protect myself – all my magic was drained. It took years before I could even feel any of it again. Right then, nothing. I was utterly defenceless. The King was boiling with rage, he was furious. Not only had I given one of his servants, a random nobody, all this power – I had also managed to ruin myself in the process. I was of no use to him anymore. But despite everything, I might’ve gotten away with it – the King was, after all, terribly fond of me – if it wasn’t for the fact that we were both men.”

Glyn pauses once again and bows his head. “The King didn’t want to look at me anymore; he made his disgust painfully and patently obvious. But he also didn’t want me to regain my power and do something stupid again. He locked me up as punishment, and made sure I wouldn’t be able to use magic even if any of my powers returned.”

The boy squeezes his hand gently, and asks, “Do you know what happened to Frank?”

Glyn nods. “One of the maids sneaked in a few months later. She told me that he was completely changed by the magic. His skin had simply cracked everywhere, not being able to withstand the pressure of the energy. It took him a long time to heal. But he was lucky – the cook was smart enough to get him out of the castle before the King could kill him. He left the town as soon as he could, running away. That was the last I heard of him.”

“And you? What did it do to you?” the boy asks.

Glyn smiles. “I’m fine,” he lies. There is no way he’s going to explain to the boy how little power he has now, comparatively. Best not to dwell on it, anyway.

“I would never – It was worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, because it means that Frank is still alive out there somewhere. And the magic came back eventually, though I have no idea how much of it.” He lifts his hands away from the boy and shakes the chains. “It gets drained right out of me.”

---

Bernard doesn’t entirely trust Glyndower not to turn on him when he releases him, but well. It is when. Somehow he finds himself making that decision regardless, which isn’t what he’d expected by any means. But he trusts the pain he sees on Glyndower’s face, in the way he moves, in the way he hesitates before lying to protect himself. And he can’t stand it. He didn’t do anything wrong.

When Glyndower finishes talking, Bernard simply sits there for a long time. Inexplicably, he wants to just take those chains off Glyndower and the hell with everything else. He represses the urge, though, and forces himself to remain still.

They sit like that for a long time, and then Bernard runs a hand through his hair. He wants to say so many things, but none of them will do. He slowly pushes himself up, his body protesting from sitting on the cold floor for too long.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Do you need anything?”

Glyndower shakes his head. “Apart from getting out of these chains? No.”

Bernard nods. “Alright. I’ll be back in a few days, then. I need to… think about all of this. Is that OK?”

Glyndower smiles up at him, but his eyes are empty. Bernard would say he looks frightened, but he really can’t be sure.

“Of course,” Glyndower says. “I understand completely. Just please, if you decide to leave me here, come tell me.”

Bernard clenches his hands into fists, a sharp pain in his chest making it almost impossible to breathe. He kneels down next to Glyndower. “I won’t leave you here,” he says, barely keeping his voice from breaking.

Glyndower takes one of his hands and squeezes it gently. Bernard looks at him and he’s talking before he even makes a conscious decision about it.

“My fiancée walked in on me and another man,” he says firmly. “She used to love me, I’m completely certain of that. But now I don’t know anymore. When she looks at me, her face is full of disgust.”

Glyndower lifts his eyebrows. “Well, I’m sure I wouldn’t be delighted if somebody cheated on me either.”

Bernard shakes his head. “No,” he says. “We had an arrangement, I wouldn’t cheat on her.” When Glyndower looks at him dubiously, he shrugs. “She liked one of the knights, I liked the stable woman – it all worked out. Except, apparently not so much when I liked the new Constable.”

Glyndower nods, serious again.

“She is blackmailing me into doing basically anything and everything she wants,” Bernard says. “I thought I knew her, we were going to be perfectly happy together. But now —” He shrugs.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Bernard sighs. “I have no idea. I don’t want to just let it go without trying, you know. I have to – I want to try and talk to her one more time. If we can reconcile somehow, I’ll become the king and she will be my queen and –“

“You’ll live happily ever after, yes,” Glyndower finishes. “What about me?”

Bernard smiles and lets go of Glyndower’s hands. He stands up. “I’ll come back and let you out of these horrid chains,” he says. “But if I can’t convince her to at least try to understand, then I’ll ask you a favour.”

Glyndower looks up at him, his eyes vary. “What kind of a favour?” he asks.

“To let me leave with you.”

---

After Bernard leaves, Glyn can barely stand… well, anything. He can imagine the freedom, how the power will flood back in once he’s out of the chains, how the dreadful chill that’s making his arms burn will be gone. He would be pacing up and down if he could, but the damn chains leave him so little space to move he might as well stay put.

He thinks about taking the boy with him, which he’s almost certain he’ll have to. He isn’t too pleased about it. He honestly doesn’t need anyone to drag him down, keep him from going at his own pace. He’s been still for far too long.

But he’s promised, and he’s quite sure there will be no happy resolution to the boy’s drama. He might as well get used to the idea. At least he won’t be alone, which is a comforting thought, as much as Glyn wishes it wasn’t.

He makes himself stop fidgeting and sits down, hands in his lap. He closes his eyes and almost forcefully relaxes his expression. OK, just a while longer. He’s been here for centuries, he can do a few more hours.

He doesn’t have to, though. The door opens and Bernard walks in, his steps determined. Glyn looks up at him. The boy’s lips are pressed firmly together, his hands in fists by his side. Anger, then, not sadness.

Glyn stands up and looks the boy straight in the eyes. “She wouldn’t talk to you?” he asks.

The boy snorts. “She talked, alright,” he says, “she just had nothing nice to say.”

Glyn smiles at him, knowing that his expression is softer than he’d like. “But you expected that, didn’t you?” he says.

The boy nods and takes a deep breath, relaxes his fists. “Yes. So, shall we?”

Glyn doesn’t let himself think too much about it, just looks at the boy and waits. If he pauses to think, his legs might not be able to hold him up. But his heart is still beating wildly in his throat and his breathing is shallow and quick. Anticipation is building in his stomach and he’s just barely stopping himself from yelling at the boy to hurry up.

The boy looks at him, confusion in his eyes. “Wait,” he says. “Uh, how exactly am I supposed to get these off you?”

Glyn squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and pushes out an exasperated breath. They’re so stupid. They’ve talked about everything else, but of course they didn’t discuss the actual getting-out-of-the-chains thing.

“Sorry,” the boy says and actually grins at him. “We were a bit preoccupied with whether or not I’ll be going with and getting out of the castle, weren’t we.”

“Shut up,” Glyn says. He doesn’t want to be harsh, not right now, but he can feel the freedom on the tip of his tongue and he can’t wait anymore. He still makes himself take a few deep breaths, softens his tone.

“I just need some water, that’s all,” he says. “There’s a basin just outside this room, though I’m not sure they still fill it.”

The boy shakes his head. “That’s all?” he asks. “Some water?”

Glyn sighs. “Yes. I’m a water demon, we need water, these chains prevent me from simply rejuvenating as I usually would. Can we please not go into this right now? I’d really like to get out of here.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” The boy fumbles with the bag on his shoulder, opening it and reaching inside. “The basin isn’t working anymore,” he says, “but I brought some water with me.”

He offers Glyn the flask. Glyn rolls his eyes and lifts his arms up as far as they go, shaking the chains. “Can’t reach, remember? You’ll have to help me.”

The boy blushes and looks down. “Sorry, I forgot,” he mutters. He opens the flask and steps closer. He lifts it up to Glyn’s mouth.

Glyn can feel it the exact second the first drop hits his lips, the rush of power so strong he knows he should stop and go slower. But he can’t, he’s waited for too long. He lets his body react, lets himself take big gulps.

It feels like all his nerves are firing at once, the pleasure so intense it almost tips into pain. He closes his eyes against the feeling, tears spilling down his cheeks. He hasn’t cried in centuries.

---

The chains open and fall from Glyndower, landing on the floor with so much noise Bernard is afraid someone will hear them. But he only gets to be worried for a second, because then a blast of energy hits him right in the chest. He doesn’t stumble, but it’s a close thing. He looks at Glyndower, his eyes wide and his heart beating fast.

“I’m sorry,” Glyndower says. “Won’t happen again, just got a bit of a shock there.”

His voice is rough and low, and he sounds shell-shocked. Bernard allows himself to take a step back and just look.

Glyndower’s skin is glowing faintly, and he is holding his hands half-up. His head is tipped back slightly and his – his wings. They are open and brilliantly white at the tips, then fading into grey. But they look wrong, twisted and broken. The feathers are ruffled and bent, some of them very obviously missing. He can’t look away, it is the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He swallows and realizes he’s been reaching out, his fingertips tingling with the desire to touch.

He just wants to pull his hand back when Glyndower lets out a gasp and stumbles. Bernard is there in a flash, catching him. He stumbles backward under Glyndower’s weight. He tries to adjust, but he’s simply too weak and the demon is too heavy. They both slip to the floor, Bernard managing to control their fall enough that they don’t get hurt.

He ends up on the floor with Glyndower splayed over his lap. He puts his arms around him and pulls him closer on instinct, allowing the demon to lean his head on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, I’ve got you,” he says.

Glyndower lets out a breathy laugh. “Yes, it seems you really do,” he says.

Bernard is surprised when he doesn’t move away, but instead curls closer. He feels a bit anxious, not quite sure what to say or do next. He keeps as still as possible, hoping Glyndower won’t notice.

Glyndower sighs and says, “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

The texture of his skin under Bernard’s hands changes, and it’s only then that he realizes there was something different about it.

“Wait, no, don’t,” he says, and then rolls his eyes at himself mentally. Oh yes, so eloquent. “I mean, I didn’t even notice.”

Glyndower snorts, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Of course,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, I know humans dislike the feel of my skin. It is not an issue.”

Bernard tightens his arms, only remembering where they are when the demon lets out a little hiss.

“Oops,” he says. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“’S fine, just mind the wings. They’re not exactly in the best shape.”

Bernard doesn’t comment on that, preoccupied with trying to remember the exact texture of Glyndower’s skin on his before he changed it. “Can you – I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’d really like to –“ He stops himself and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You don’t have to change your skin for my sake. I really didn’t notice, it was just… normal.”

Glyndower raises his head and pulls away a bit, looking at Bernard. “I didn’t change it,” he says and shrugs. “I just changed the way it feels to you. It doesn’t take much energy and I used to do it all the time. I slipped because it’s been a while, but it takes hardly any effort. So stop being all noble.”

Bernard lifts his hand and very slowly puts it on Glyndower’s arm just under his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he lifts his eyes up and looks into Glyndower’s.

“Alright,” he says. “If it makes you uncomfortable. But it felt normal to me, just skin. As far as I’m concerned, you can drop the charm or whatever it is whenever you wish.”

Glyndower smiles at him and then leans back in, putting his head back on Bernard’s shoulder. “You’re a very odd person, you know that?” he says.

Bernard hums in agreement and carefully puts his arms back around the demon’s body. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, “and you shouldn’t let me touch your real skin. I might develop an unhealthy obsession, what with all that texture.”

He considers it a win when Glyndower laughs, the vibrations making Bernard’s skin tingle.

---

---

They’ve been on the road for weeks, trying to get to Terwoll, the second biggest city in the state. Glyn is quite desperately wishing for his full powers back, for the ease of teleporting them both to their destination in a matter of moments. He hated the riding while they still had the horses, but it was better than the walking they have to do now. He isn’t tired as much as simply sick of being on the road. While the boy proved to be quite entertaining, so Glyn at least isn’t bored out of his mind, he does wish for something more comfortable than the rocks to sleep on. He can charm up the illusion of cushions well enough for them to be able to sleep, but you can’t fool the body all that well. He wakes up every morning exhausted. Though, admittedly, that is thanks to the nightmares as much as to how uncomfortable he is.

“You should at least let me carry you for a while,” he says to Bernard for the tenth time today, mostly just to say something. He’s given up on convincing the boy that it’s honestly not a burden at all to Glyn, lifting him into the air next to him. Easy as breathing. But Bernard has somehow gotten it into his head that Glyn is still recovering and should not strain himself. Glyn would roll his eyes if he weren’t facing Bernard, but he does not want another lecture. Honestly.

Bernard shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says. But Glyn can see how tired he is, and he worries. He tried not caring for the boy, tried to stay cool and detached. It… didn’t go very well. Bernard finally snapped after a week and yelled at him for being a jerkass. He then, of course, apologized profusely and promised over and over not to ever yell at Glyn again. But the boy was right, there was and is no reason for him to be rude. He likes Bernard, and he isn’t (as a rule) rude to people he likes (most of the time.) So now he’s given up lying to himself that he doesn’t care. And he doesn’t like the bags under the boy’s eyes, doesn’t like how thin he’s gotten, doesn’t like the toll that hiding and walking and stealing has taken on him.

“We should get to the city in a day or so,” Bernard says with a knowing look in his eyes. Glyn dislikes how easy it is for the boy to read him, but he doesn’t do anything about it.

“I know,” Glyn says. “I’ll be glad to have the travelling part behind us. You are the worst travelling companion, you look absolutely terrible.”

“Gee, thanks,” Bernard says and shakes his head. But he is smiling, and Glyn is always happy to break a perfectly good moment with a stupid remark.

“Not everyone can have a handy dose of magic helping them along,” Bernard adds. “Believe me, I’d be more than happy to look all fresh and pretty the second I get some fluid in me.”

Glyn grins at him. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

“You know I do, you asshole.” Bernard shoves at him with his shoulder, hiding his own grin. “Though beautiful is a better word,” he says, suddenly serious.

Glyn closes his eyes for a second and reaches out to touch the boy’s hand lightly, making it seem like an accidental brush. “Thank you,” he says, and forces himself not to add anything.

---

They get into the city without a problem, Glyndower’s disguise effectively masking them as traders from Galark. Their plan is to talk to some people first, try to figure out if anybody knows Frank.

“If they’ve seen him, they’ll know who I’m talking about,” Glyndower says. “He’s not exactly easy to forget.”

They are walking down a particularly seedy street, trying to get to the city centre, when Glyndower stumbles. Bernard catches him by his arm, steadying him. “What happened?”

“Oh god,” Glyn pants. “God, I completely forgot.” He turns to face Bernard, the expression on his face almost worshipful. He smiles slowly and composes himself. “We can find Frank without asking anyone,” he says. “I can feel him.”

Bernard’s heart sinks and he feels paralyzed. But his lack of response makes Glyndower’s face fall, and he smiles quickly, asks, “Feel him? How?”

Glyndower looks around them. “Not here,” he says and motions behind them with his head. “Don’t turn,” he whispers urgently when Bernard starts to. “They’re not dangerous to us, but they think they are.” He smiles pleasantly at Bernard, but his eyes flash yellow for just a second. Bernard grins at him and Glyn rolls his eyes. “You can’t at least pretend I’m terribly scary sometimes?” he asks and pulls Bernard behind him, out of the street.

They find an inn, paying for the week with Bernard’s money. “You hopefully won’t need the place,” he says to Glyndower. “But I will, either way. I’ll need somewhere to figure out what to do next.”

Glyndower doesn’t answer. They close the door of their new room behind them, wait for the innkeeper to go down the stairs.

“So, explain now,” Bernard says. “How can you feel him?”

“I’ve forgotten all about it, because it was useless back in the days. I can feel magic, right, but magic was everywhere before… my imprisonment. Especially in big cities. Now, there’s none at all, so I didn’t remember. But I felt a trace of it in that street back there. It wasn’t close or strong, but it was there. It felt like —“ he starts, but stops himself and shakes his head. “I can’t explain.”

Bernard sits down on the bed, looks at his hands. “So you can just go out and find a trace, and then follow it directly to him?” He knows he ought to sound happier for Glyndower, but he just can’t pretend. It hurts already, losing him. He thought they had at least another week.

“Not exactly,” Glyndower says. “If he’s lived here for any length of time, he’ll have left traces of it on streets and people. It might take a while to find the right one.”

“Or we might happen upon it the second we step out,” Bernard says, trying to suppress the urge to hide his face in his palms and weep. He tells himself he’s acting childishly. It’s not like he hasn’t known from the start this was why they were coming here in the first place.

“Yes, we might,” Glyndower says, and Bernard notices that he doesn’t look too excited either. “But not tonight,” he adds. “I’m tired, and I’m sure you are too. We’ll start looking tomorrow. We should sleep now.”

When Bernard foregoes the other bed and crawls into Glyn’s, the demon doesn’t protest.




Bernard sits up in the dark, suddenly awake, his heart beating too fast and his eyes wide open, searching for the threat. He forces himself to exhale slowly when he sees Glyndower next to him. Just Glyndower. And they’re in the city now, he reminds himself at the feeling of the bed under him.

He sits still, watches Glyndower tossing around. Bernard suspects it happens every night, the wild tossing and turning, though he isn’t woken up by it that often anymore. And he doesn’t try to get it to stop anymore either. He tried the first few nights, but he could never even touch him. Some sort of a protective field or something.

He lies back down, but he keeps his eyes open and doesn’t really even attempt to sleep. He knows he won’t be able to, not until Glyndower’s movements stop and he starts breathing even again. He faces the other way. It feels wrong somehow to watch him, and more wrong still that he isn’t doing anything about it. He tries to think of something else.

Then he hears the sobbing. It’s muffled and barely even there, but Bernard is so used to Glyndower never letting out any sound apart from ragged breathing that it jerks him up again. He reaches for Glyn without thinking, startling when his hands actually connect with flesh. After a second of hesitation, he finds his shoulder in the dark and runs his hand down Glyn’s arm.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “you’re out. I’m here, and we’re out of the castle. You’re safe.” He isn’t even sure Glyndower is awake or able to hear any of the nonsense he’s whispering fervently, but he keeps up the string of words and he keeps his hand on Glyn’s arm. He would offer more comfort if he knew how, but he daren’t touch the demon anymore than he already is. He sits there, whispering, not able to tell whether for hours or minutes.

Then the sobbing slowly calms down, and strong fingers clasp his wrist. He can see Glyndower open his eyes, look up at him. He pulls his hand down so that Bernard has to bend closer, presses it to his chest.

Bernard closes his eyes and breathes in and out slowly. “Can I—“

Glyndower brings his own hand up, presses two fingers over Bernard’s lips to shut him up. Then he puts his hand on Bernard’s shoulder and pulls him gently towards him, so that he has to lie down. They’re facing each other, Glyndower’s heart beating steadily into his palm.

Bernard wants to huddle closer, wants to wrap his arms around Glyn and never let go. In that moment, he hates everyone who’s ever harmed his friend. He wishes he could find them and kill them, and is happy that they are dead already.

And that servant of Glyn’s better turn out to be still madly in love with him. He better be the happiest man alive when they find him, and if he treats Glyndower with anything but the most fervent admiration and love, Bernard will… Well, he doesn’t actually have any idea what he’ll do. But he will do something, and it won’t be pleasant for Frank.

He’s jerked out of his plotting when Glyndower presses his fingers between his eyebrows, soothing the angry crease away. “Stop frowning,” he whispers, “you don’t want that ugly wrinkle.”

Bernard rolls his eyes, pulls Glyndower’s hand down from his face, doesn’t let go. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Glyndower sighs. “I don’t know. But I suspect you do.”

Bernard squeezes his hand. “I’d rather we did, but you know I won’t push the issue if you tell me to shut up. Or that it’s none of my business.”

“It is some of your business,” Glyndower answers, squeezing back. “I woke you up, didn’t I? That makes it your business,” he adds after a moment.

Bernard shrugs with one shoulder, but stays quiet.

“I have nightmares,” Glyndower finally says, but he doesn’t continue.

Bernard lifts his arm up. “Come here,” he whispers. He doesn’t actually expect Glyndower to obey, but the demon scoots closer and buries his face in Bernard’s chest.

---

It’s easier to talk once he isn’t being looked at anymore, Glyn notes. So maybe he’s being a coward, and maybe he’s doing exactly what he’s promised himself he wouldn’t do. But in the darkness of the night, it’s easy to excuse this momentary lapse in judgement. He’s tired and sleep deprived, and he feels safe in the tiny private world Bernard creates with his arms around him.

“It’s actually just one nightmare,” he whispers, “over and over again.”

Bernard is quiet, waiting for him to go on. Glyn presses his face against the fabric of Bernard’s tunic for a moment, but then pulls back enough to be able to talk and be understood.

“I’m in the room again, and I know it’s the same room, though it looks different,” he says quietly, just barely keeping his voice steady. “It has no windows and no doors, just black walls pressing in on me from all sides. I’m desperately trying to protect myself, to push the walls away, make them crumble, but the shackles on my wrists are draining the power right out of me. The chain around my waist is too tight and it’s hard to breathe, and my legs are shackled as well. The chains are pulled taut, not allowing me to move at all.”

He swallows down on the sob that’s trying to break free, forces the tears away. Bernard is holding him carefully, and Glyn can tell that he is trying to be gentle and not tighten his arms around him. He finds the beating of Bernard’s heart with his palm, the steady thump-thump oddly reassuring.

“I know I can’t save myself, can’t get out, but I still struggle against the chains. They bite into my skin, tearing it like they never could in real life.” Glyn pauses, embarrassed about the tears that come anyway, until he remembers that Bernard can’t see his face. He represses the urge to wipe them away. “And the worst part is, the cold is back around my wrists, weighing them down, draining the magic out of me. And I know I will never get it back, that I’ll always feel cold and alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Bernard murmurs, his voice sad and angry at the same time.

Glyn rolls his eyes despite himself. “I know that now,” he snaps.

Bernard puts his hand over Glyn’s on his chest, swipes his thumb gently over Glyn’s fingers. “You never have to be alone again,” he says seriously, not bothered by Glyn’s comment in the least.

Glyn’s throat tightens, and he can’t speak. He’s known for a while now that Bernard feels strongly about him, the boy is not good at hiding it – and to be honest, he hasn’t been trying very hard. And Glyn… well. He sighs inwardly, allows himself to press closer. He’ll move away in just a moment, just a little more. It might be the last night.

He thinks of finding Frank, the man he loved enough to lose everything for. He can’t be in love with some boy he’s known for less than a month, not when Frank is waiting for him somewhere in this city. So close and so far at the same time. Frank is the love of his life, he tells himself sternly. And when they find him, they’re going to live happily ever after. And Bernard will move on, find somebody else, somebody who’s nice to him and doesn’t have to hide his appearance every time they meet another person. A girl, preferably, so they won’t have to hide at all.

He opens his eyes and pulls his hand away from Bernard’s, moves back to his side of bed. “Go to sleep,” he says. “Breakfast is at seven.”

---

Bernard feels cold at the sudden absence, but he doesn’t try to convince Glyn to come back. He faces away from him and closes his eyes, willing his mind to shut up and let him sleep. He lies in the dark for a long time, thinking about the way Glyn’s fingers felt under his, and about the anger that still lingers in the tension of his arms.

He spends the next morning biting his tongue to stop himself from talking about what happened. He knows there’s no point to it, Glyndower would only shut him down. In fact, he seems to have forgotten all about the last night, and Bernard decides to do the same.

He pulls on a fresh tunic, tying it with his last piece of string. After they wash, they head down for breakfast. The oatmeal is rather plain, the innkeeper putting only a modest amount of butter and honey on. They eat in silence, Bernard glancing at Glyndower whenever nobody is looking. But when they’re finally leaving, the bargirl smiles at him all friendly, her eyes a little sad.

---

Glyndower sighs when Bernard points out that they should probably call it a day. If he’s honest, he’s known all along that they won’t find Frank like this. He was just hoping against hope that they might find a trace of magic strong enough; it would make everything so much easier.

“Let’s head back to the inn,” he says. “We can continue tomorrow. I’ll think of something by then.”

They return for dinner, but neither of them eats very much. Glyn is thinking about finding Frank. No, he’s trying not to lie to himself, remember? He’s thinking about leaving Bernard. About what it’ll do to him, what it’ll do to the boy. They’ve been alone for weeks now, having only each other to really talk to, only each other to trust. He feels like the boy is the only thing keeping him anchored to this strange world he’s found himself in, a place where none of his kind walk the streets and all the people he used to know are dead. All but Frank, he reminds himself sternly. Who he will find tomorrow. He has to.

He shakes his head and pushes himself away from the table, follows Bernard upstairs. They get ready for bed in silence, and Glyn waits for Bernard to get in first. He can’t allow them to sleep in the same bed again, he was wrong to let it happen even once. He tries to stop himself from thinking about last night, about how safe he’d felt and how easy it would’ve been to tilt his head up and kiss the boy. He tries to convince himself that he’s already made his decision, centuries ago, and that there’s nothing to feel sorry about. It’s a lie, but he allows himself that one.

He gets into the other bed, faces away from Bernard’s open eyes, into the darkness. He forces himself to pull the covers up slowly, settle into the uncomfortable mattress as best as he can.

“Really?” comes from Bernard, the word holding both anger and so much pain. Glyn closes his eyes against the answering tug of guilt and hurt, breathes in and exhales slowly.

“What do you think you’ll change by sleeping in the other bed?”

Glyn very carefully doesn’t sigh or move, almost forcefully relaxes his body. “I simply don’t want to wake you up again,” he lies and immediately feels guilty. “You deserve a good night’s sleep, it’s been a while since you’ve had one.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Glyn can hear Bernard sitting up, and he can picture his expression in his mind. His mouth all sharp lines, but his eyes sad and soft around the edges. He doesn’t say anything in reply.

“I’d wake up regardless of how far apart we slept. If your tossing and turning wouldn’t wake me up, it’d be the absence of it.” Bernard’s voice is quieter now, more matter-of-fact. Glyn knows he’s telling the truth.

He finally turns around to face him, pushes himself up and sits at the edge of the bed, places his hands on his knees so that he doesn’t wrap them around himself. He’s perfectly capable of lying to Bernard and getting away with it, he’s just quite sure the boy doesn’t deserve it. And Glyn doesn’t want to lie to him.

“Bernard,” he says, but shakes his head. He gets up and crosses the distance between them, sits on their bed next to the boy. He takes one of his hands, and looks at the contrast Bernard’s skin makes against his, so he doesn’t have to look into his eyes.

“I am not, in fact, an idiot,” he says quietly, and doesn’t smile. “This is as much for my sake as it is for yours. I have made a promise a long time go, and I intend to keep it. Frank was — is the love of my life. I can’t —“

“You can’t what?” Bernard interrupts him, pulls his hand away and pushes Glyn’s chin up, forcing him to look at his face. “Can’t be in love with me?” he asks, his words quick and sharp, cutting Glyn’s heart neatly open. He seems to see some of it on Glyn’s face, because his voice is softer when he speaks again, his hand back in Glyn’s. “Well, you are anyway. Don’t try to deny it, I won’t believe you.”

Glyn lets out a breath he’s been holding. “I wouldn’t have.” He tries to determine whether that’s true, and decides it just might be.

Bernard raises his eyebrows. “You would too,” he says with conviction. “But it’s true nevertheless, and you’ll have to deal with it.”

Glyn smiles sadly, squeezes the boy’s hand. “I am dealing with it,” he says and gets off the bed, stands there and forces himself not to turn away. “It’s just not in the way you’d like me to.” He feels his chest tighten painfully, thinks that perhaps he could — But no, he tells himself sternly, this is the right thing to do.

Bernard’s eyes widen, and Glyn knows this is the first time it’s occurred to Bernard that perhaps Glyn would choose Frank anyway. He watches as his confusion turns to anger, surprisingly enough. Glyn had been expecting heartbreak and resignation.

“So what?” He stands up as well, so close to Glyn that they would be touching if either of them moved even a little bit forward. “You find Frank and live happily ever after, and none of this” – he gestures between them – “matters anything at all? You just walk away, and never even give me a chance? Never even talk it out?”

Glyn clamps down on his own anger firmly, doesn’t let Bernard’s emotions sweep him along. He knows better than that. Things tend to explode when he isn’t careful. He moves away, puts at least a little bit of distance between them. Anger would make him say things he doesn’t want Bernard to hear, isn’t even willing to admit to himself. There is no chance to give, he tries to convince himself. The decision has been made a long time ago.

“You want to talk about it?” he says slowly, keeps his voice carefully calm and quiet. “What exactly do you want to discuss?” Bernard deserves all the truth Glyn can give him right now, and he can stand it, no matter how fragile he may look and how badly Glyn wants to protect him. “Do you want to know how much it hurts to pull my hand away every time I touch you? How hard it was not to stay where I was last night? How my heart beats faster every time you smile at me, and it makes me feel like a child? How much I like talking to you, and how I can’t imagine letting go once we find Frank?” He takes a breath and shakes his head. “It doesn’t change a thing, Bernard. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Frank and I had two years, and then we had all those centuries to think about each other and yearn to be back together. He’s the man I love, and I’ll always love him. I gave up everything to be with him! And when we find Frank, darling, you will leave. I’ll beg you to stay, but you’ll leave anyway.”

He pauses for a moment and just breathes. He looks at Bernard with a plea in his eyes, hopes that the boy will understand. “So please,” he begs, “can we simply pretend I don’t want to wake you up when I have a nightmare, and you can pretend to believe me when I tell you I’m madly in love with a man I haven’t seen in centuries.”

---

Bernard’s anger slips away quietly, feeling ashamed of itself. He feels close to tears now, wants to reach out and be comforted, but thinking about it makes it even worse. He swallows and forces himself to keep looking into Glyn’s eyes, forces himself to search for the chance he knows is not there. Glyn has made up his mind.

“But you aren’t, are you?” he asks anyway, his voice nearly a whisper. “And what good would it be to spend your life with someone you’re not even sure you love the way you’re supposed to, anymore?”

The expression on Glyn’s face goes soft instead of hard, and Bernard wishes for anger instead of this quiet resignation.

“The kind of bond I have with Frank can’t be broken just because I fell in love with a random human boy,” he says. “Yes, I haven’t seen him in a long time, and it doesn’t feel the way it used to anymore. But once I see him again, it will. The only thing that matters is whether he thinks I love him the way I’m supposed to, and I’ll make sure he does. It won’t even be hard once we’re together again.”

Bernard realizes that Glyn has thought about this carefully, that he’s made up his mind before Bernard ever thought about having courage to bring it up. No, he corrects himself. There was never even a choice to be made. He can’t hold back the tears anymore at that thought, and he turns around to hide them. But his legs give out and he crumples to the floor, hides his face into his hands at last and weeps.

He doesn’t hear the broken sound that Glyn makes when it happens, and doesn’t hear the words he keeps repeating almost in a whisper while he picks Bernard up and tucks him into their bed. He stops sobbing when Glyn lies down next to him above the covers after all, and drifts into an uneasy sleep with Glyn’s fingers treading through his hair and tears drying on his cheeks.

He wakes up to an empty bed and feeling numb. He gets up slowly, dresses, washes, brushes his teeth on autopilot. He walks downstairs to find Glyndower talking to the bargirl with the nice smile. Normally, he’d join them and flirt with her a little, just enough to make her blush prettily. But today he can barely force himself to return her smile, and he can’t eat the food she brings him at all. He’s aware that Glyndower keeps glancing at him every few seconds, and he would laugh at the irony if he didn’t feel like that would make him break right apart.

Outside the sky is a sad grey and the clouds are hiding the sun. The city is bustling with activity, and Glyn nods at the old lady that is looking at them from her window. They make their way away from the river again, towards where the streets are wider and the houses further apart.

Glyndower pushes Bernard into a rare blind alley, but pulls his hand away as if singed when Bernard lifts his eyes to his. “I have to change us,” he says slowly. “You made a good point about the way we look. We need better clothes and different names.”

When Bernard looks down at himself he’s wearing a fine deep-blue tunic and black trousers. He even has new shoes, the leather looking soft but not worn. Glyn is dressed similarly to himself, but his tunic is a bright green and he looks about ten years older than before and has a black beard. Bernard can’t bear to look at his face, turns away from the blue eyes.

“Do I look the same as before?” he asks, referring to his glamour.

“Yes,” Glyndower says. “But I think you should tie your hair back from your face. Only children wear it down like that, the bargirl told me. You could probably get away with it, but let’s not push our luck today.”

Bernard pulls a leather string from his pocket, the fabric under his fingers still the soft worn shirt he’s pulled on this morning, and not the silk of the blue tunic. He gathers his hair back slowly, his fingers clumsy at the unpractised motion. He manages to tie the string around his hair somehow, sure that Glyndower will change how it looks anyway.

“Good,” Glyndower says. “We’re ready.”

They re-emerge from the alley and Bernard follows Glyndower without asking where he’s leading him. They walk at a fast pace, not saying a word, until Glyndower turns into a back alley and stops in front of what looks like a big abandoned building.

“This is it,” he says.

“How do you know?” Bernard asks, though he already knows the answer, can see it in the lines of Glyndower’s body. He’s relaxed, but thrumming with energy. He found the magic he’s been looking for.

“I talked to Melinda,” Glyndower says, “the bargirl. She said she’s seen him before. Apparently, his name is now Fergus. She said to go to Trivern Street, where all the shops are, that someone could point us in the right direction from there. He’s some kind of a merchant now; Melinda assured me that all the young girls want to own his dresses, and some of the boys too. I told you he was good with clothes.”

Bernard shrugs, doesn’t allow the other questions to break from the fog in his brain. He turns back to the building.

“Oh come on,” Glyndower says. “Don’t you want to ask how I found the right building this fast? We’re not even on Trivern Street anymore.”

Bernard turns to face him obediently, asks “How did you find the right building so fast?” with no inflection at all, his voice sounding terrible even to himself.

Glyndower’s face falls and Bernard feels guilty suddenly, rubs his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll snap out of it. Tell me.”

Glyndower doesn’t smile again, doesn’t even attempt the half-fake happy expression he was wearing before. “Magic,” he says shortly. “Once we found the street, it was easy enough to follow it from the shops Fergus sells to. We were just looking on the wrong side of the city.”

“So what is this? Just a storage place?”

“Might be. Though the girl said he has one shop – a place for his special clients, nobody knows where it is. But I’m pretty certain all his clothes would reek of magic if he’s touched them at all; it tends to cling to fine fabric. So who knows?” He steps ahead, lifts his hand. “Just one way to find out, really.”

He knocks.

---



Glyn listens to the footsteps nearing the door. His hands are trembling and he feels like he’s far off, working on autopilot. His body is frozen in place, which he’s distantly grateful for, as he’d be half the way across the city by now otherwise.

The door opens and Glyn feels hot and cold all at once, snapping into awareness so suddenly it leaves him dizzy. Frank, he thinks, and can’t muster anything else.

He just looks at him, the discrepancy between his broken form on the floor centuries ago, and the obviously powerful person before him now almost too much for him to bear. The scars where his body had cracked are a soft silvery pattern on his dark skin, as little of it as Glyn can see. He’s completely bald and wearing gorgeous, forest green robes. Glyn notices a silver pin on his shoulder, a circle with etched markings that Glyn doesn’t recognize.

He finally looks into the man’s eyes. He can feel his throat constrict, all the words he wants to say blocked. He’s unable to even move, let alone produce anything resembling actual words.

Thankfully, Bernard seems to still be a perfectly functional human being. “Hello,” he says. “We’re looking for sir Fergus.”

“That would be myself,” Frank replies. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?”

Bernard nudges Glyn, and he flinches at the sharp elbow against his ribcage. “Oh, yes.” He clears his throat, forces himself to stop fidgeting. “Sir Fergus, I’m honoured,” he says and makes a small bow. “May we come in?” he asks. “I’d rather not discuss the business here on the street, it’s a bit delicate.” And if he’s rehearsed the words before, well, that’s nobody’s business.

They step inside at Frank’s sweeping gesture and raised eyebrows, past him into what looks like a cross between a workshop and storage.

“Excuse the mess,” he says. “I’m in the middle of creating a new line, as well as some special orders.”

Bernard replies something, but Glyn doesn’t hear him over the way Frank is walking in front of them. He leads them to a smaller room at the side of the building and motions for them to sit down. He settles into a chair on the opposite side of the table, delicately entwines his fingers and places his hands on the table.

“I’m sure you’re already aware of the procedure, but just in case. You’re only allowed inside my office, no peeking onto my work desk, and at the first meeting we discuss ideas and not prices. Those would be my rules. Oh, and if you would be so kind as to tell me who sent you, that’d be delightful.” He’s looking at Bernard while he talks, but when he’s done he smiles politely at each of them in turn, and Glyn is again shaken out of his reverie.

He sits up straighter, looks back at Frank boldly. “Actually, we are not here for the clothes,” he says, and the way Frank simply raises his eyebrows at that sends a chill through his spine. It’s wrong. He’s always been collected, Frank has, but never to this extent. Or perhaps Glyn just used to be able to read him better. Centuries, he reminds himself.

When neither of them elaborates further, Frank leans back in his chair, bringing his hands on either side of it. “What brings you here, them?” he asks. “I don’t get many visitors, customers are much more common.”

Glyn’s been thinking of how to explain for days, but there are simply no words. “It’d be easier for me to show you, if I may. I don’t want to shock you, but,” Glyn shrugs and stands up, “I really can’t see any other way.” Frank raises his eyebrows again at that, but he nods curtly and waits.

Glyn takes a deep breath and drops his glamour.

Frank visibly tenses, then lets out a big sigh. “Yes, I see,” he says. He turns to Bernard. “Do you mind leaving us alone for a bit?”

Bernard nods and leaves the room without a word. Glyn suddenly wishes he stayed.

Frank motions at the chair. “Please sit down, Siurran.”

Glyn closes his eyes against a sudden rush of energy, his whole body thrumming at the sound of his name.

Frank’s voice snaps him out of it. “I’ve been expecting you,” he says and rubs his hands over his face.

Glyn sits down, feeling as if his whole world was just a bit off. Not enough to panic, but enough to make him fidget in his seat. He readjusts his clothes and tells himself to ignore the quiver in his stomach. He’s just overreacting. Just because Frank isn’t responding exactly as Glyn feels he should, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. He forces his hands to still and looks Frank in the eyes.

“How come you were expecting me?” he asks. “I would expect my… visit to be completely out of the blue, so to say.” He smiles lightly and hopes it doesn’t look as shaky as he feels.

Frank doesn’t smile back, but leans forward in his chair. “I’ve been expecting you every day for three centuries,” he says conspiratorially, then leans back again. “I knew you’d eventually find me, though I was hoping it would be later rather than sooner.” He stops frowning at Glyn’s confused expression, finally smiles. “Well, I suppose three centuries ought to have been enough time. I’m as prepared as I was ever going to be.”

Glyn is completely perplexed. “You didn’t want me to find you?” he asks, the words making no sense.

Frank smiles sadly. “Not particularly,” he says. “I’m sorry. I know this must be perfectly baffling to you, considering the circumstances under which we parted. Let me explain.”

“You better,” Glyn says, tense with the beginning of anger. He isn’t sure who or what he’s angry at quite yet, but it could easily be Frank. “I spent centuries shackled in chains because of what we did, and it’s pure luck that I ever got out. You better have a damn good explanation.”

Frank lifts his hands up in defence, then rubs his face again. “Wait a bit with the anger, there’ll be plenty of time once I’m done talking.” He pauses and glances at the door. “If your companion doesn’t mind waiting, that is.”

Glyn shakes his head. “Forget about the boy,” he says. “He can take care of himself. Talk.” But the thought of Bernard waiting outside cools his anger, the sudden pang of pain making him weirdly placid. He takes care not to let it show on his face, but he’s sure at least some of it leaks through, because Frank relaxes a bit, his heartbeat slowing almost imperceptibly.

“I knew from the start that I wasn’t worth your love,” Frank says. Glyn starts to object, but Frank lifts his hand up to stop him. “Wait until I’m done talking, I’m sure you’ll agree with me then.”

Glyn doubts that’s true, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“I couldn’t understand why you loved me, but somehow you did. It was like living in a perpetual dream, those two years. Your love was… It made me want to be a better person, made me want to be what you saw in me.” Frank stands up, seemingly unable to be still any longer. He looks directly at Glyn for a moment. “But I wasn’t, and I’m not.” His voice is quiet, but his words are perfectly audible to Glyn.

He looks away and apparently only then notices that he’s stood up. He visibly collects himself and sits back down. “I’m sorry,” he says slowly, “but I’ve never loved you. Not really.”

Glyn sits in the too comfortable chair, and he feels the urge to get up and ruin the room they’re in. He wants to tear everything apart, because Frank is telling him the truth. He can see it on his face, can hear it in his heartbeat and his breathing. He grips the edges of the chair, the physical pain a welcome distraction. He swallows and forces himself to breathe evenly. Violence won’t change anything, he tells himself. He knows from experience that it won’t even make him feel better.

Frank stays on his side of the table, and that alone would’ve been proof enough for Glyn. Frank believes his own words – he could never simply observe Glyn’s anguish from afar otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Frank repeats, but Glyn can see now that it isn’t true. “I loved the way you loved me, and I loved the way you’d look at me like I was worth something. Not because of what I could do, not because of my skills, but simply for existing. It was the most precious thing you could’ve ever given me, San.”

Glyn can see the tenderness in Frank’s eyes, but it’s for himself, not for Glyn. “Don’t call me that,” he says sharply. “Never call me that again.”

Frank bows his head, but doesn’t comment on Glyn’s words.

“It’s hard for a human to love a demon, you know,” he says finally. “I envied your power, and I couldn’t help wanting it for myself. I tried to… I wanted to tell you we should terminate our relationship, that I couldn’t stand the obvious power imbalance anymore. You can, perhaps, remember some of my attempts. But you were too much in love with me, and you were too good. You offered to give me immortality. I knew you simply thought it would allow us to be together eventually, that you didn’t think, couldn’t see any other reason for me to want it.” He folds his hands on the table again, looks down at them. “I would feel embarrassed,” he says, “but there’s really no point to it.”

Glyn can see plenty of point. He can see a whole array of reasons. But he shakes his head, lets his face show the disdain he feels. “None at all,” he says.

His words make Frank smile widely, make him look up. “Good,” he says, but doesn’t continue his thought. “Anyhow, you know what happened. When I woke up, I was down in the kitchen. I can still remember the pain, you know; my skin felt like it was on fire. The cook got some boys to take me down to the city, the Wicklam family took me in until I healed. Once I was well enough, I thought about going back to find you, but I rejected the idea pretty quickly. I couldn’t show my face at the court. And anyway, frankly, there was no point in finding you. I had what I wanted.”

He shrugs, and Glyn feels his anger flare up again. But the look on Frank’s face, completely impassive, makes his chest constrict and suddenly there’s only pain. He feels defeated.

“It took me decades to understand all of this,” Frank says. “Why I didn’t look for you, why I could never love you. We were young and stupid, believing it could ever work. People have no business falling in love with demons. There’s no way for it not to turn sour.”

Glyn can’t help but think about Bernard, about how the boy looks at him and his fierce love. He thinks Frank is probably right.

“Your boy there,” Frank says and motions to the door. “I could see he loves you; he looks at you like a little puppy. If I were you, I’d send him away for his own good. Or leave yourself, go find other demons. Humans are just not made to keep up with you. Sooner or later he’ll grow tired of always being too slow, too stupid, too fragile, too mortal. He’ll either leave you or grow bitter. It’s no fun always feeling powerless.” Frank seems satisfied with his words, leans back in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Siurran. I know you hoped we could continue where we left off,” Frank continues, “but I can’t offer you anything. I made my life here, and I’m quite comfortable. I hope you’re able to forgive me, understand where I’m coming from.”

This time there is no surge of power, just a light tingle at the top of Glyn’s fingers. He flexes his hands, forces it away. Glyn is distracted enough that he doesn’t realize what Frank has just said right away. But then it sinks in. “Go find other demons?” He can feel hope blooming, but he shuts it down with force. He can’t go through this again.

Frank nods, but then sees Glyn’s expression and frowns. “Of course, there’s nobody to tell you.” Then he smiles at Glyn, this time, perhaps, not quite as forced. “There are other demons out there,” he says, “not everybody is dead. You’re just fairytales to most people now; but I was there, of course.”

Glyn can’t hold back anymore. He feels like light is suddenly shining all through him, the pain and dread he’s been feeling lifted at least for now. “What happened?”

“People got too good at killing you,” Frank replies, shrugging, oblivious to the private apocalypse Glyn is going through. “You could actually consider yourself lucky, you know, to have missed it all. The wars, the burnings, the hunting, the killings. So demons started running away, and eventually everyone was either killed or off to areas where humans can’t live comfortably. Last I’ve heard, the biggest settlement was up in the north, it’s called Atuath.”

Suddenly nothing else matters more. There are other demons out there, and he will get to them. “How do I get there?”

“The easiest way would be for you to travel to Tunloch – it’s still standing – then head north from there. I can’t tell you anything specific, I only know what my clients tell me. They like my clothes, but the demons who actually still come all the way down to the big cities are all very secretive. You can ask in Tunloch, you’ll have more luck finding someone of your kind there.”

Glyn nods, and is already planning the trip, composing a list of things they will need.

“So you’ll be leaving shortly?” Frank asks, and Glyn is sure that would be very convenient for him indeed.

Glyn gives him a bitter smile. “Yes,” he answers. “As soon as I get everything that we need.”

Frank shakes his head. “Leave the boy behind,” he says. “He can’t go with you to Atuath, they’d never let you get even close with a human in tow. And even if they did, he’d never be able to live there long-term. It’s better for him to be left now.”

Glyn stops his planning. Frank is probably right. He mentally reduces the amount of food and supplies. “Thank you,” he says to Frank and stands up, looks down at him. He looks at his ex-lover’s face for a while, looks in the eyes that he’s been dreaming of all those lonely years.

“You’re a liar,” he says slowly. Frank looks up at him with surprise all over his face. Glyn smiles sadly. “You’re not comfortable here.” He pauses and almost reaches out, but decides against it. “And you’re nowhere near happy.”

Frank smiles at him, his features the closest to sincere they’ve been during their whole talk, almost fond. “Ah, I’ve forgotten about how perceptive you are,” he says. “No, I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy in centuries.” He pauses, then seems to make a decision and pain settles over his face like a favourite blanket. “I had… people. Friends, a family. Alas, humans have such short lives.” He looks at Glyn and stands up, makes a gesture towards the door. “But it’s been a long time, Siurran. I make do.”

Glyn steps away from the table, ignores the shattered glass that is his heart. “I suppose that’s punishment enough.” He takes one last look at Frank and turns around. “Take care of yourself,” he says, and opens the door. “We can find our own way out.”

---

Bernard wakes up to an empty bed. He groans and closes his eyes back shut. Not again!

He pretends to hope that Glyn is not, in fact, gone. But he knows, he can feel that he isn’t there. He won’t be in the room when Bernard opens his eyes and turns around, won’t be washing his face, and won’t be downstairs, eating his breakfast. Bernard is alone.

He sort of knew this would happen, he admits to himself. He may have… overheard some of what Fergus said to Glyn yesterday. And he knew Glyn would fall for it, would believe him. He just thought that perhaps – if he held him close enough, wiped away enough tears, whispered enough truths between the nonsense – Glyn would stay. At least long enough for Bernard to talk to him properly, to break through the stern, cold façade he wore last night until he couldn’t help it anymore. But Bernard is prepared for this. He has planned for the worst.

Well, sort of.

He opens his eyes with determination, pushes himself off the bed. The first thing he does is look in the mirror, and he sighs in relief. Glyn has been kind enough to leave him the glamour. He wouldn’t be able to even step outside without it now. There have been some… unpleasant orders from the palace.

He’s ready in record time, heading downstairs with all his things in a backpack. He can’t stop now, this will only work if he keeps going without thinking, until he either finds Glyn or collapses.

“How long ago has he left?” he asks Melinda.

“About an hour,” she says, knowing he could only be asking about one person. “But don’t worry, he said he only needs to buy a few things and will be back in a couple of hours.”

He thanks her and doesn’t tell her Glyn has lied to her. He leaves the money they’ve paid for the next two days. No time. She waves at him as he leaves, but he’s out the door before he can feel bad about not saying goodbye properly.

He heads straight to Fergus’s house. His real house, not the workshop.

He may have given up the throne, but you don’t just give up being royalty. People tend to tell him things when he really needs them to. When he found the bodyguard hiding in the little alcove in the hallway he’d been waiting in, it took one order and he had the information, and then also privacy. Just in case, he’d thought.

Bernard stalks past the guards at the entrance, trying to pretend like he knows exactly where he’s going and he’s allowed to. They don’t stop him, miraculously enough. He gets past the front door before somebody stops him. A butler, he notes. Figures.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” she asks, a picture of politeness. But Bernard sees the hardness around her mouth and he knows he better stops and answers.

“Good morning. I’m looking for sir Fergus. He’s expecting me,” he lies. He looks back at the butler, dares her to try and stop him. But the woman nods, and motions to the boy standing beside her.

“If you would be so kind as to follow me,” she says to Bernard. She leads him to what looks like a cosy sitting room, all in deep blue and silver. “Master will be with you in a few moments. Can I bring you something while you wait?”

“That’s quite alright, I’m sure there’s no need. Sir Fergus will be with me in a minute or two.” He puts on his best poker face, looks directly into the butler’s eyes. He’s sure he sees her mouth twitch at the corner, a beginning of a smile.

“Alright, sir,” she says and bows. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” And at that she does smile, just slightly, before exiting the room.

Fergus saunters into the room almost immediately after she leaves. He takes one look at Bernard and sighs. “Sit down, young man,” he says to him.

Bernard shakes his head. “I don’t have the time for this,” he says. “Just tell me where to find him.”

“You can’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found.” Fergus smiles at him smugly, and Bernard wants to punch it off his face. “And really, darling, make it easy for yourself and just let him go. You can’t follow him where he’s going.”

Bernard squeezes his hands into fists at that and tries to keep calm. “It’s not up to you to decide anything for either one of us,” he says as calmly as he can manage. “Tell me what you told him. He only has an hour on me, and he didn’t take any money. I can and I will catch up.”

Fergus takes a step towards Bernard, leans closer. “I know what it feels like for you,” he says, “but it’ll fade. And you’d get sick of it anyway, always being just short of good enough. Humans and demons don’t mesh well. Siurran may think they do, but he’s never been on the other side of the deal.”

Bernard frowns. Siurran. Is that Glyn’s real name? He thought the demon had told him something closer to the truth. But this is not the time to dwell on it, he reminds himself.

“He never even told you his real name,” Fergus says with a smug smile on his face, correctly interpreting Bernard’s expression. “Just forget about him, boy. Go home.”

Bernard has heard enough. The anger inside him obliterates everything else. He slams Fergus into the wall. “Glyn may have bought your bullshit,” he says quietly, Fergus’s chest rising and falling rapidly and shallowly under his arm, “but I don’t. Just because you’re a colossal moron, doesn’t mean everyone is. Tell me where he went or I will do something extremely unpleasant to your person.”

“North,” Fergus chokes out. Bernard eases back a little, lets him breathe. “He’s headed north, to Tunloch.”

Bernard looks into his eyes and realizes Fergus is actually horribly frightened. He releases him too quickly, making him fall to the floor. Oops.

Fergus rubs his shoulder, looks up at Bernard. “You won’t last the winter,” he says, the words ugly and sharp.

Bernard smiles down at him sadly. “You might be right,” he says. He grabs Fergus’s arm and pulls him up. “Siurran thinks I won’t. And whose fault do you think that is?” He feels defeated and empty, and he knows this is playing dirty. But he also knows his love for Glyn is too strong too soon, knows the demon thinks it’ll pass as quickly as it came. And Fergus did that to Glyn, and now Glyn has left him, and Bernard can’t find him, may never find him and —

He stops himself, digs his nails into his hand, makes the pain wash over his insecurity. He can deal with that later, can prove to Glyn that he isn’t leaving. Right now, he has to find him.

He turns around to leave, doesn’t want to look at Fergus’s face anymore.

“Boy,” Fergus calls behind him, and Bernard schools his face into a blank expression before looking back at him. Fergus’s head is bowed, and he speaks to the floor. “You can find him. He left you a lead.” He looks up at that, the lines around his eyes and mouth softened for once. “Just follow the magic. He left you that charm – follow it.”

Bernard can see the pain behind his eyes, and he suddenly feels guilty for saying those words. “How?” he asks, doesn’t care that desperation is dripping from his voice. “I can’t feel it the way you can.”

“Yes you can, don’t be daft. You’re covered in it. Just focus on it, it should feel like — “ He stops for a moment, looks down again and rubs his hands over his face. “Like tingling and a slight tug. You’ll lose it if you think about it too much, but you can follow it just fine as long as you trust your senses. Go now.” Frank collapses into the armchair facing the fire, and Bernard can see him cover his face with his hands. He turns away, feeling like this is something he really shouldn’t witness. He leaves the room.

The butler is waiting for him just outside the door, and almost forcefully escorts him out. “Have a good day, sir,” she says, and he’s quite certain she’s restraining herself from bodily pushing him out the door. He smiles at her, and then turns back to wave when he’s on the street, just to see if she’ll smile back or frown. Her face stays impassive and he can’t help but grin.

But his good humour fades as soon as he faces away. He sighs, and closes his eyes right there, leans back on the fence. He tries to relax, but his mind keeps sending him signals to go, move, find Glyn. He forces the voices to fade into a whisper at the back of his mind.

He thinks he feels… something. It’s barely there, and one half of his brain keeps insisting he’s just imagining it, that he feels it simply because he wants it to exist so desperately. Looking into the darkness for too long, you’re certain to see monsters. He pushes himself off the wall and starts walking, allows his body to lead him. At worst, he’ll get himself lost. No harm in trying, he tells himself.

He steps from behind a corner, and there’s a sudden violent tug. Pain flashes through him, his body rigid with it, and then it’s gone in a flash. His hands fly to his chest. He should be gasping for air, but he’s perfectly fine. He almost thinks he’s imagined the pain, but his heart is beating fast and his skin is too hot through the thin material of his shirt. He has to follow it. Now.

He steals a horse from a dignified, posh man (sporting an awe-inspiring moustache) who is riding towards him on the street. He’s infinitely grateful for his guard’s training when he pushes the man from the horse and jumps in the saddle himself. He rides away as fast as he can on the crowded street, the man yelling after him. “You can’t confiscate my horse, it’s illegal!” He feels a bit guilty over not feeling guilty about it. But surely the man has full stables, he thinks, it’s not like he’s taking a farmer’s only horse.

The absence of guilt is forgotten when he gets another sharp tug and almost falls off the horse. It’s only years of practice that keep him on, and he holds tight after that. His thighs are hurting badly by the time he gets out of the city. He wishes fervently for his own riding gear, though at least the pain is stopping him from over-thinking.

He’s so desperately trying to hold on to the faint whisper of a feeling that he’s half-convinced isn’t even there, that he almost falls off the horse a second time when it stops short. He tries to make the animal move again, but it has apparently decided that this is as far as it goes. He gets off and pulls at the reins, but the horse is standing still and staring at him in what Bernard decides is a most defiant manner. He sighs in defeat. “Fine, then stay behind. I don’t have the time for this,” he tells it. He turns to leave, and a warm muzzle pushes him forward. He smiles to himself, and he’s sure that a certain posh man with an impressing moustache is going to have his horse home before dinner.

He continues on foot. The sensation isn’t getting any stronger, and he wonders whether that’s normal, or he just isn’t making any significant progress. He hopes a bit desperately that it’s the former. He needs to get to Glyn. He is very pointedly ignoring the doubts his mind is helpfully supplying. In fact, he’s so focused on not letting them get to him that he bumps into someone head on. He looks up.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Glyn asks, his voice almost angry.

Bernard extricates himself and takes a step back, just far enough to be able to yell without spluttering into Glyn’s face. “What the hell am I doing here?” he tries to yell, but it comes out too weak. The relief at seeing Glyn’s face is heavy on his tongue and he feels like he could float a bit, and the anger just isn’t all there. He sighs and rubs his face with his hands. “The real question is what the hell were you thinking, leaving me like that,” he says almost calmly. “Did you think you could just walk away, and I’d stay put like a ruined suitcase you leave behind? That I’d be glad? That I’d be grateful? You’re a royal idiot if that’s what you thought!” He manages to work up some anger, but his voice doesn’t raise – it stays level, his tone icy. “No, I’m the royal one here; you’re just a regular idiot!”

He can’t read Glyn’s expression when he says thorough a sigh, “Something like that, yes. Not in so many words, but in essence.” He pauses and lowers his eyes. “Look, Bernard, I’m just trying to protect you. It’s better for both of us to part ways now, while we’re not too involved to see what’s best.”

Bernard stares at him for a moment, stifling a sudden violent desire to punch the stupid out of him. “I’m not some sort of a pet you get to protect!” he finally manages to yell. “You don’t make decisions for me! Why the hell does everyone think I need to be told what to do? I can think for myself, and I can certainly make decisions for myself! Did you forget who exactly I am?” He pulls himself to his full height, and it doesn’t matter that he still has to look quite far up to Glyn’s face. He’s his mother’s son, and this is his soil they’re standing on. “I may have decided not to be the King, but I grew up knowing I will be one. It is ingrained in the very bones of my body. I have been brought up to make important decisions, to settle things far more important than my own fate. I decide for myself.”

Glyn’s face is still expressionless, his features as if carved out of stone. But when he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I know you heard what Frank said to me, and he was right. He is right. It doesn’t matter how well we might like each other, it just can’t work. You should find a nice girl to settle down with, a nice human girl.”

Bernard interrupts him before he gets any further. “That’s a load of bullshit, and you ought to know that!” he says in a rough voice, his insides burning with anger at Fergus and the power he has over Glyn. But then he looks at the demon’s face again, and he realizes Glyn is actually holding back tears.

He deflates and runs a hand through his hair. “Look,” he says, “I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to grasp how hard all of this must be for you. I’m sorry. Just listen to me for a moment, will you?”

He waits until Glyn nods in consent. “So Fergus turned out to be — “ He stops and checks himself. Definitely not a good place to start. “I’m not Fergus,” he says instead. “You can’t make assumptions about every single relationship between a demon and a human based on your relationship with him. And he definitely shouldn’t make them. He knows nothing about me, and I think he forgot a lot about you. I know this won’t be simple, but I don’t think it’s impossible. I know you’re hurt right now. But please, don’t let the pain decide for you. I beg you. Do you think I’m power-hungry? That I’d ever take your magic and leave you?” He steps closer, looks into Glyn’s eyes. “Tell me honestly, do you think I’m capable of doing that?”

Glyn shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “No,” he whispers, his voice on the point of breaking.

Tears are streaming down his face, and Bernard can’t stop himself from reaching up. He doesn’t wipe them away, but presses his palm to Glyn’s cheek. “I can’t promise you that I’ll never leave, I can’t promise that this will work out and we’ll be happy forever. I don’t know what the future may bring. But if you let me, I’ll stay by your side as long as you’ll have me. I can promise you that. I know you need time to let Fergus go, and that’s fine, you can have as much as you want. I’m not going anywhere until you send me away.

“If you honestly don’t want me here, if you don’t love me —“ He closes his eyes and forces the rest of the words out. “Say the words, and I’ll leave. But you’ll have to say it out loud. Don’t try to protect me, I don’t want to —“

“I don’t want you to leave,” Glyn whispers. “I never wanted to be away from you.”

Bernard lets out a shaky breath, closes the distance between them. He presses his forehead against Glyn’s, breathes the same air. “You don’t have to be,” he whispers back. “Just let me stay.”

---

Glyn doesn’t answer. He lets his arms and wings wrap around Bernard, lets himself feel the warmth emanating from him. He presses his body closer, until he can feel Bernard’s heart beating against his own skin.

He keeps his eyes closed and touches their lips together. At Bernard’s startled intake of breath he moves away, suddenly self-conscious. But Bernard chases his lips, his hand tightening slightly on Glyn’s neck. The ball of tension low in Glyn’s belly uncoils and slips away, and between the kisses he whispers, carefully, “Stay.”

---

They walk together. The familiar rhythm of it helps ease the tension slowly, until they hardly even notice when their hands brush. The sun is almost setting before either of them speaks.

“Where are we sleeping?” Bernard asks, his voice rough from not speaking for hours.

Glyn steps from the road to the right, into the woods, without answering. Bernard follows him. He can’t help but stare at his arms, his hands, as he pushes shrubbery out of the way. A branch hits Bernard on the chest with a dull thud, and Glyn turns, laughs at him when he catches him staring. Bernard blushes, but grins back easily.

They lie down, both careful to leave some space between them. “What happens when we reach Tunloch?” Bernard doesn’t look at Glyn’s face when he speaks, choosing instead to stare at the treetops and the glimmers of stars between the branches and the leaves.

“We reach Tunloch.” Glyndower’s voice is teasing, but Bernard can feel the tension seeping back into him, feels like his skin is suddenly stretched tight.

Then Glyndower turns to his side, runs a gentle hand down Bernard’s arm. “OK,” he says, “let’s talk.” Glyn is aware of his heartbeat, slightly elevated, but he feels more at peace than he has in as long as he can remember.

“I want to find my family,” he says slowly, quietly enough that he can pretend it never reached his ears. “You can either go with me and risk… I don’t know what, exactly. But it would be a risk. Demons don’t like humans in their midst anymore. And besides, the cold alone —” He shrugs, though he knows Bernard can’t see him. “Or you can stay in Tunloch. Anyhow, we can decide when we get there. And after, I don’t know. It won’t be easy, we’ll have to make compromises, but we’ll manage somehow.”

Bernard turns to face Glyn, catches his hand. His heart skips a beat at being allowed to hold on. “You’d come back? From Atuath?” he asks, just in case.

Glyn smiles and runs his thumb over Bernard’s fingers. “Yes,” he says simply, knowing he’s answering a lot more than that one question. When Bernard opens his mouth, Glyn says, “Yes. The answer is yes,” before the boy can speak.

Bernard smiles back, but his eyes remain serious. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

Glyn shrugs. “Many things,” he says, almost completely sure. “Would I come back even if I found my family? Even if they asked me to stay? Would I come back for good, not just to leave again? Would I stay with you? Would I stay with you even if —?” He reaches out with his other hand, presses it over Bernard’s heart lightly. “Did I mean it when I asked you to stay?” he says quietly. “Will I still want you, even when it gets hard? Even in moments when I believe Frank? Will I be there to work through things? Will I hurt you? Will you hurt me? Will we love each other regardless?” He feels almost shy when he pauses for a beat, exhales slowly, and then draws another breath. “The answer is yes,” he says. He looks away at that, and he’d blush if he could. He feels on the edge of something, and he’d tumble into laughing at himself if he wasn’t completely sincere.

Bernard does laugh, but it isn’t mocking. It’s low and sweet on his tongue, and he pulls Glyn closer to kiss him. He stops just before their lips touch, looks into his eyes. “May I?” he asks. He doesn’t feel shy, doesn’t look away.

Glyn touches the side of Bernard’s face, slides his hand back into his hair. He smiles, intentionally makes it sly. Bernard blushes and Glyn laughs, knowing that Bernard can feel the gusts of breath on his lips, that he can feel the way his body vibrates with it. The blush spreads down to his collarbones, and Glyn has to follow it with his fingers. Bernard’s skin is almost hot against his own, and it is only then that he realizes he hasn’t been using the skin charm the whole day. He looks back up. Bernard’s eyes are glazed over, desire so plain in them it makes Glyn’s skin flush hot.

“You may,” he says.


 
 

Comments

[pippi]

I'm really glad you enjoyed it. =)
And thanks for the heads up, I'll go fix it.