untitled: WIll you be ready for it...

It is later that night, after many in the Angelic Realm have gone to sleep, that Falcon is finally able to escort Death into Heaven. With the help of Grieves, their resident Shadow, Falcon has managed to get everyone - Death, Lazarus, Rowen, and even Rughal - through the realm of shadows and into Tenshihana. They stalk the streets now by cover of darkness, heading through the poorer quarters of the Citadel as they work their way towards the Commons. "Stay close, My Lord Death. If anyone is to catch us, we must retreat back to the Shadow Realm."

 

The immortal nodded faintly, keeping close to Falcon’s side, his step brisk. He would not be caught out in the open if he could help it. A fast escape would be difficult. If anyone spotted him, there would be rumors and cries for the immortal’s favor, he knew it. He shook his head slightly, frowning. That could not happen. Along his spine, his mass of hair swung. The whole of it had been braided back from his face, keeping it out of the way. He had to be able to move swiftly tonight. He could not have hair tangling him up.

 

Falcon leads them along wearing his dark clothing. For some reason, Eos has refused to leave him and is now holding his mada's hand, smiling as he nearly skips down the cobblestone street. It’s dark and there are few people around, there being some distant taverns on the other side of the alleyways lit up in the dead of night. One can hear the robust Jin drinking songs wafting over the air. Still, Falcon moves quickly through the streets and finally comes to a tiny shack in the poorest district of Tenshihana. He knocks three times and there is a rustling and a grumbling heard. A poor man appears at the knocker slot, peering out with narrowed eyes. "Who goes there?"

 

"I've come to pay my respects." The old man narrows his eyes.

 

"Respects to whom? The night is not so late yet that you can see the moon. Pay respects to that, if you please, but leave me to my ease."

 

"Nay, good friend. I've come to pay respect to the king of beasts."

 

"There is no King, only Lords."

 

"Then the Lord of the Lion is of whom I speak." The old man seems to take a moment and then disappears, appearing again when he opens the door.

 

"Come in. I see you have friends."

Fascinating word play. Death listened, intrigued by their back and forth, the way they come to the final end of their banter. How remarkable this world was, with its many mysterious riddles. His dark eyes gleamed, hidden behind the hood of his cloak. Those around Falcon were similarly dressed, keeping themselves as well hidden as they could around this city of angels. Only those without need to hid, allowed their faces to be seen.

The ragged old man allowed them into his tiny shack which managed to fit them by some miracle. He then turned to look at Falcon, his eyes narrowed. "Be you Starc or be you Valen? Your eyes speak different tongue than your hair and face."

 

"Starc by name and Valen by birth," Falcon replies somewhat hesitantly as he stands there. He seems nervous now, not knowing what is to happen next. He was only taught the riddle and nothing more.

 

"Well, be ye Valen or Starc, yer certainly young fer someone who knows the Lord of the Lion...Tell me, what color are his eyes?"

 

Falcon looks a little concerned there, as it's not as though he paid that much attention to Rowan's eyes. Still, he manages to answer. "Green."

 

"Wrong!" the old man laughs, seeming to take delight into his game. "I'll ask you another...When yah come to the crossroads, which path do you take to make it to the back entrance?" Falcon was looking considerably nervous now, feeling the eyes of the others on his back. He didn't know the answer and so he guessed.

 

"The right one?" The old man laughed again, slapping his knee.

 

"Wrong! No right or left or backward or forwards makes for the crossroads, as you can't make a path out of the night sky....I'll ask you this last time, and if you don't get this, you leave. Tell me....What is the name of the one who birthed him?"

 

This, thankfully, Falcon did know.

 

"Lilaith." The old man nodded and smiled.

 

"Aye, Lilaith. And from what House?" Falcon had to think of that one.

 

"None....she came from the North." The old man laughed and nodded. He then turned and headed towards the back of the shack, pulling down an old door. This he laid flat on the floor, whispering some words into it and then opening it. What was revealed under it where there had only been bare floor before was a tunnel leading down into the depths. "In yah go!"

 

The immortal listened to their banter, almost tempted to smack the young Starc upside his head if he couldn’t get the answers correct. He remained silent through it, a smile touching his lips when finally the boy got it right. Very good. Death would have had to knock heads if the boy had failed completely. A few slip ups were excusable.

 

Falcon seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he took a torch handed to him by the old man and headed down into the tunnel. Each person in turn followed him into the murky gloom. The stairs were slippery and one had to shimmy a little to keep themselves going. A rat crawled over Rowen's boot and he almost jumped, thankfully held by Lazarus to keep him steady. Further they descended into the abyss, the shadows licking at their heels.

 

Rowen came close to crushing the rat to mash beneath his boots, stopping himself just barely. Just a rat being a rat, no need to make a mess. He growled though, hanging onto Lazarus’ arm while they carefully made their way down stone steps into the deep darkness. Death moved effortlessly, his dark eyes even darker than the shadows around him. Even in this light he could see easily. There was no fear for him to slip.

 

Falcon continued on until the ground began to level out, seeing at the end of the hallway a door. Before that door crouched a blind man with some marbles in his hands. Beside him was a young girl. "Who goes there?" called out the blind man in a steady voice. He was young and handsome, his eyes the purest blue. Death could tell immediately that he was a seer, capable of reading the emotions of others.

 

He could probably sense then, that the immortal found his eyes gorgeous. A hue so intense and beautiful that he for a moment, he could not turn his eyes away. He smiled slightly, the curve of his ruddy lips gentle. The young seer was handsome; perhaps in another time and another setting, Death would have attempted to seduce him. But not now, not here. The immortal blanked his emotions into a blank slate, standing silent and still just beyond Falcon.

 

"Lord Death....How honored I am to greet you here," the young seer said with such a gentle melodious voice. He stood, leaning slightly on his young companion for help. His hood fell back to reveal long tendrils of soft dark hair. It was the color of chocolate that danced here and there with hints of golden brown. His skin was pale and his lips were fully shaped and moist-looking. How hard it was for Death to keep his thoughts from running away from him. "I see you have brought a good many warriors with you. Forgive my mortal curiosity, but are you planning to do more here other than visit Prince Rowan?"

 

“No, I have no reason to harm Prince Rowan or his people, I am merely protecting myself.”  The immortal rumbled, peering down at the shorter seer with his deep, black eyes. "I have no quarrel with him." At least not yet. If this man proved to be a danger, there would be actions taken. Rowan was too closely knit to his family for him not to take matters into his hands. There would be no avoiding it if it ever came to be.

 

"I am not quite sure about your intentions, as it is hard for a Mortal to read the thoughts of a God. Even so, I believe you are not a threat...There is much anxiety in your group, but that is understandable. In these times, it does well to be a bit nervous." The beautiful seer then turns towards the door, groping into his robes for a key; he opens it, allowing the others to step into another dark hall. Beyond it they can see a blinding light. "Urius will attend to you now. Good luck, Lord Death."

 

The immortal smiled, caressing the youth’s hand in passing.  "Thank you. May luck shine upon you." He murmured, slipped past with the rest of his group. Such a lovely young man. A shame he was down here, leading people like them around. A creature like that deserved a place of honor, not to be left here in the dirt tome that was these catacombs. There was little time to think of that though, his stride taking him into the next room and what lay beyond.

 

Falcon saw the exchange and quirked a brow, wondering if there was something between the seer and the God, but he said nothing. He had done his part and now they were on their way. A certain albino beauty that tagged along with Eos was rather anxious at the mentioning of Urius. He surged forward passed his grandfather Lazarus as he wished to see his beloved. Already he knew Urius was in pain, but he had mind to slap the man upside the head for having avoided him...and, worse yet, using their sex as an excuse to get into the castle and perform a hit. Still, when they stepped out from the gloomy tunnel into the blinding light, they did not find Urius there. Instead, they stood in the middle of a finely tiled room with a high ceiling that stretched upward toward candlelit chandeliers. It was gorgeous all in whites and silvers and grays. And there, standing on the gleaming floor, was none other than Rowan.

 

"Welcome. So good to see you have made it."

 

Ceata came up short, staring at Rowan with a look of disturbed disappointment. His eyes flicked over this man, this man who had without a doubt been the cause of Urius’ pain. He always was. His lips twitched into the smallest of snarls, made silent as the immortal stepped up beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Good evening..." The immortal greeted, bowing his head respectfully to the Valen. "I have come to collect my granddaughter from your castle." He explained, his gaze holding little of the interest that he regarded the blond with. What was he doing here? He had not expected to see hide nor hair of the Valen this night.

 

"She is not in my castle. For safety reasons she has been moved here, to my compound," Rowan replies as he makes a sweeping motion towards the grandeur around them. It is then that the group hears the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Death looks up to see Varun walking down the steps with a pleasant smile. Crixa is beside him and Jingarther beside her.

 

"Wait a minute.....YOU'RE the Lord of the Lion?!" Rughal gasps out, finally connecting two and two only a few minutes after stepping into the palatial hall and seeing Rowan there. The Angel smirks most handsomely, his green eyes dancing.

 

"Indeed. I assumed the gatekeeper, Argenta, would have made that clear," Rowan replied with a steady voice that belied no annoyance, only a smattering of amusement for Rughal's shocked tone. Death had figured this out a while ago...it seemed it took a while for everyone to catch up, Rowan thought. 

 

The immortal’s head turned, catching sight of Varun and Crixa. The girl’s eyes lit up immediately upon seeing him. She had to tell everyone about her crush! They had to know about everything that she had done and seen while spending time with Varun. Her bright eyes danced, body tensed as if she was going to run over to them, but she was not going to rush in while the adults were talking. She would have plenty of time later to tell them everything.
Death looked back to Rowan and smiled. “Thank you, I am glad you brought her here.”

 

"I believe you must be tired from traveling so far. If you would like, I can take you to more comfortable quarters and you may rest before you are escorted home with Crixa." Rowan pauses a moment, seeing Ceata glaring at him so fiercely that he's bound to pop a blood vessel. "If you are curious about where Urius has gone, he's currently occupied with a mission. I'm afraid he can't be with us this evening."

 

 

A short time relaxing would not be unpleasant. Anxious feelings could be forgotten in the comfort of a soft chair. “Yes, that would be most excellent.” He glanced at those with him, seeing Absinthe shrink a little away from Rowan, though his eyes betrayed nothing of his discomfort being near the man. An odd reaction. The immortal did not know what relationship or connection those two possessed and it was not his place to snoop. He might be their Lord, but he was not their master.

 

"Please, come this way," Rowan replied with a gesture of his hand towards the stairs that Crixa and Varun had come down from. The fine marble echoed with the sound of footsteps as the whole group made their way to the next level, meeting there with bright-eyed Gow. At once, Death recognized him as one of a relation to Matsumushi, a Dream Keeper who could usually be found working for Morpheus unless he had been expelled from the God's realm. It seems that was the case.

 

"Hello, everyone! This way, I've set up the green room for you," Gow says happily, looking up at all the tall people. Rughal grumbles.

 

Death smiled faintly, finding himself more amused by the fact that Rowan had such a creature work for him. It was a surprise being greeted by one such as Gow, as least to Death. Such a morbid humor he had. Up they all filed, a good sized group that Death had been unable to cut down. It was hard to keep a shadowshifter from tailing along if they wanted to.

 

The green room, surprisingly, was not what Death had imagined. Always one for the finest things, Rowan had designed a room completely dedicated to filtering water in a very natural way. Plants had been placed in low pools where much of the water from storm drains ran. This was filtered through the roots and even a large wall made of rock where the water flowed between the pebbles. This room had a small stone walkway that lead to a center circle. There sat a low table and several comfortable chairs, allowing them to enjoy the peaceful tranquility of the greenery around them. Already was set up a fine meal and some drinks, Rowan providing only the best.

 

Death was pleasantly surprised, but Absinthe and Ceata were not. They sat down in some of the chairs, Ceata and Absinthe watched Rowan and waited till he sat to sit themselves down, though they did it discretely. Ceata did it out of the desire not to displease Rowan and thus Urius get punished and Absinthe out of a cold fear that Rowan would be displeased with him if he did not act as was expected. Death did not notice this, his attention upon the Valen and not on the behavior of the few that decided to tag along against his wishes.

 

"So, I am surprised that you have come here yourself, Lord Death. Forgive me not speaking with you earlier, but I'm afraid circumstances as they are do not allow me to communicate with anyone outside our realm. It seems because of my 'demon-sympathizing,' I am being monitored," Rowan said casually as he poured some tea for Death. He set this down before the God to his right, then pouring himself a cup.

 

"I see... how prudent of your fellow Lords." The immortal replied with a dry chuckle, accepting the tea in bone-white hands. Taking a sip, he gazes down at the cup. He did not like this lack of communication between them. Did not like it in the least. "And how are things currently?" He asked softly, raising a brow. Crixa had crawled into Absinthe's lap, a snuggly ball that kept the young man reasonably relaxed. Another body between him and the blond was reassuring.

"If you forgive me talking about business at the dinner table, I believe things are going reasonably well. The Parliament may act with wisdom when remembering the past 1,000 year war. However, a lot of zealots have managed to get high positions within the government. I have no doubt that our current Parliament is being influenced at least partially by their views...but it remains to be seen whether or not I can sway them to their senses. Feyorn is a strong opponent, as is Conrard and Sybelle. They all have very personal investments in pursuing another war with the Demons."

 

"It will be a foolish road for them to take." Death remarked, gesturing with his teacup. "Especially if they take it further then the Sombs. There are powerful gods that have sided with demon kind, to challenge such would be foolish, and especially with how corrupt their own government is." He continued, his lips turned down in a small frown. Foolish angels, starting fights that would cause massive destruction and sorrow. One would think they of all races would realize the folly of their actions.

 

"You can understand why, however. It seems that the Sombs is a breeding ground of animosity between Angel and Demon. With CRISIS having fallen, the power is between the two remaining factions - Angel and Demon. Hell seems to claim the Sombs because it is full of refugees left over from the war. However, the Angels have established holy towns. There is no way of clearly defining who owns the Sombs and who doesn't, not to mention how close the two former enemy races are..." Gow says as he pours some tea for everyone else with a big smile. 

 

"If I had my way, there would be no arguments." He replied darkly, the power in his voice dangerous. "But I am not allowed to disturb the order of things, not very much, or I might overbalance something and make things worse." Death continued, his eyes peering over the rim of his cup. “It might not have come to that if a neutral party had been brought in, but I can see anyone failed to do so.” Fast action was the most important way to put a stop to this.

 

"If you're looking for a neutral party, look no further than Prince Rowan!" Gow said happily, sitting down in his own chair with his own tea. He smiles sweetly, looking like a little version of Matsumushi. Rowan gave an enigmatic smile, albeit one that does not reach his eyes.

 

"You give me far too much credit, Gow...I am merely working off an organization created during the genocide. I was a young man then and I helped a young couple relocate a good number of Shadowshifter orphans that now work as my agents," Rowan said calmly. Rughal snarled.

 

"You mean as your whores!" The whole table looks to him, seeing that the man has been smoldering there for quite some time. Finally, he speaks up. "Don't think we aren't aware...your little 'pleasure businesses.' The very ones you have Urius running! You had HIM kill MY informant just because you wanted to cover that up, isn't it true?!"

 

The immortal remained silent, allowing Rughal to speak his piece. There wasn’t any way he could stop him as it was. Varun frowned and did everything he could to hold his tongue. He wanted to tell his father exactly what he had learned from Gow. They had to tell him he wasn’t quite on the mark. With this topic hanging in the air, those in their seats looked expectantly to the man. Rowan had to have a good excuse.

 

"If by that you mean the man you took into your custody, I would first like to raise the question to you about his past. Are you truly aware of why he is running?" Rowan asks very calmly, holding that genial smile of his that doesn't falter in the least.

 

"What would it matter? He came from your facilities and I trusted his word," Rughal snarls in turn, ready to vault over the table and kill Rowan at the nearest chance. The fire demon let his bad attitude flow off him like water.

 

"I will take that as a no." He folds his hands before his mouth, looking to Rughal with those sharp green eyes. He glances to Gow. "Gow, please get Leila for me." Gow hops up out of his seat, smiling and nodding as he scurries off.

 

"Leila? What the hell -? Stop getting sidetracked and answer my questions!" Rughal hisses impatiently, his hands fisting at his sides. Rowan looks back at him calmly; his eyes holding a level of sharpness to them that make even the fired-up Rughal nervous.

 

"This is not a side track. Leila is precisely the reason why your 'informant' as you so call him was expelled. He was set to die anyway for his misdeeds. Whether Urius killed him in Death's Castle or on my very own doorstep would not have made a difference."

 

The immortal’s dark eyes easily conveyed his interest now. He raised a brow and glanced between the two, wondering just what the informant had done. Would this be what Death had felt wrong with the man. That gut deep revulsion that had made him wish to see him out of his castle as soon as possible. Horrible to say it, but there was something akin to pleasure seeing the man dead on the floor. It was very rare for the immortal to feel pleasure upon the death of a living creature.

 

It was not but a few minutes later that Gow returned with a young girl at his side. She was a Shadowshifter of about thirteen years with long black hair and sweet purple eyes. She looked to Rowan and gave a soft smile, her mouth rather crooked where it had been stitched together. That was not the only part of her wounded. She was very much scarred and mutilated, obviously still recovering from something terrible. "Leila, kindly tell this man why you are scarred."

 

The young girl nodded, looking to Rughal who had by now turned completely pale in horror. "The caretaker of the brothel my mother works at raped and brutalized me while my mother was working."

 

"That caretaker was your informant," Gow added with a smile, holding Leila's hand. 

 

"So, you see, Lord Rughal, though you question my motives and my actions, you yourself are unaware of your own misconceptions and do not question the information given you. If you believe me to be a cruel man, you can ask any one of my agents. They will tell you they are not ill treated," were Rowan's final words, he sipping his tea. He really did not feel as though he should have to explain himself to Rughal. What he did was a legitimate business, no matter what Rughal said.

 

Death frowned and beckoned the girl over. When she came to stand before him he reached up, running his cold hands gently along her wounded face. Down her arms and along every visible ache. She was too young to have gone through such hell. Seeing such cruelty was agonizing to the immortal. "As I told you Rughal, you must look closer before making your decisions." He uttered quietly, though he would not drop his guard. Never.

 

Leila smiled gently at being touched by Death, for she knew him at once. Her mother had told her of a man with long red hair that had created them. Still, she hadn't imagined she would ever meet him in person. "Prince Rowan cared for me. My wounds will heal eventually," Leila said as she took Death's hand, holding it in hers. "Are you the one my mother speaks of? Did you make all the Shadowshifters in the world?"

 

"Yes... I am the one.” He replied with a warm smile, squeezing the tiny hand in his. She was delicate and beautiful even with that patterning of scars over her pale flesh.  Despite what she had gone through, the girl would survive, she would grow. "And I am very glad I did or there would be something missing... something very important." They were so precious to him. Without death angels or shadowshifters, he would never have learned to feel.

 

"My mother would love to meet you...She saw you when she was little, before the genocide, before Prince Rowan hid us. Will you come and meet us sometime? I know it would make her feel better, to remember the time when grandma was still alive," little Leila pleads with earnest, her dark eyes sparkling. Her little pale hands hold to Death and he finds her fingers curling in his.

 

Despite his earlier misgivings, Death found himself smiling openly, eyes softened. "I would like to meet all of the shadowshifters I can." He told her, caressing the stitched and still enflamed hand in his. After all, his greatest desire was to know they were doing well. To be reassured that despite all the deaths, they were still doing well, surviving.  He was afraid of this coming war. What they were once again caught up in warfare and killed? That fear was a chilly, hard lump in his chest.

 

"Run along now, Leila. Tell your mother I will visit with her and the others later," Rowan says softly to break the little moment between Death and the girl. She nods and curtsies before Rowan before heading out the way she came. Gow then takes his seat again and Rowan sips casually at his tea. Rughal is angry but silent. 

 

Curling his now empty hand in his lap, Death looks up, overflowing with curiosity. "Just how many shadowshifters are currently under your care?" He asks, honestly wanting to know the numbers that Rowan has under his command. Just how many were hiding right under his nose, this whole time?

"I have lost count, to tell you the truth. However, with the orphaned children included, I believe I am somewhere in the thousands." Rowan watches as Death's eyes widen considerably, wondering how Rowan can keep so many without his knowing before. It's quite astounding, but it seems Rowan can keep a secret in plain sight rather effectively. "A relative of mine started this organization to help the Shadowshifters being sold into bondage at the time of the genocide. Sadly, he and his wife were murdered. I took over the organization and, as you can see, made it my own. I also took in their son, Alpheus. He is currently one of my son's staff, as you may know."

Hearing this number, the immortal smiled. Even his ire soothed by this new knowledge. That many? There were that many running around, hiding amongst Rowan’s workers? He could not be more pleased by this news than if he were to hear the war had ended.  He glanced at his granddaughter, the little female half asleep against Absinthe's chest. The child safe and sound and now this news, wonderful.

 

"I assure you, all of them are being well taken care of. In return, they collect information from various high-ranking nobles that visit my brothels. Thus far, they have found some of my greatest enemies for me and my greatest allies. They are a key part to my organization," Rowan says with a smile, glancing over at Absinthe as well. His eyes flicker red for a moment and he smiles at the beautiful youth.

 

Absinthe shivered and demurely hid his face against Crixa's soft ears. Yet his eyes could not leave the blond, narrowing in a hateful glower.  For that expression, he could be punished later. But he did not care. He would gladly take the punishment for that moment. That small moment of defiance. Death smiled faintly, tapping his nails upon the rim of his cup. “You are clever, they make for excellent informants.” He remarks, dark eyes unreadable.

 

"Have you any other questions for me, Lord Death? I would be happy to oblige you, now that you are here. Sadly, I will not be in contact with you for some time until the issue of this war is settled. I do hope we do not have war...for the sake of our friendship and especially for Lord Lazarus' happiness." 

 

Lazarus looked up sharply, frowning. What was this? "What do you mean, my lord?" he asked in confusion. Death felt equally confused by this statement. Just what was the other man implying? Certainly they would not be allowed to talk Sahena away from them? There was no reason to remove the young man from their castle.

 

"Well...I assume you did read the marriage contract, didn't you? After all, you signed the document," Rowan says with such innocence. However, he is well aware of their ignorance. It was such a tiny clause situated in perhaps a three-story stack of papers. No wonder it would go unnoticed.

 

Death frowned as Lazarus nodded. "We read it as thoroughly as possible, but there was so much to read... was there something I missed?" He asked, frowning in distress. Perhaps they should have gone over it again. Lazarus had forgone sleep to read all of it as soon as possible. He could only remember so much of what had been in that stack of papers. Absinthe found himself disgusted by Rowan's playing innocent. Pah, this man, innocent? He knew his other side well by now, the side that was not hidden behind this mask. A perfect torturer.

 

"Well, there is a clause that simply states that, should a war break out, Sahena would return to me and Varun to you. He would not be allowed visits with Lazarus, if only because of the security nature of things. I believe it was somewhere in the second section....My word that is a trouble if you were not aware of it and yet you signed the document anyway. I'm afraid I can't go back and renegotiate the terms without first annulling the marriage," Rowan says with complete innocence to his tone. It's as though he had no idea.

 

Death narrowed his eyes. "Now that is just plan ridiculous." He growled lowly. "Removing someone from neutral territory." There was no reason for such an action to take place. The castle would by far be the safest place for Sahena to begin with. "It almost makes me wonder." He  remarked and for the first time, revealed the fact that he knew something was going on. His eyes pierced the blond, unreadable. "But never mind that, we will take care of it should it come to up.”

 

"I am afraid it is standard practice, Lord Death. No sensible Prince would leave his heir in neutral territory that could possibly be overrun by the enemy. You can certainly understand my concern as both a father and a military leader," Rowan replied so sensibly. Rowan already knew that Death was on to him, but there was nothing that Death could fault him with on his reasoning. Rowan had, yet again, out maneuvered the God with unsettling ease. 

 

The immortal smiled faintly, saying nothing. He was disturbed. Never had he run into a man like this. Lazarus looked sick, pale and drawn, but he was silent. There was no reason to argue. If anything, he would not allow them to take his Sahena from him. He would run if he had to. There were other places that the angels had no knowledge of or the ability to get to. Only if he was forced to. Even now, as he thought of it, Lazarus’ stomach dropped in dread.

 

"However, let us hope that situation never arises." Rowan is all smiles now, seeing Lazarus so inwardly tormented and Death trying to hold back his annoyance. One Angel causing such trouble...it seems unreal. 

 

Unreal save that Death can sense something the longer he sits with Rowan. Something dark. He sighs, tilting his head back to peer at the ornate ceiling above them.  "Yes, let us." He replied simply. Crixa sleepily watched them, having woken slightly. The manner of adults was silly to her. They caused themselves so much trouble. Did they enjoy it? The girl was not sure.
What to do now?

 

"If you had more time for pleasantries, I would offer to let you stay the night. However, I understand what a rarity it is that you leave your realm. Thus, I will have Agenta escort you back when you are ready," Rowan replied, his eyes flecked with red. It was just a small amount, but it was easy to see that Adonis was making his presence known. The aura of the other God nearby had piqued his interest.

 

Death was, admittedly a very powerful god in his own right. The very fact that he dealt in life and death made him dangerous. One that you did not make an enemy of. But despite that power, he still had limitations. Fallacies, as any god might have. He was far from all powerful. He smiled faintly and nodded, setting aside his tea cup. "A shame... it really would have been nice to stay a while." He mused. If only to observe this angel a bit longer. To pick at him till something came to the surface. Absinthe wanted to go so badly, those flecks in Rowan’s eyes an ill omen for all of them. Not a word slipped from his lips. Don’t draw attention to yourself.

 

"You are welcome back any time, Lord Death. I think, however, these circumstances are not the best for a visit," Rowan says before clapping his hands. At the doorway appears the beautiful seer who had so stunned Death earlier. It takes a moment, but Death realizes that this must be the Agenta that Rowan spoke of. He bows, his long brown hair brushing against his forehead.

 

"If you will follow me, My Lords."

 

Death stood, smiling cheerfully at Rowan before saying good evening. He gathered his robes in his hands, the dark cloth hanging in elegant swatches and gestured for his group to follow him. With that he left, the others trailing behind him. Absinthe was the last to go, hurrying a sleepy Crixa before him. He glanced over his shoulder at the blond, wondering if he had noticed the defiance in his eyes not long ago.

 

The look that he saw then stopped Absinthe's blood in his veins. Red eyes looked back at him from where Rowan stood at the table and those perfect pale lips were curled into a smile. Absinthe knew he was in for hell and could not get out of that room fast enough. They were then led back towards the grand room, seeing there the door where they had come out of. The blind seer passed this completely and turned to stand near another door.

 

"This is a direct portal. Please, this way."

 

Absinthe almost scrambled past the others, knowing that if he did not move fast, Rowan-Adonis would ask for a word with him and he would not be able to leave that night. He shuddered, hating the feelings that the other ignited in his body.  He hated more the fact that if he said anything about it, that his life would be even more hellish then before. He had to keep his lips sealed. What went on between them was never to be shared.

 

Absinthe can only imagine the delicious torture that Adonis will place upon him for his sharp glare. Lately, the monster has been interested only in teasing Absinthe until the point of him sobbing uncontrollably to be fulfilled. The worst times are when Adonis is gentle, for Absinthe has quickly become addicted to his touch...and when he confuses the poor hybrid Godling with vicious remarks coupled with soft loving caresses, it is truly tormenting.

 

"This way, my lords," Agenta says as he opens the door, showing the black portal through which they are to step. Surprisingly, Agenta comes along with them in their journey, safely seeing them to the gates of Death's Castle. It would be rude not to invite him inside.

 

Absinthe was overjoyed at the sight of the castle. His home. He sighed with relief, faint. He could only chew his bottom lip and wonder.  Would he come for him or would he force Absinthe to come to him? To disobey was to endure worse torture.  Never mind that, home was before him. At the doors, Death was inviting the small seer into the castle for a meal. He was only deserving.

 

"I do not know if I should, my lord," Agenta was saying ahead of Absinthe as the God Death placed a gentle hand at the small of his back. He was blushing faintly, perhaps quite aware of Death's thoughts.

 

"I insist! Surely it must be tiring directing people all day." The immortal urged him, his smile welcoming. He tilted his head, pursing his lips in thought. "I'm sure that your lord would not mind you taking a little break in the home of a friend?"

 

"Perhaps...but I feel mixed messages as far as your intentions, My Lord," Agenta replied truthfully, though didn't have a chance to protest further since he was quickly whisked into Death's castle. He blushed, realizing he should have turned back when he had the chance. Now he was utterly in Death's clutches, for the nature of the castle and its aura made it very hard for him to see. He had to lean on Death to prevent himself from taking a misstep.

 

The tall god chuckle, keeping a hand gently on the youth’s shoulder. "I do not rape my guests if that is what you are wondering." He whispered into the seer’s ear. He would however, seduce them if he so wished. If they gave in? All the better. The others followed them in and dispersed, Absinthe hurrying away and hoping that Rowan-Adonis would forget his moment of defiant glaring.

 

The handsome young seer followed Death as he leaned against his arm, blushing faintly as he was introduced to so many people. This place made him dizzy, he having to shut his eyes in order to shake a person's hand. His empathic powers were going crazy.

 

"Perhaps it would be best if you sat down, Agenta," Falcon suggests as he walks along beside Death. They are heading to the banquet hall to have a little drink. 

 

"Yes, that would be best." The immortal decided, gently helping the small seer to set down in one of the tall back, comfortable chairs. Food and drink were brought out from them. Death over saw it all, making sure that Agenta received food and drink that he enjoyed. The immortal was an excellent host.

Agenta flushed delicately, obviously not used to being so pampered. His clear blue eyes that saw nothing could not focus on one direction. He seemed very lost and at last said something about it. "This place...why does it confuse my powers so much? I have a hard time seeing with my mind. My abilities for empathy are completely blocked."

 

"Could be that in my realm, most things are not hidden." Death replied with a small chuckle. "But in truth? I am not sure... too much power in one place? There could be any number of reasons, my young friend." He replied simply, not willing to reveal any of the magic he had spun about his home in the last hundred years. What rested in his castle was his own business.

 

Agenta was not so easily fooled. "No...This comes from a high level spell meant to ward off seeking eyes...It is well done. Even so, it makes moving around most cumbersome for me," he admits as he gropes for his drink, finding it and bringing it to his plush warm lips.

 

Death laughed. "Smart child, hmmm?" He teased, leaning back in his own chair. "You are not so easily fooled by an old god like me." The man mused, his lashes lowered over his dark, expressive eyes. What a delight. He had not expected this. Rowan really did employ such a wide variety of people.

 

"You flatter me, My Lord...I am merely a seer under Prince Rowan's employment. I often classify spells for him, so it is work I am used to. I am not special in the least," Agenta replies modestly as he looks off towards the end of the table where he can hear Death talking. It frustrates him that he can no longer tell what the man is thinking, though he does feel his presence acutely. It is warming to the senses.

 

Death smiled faintly. "Each is special in their own way, be it for the good or the bad." He answered, swirling wine in his glass. The scent of it soothing to his senses. It was times like these, when one could sit and rest that was so appealing. Even now, while he sat and enjoyed the company of the young seer, Lazarus was tempting Sahena to make love to him as furiously as he could, fear making it all the more intense.  How cruel were Rowan's words.

"L-Lazarus...a-ahn! ...y-you're being a bit rough..." Sahena pants as he feels the other cling to him tightly. Those claws dig into his skin and he winces, his white wings shuddering from where he settles atop his beloved husband.

 

Lazarus strained under him, cheeks flushed and lashes fluttering. "Please?" He breathed hoarsely. "Need to feel you..." he continued, voice hoarse with lust. He was utterly terrified now of the war. Not only was his next heat not long from now, this war could take Sahena away from him for a long, long time. What if this war lasted as long as the first? Lazarus could imagine the pain of having his mate gone again. It was something he did not want to experience again.

 

What if Sahena were even to die during the war? The very thought of that made Lazarus' blood run cold. "A-alright..." Sahena gasps, feeling Lazarus dig into him and make him shiver in pain. He tries to keep himself steady, balanced precariously atop Lazarus with the other clinging to him so fiercely. 

 

Lazarus shuddered, dragging the other down for a fierce, hungry kiss. The whole of his body was tensed, shuddering. His hands ran up the angel’s body, tensing at times as pleasure swam through his veins. If it came down to it, Lazarus would induce an early heat. If he had a child from Sahena, at least then he would have something of him close and the ache would be lessened should tragedy happen. Something to hang onto. Just the thought causes him to rock fervently, clenching around his lover’s cock.

 

"L-Lazarus, I can't hold on much longer....uhn...y-you're too tight..." Sahenna pants as he tries to hold himself together, twitching from all the stimulus he's getting. How clingy his husband is! It seems the visit with Sahena's father had not gone as well as he had hoped. Though Sahena wishes to ask about it, he spares Lazarus that and merely comforts him with his body. There is always time for questions later.

 

Lazarus moaned softly as he arched, pressing himself taut against the pale albino. "Just... just a little more..." He breathed, trailing off as pleasure surged through him. Pearly teeth caught and worried his bottom lip, his moans breathy. Sahena felt right within him, perfect as he arched and thrust deep into his body. "Ohhh, oh gods."

 

Sahenna bit his lip to keep from coming, knowing very well that he was nearing the end. He shudders and gripped to the others silken thighs, pulling him back against his body quickly in the hopes that the added friction would somehow get his beautiful Shadowshifter lover to cum.

 

Lazarus’s hips stuttered, a wild cry torn from his arched throat. Pleasure spiked through him, momentarily blinding him. He moaned and tossed his head back, cum splattering across his taut, trembling belly. "Ooh gods Sahena!" He moaned out his rapture, holding tight to the flexing muscle of his mate’s ass.

 

Sahena let out a gasping moan as he finally gave in, filling the other with his seed and twitching atop him. The Angel gripped to the sheets for a moment before at last collapsing atop the other's broad chest, panting against his neck. Sated.

 

Warm hands mapped the expanse of his sweat slicked back, caressing over the arch of his spine. Soon this could all be gone. He shuddered. "Sahena.... there is something I need to speak with you about.” He uttered quietly, a hand cupping the pale albino’s cheek and lifting their eyes to meet. His own were sad and thoughtful, glittering black gems inlaid in flushed, porcelain flesh.

 

"Is it about my father?" he asks, having sensed that something was wrong. He looks to his beloved with those gentle red eyes, truly concerned for Lazarus' happiness. It makes Lazarus' heart ache, knowing that he has come so close to having happiness with this person and, yet again, it is snatched away. The world is cruel and unfair.

 

"There was something I missed on the contracts." He admitted, shamefaced, "There was so much paperwork and not all of it was very clear, but if the war should truly start... you will be taken from here." He told his husband, trying hard to hide the shaking in his voice. He caressed his cheek with his thumb, expression troubled and frightened. Their future so unknown.  "I will be going into heat a month or two from now. If you are taken from here, who knows when we will be together again.”

"But...but I..." Sahena says with wide eyes, his voice faltering. He looks down and then away as he sits up, staring at the pillow beside Lazarus' head. His eyes are very sad. "...Is there any way we can prevent this?" His voice sounds hopeful.

 

"There is... but I do not know imagine your father would be happy with me hiding you somewhere." He replied, shaking his head, his long, dark hair cascading across on strong shoulder. “There isn’t much I can do. I… could induce my heat earlier, that way, if things go wrong, we would, have something together.” He murmurs softly, pressing his cheek against the angel’s side.

Sahena blushed furiously at the idea, his eyes glancing immediately to Lazarus' middle where his fingers questioningly grazed. "A baby? You'd have my baby?" he asks quietly, surprised that Lazarus would be so willing to do such a thing. After all, he entered this marriage entirely sure he would end up as the submissive. 

 

"Yes. That is what I had planned." The shadowshifter replied with a small smile and a hushed chuckle. "Would you be willing? Or do you wish to wait...?" He frowned slightly, feeling fear that if they waited, everything would go out of control, that they would never be able to go back. That he would lose what he had worked so hard to gain back.  Lazarus did not like the thought of that.

 

"I don't want to wait, I'm just surprised… I had expected a different relationship when I met you." Sahena smiles, his smile lovely. "This is quite a pleasant situation, however. I just hope I will not disappoint."

 

"You won't, sweet one." Lazarus reassured the young angel, running an idle hand through his soft, white hair. "I will see about the drug then... we keep some of it on hand for cases like these.” Lazarus mused. It was not to be lightly used. He would have to speak with one of the healers in private and receive a dosage as soon as was possible. Who knew how much time they had before that clause would come back to haunt them?

"What exactly did my father say?" Sahena asks, knowing that even the most subtle of phrases with Rowan can mean one thing or another. Though Sahena has never spent much time with Rowan growing up, he has learned these things from living in his household.

 

"He brought it up out of nowhere.... it was rather chilly." Lazarus replied with a frown, looking down at the tangled sheets. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes wearily. "But he was very polite about it, almost too polite. I did not like it, not one little bit." The shadowshifter continued with a shake of his head, all that long dark hair tumbling about his still slightly flushed face.

 

"My father is who my father is, Lazarus...He's a great man," Sahena scolds lightly. However, Lazarus is not so sure anymore. He is very nervous about this whole thing and, what's more, he's terrified of what might happen. A war will take his beloved from him again. He can’t take losing him once more.

 

"I know." He replied softly, soothing his lover’s ire. He would have Rowen and Akita, Exodus at that, but there will be an empty spot left in his heart. A hole that only the albino at his side could ever fill. "We will simply have to hope that it doesn’t come to this.” He continued, dark eyes flicking up to meet Sahena’s once more.

 

Sahena smiled tenderly and offered his lover a kiss, caressing his cheek. Even so, Lazarus could not shake his fears. It was a constant nagging at the back of his mind even as Sahena slept comfortably beside him. The Shadowshifter was restless and he knew just why. By now, everyone in Death's castle who had met Rowan was somehow aware that there was something not totally right about him. Perhaps tonight would be a good night to go out and check out things for himself. Not to mention find Urius...Ceata was no doubt at his wit's end with worry.

 

Lazarus sighed softly, caressing his lover's hair where they lay tangled together. He could feel the strangeness that came off of Rowan, perhaps not as well as Death, but still, he felt it. The shadowshifter rubbed at his face, searching himself for courage. He got up gingerly, kissing Sahena's cheek before he rose from their bed and gathered a clean robe about himself. He had to speak with Rowan. If anything, he could request Ceata to come with him since the young male knew him better than he. Give the boy a chance to find his wayward lover.

 

It was in the dead of night that Lazarus crept over to Ceata's room and sought to rouse the young man from sleep, finding him curled in a pile of his lovers that were his only comfort right then. It was slightly hard to reach  the pale shadowshifter without waking anyone up he was so tangled amongst them.

 

Lazarus was used to such piles, reaching out gingerly over the pile to touch his grandson’s cheek.  "Ceata... can you take me to speak with Rowan?" He asked in a whisper. The sleepy eyed male nodded weakly, rubbing his eyes. They blinked and were suddenly very alert. Quietly he slipped out of the pile of bodies, gathering his clothing for the trip. He dressed and glanced at his grandfather, the worry on the others face making him sick and mirroring the worry coiling in his heart.

 

 

However, there was still the question of finding a way into Tenshihana...Perhaps Falcon would be of help again. Yet to awake the young Starc would mean that he would tell Sahena in the morning. Perhaps Lazarus would have to bribe him to keep his mouth shut, though it shouldn't be hard. Lazarus can remember some pictures taken a while back of a bare-ass naked Eos...that should do.

 

They crept in and woke Falcon carefully. Eos, as both of them knew, was an extremely heavy sleeper so it was easy to wake the Starc and ask for his assistance in hushed tones. He had no chance to say no. Ceata slyly waved some pictures of Eos in front of Falcon's face, his eyes glittering as the Starc stared in shock at the handful of nude photos waving back and forth before his nose. Eos loved to pose and Ceata occasionally enjoyed getting the young male to pose for him when the shadowshifter was in the mood for play around with his camera.

"...If only to get those out of circulation. I can imagine they would be damaging to Eos' pride," Falcon whispers at last, though he blushes shamefully for so enjoying the images. He's trying to be an honest, modest lover for Eos, but with such cuteness and sexiness all rolled into one, how can he really resist having pictures to fap to?  He is just a man, after all!! "I shall help you. Allow me to dress first."

 

Ceata smirked and nodded, holding the pictures until the other had properly dressed. Only then did they switch hands.  Lazarus waited silently, watching Ceata barter skillfully with the Starc. The future ruler was just as cunning as his fathers at times. Lazarus felt some pride in his grandson. Perhaps Ceata would grow to be a fine heir to the shadowshifter throne.

 

"Let's get going. There will be few staff on duty and it would be good to get there before everyone goes to sleep. Since Agenta is staying here for the night, we will have to go the roundabout way again," Falcon says as they get into the hallway. The young man stands there in grey breeches with high stockings and high leather boots. His coat is black and has a stiff collar that covers up most of his neck - the hickeys included. He looks as astute as Urius and it makes Ceata's heart ache just thinking about his stern lover. He hasn't felt anything in days and fears the worst. 

 

The two shadowshifters followed the stern young Starc silently as shadows.  Thinking of where they would be going, they had dressed for the occasion in dark clothing. Lazarus hurried them along through the halls and out, his long dark hair curling wildly about his shoulders. Ceata was silent and somber. What each man thought of was his own business.

 

They matched well in the back streets of Tenshihana in the red light district. Ceata almost felt at home as he saw the various whores hanging outside the establishments, peddling their wares to any passersby under the garish rose-colored lanterns. Falcon looked absolutely ashamed for being in such a place. He didn't look at anyone, keeping his eyes down on the cobblestone before him until they meandered the narrow streets up to the point of entry to a small brothel. Outside, it had a clear advertisement for Shadowshifter slaves. "This is it. The 'back door.'"

 

"What an unassuming back door.” Ceata mused, bringing a slight chuckle from Lazarus. They would fit in easily here. As either cliental, or the whores themselves. They two stepped up to the entryway, caught in the sort red glow of a lantern above their heads. “Tell me, Falcon, does Rowan ever give off an odd feeling to you?” He asked finally as they slipped into the brothel, their boots clattering on the scuffed floor.

 

Falcon blinked his blue eyes, looking to the man that would soon be his father-in-law. "Odd feeling?" he asked as he opened the door that led into a small parlor covered in red satin. It looked utterly luxurious with low golden lighting falling over warmly painted chairs. There was a small fire place and an incense burner. Long draping curtains covered the entrances to three different rooms. There was a simple little sign on the mahogany table around the chairs. It said "please wait here for service."

 

"Yes, do you ever get the feeling that there are two Rowan's?" Lazarus continued, not noticing how Ceata flinched and glanced toward him with questioning, narrowed eyes. The same thoughts had been running through his mind for some time now. That there was another side to this man, something hidden and mysterious. The three stood in milling silence, waiting for both Falcon to speak and for someone to attend them.

 

Falcon looked very thoughtful for a moment before his eyes diverted to the ground. He stood beside one of the mahogany chairs, his fingers running over the intricate carvings on its high back. "I....I have not spent much time with Prince Rowan. Truth be told, he rarely ever comes to see his son, to whom I am directly employed. Thus, I have not been around him very much during my stay at Urius' Manor. Even so, there is...something perhaps that could explain your worries a great deal. It was something Urius told me a long time ago..."

 

"Speak boy." Lazarus ordered, his voice low and intimate. There was no need for anyone else to overhear their discussion. Ceata watched  with interest, arms crossed over his lean chest, expression unreadable. Whatever was going through his mind was his to know and no one else’s.

 

"It's just that...I don't know if I should tell you. It is a rather personal aspect of Prince Rowan's life," Falcon starts, only to see Lazarus glaring. It is quite obvious that he will have more than just those pictures revoked if he does not continue. With that, he nervously clears his throat. "When Rowan was about my age, 16 or so, he fell in love with a penniless Jin girl. This was during the Great War, you see, when Jins were treated like useless cannon fodder. The idea that a Valen Prince should marry a Jin was beyond disgusting. E-even so....despite all that...Rowan married her and they conceived children. However, just when Rowan was about to denounce his prince hood to leave for Earth with his pregnant bride, a horrible tragedy struck." Falcon's eyes glance over to Ceata and then back to Lazarus. "Though it cannot wholly be confirmed, this much Urius told me - on the eve of Rowan's denouncement, a group of men came to the house where Rowan had hidden his wife. They did things to her which even now I cannot convey to you, no matter how you ask me. She was in labor when they did. By some miracle, a handmaiden escaped with one of the children. The other was...was still inside...." Falcon stops, seeming very disturbed. "Either way, she and one of the twins did not live. Rowan went mad. He left for more than a thousand years, never to be seen back in Tenshihana. When he returned...he seemed unlike the man Urius knew. Perhaps...perhaps the grief of losing so much drove him to it, but he has become obsessed with punishing the man that ordered his wife's murder."

 

Lazarus lips turned down into a frown, eyes distant. Memories of his own mother's rape and death came back to hit him hard. His whole family destroyed by the faceless men with hate in their hearts. The sight of blood and gore strewn across the once happy household forever burned into his psyche. Ceata made a sickened noise, covering his mouth with groan. “Oh gods.” He uttered. Perhaps that was it, though one could never be sure. But to think that Sahenna would be born during such an incident. Horrific.

 

"That is why we continue this mission. It started simply to end the Lord of House Valen's crimes against his family and others...Now, it is far more personal for Rowan and he is a man consumed by vengeance." Ceata gave Falcon a curious look, his eyes seeming to ask, "Who is this Lord?" Of course, Ceata would not know. He did not follow the Angelic government as closely as perhaps Lazarus would. "The Lord of House Valen is Rowan's father, Lord Robert Valen. He is a monster."

 

 "I have heard of such." Lazarus replied. He knew of this man, knew enough about the man’s heritage at least to be aware of who his father was and his father’s ways. Yes, there was certainly something strange going on. Ceata watched the two with a frown. He had to turn away, glancing around the ornate room while the other two spoke, growing impatient. Someone must see them soon, right?

It didn't take long for a shapely shadowshifter female to appear from the curtains, stepping out with her scantily clad hips swaying seductively. She stopped when she saw both Lazarus and Ceata, however, seeming to smile quite happily for finally having a customer she shouldn't mind drilling into the bed sheets. "Hello, boys. Sorry for the wait. We're rather busy tonight...what can I get for you?"

 

Lazarus glanced at Falcon, ignoring the big grin that found its way briefly onto Ceata’s face. He’d always had a thing for lovely women. They would let Falcon proceed from here; they had bribed him after all. Now to watch in amusement as the young Starc tried to speak with the lovely shadowshifter whore.

"Um...w-we're actually here to see the Lord of the Lion," Falcon said with a stammering that made him look quite cute. For such a strong and stern individual, he had no luck when it came to speaking to women. Perhaps that was why he was more attracted towards men. The Shadowshifter female reluctantly took her eyes from Lazarus and Ceata, frowning as she stared at the tall muscular youth who was obviously an Angel. She sighed.

 

"Where is it, then?" her tone changed. She was obviously annoyed with having to take her attention from the gorgeous males that would likely give her a plump belly full of a strong Shadowshifter babe.

 

"Oh...yes," Falcon said as he went through his pockets, pulling out a simple golden pin in the shape of a lion. She took this in her hands and examined it, smiling when she saw the engraving on the back. Each of these pins was unique. They had a code that could not be seen by Angelic or mortal eyes. One with Demon blood, however, could see it.

 

"Well, looks like you're Falcon...Another Starc plagues my establishment," she sighs as she hands back the pin. "Well, come this way...and bring your gorgeous friends." She winks at Lazarus before ducking back in through the curtains. 

 

They followed the woman, filing back behind the curtains and into the hallway beyond it. Ceata was steeling himself, as was Lazarus. They both had business to attend to. Lazarus had to prepare himself for dealing with Rowan. Must be the king he was. One must be calm, collected and shrewd.

 

The three men were led along a main hallway with open rooms. It was obvious to see that the small brothel was full up, there being the sounds of moans from each little cell which was barely covered by blinds. One could see a pair of young females leaning up against an Angel Lord. He was leading them to a cell at the end that seemed vacant. The Shadowshifter mistress offered him a smile as she walked passed, heading to the end where there was a door. This she opened, stepping into the harem where the girls waited between shifts, for this was a brothel exclusively for females. "Well, Girls, step aside. We have some boys going Out Back." The females sit up and croon, seeing Lazarus and Ceata in all their glory. A few of them are just the age where they're looking for mates, and it's quite obvious who might have caught their eye.

 

The two can’t help but exchange glances. How could a man not take some pleasure from being the focus of this many lovely women? The powerful elder male had other business to attend to, as did Ceata. Perhaps later, when there was some time, Ceata would return. He was a fiend when it came to sex.  "There are so many here...” Lazarus mused, vaguely surprised to see so many shadowshifters in one room.

 

"We carry only the finest..." the female Shadowshifter mistress said as she looked coyly over her shoulder. Her eyes lidded, her hips cocking just so that Lazarus could observe all her delicious curves. She was obviously older and much more experienced...and she had an eye for fine men, thus Lazarus became her target. Either way, she headed to the back and opened some double doors. They appeared to be a closet until you found the secret latch. She wiggled this and the back of the closet fell away, revealing a tunnel on the other side. "Do you need me to escort you? I'd be ever so happy." 

 

"No thank you, beautiful one." Lazarus replied with a small smile, touching her side as he paused. He could be such an utter charmer when he put his mind to it."We can go along just fine." As kind as her offer was, the man could tell that Falcon was extremely uncomfortable around the Madame. It would not do to have their guide so flustered.

 

"Well, do remember to come back...Our prices are fair and, even then, we always negotiate," she purred in turn, looking Lazarus over as if she would gladly tear his robes off him and push him down against the nearest horizontal surface for sex as only a Shadowshifter could give it. Though the prospect was pleasing, Lazarus had to continue on his way, descending into the darkness. Falcon breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"I hate that entrance..." he grumbles, meaning every word. 

 

"I don't know.... it was much easier on the eyes then the last." Lazarus remarked with a wry smile. Ceata snickered. They could understand Falcon’s feelings, though they felt differently. Women had a certain appeal, a sensual roundness to them that spoke deeply. An ancient attraction.

"They are beautiful, to be certain, but women think so much differently...I have a hard time ascertaining their thoughts," Falcon replies, seeming not to catch the hint. He can be very dense at times, what with his very direct nature, and yet can be so cunning at other times. It is quite obvious that understanding women is not his forte in the least. 

 

Lazarus chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He was not as interested in women as say, Ceata or Faust, but he did enjoy them on occasion. He had never mated one, and Lazarus could not be sure if he ever would. As lovely as they were, there had not come one that made his passion burn and his body ache as his other mates' did. But who knew what the future held. They continued on, following Falcon. Lazarus trailed along, musing over just what he was going to say to Rowan.

At last they came to the light at the end of the tunnel, stepping onto the gleaming golden tiles of the secondary entrance. It was nearly deserted, though it was almost filled with clerks and such making their nightly rounds. Only a few lone servants seem to dash about on the upper levels, trying to clean everything before they could sleep that night. "Alright...let's see if we can find Gow..." Falcon says as he steps forward, though Lazarus stops him. It would be best if the Shadowshifters went on alone. 

 

"We'll proceed from here, Falcon." Lazarus informed the young Starc. Ceata nodded, touching his shoulder with one pale hand. "We know the way out, you can go home if you wish. I’m sure you’re tired and Eos is waiting." He smiled, taking the last of the pictures in his pocket and passing them into Falcon’s hand. And the deal was done.

"But...Prince Rowan may be displeased if I don't..." he's stopped by a gentle pat of Ceata's fingers against his lips. Falcon stays quiet, blushing and nodding. He realizes that he is no longer of use and feels a bit frustrated, wishing he could do more. Even so, it's not his choice. Besides, he would likely get in trouble if Rowan was aware of this anyway. Thus, he turns and walks out, leaving the Shadowshifters to choose their own path.

 

Lazarus glanced at Ceata and the younger male lead him through, looking for Gow. The young man moved with ease, leading the search with Lazarus on his heels. The activity around Shangri-la was muted, a ghost of what they had seen last time. Lazarus frowned, hearing his footsteps echo. So empty.

 

It was very late at night, however, and it was likely that everyone was asleep. Perhaps they would be able to catch Rowan alone, then? That was unlikely...but, at the very least, Ceata could go snooping around for Urius and Lazarus might just find out some clues as to what Rowan is up to.

 

So they split up, Ceata searching for the distinctive feel of his mate and Lazarus moving through the organization, his present not exactly of notice considering the many shadowshifters that worked here. Yet finding the man was difficult. There was not hide nor hair of him and Lazarus wondered if this was a mistake. Maybe he should find someone to help him?

Only dark shadows slipped in and out of various rooms. It was when Lazarus found himself reach a wing which was a bustle with clerks heading in and out that he seemed to get anywhere. A young Starc, dark hair and eyes contrasting his pale peach skin, directs Lazarus to the upper levels. Perhaps Rowan will be there? Meanwhile, Ceata is off on a different track, trying so hard to find Urius. He has wandered far from Lazarus by now, following whatever inkling that his lover might be around. Thus far, nothing.

 

Lazarus sighed and continued on, the soft click-click of his boots ringing through the very much empty halls upstairs. He ran his hand along the wall, glancing around himself quietly, taking in the details of this massive compound. Nowhere to be seen.  Ceata was moving swiftly, steps silent on the stone floor. Urius scent and aura are all over this place. Ceata follows what feels strongest, growing more and more agitated with every new lead.

Still, Urius was very far away and never quite within Ceata's reach. It must have frustrated the Shadowshifter a great deal when he followed the source of his lover's aura all the way to a dead end. A growl reverberated through the hallway as Ceata got himself lost deeper and deeper in the maze.

 

Lazarus, on the other hand, had seemed to find a wing that looked about right. There were portraits on the walls of various Valens, heroes, and such. Surely, this would be the wing where Rowan would stay. As Lazarus walked along, he stopped when he saw a study door open a crack. Inside, there seemed to be signs of life as there were candles flickering, a fire place all set, and a half-finished glass of wine on the desk. What's more, from where Lazarus stood outside the crack of the door, he could see a very large painting above the mantle. Peeking a little closer and pressing his face almost against the wood of the door, he could see the composition of a man and a woman, both very young, standing close together. One was Rowan and the other? A lovely girl with curling black hair and silvery Jin eyes. This must be his study!

Thrilled that perhaps finally, after wandering the compound for as long as he had, Lazarus had found the man. He pressed against the door, peering in to check that the man was even in there. It wasn’t wise to simply barge in and interrupt the man if he was in the middle of something. A little sneaking wasn’t terrible, was it? Dark eyes peeked, looking for further proof of life in the quiet room.  Ceata was getting very frustrated with the situation. The more he searched, the more he seemed unable to find where his mate had gone. This was simply ridiculous!

 

Ceata stomped down the hallways, looking for any signs of life. He was angry and slowly losing his patience until he caught movement at the end of the hallway. A tall figure was silhouetted against the gloom, that black hair slicked back and black robes holding loosely to pale flesh. By his height and build, it just had to be Urius!

 

Lazarus did not see anything at first; staring in with the curiousness of a young boy finding a secret room he had never known of. It was then that Lazarus noted the sound of running water and he pushed his head in a little to look over to an adjoining room. It was obviously a bath where Rowan was allowed to freshen up. He likely rarely left his office, so this offered him quite a bit of convenience. The idea of that pale body so similar to Sahena's dripping wet with soap and water put a bit of a smile on Lazarus' face. Perhaps he should go inside and wait for Rowan. He could ask forgiveness for the intrusion after.

 

Was it? Surely that was him! Ceata felt a surge of relief and elation, rushing over to the man without a second thought. The trail had led here after all, had it not? "Urius?" He asked with eyes wide and expectant. This had to be him. He had to be sure that Urius was doing well. Simply had to be.

Lazarus meanwhile, had slipped in and walked toward one of the chairs. He sat down gingerly and leaned back, resting. Rowan at least had good taste in furniture he decided, trailing fingertips along the arm. With a small exhale he crossed his legs, arms in his lap, allowing his thoughts to drift. To compose himself before the man entered from the bathroom. Hopefully this conversation would go by without any mishaps. He had but a few things to ask.

 

Ceata was very dismayed when the man that turned to face him was not Urius at all. Grey eyes of a similar shade as Urius' looked down at Ceata with surprise. That face was handsome, looking much like Ceata's beloved, yet there was a fine layer of stubble about his jaw and a much sterner brow. Stannis was surprised to hear the soft voice behind him, having left his rooms after making love with his wife. He needed some cool air, for she had a tendency to make the room very hot just with her presence. "...I'm sorry. I am not the one you seek," Stannis replied, looking down upon the Shadowshifter with that stony gaze. Falcon looked so much like his daddy! Ceata must have realized the resemblance immediately.

 

It was not long before the room to the shower opened and steam rolled out along with the hot air. Rowan stepped onto the carpet of his study, stopping a moment as he looked up from drying his hair. The Valen stood there in nothing more than his breeches, his skin still moist and flushed a faint pink. Lazarus found himself staring. Unlike with Sahena, Rowan's body begged to be pushed down and ravaged. Sahena had a much manlier aura about him, where as Rowan, despite all his muscle, seemed sleek and supple. His wet blond locks brushing a gorgeous face didn't help this image much. "...Lord Lazarus. What a pleasant surprise." His voice was sweet, hiding whatever shock he might be feeling at seeing the Shadowshifter there. 

 

Ceata flushed in embarrassment, quickly glancing down. "Forgive me.  I thought you were Urius.” He uttered, dismayed that this man was not who he was looking for. Unable to stop himself, he sighed, rubbing his temple. Whatever happy feelings he’d just felt were gone. His lover was nowhere to be seen. Ceata simply could not find the man. Where the hell had he disappeared to?

 

Lazarus smiled when he entered, bowing his head respectfully. "Forgive me for intruding, my Lord, but I wished to speak with you." He informed the man, his voice rich and pleasant. Peering up at him,  Lazarus could not help but feel a little smug in the knowledge that he’d take the other by surprise and nothing Rowan could do would make Lazarus believe he had not.

 

"If by Urius, do you mean my younger brother? We are often confused for one another..." Stannis replies, seeing Ceata blink widely. The other holds out his hand for a handshake, being polite. "My name is Stannis. What is yours?" he asks kindly, Ceata about to answer when he hears a door open from behind him. A woman clad in nothing more than some breeches walks out, growling at Stannis.

 

"Love, I don't give a damn if it's too hot for you, I'm COLD...Get your steely ass back in here and get in the bed- Oh...A Shadowshifter," the woman blinks, not seeming to care that she's completely topless, showing off her ample breasts peaked with rosy nipples. Her hair is long and blond. And her eyes? Ice blue. Stannis is at once mortified as his wife's openness with her nudity. He quickly scurries over, covering her up so that Ceata will not see her beauty. He is very possessive. 

"You wished to speak with me? What of?" Rowan asked coolly as he regained himself completely and ran a hand through his hair. He walked over to his desk and pulled a pressed shirt from one of the top drawers, putting this on to hide his nudity. Lazarus still caught a glance of a large tattoo covering all of his back, but he could not see the details of it. 

 

While Stannis did a good job of trying to save his wife’s virtue, Ceata still saw it all. He smiled politely and looked at his feet to be modest. No need to make the Starc uncomfortable by ogling his wife. He should be a gentleman after all. "Good to meet you Stannis. This must be your wife, good to meet you, my lady." He smiled and bowed his head to her as well. His frustration had not dulled. The shadowshifter was grinding his teeth despite his pleasant act.

 

The shadowshifter nodded, his hands folded in his lap. "I hope you do not mind, my Lord." He continued, meeting the other man’s eyes. Black to green.  "I would hate to be bothering you." He continues, giving Rowan plenty of time to ask him to leave. An out if the man feels threatened.

 

"Oh, don't give me that 'My Lady' nonsense...I was born in the slums, dear. I earned my rank as General," Kite says with a bit of a frown at her husband's possessive nature. Still, his robes are warm and she rather likes having the smell of him all over her. Thus, she wraps the long black robe about her and walks to inspect Ceata. "My...you look like a porcelain doll with all that white. Tell me, what is your name?"

 

"Oh, no...It is not as though it is late at night and I am readying for bed. Truly, that would be a bother," Rowan replied with such saccharine sweetness, though it was wholly sarcasm. It seems Lazarus had hit a nerve by coming so late. Perhaps Rowan was planning to do something...what, Lazarus will never know.

 

"Ceata." He smiled at the woman, already liking her attitude. She reminded him a little of Noel, though they were both very different women. Very different save some very key points. Very much a little monster, his Noel, but that was why he loved her. "I am Lazarus' grandson." He explained, “Ceata Vathmoria.” He hoped they both knew who the man was. Title could hold so much weight.

 

Lazarus smiled slightly; adjusting his weight in the chair he had taken residence in. "It will not take long." He informed him, gathering his thoughts before looking up at the man. "We’ve made a choice that I think you would want to hear.” He continued, measuring his words as he spoke them. Gauging the reactions he would get from Rowan with this admission. "I have chosen to go into heat early to produce an heir with Sahena, due to the  delicate nature concerning the war." He looked up, watching the angel for his response.

 

"Ah, so you're a Shadowshifter PRINCE? Well, hell, I've had just enough of Princes. Do you mind if I call you Ceata?" Kite asks as she stands there with a smile. She's such a direct person. No wonder she is a General, having the ability to give orders with just the tone of her voice. Beside her stands her equally impressive husband, worrying constantly over her talking to another male. So possessive, that Stannis...

 

Rowan stood there and considered for a moment the situation. A smile spread lightly over his lips and suddenly Lazarus felt  fear run down his spine. The beauty of that man's face was vicious, unlike the sweetness portrayed in the portrait behind him. Lazarus felt his nerves screaming at him to run away. "That is not a bad idea. An heir will be a most acceptable."

 

Ceata laughed. "Not at all! I'd much rather people do not address me by my title." The shadowshifter replied with a warm smile for the two of them. They seemed a good pair. He patted his lips thoughtfully with his fingertips and eyed them. "Tell me, do you two by chance know where Urius is? I really must speak with him." Ceata chirruped, shaking his head. Finding that man. Such a pill.

 

Lazarus felt a cold chill, body screaming for him to run. To run far and fast. To never, ever look back. Yet he smiled, gaze still locked with the blond Valen. "I am glad you think so. I had feared you would contest considering the situation.” He kept watching Rowan, looking for anything else odd about his reactions. For the tone of his voice. Anything to give away why something felt off about the man.

 

"Urius? Oh....You don't know, do you?" Kite says as she looks to Ceata and then to her husband. She reaches out and touches Ceata's hand, making Stannis flinch, yet he tolerates it. "Dear...he's been sent home."

 

"Why would I contest it? After all, did I not give you consent to marry my son?" Rowan asks as he sits there and stares at the other. His green eyes are hypnotic, pulling Lazarus in and yet heightening his fear. He can't explain it, but this one-on-one talk has only further convinced him that there is indeed something evil in Rowan.

 

Ceata frowned, upset to hear this. Called home? Why would he be called home? Urius said so little about the Starc lands, and even less about his family. "Oh.... well I guess I can try and go there then.” The shadowshifter mused, a hand on his hip. It would be difficult, but now that he was here he could do it. Urius aura was so strong here. He had but to focus on it and shift. The young man still felt ill, remembering the pain that had coursed through him. Urius’ pain.

 

Lazarus remained emotionless, shrugging fluidly. "There have been histories of difficulty; I was merely running it past you before we went through with it. I would rather not strain anything. I mean, it must be surprising to be a grandfather so soon, hmmm?" He mused, unable to glance away from those green eyes. There was something there, something else, watching him. Staring him down.

 

"You don't seem to realize, Ceata...He's home. He's at House Starc. No one goes in there, at least...not without permission," Kite replies, looking worriedly at Ceata. She had an inkling just what kind of a relation the youth had to her brother-in-law. It was written clearly on his lovely face. She looked up at her husband, her ice-blue eyes insistent. "Help him, damn it."

 

"...But, Kite..." he says, trying to protest until she glares.

 

"If you don't help him, I'm going to go fuck the first thing with a penis I can find down the hallway and you will have no say over it. Immortality or no, you shouldn't let your family bully you! Do you hear me, you spineless fool?!" Stannis looked to have shrunk about two feet, cowed by her forceful attitude.

 

"I will do my best..." Kite smiled at his words.

 

"That's my good boy." 

 

"Certainly not...I was a father much younger than Sahena," Rowan replies casually as he stares into the other's eyes. It feels as though Lazarus' soul is being pulled out through his gaze, controlled by Rowan's powerful presence.  

 

Ceata almost laughed if he wasn’t subdued by his worry for the somber Starc. He hates the fact that he could not go to him the very minute he felt his pain. Hated it with a deep, burning passion. He looked hopefully to the tall man, so cowed by his demanding wife. What a wonderful angel she is! Ceata would have kissed her if he wasn’t convinced Stannis would have slugged him right then and there with great prejudice.

 

Lazarus felt such unease in those moments, dark eyes locked with Rowan's, almost afraid to break away from that gaze. It was as if he looked away, the moment he did, the other would have leaped upon him and rip out his throat with his teeth. "I am glad to hear it, thank you Rowan.” Lazarus replies, his hands folded tight in the hollow of his lap. Cold and sweaty, knuckles gone bone white.

 

"There, it's settled, Ceata...Don't let those Starcs scare you at all. They're very stern on the outside, but they're easily manipulated once you get past the hard exterior," Kite smirks as she pats her husband on the chest. Stannis frowns lightly, knowing he can't say anything to contest it. If Kite told him to jump out a window, he would be hitting the ground by the time she finished the command. 

 

"Well, are we quite finished here, Lord Lazarus? I believe it is late and I am in need of sleep." He smiles handsomely. "I have a busy day tomorrow, after all, what with stopping this war that will hopefully not take away your husband."

 

Ceata chuckled weakly, a real smile finally taking its place upon his place face. This was a wonderful change. A little spark of hope started in his belly. If things all went right, he would be comforting the Starc by the night was over. Still feeling an ache in his body, Ceata could not help but worry. "Thank you very much. This means a lot to me."

 

Lazarus smiled faintly. "Yes, I am finished.” He replied, suddenly going silent and still before he spoke one more, looking back into those green eyes. “I am curious though, my lord.... Absinthe seems to have taken quite an interest in you." He mused, hiding how his hands threatened to shake. "And Ceata has that lovely little brand on his back of your house crest, such naughty games, surely." He continued boldly, their eyes still locked. "You seem to be quite the wild man when you are not in the eyes of the lords and ladies." He was treading on ice despite how casual this was brought up. This sort of talk was normal where he came from. Rowan should know this.

 

However, the talk did not make Rowan falter in the least. In fact, it put Lazarus' hopes and dreams dangerously close to the edge. "Oh, in speaking of curiosities, I am rather curious as well..." Lazarus can hear the pleasant edge to his tone that could be either confused for general curiosity or the barest hint of a threat. "You say that you wish to have a child with my son, correct? Though...I am puzzled as to the Shadowshifter mating process. I hear that it can be rather brutal, sometimes leaving permanent scars on both parties..." Those green eyes narrow, flickering dangerously with hints of red. "I would never want my son to experience such pain. I'm sure you know that." The threat was a subtle one, but Lazarus knew from reading the contract that Rowan had rights - just as he did for Varun - to take Sahena away if he believed his son was being treated "unkindly." It was quite obvious that Rowan didn't like Lazarus raising any questions in an attempt to back the Valen into a corner - and was fully prepared to take whatever opportunity he had to raise some strenuous questions of his own.

 

"My lord, when they do happen, it is almost always to those receiving.”  He replied easily, lashes lowered to hide the sudden panic rising in his chest. "I will make sure that Sahena will be safe. I would never wish to harm him. I cannot stop a mating mark, however.” The shadowshifter warned. To do that would ruin the whole thing. "We are rather nippy in heat, I fear and though it sounds bad, it doesn't hurt beyond a small squeeze and heals quickly.” Lazarus’ heart was nearly skipping beats.

 

"Very well, but I would so hate to have anyone lose their lovers over a misunderstanding. Do keep this a private matter. I would hate to have anyone misconstruing your most ardent love," Rowan says with a smile, though his tone is almost mocking. He gets up then and goes to the door, opening it and waiting. "Well, good night, Lord Lazarus. I'm afraid my bed calls me."

 

Lazarus stood, bowing his head courteously. As he passed, he could have sworn he scented Absinthe. While this was odd, there could be a reason for it. Perhaps the young male had forgotten an article of clothing last he was here, or had paid the Valen a visit himself. Whatever, reason it was, in the end, it did not matter. Lazarus wanted out of here and fast. "Good evening to you, lord Rowan." Lazarus bid him good night and let himself out. Ceata would most likely not be going home with him, so he would return on his own. After that talk, home was all he wanted.

 

Rowan watched as Lazarus left, seeing him turn down the hallway. He then stepped out, motioning to Gow who had been watching from the shadows. "Keep an eye on him. I don't want his gaze turning in a direction I don't need him looking," Rowan ordered softly to his shapeshifting Shadow servant. Gow looked around and then back at Rowan, nervous.

 

"But...Sir...what about the other one? He's been skulking around here since midnight," Gow pointed out, glancing down the hallway. Rowan smirked, looking down at Gow,

 

"Don't worry...I called to him. Now get going. You shouldn't lose Lazarus." With that, Gow turned and hurried off into the darkness to follow the Shadowshifter King. Rowan then turned to look down the hall, smiling coldly. Absinthe was watching him from the shadows the entire time, the poor youth in so much pain. Adonis had fixed his powers on the poor boy and had made him hotter than he ever imagined. Absinthe must have been suffering so greatly from his need that he had to come and beg for Adonis to stop it. Certainly, no other lover would make it go away. 

 

Almond shaped opal eyes were glazed, the young man huddled dejectedly; much like a beaten dog. With Rowan's presence in the room, Lazarus had not sensed Exodus' youngest son. If he had seen how much pain the young man was in, there would have been questions. But Absinthe had remained silent and still, as he was ordered.  He watched Rowan with thinly veiled dismay.

 

Rowan returned to his room with grace, glancing over towards the shadows where poor Absinthe huddled. He was in pain and such dire need that he had scratched his fair skin and made his poor lip bleed. A cold smile spread over that face and those eyes glinted red. "Well...it seems the scornful little god-whore has returned. My, though your eyes seem to be telling a different story than before...I wonder why that is?"

 

Absinthe winced. It just was not fair... Adonis had done something to him, he could not fight it long, but he had tried so very, very hard. Yet here he was, as always. No turning back, no running away. Unable to stop himself no matter how hard he tried. He lowered his eyes submissively his attempt at a glare failing, unable to keep up his attempt at disobedience. He tried! He had tried so hard. "I wonder as well." He spat out.

 

"Now, now....such behavior was what got you in trouble in the first place. Though you knew better, you still acted out." Adonis smirked, that long hair now flowing down his shoulders as it had grown in just an instant. Clean and shining, it brushed against the desk that he leaned on. "I think you like getting punished, little god-whore. Because your fathers will not correct your behavior, I took it upon myself to point out your incredible ineptitudes....Now it seems as though you have become addicted to my torment." His eyes glistened with delight, knowing well he had Absinthe under his boot. "What a sick little creature you are."

 

Absinthe glowered up at him from behind a curtain of gloriously soft hair. Adonis loved to run his hands through it, almost covetously. He would yank it, lead him around by it, all sorts of things that made Absinthe flush with shame. Such a cruel man!  "I think not." he replied weakly, unsure if it was truth or just a colorful lie to try and save face before the other male. He just didn’t know anymore. Adonis had corrupted him completely.

 

"You lie to yourself and to me, Absinthe," Adonis said as he moved from the desk, reaching into those dual-colored locks and gently touching them. The touch made Absinthe's groin burn with desire and he did all he could to keep from moaning. It was quite obvious that this aching need was Adonis' fault - yet another way of controlling Absinthe. "You no doubt feel as though you should atone for your sins and failure as a good son to your fathers...This feeling of guilt has been hidden by your haughty attitude and your arrogance...Your insecurities laid bare, you can't help but want to harm yourself for them." Adonis leaned down, brushing his lips against the top of the other's head. "That's where I come in."

 

Absinthe shuddered, flinching under those sickeningly gentle touches. Yet he liked them, and that infuriated him. An uncontrollable anger burning within, that was impotent against that smirking smile. How dare he say such things when it was Adonis' fault for his shortcomings? For the disapproval in his father’s eyes. Each time he had gained more respect, Adonis had ruined it. The bruises and the signs of Absinthe's weakness, his submission. All of it shameful to the god. No son of his could bow to anyone. "I-It is all your fault!" He cries.

 

Adonis chuckled, looking to Absinthe who now dared to glare up at him. The cruel monster caressed the other's throat when Absinthe's head upturned, making the skin burn so pleasantly afterward. Absinthe would surely break soon, giving into to those touches without hesitation. "My fault? Why, Absinthe...you seem to have things backwards here." Adonis lets go of him, leaving an ache so hollow that it sears Absinthe's soul. Adonis walks back over towards Rowan's desk, running his fingers over some papers. A feather-light touch that Absinthe wishes was upon his skin is afforded to useless parchment. "It is your fault you cannot fight me...You have neither the strength nor the wit. Your first mistake was to bring yourself to my attention..." Adonis looks back at Absinthe over his shoulder, those red eyes glistening. "Your second was to fall prey to me. Your third is now to deny who owns you, body and soul, and continue to fight me now that you are mine....Don't you see, Absinthe? Though I have been playing the part of a monster and a villain, you are still the one that brought yourself here. 'To deny reality is to blind oneself,' and you, Absinthe, are blinded by your own faults."

 

Absinthe flinched and lowered his gaze. Bastard, hit the nail right on the head. Utterly ruthless in his dissecting of the young hybrid. Absinthe had been foolish to have  blindly wandered into this, so damn stupid. He was young though; the young so often ruined themselves with rash choices.  Somehow, some way he would have to make amends for his mistakes. Though Absinthe was not certain if he ever would be able to. He was in too deep. Slumping, the shadowshifter did not answer, silenced.

 

Adonis smiled and looked back at Absinthe, seeing how the other suffered so beautifully. Over time, he had come to find the demi-god to be very interesting. Tormenting him was a delightful pastime in between putting his plans into action. The fact that Absinthe had a taint inside him that would eventually become a child only made the torture sweeter - the first time Absinthe mated, his lover would find a nasty surprise. The children born of their union would not be of Absinthe's mate, they would be Adonis. Of course, if a mate was not found, the taint would eventually lead Absinthe to such a desperate desire to be mounted that he would have no choice but to find someone. All bases had been covered - Adonis' next life was secured. "Are you going to be a good whore now and listen to me?"

 

 Absinthe flushed, feeling much the whore the Valen called him. How strange the way words could cut so deeply. He had tried to ignored it for a long time, tried to forget it, but it had become far too much. Now he found himself here and the only one able to sooth it was standing before him. "Yes." He replied resentfully, huddling in on himself. How he hated this game Adonis played.

 

Adonis smiled, that smile beautiful and yet so cruel. "Come over here." The order was spoken softly, almost endearingly. Absinthe felt himself shiver from the tone, having never heard it from Adonis before. However, such tones could so easily be deceiving. It was Adonis' nature to have a gentle caress with one hand and a painful grip in the other. There was no doubt that Absinthe would feel great pain tonight...and yet....was that really so terrible? 

 

He shuffled over on his knees, head bowed and shoulders hunched.  As if afraid that Adonis would cuff him of he did not show the proper subservience. It had happened before and he knew it could happen again.  He stared at the angel’s legs, shivering, desperate for the pain to end. His nerves were raw and his head throbbed with pain. Yet his body was taut and needy. His body desiring Adonis as it desired no one else. A desire only this angel bastard could ever fulfill.

"Stand up," Adonis ordered as he looked down upon Absinthe. As the hybrid dared to raise his eyes, he saw the look of triumph on the other's face. Absinthe's normal nature would cause him to fight that look, to prove Adonis wrong, but the pain he felt in his limbs and his groin spoke otherwise. Being obstinate would not get him the relief he so desperately needed. 

 

He stood achingly to his feet, swaying a little. Absinthe was taller than the blond, and that must have pleased the other male from the smirk on his face. To bring such a tall, healthy young man to his knees held its satisfactions. He gazed down at his feet, waiting for the angel to order him, as he always did. Humiliation coloring his cheeks a pale rose.

 

Adonis smiled up at the young man, looking into his eyes. It was lovely how easily the demi-god had come into his possession. Then again, this wasn't the first time Adonis had turned a taller and stronger individual into his slave. Just looking at Absinthe now, he was reminded of Urius...except Urius had remained defiant, despite everything he did. It made Adonis frown before grasping Absinthe and pulling him down for a searing kiss. The jolt of pleasure that went through the gorgeous creature was so immense that his knees nearly buckled. 

 

Absinthe gasped, eyes widening in shock.  Hands clutched desperately at the Angel’s shirt, stopping himself from falling once more to his knees. His eyes rolled up, lashes fluttering as Adonis claimed his warm, sweet mouth. Devoured it viciously. Kisses from Adonis were so rare. A shock to his senses. His body shook, Absinthe aching worse than before, unable to deny his need. The fucking bastard...

 

Adonis broke away and smoothed those lips over with a lick, tasting Absinthe's unique sweetness. He smiled, such a vicious dark smile that had Absinthe growling inside. "Do you want me to fuck you, Absinthe?" Adonis' question had a mocking tone to it, tormenting the other as, in any other situation, with any other person; such teasing would be extremely pleasing to Absinthe's ears. Now it just makes his pride hurt all that much more. 

 

A strained sound escaped his throat. He tried to fight himself, a battle raging between his mind and his loins. Do not give in! The pain was great, but he would wound himself further by giving in so easily to this man. "I..." He uttered hoarsely, eyes glazed over and narrowed in frustration. He wanted it, badly right then, his hands trembling on Adonis' shoulders, body burning with a need he could not smother. "Want..."

 

"What, Absinthe?" Adonis asks as he looks up at the other, those red eyes gleaming. The Shadowshifter feels the unending urge to just punch the bastard for doing this to him, or else to press Adonis down against Rowan's desk and ravage him to repay him for all the pain he feels! However, could he really manage to do that? 

 

He shuddered, glaring down at the floor as if it were what so offended him. "I want... y-you to fuck me." He uttered in a dull rasp, his cheeks flaming with color under the man’s ruddy gaze. He'd so very much love to bend him over the desk and fuck him, make him hurt and feel good the same way that the other did to him! It was never going to happen. Absinthe didn’t even have the strength to try.

 

But Adonis had the control. Though he was as beautiful as a woman, shorter than Absinthe, seemingly weaker...somehow, he had managed to steal the control. It must have been burning at Absinthe's insides as the other smirked and then forced hin down on the desk - just as Absinthe had wanted to do to Adonis. The monstrous beast leaned forward, nipping the shell of his ear gently. "You know what to expect by now, god-whore. The more you struggle, the more it hurts..."

 

Absinthe flushed and closed his eyes tightly, his shirt rumpled from his fidgeting. He moaned quietly, the sensation of warm lips and hard teeth against his sensitive earlobe sent such a sharp, erotic burn down the whole of his trembling body. The desk was hard and unyielding against his back. It added to his ache, his desperation. "Ahhnn.... y-yes my lord." He breathed, catching at the edges of the desk with his hands.

 

"Good boy," Adonis whispered with a smile and proceeded to fuck Absinthe against the unforgiving wood of the desk. Absinthe's skin crawled all over as it never had before, such a sensation that he had not known in all his life. He felt completed and comforted with the angel’s harsh hands bearing into his fine peachy flesh, yet something about this was so wrong. How could he feel good about this? Was he really in love with a monster? 

 

He moaned and shivered, gripping the Valen shyly; afraid he would smack his hands away. He hid his face against the pale curve of throat, moaning his name. The man’s length slipped in deep, touching him as no other had, working itself inward, branding him. "A....adoni....isss...." He whimpered brows knotted. Sharp claws prickling slightly at the others flesh. There was enough measure of restraint that he did not pierce the soft skin. He dare not.

 

"Do you feel it inside you?" Adonis panted hoarsely, gripping onto the others hips as he rammed them back onto his twitching cock. "Do you feel how you belong to me?" The shadowshifter had to admit that there was something boiling in his body, something so hot that it seemed to radiate its own warmth to every part of Absinthe's being. It was a darkness that was both comforting and terrifying, much like Adonis himself. As the demi-god writhed underneath the vicious attentions of his master, he couldn't help but feel like there was something inside him, something growing...

 

"Ahhnn! Y-yess Ad-donis...!" He cried out, whimpering into the smooth curve of Adonis’ throat. Absinthe felt that strange, frightening warmth deep in his belly and he whined in dismay. In pleasure.  Unable to process why it should feel so good and yet fill him with dread.  He groaned the others name louder, cock throbbing against his clenching stomach and his ass throbbing around the length eagerly plundering him. Every wet, slick sound echoing lewdly in Absinthe’s ears. Amplified by the blood rushing through his veins. A depraved, dirty sound that egged him on despite how it humiliated him.

Adonis grunted as he continued to thrust inside, rolling his hips as he drove deep within Absinthe's tightness. He gave the youth no quarter, barely giving him time to breathe. Every inch of his body was focused on giving Absinthe the most exquisite pleasure of his life. Oh, and the other felt it...Writhing against the table, Absinthe was overcome with the urge to cum, but knowing he could only do so with his master's permission. Otherwise, it would be a harsh punishment.

 

"G-going... to... " He rasped, chewing his bottom lip in frustration. "Please? C-can I cum, m-my lord?" He begged breathlessly, his panting, needy breath washing across his neck as he writhed beautifully on the blond’s cock. It was frustrating that he could have him so completely under his thrall. Too good, evil asshole. Absinthe could not fight it. His insides grew taut, clenching in anticipation of an orgasm lingering just at the edge.

 

"You may cum," Adonis offered graciously, Absinthe surprised that he was being so giving. Usually he would have Absinthe do something incredibly humiliating before he could have pleasure, but it seems Absinthe's submission had pleased him very much. Thus, Adonis turned the other on his side and pulled one of Absinthe's legs up, thrusting into him at an angle so as to make it all the more pleasurable. "Cum for me, my god-whore."

 

He cried out harshly, arching in delight as his cock slammed home. The new angle hitting his prostate over and over. Opal eyes rolled up in his skull, helpless whimpers slipping out uncurbed. He came hard, unable to contain himself. Shamefully he sullied his belly, seed splattered across the taut, muscular plains of his belly. Adonis was vigorous. It made it hard to resist, hard to keep fighting. Yet he found himself happy that tonight at least, he had escaped further humiliation. A boon he had not expected.

 

It was only hours later with Absinthe's asshole bruised and bloody that Adonis was finally satisfied. The poor youth lay on the desk and panted, having cum so many times and each time having been given permission. It felt so good...but this was obviously the reward for doing what Adonis wanted. Somehow, Absinthe felt the urge to always keep the man happy, especially if he could get so much of that warped affection. "Satisfied now, my whore? You haven't fought me once...it seems you're finally learning," Adonis chuckled as he ran some fingers against the others back, enjoying all the hickeys and the scratch marks. That pale skin would heal quickly, allowing Adonis a new canvas for another night.

 

Absinthe shivered, spine arching like a cats' as he enjoyed the feel of those fingertips running along his back. "Ahh....." The man whispered, lashes fluttering and lips trembling. He was utterly exhausted. Unsure if he could even move from the spot on the desk. He would have to eventually, Adonis wouldn’t want him lingering. At least the blond was pleased, saving him from more humiliation and pain.

In fact, it almost seemed as though Adonis was being gentle, his fingertips running over all those bloody marks in a massaging motion. Absinthe didn't dare comment on it for the fact that Adonis might stop. "You know, that annoying fool Lazarus mentioned you today....He said you were rather 'fond' of me." A chuckle echoes through the room. "He obviously confused fear for something else..."

 

"I.... am fond..." Absinthe replied shyly, hiding his face in his arms in embarrassment. He said it, he had admitted it. There was a certain power he got from saying it aloud. It made him feel manlier for being able to voice it when terror normally would have kept him quiet. "I cannot... help myself." He uttered hoarsely, voice decadent as it left his throat. Raspy from how many times he had screamed the blond’s name.

 

Adonis looked down at him and then outright laughed, startling Absinthe with the sound as he looked back at him in shock, fully expecting to be hit for his comment. Adonis just seemed to find it amusing, laughing for a good few minutes before smoothing back his hair and sighing. "Oh, how rich...you really are as pathetic as I thought you were. Such feelings are useless towards me." Adonis turned back, looking to Absinthe with those haunting eyes. "I feel nothing for you."

 

"All the better then..." He rasped and hid his face against his arm, hurting inside. Of course the other would never feel for him, he was Adonis and Adonis did not love anything. Better to know it then to pine away wishing. He flinched under the other man’s gaze, curling a little up upon the surface of the desk. It was as if he expected the man to hit him, to hurt him for his foolishness. He had done it before.

 

"The day I feel for another person is the day I cease to exist...Even if, somehow, your pathetic entreaties reached what semblance of a heart I have, I would never risk my being. Until I have a body of my own, a realm of my own, I cannot act so freely," Adonis continued with a sigh, getting up to walk over to a basin of water and wash himself off. Absinthe watched him, bemused by his words. The fact that Adonis was stuck in an Angel's body really did perplex Absinthe. After all, if he is really the powerful God he appears to be, why would he need to live inside Rowan? 

 

He says nothing of it, not wishing to raise the man’s ire. Up he sits, feeling cum crusted on his thighs and buttocks, an ache all through his hips. Absinthe watched Adonis, finding his movements beautiful and elegant. It was not fair, why did he have to find him so bewitching? So appealing? The hybrid sighed, shakily running a hand through his long hair to untangle the knots in it. How strange.... he had thought gods were more powerful than that? To get stuck in another body just seemed ridiculous.

 

Perhaps Adonis was not as all-powerful as he seemed, giving Absinthe a faint feeling of self-worth when he was clouded in a sea of guilt. However, it did not wholly change his fearful fascination with the man. If anything, Absinthe felt more drawn towards what secret made Adonis this way...in the hopes of finding out how to turn the tables and regain his honor. Absinthe could imagine having Adonis as his captive, returning all that pain and all that pleasure, possessing him entirely. Just the thought makes everything tingle again, but in a different way. Oh, what a sick, sad love they have.

 

Absinthe would have given anything to turn the tables on the angel. He watched with pleasure as the other walked around the room naked and gleaming, an ache of pleasure rippling through his body. Gods, how beautiful. With a sigh he finally stood, looking for his clothing. Adonis always seemed to either tear them or toss them somewhere he could not find them. A cruel joke it seemed to further hurt him.

 

It made Absinthe's journey back to his home just that much more humiliating. After all, as soon as he walked through the door the servants could see what he'd been doing...The disgraceful act of being someone else's submissive - all his marks this time would surely get noticed and he might even be punished. The very idea made Absinthe frown, hating and loving Adonis for all the painful pleasure he afforded the beautiful Demi-god. "Are you going to get going, little god-whore?" Adonis asked then, smirking at the sight of the other wobbling around to find his clothes. 

 

"Most likely... least you bend me over again." Absinthe remarks bluntly, picking up his shirt and tugging it on slowly, careful of the bites. He cannot face the man now, fearful of him still. Even if he is stuck in the body of an angel, he is a fearsome man. A cruel man. Opal eyes peered over a bent shoulder as he tugged his pants up his thighs, his hair trailing over his shoulder.

 

"Indeed...I could have you moaning my name like the slut you are in a matter of minutes. However, I believe straining this body too much will do me no good." Adonis turns, looking slyly at the other with such a deliciously evil grin. "I have a war to start tomorrow, after all."

 

Absinthes’s eyes widened in horror. A... war? He was shocked, frightened and disgusted all at once. "You... are a terrible man." He uttered hoarsely, voice thick from his screams of pleasure. He tugged his pants up over his buttocks, shaking his head slowly in bemused disgust. He was never more hit by how terrible a man he was then now. "You're so very terrible.... You're going to get yourself killed at this rate, this I can tell." He rasped, glancing at the other. "You damn well know Death is on to you."

 

"And do you think that frightens me at all, Absinthe?" the other asked as he looked to the demi-god. When Absinthe met Adonis' gaze, he was astonished to see no amount of fear in his eyes. Either Adonis was incredibly intelligent and knew what he was doing or he was insanely brazen and completely foolhardy for trying to go against Death. Absinthe could not tell which was which, but the other's fearlessness made the demi-god's blood run cold. What could this man accomplish before he was finally stopped? He would ruin Lazarus, perhaps send Urius to his grave, and Ceata with him...

 

"Exactly what do you desire to gain by starting a war, Adonis?" He asked eyes emotionless. "What drives you so to do such a thing? To ruin your own son's happiness and to injure those loyal to you? Why do you do it?" Absinthe demanded, shaking his head in disbelief. A dry, shaky laugh escaped him. "And what plans do you have for me in all this? I feel something in me... I know you put it there."

 

Adonis merely gave Absinthe a smile. "Magicians never reveal their secrets, Absinthe. You should know by now that I'm not so much of an idiot that I'd tell you these things," Adonis replied with due pleasure, loving how the frustration seemed to grow on the others face. Though Absinthe couldn't see himself, Adonis surely could. He found the other's anger to be so adorable...and his pain to be just exquisite. "Besides, I think we should get this straight. Sahena is not mine. My genetics would never have created such a weak child. Rowan's, perhaps, but certainly not mine." He smirked. "In fact, during his conception, I was not even around."

 

That truth had more than one meaning.

 

"Then why can’t you just leave them alone?" Absinthe demanded, tilting his head,  frustrated. He did not say anything else, shivering and clenching his hands to stop their shaking. He felt weak suddenly. Drained. It must have been from how Adonis had handled him. Though it could have equally been where this conversation went."You may have had friends in them and now you only distance yourself... allies are important, are they not?"

 

"They are not allies," Adonis said with much surprise, only then chuckling as he walked over to Absinthe. He looked up at him, his red eyes so very commanding. "My word...did you honestly think I had ALLIES? Absinthe....have you learned nothing despite our session this night? I feel NOTHING for those people. Urius, Sahena, Lazarus, and, yes, even Death are all nothing to me. Are you really so blind to my intentions?" Adonis laughs. "And here I thought a lover would have known his intended. You must not love me as much as you say if you can't even see through what is a lie and what the truth is. So sad.......You really are such a worthless God. I hope your fathers produce another heir soon, or they will have nothing to lay claim to with pride when they finally decide to retire."

 

"Who ever said I was assuming?" He snapped, eyes glittering with the smallest of triumphs. He had heard it now from the angel’s own lips, now he could tell Death and perhaps win some sort of honor back for himself! His heart beat fast in his chest, overjoyed. He lowered his gaze and leaned down, brushing their lips together faintly before bowing to the angel and backing away. "I must go, I am obviously displeasing my master."

 

"Oh, Absinthe?" Adonis asks, the other turning around to look at him with his barely-contained smile. He meets those eyes and suddenly feels a cold chill running down his body that makes his knees almost buckle. Adonis is smiling, holding something in his hands. Absinthe recognizes it as a scarf that belongs to one of his brothers. "You really should make sure their windows are locked at night....I would hate for a SLIP OF YOUR TONGUE to result in a slip of my hand...just remember that."

 

He shuddered, eyes widening and there was a sudden heat in the room, Absinthe seeming to glow, if but faintly. "You touch any of them and you will know pain." He snarled, the threat, finally, was backed up by a sudden well of power. As suddenly as it was there, it was gone and he calmed himself, smoothing his hair and shivering. Not used to that sort of reaction, or that overwhelming burn of pure hate in his gut. His opal eyes still had a glow. "Would I ever?" He asked with a faint smile before turning and leaving as quickly as his feet could carry him.

 

"Looks like I'm going to have to silence you...what a pity." Adonis puts the scarf away and sits down at his desk with only his breeches on. He quickly pens a letter, smiling when he's finished. "It will all end very soon...I wonder. Will you be ready for it, Death?" The question hung in the air, leaving a cold feeling where it went.