Archive of Our Own

A shaft of muted sunlight falling through the bars of the grating far above his head allowed him to keep track of the passing days but did nothing to warm the chill of the cellar. Almost two weeks since his father’s men had taken him from his friend’s house in the middle of the night. Almost two weeks since they had forced the collar round his neck, bound his hands and feet and shoved him half naked into the back of a covered wagon. The cowards had taken him while he slept, clearly unwilling to risk any kind of fair fight. The whole situation was unfair really. His friend this time truly was just a friend, a casual acquaintance who had extended a rare touch of concern when Dorian’s father had gone missing. Dorian had even briefly entertained some concern of his own when the man had vanished on a research trip down south and was only too glad to get out of the family estate for a while. He should have been more like his mother and merely smiled into his wine instead of daring to think that someone like him could have any kind of human connection without his father turning it into something shameful. The man hadn’t even made it home before hiring a band of thugs to kidnap his only son and chain him up like an animal. He hadn’t even made it as far as Tevinter and as much as Dorian appreciated the irony of finally being so far up on his father’s list of priorities he would have preferred to have been forgotten. Now, all he could do was wait for his father to return from wherever he had been and hopefully get out of the cellar.

As the sunlight faded, he dozed a little. The cold had gotten into his bones and although a slave came to clean him and bring food and water once a day, he was terribly lonely. He was sure his mother wouldn’t stand for this but it was unlikely she knew where he was, no one but slaves ever came down here and it had been the middle of the night when they had first chained him up. Even sleep brought no comfort, the collar cut off his connection to the fade and stopped him from dreaming.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door, someone was coming down the stairs. Dorian felt instantly more alert and braced himself against the wall. The slave who tended to him only ever came at first light, this was the first change to the routine since his imprisonment had begun and although he was ready to do almost anything to get out of this room he could hardly believe that his father had gone to all this trouble just to let him go. He fixed the most disdainful mask over his features that he could manage as the wards winked out on the door and it creaked open.

“Hello Dorian.”
Halward Pavus regarded his only son as though he were a rare and rather revolting insect.
“Father, how good of you to finally come to see me. I trust your trip was a pleasant one?”
Dorian was pleased that he managed to keep the tremor from his voice but he wished the lack of water hadn’t made him sound so raspy.
“My trip, as you put it, was certainly interesting. I shall not venture so far south again I think but I cannot say that the unforeseen turn that events took was entirely a disaster.”
“You were missing for months father and now this is to be our reunion?”
“Do not pretend that you missed me my son. I doubt you lifted a finger to locate me and merely used my absence as a licence to whore yourself round Minrathous. Again.”
Dorian managed to keep the glare off his face, regardless of how undeserved his father’s ire this time he was in no position to argue, not if he wanted to be released any time soon.
“I am tired Dorian. Tired of trying to bring you to heel and make you take your responsibilities seriously. I had thought to try to change your behaviour but it is out of my hands now.”
“What are you talking about? What happened to you?”
For the first time Dorian saw the cracks in his father’s cool façade, he saw the dark circles under his eyes and the haggard thin look of his usually round face.
“My trip took me into the Frostback mountains. It is of no consequence now what I was looking for but suffice it to say that my escorts and I were rather unprepared for the hostility of the climate and we became lost in a storm. We wandered for days through endless snow and as we began to despair, we stumbled across a castle. It appeared deserted and in some considerable disrepair but it was shelter so we eagerly made our way across the bridge and through the gates. In what must have once been a grand hall we found a fire burning in the hearth and a hot meal laid out on a table. No one came to greet us and it was clear that there was some magic at work. We didn’t care, although if we had been in a less perilous state we should have been alert for a demon come to bargain.”
The first prickles of icy dread crawled down Dorian’s spine as his father continued in an eerily calm voice.
“We ate our fill and as we sat warming ourselves by the fire, we heard soft footsteps approaching. My escorts readied their weapons discreetly as I rose to greet what I hoped would be an amicable host. Imagine our horror at what came towards us, a beast. No demon but clearly inhuman. It stood upright like a man but was covered in fur. My men leapt to my defence but it made short work of them with its fangs and claws, my magic seemed drained and before I knew it, I was the only one still alive.”
“It bested you?”
“A Magister is never bested Dorian, surely I at least taught you that much? No, I may not have been able to physically subdue the creature but I am a veteran of the debating chamber. I made a bargain with it.”
The feeling intensified until Dorian was half convinced he could feel icy claws digging into his ribs.
“What could you offer it?”
As if he couldn’t begin to guess.
“At first I offered wealth but it simply snarled at me. Whatever magic it possessed already meant that there was little I could offer there, and influence would doubtless be a foreign concept. The only thing left I could bargain away then was you. I offered the beast my only son and it nodded. Somehow, I understood that the bargain was struck and as long as you are delivered I remain free. I passed out and found myself alone at the foot of the mountains. All that remained was to have you detained and return home.”
“You cannot be serious father; I am still your heir, your son!”
“No longer Dorian. When a decent amount of time has passed, I shall have you declared dead, missing after a trip to some brothel and one of your cousins will stand as heir. One of them is bound to be less of an embarrassment than you. Now, you have a long journey ahead of you and I cannot regret that I will not be accompanying you. In truth, I do not know whether the beast means to eat you or fuck you but it is no longer my concern. Goodbye Dorian.”
“Wait, father please…”
His desperate pleas were ignored as his father opened the door to admit two of his hired thugs. The last thing Dorian was aware of was his father walking away as the men forced a potion down his throat and darkness swallowed him.

They kept him dosed up throughout the journey, a potent mixture of magebane, a sleeping draught, and something to stop him from starving to death. One of the men had given him a blanket but there was no more comfort as he travelled to what could only be a terrible demise. He couldn’t even begin to guess at how many days he had been in the wagon when eventually it came to a halt and he was dragged out of the back by his arms. To his addled mind it seemed he was high above the clouds as they half walked, half dragged him across a stone bridge that led to the gates of an enormous stone fortress. Snow whirled through the air and froze in his tangled hair. His thin clothes were soon wet through. The gate opened as they approached although the entranceway seemed deserted. His captors shoved him to the ground and quickly removed his collar, the magebane more than enough to keep his magic cut off still. They backed away until through the gates and then turned and ran as fast as the frozen ground would allow. Dorian knelt in the snow at the ragged edge of his strength. A shadow fell across him and he managed to raise his head. All that occurred in that heart stopping moment was a half-remembered line from a book he had loved as a child
“My, what big teeth you have.”
He keeled over into the snow.

For the first time in a very long time he was warm. His mind was still pleasantly muddled from sleep and for a time he was content to simply lie down and enjoy the feeling. It didn’t last. Memories of his father’s bargain, his own captivity, and the mortal danger he must now be in came flooding back and he sat up with a start. The movements dislodged the nest of soft blankets he found himself wrapped in and he kicked them away in a panic before getting a hold of himself. It wouldn’t do to show fear. Whatever fate this beast had instore for him he would meet it with his customary swagger. It was all he had left after all.

Cataloguing his surroundings had always been an effective grounding technique in the past and he began to look around him. He was alone, in a rather ornate, if somewhat fussy room, and lying on a very comfortable bed. He was still dressed in his shirt and breeches but his boots were neatly placed on the floor. A fire took the chill out of the air but he had been covered in so many blankets that it had hardly been needed. Weak winter sun shone through a stained-glass window above a door to a balcony with the most incredible view across the mountains. He padded across the floor and noted with a touch of mild hysteria that someone had put a pair of thick knitted bed socks on his feet. A desk, empty bookshelf, and wardrobe filled out the room but it was fairly dominated by the huge solid bed. He frowned as he made his way back to sit on the edge of the mattress, remembering his father’s vulgar words. On the bedside table was a tray with sliced fruit and a carafe of water. His magic had recovered enough to check for poison and when it seemed innocent enough, he allowed himself to eat and drink.

For a time, he simply sat, waiting for the beast to make himself known. No one came. No roaring monster, but no servants either. He had expected to have been thrown into a dungeon or simply killed on the spot, not given bed socks and a guest suite. Dorian felt wrongfooted and that simply wouldn’t do. How dare this beast dash his expectations, was it playing with him? He pulled his boots on over his socks, because really they were terribly warm, and strode over to the door. It should have been locked, he was a prisoner and honestly did this beast have no idea how to behave? He strode down the corridor with the full intent of giving it a piece of his mind.

The room he had woken in was at the top of a set of winding stairs that led down to a great hall. This must have been the place his father had spoken of although there was no trace of his unfortunate escorts. The hall was freezing as no fire was burning in the hearth so he continued his explorations. Every room was deserted with no sign that anyone lived there. After some hours of cold and pointless wandering he made his way back to the great hall. A fire now burned in the hearth and a table and chair sat before it. Food and a bottle of wine had been laid out, the place set for a single diner. There was no sign that any servant had been there and he could feel the magic in the air if he concentrated. It didn’t feel hostile, if anything it seemed concerned. That was new, magic didn’t usually have feelings. It seemed a shame to waste the hospitality so he sat and decided that if this was to be his final meal, he would at least enjoy it. The wine was excellent and the meal had a touch of welcome spice.

Soft footsteps approached a nearby door and he placed his glass down so as not to show his shaking hands and stood, his former bravado forgotten. A tall broad-shouldered figure entered the room. Dorian had had time to dwell on his father’s words and the picture in his head was truly monstrous. The reality was not what he expected. He did indeed walk like a man and in outline closely resembled one. There was an abundance of golden fur but he also wore a simple linen shirt and breeches. His feet and hands were bare but there was no sign of claws and he had fingers and toes instead of paws. A thick ruff of darker fur covered his neck and shoulders and his face was distinctly feline. His head was covered in thick golden curls that darkened as they merged into his mane. Pointed ears twitched and a deep purr rumbled out as he stared at Dorian.
The mage dipped into a formal bow in greeting although he did not take his eyes of the creature. It cocked its head to one side and regarded him curiously.
“My host I presume? I am Dorian, formerly of house Pavus. May I have the honour of your name Ser?”
The beast purred again but did not speak.
“Am I to understand that you do not speak as I do?”
To his surprise, the beast shook his head.
“But you can understand me?”
It nodded.
“Then I wonder how we are to communicate? If indeed that is what you wish, I am after all your prisoner.”
This elicited a growl and a hint of very sharp fangs. Wickedly curved talons unsheathed from his fingertips before the creature seemed to shake itself and gave him a rather contrite look.
“Well, I must at least congratulate you on rattling my father. Whatever your intentions towards me I can at least take some comfort in that.”
A tiny huff, almost a laugh, then the beast turned and walked back through the doorway, leaving him once again alone.
All in all, it was a very strange day.

Dorian awoke feeling better than he had in weeks. The magebane was finally starting to drain from his system and although he could feel the welcome return of his magic his connection to the fade had not been strong enough for dreams. A full night of deep, utterly uneventful sleep was just what his exhausted body had needed. He uncurled himself from his blanket nest and stretched out his muscles with a sigh of satisfaction. Something caught his eye as he got out of bed. His clothing and boots were where he had left them the night before but the previously empty desk seemed to have acquired a few items. Curiosity got the better of him and he wandered over to take a better look. A teapot kept warm under a knitted cosy sat with a cup and sugar bowl on a silver tray. A platter of breakfast pastries and small cakes sat off to one side. The strange hospitality was appreciated and he managed to sit and eat calmly for a time. At least until he noticed the bath.

A giant claw footed tub sat under a stone alcove by the wardrobe looking for all the world as though it had always been there. It hadn’t. It had definitely not been there when he explored the room yesterday and he was pretty certain it had not been there before he slept. The thing was entirely too enormous to have been carried up all those stairs by anything less than a legion of slaves and so far he had seen no one but the beast. It was also full of hot scented water and he was sure that anyone who had come to fill it would have woken him. He felt the magic again, it felt as though someone had hugged him. The water was perfect and he sighed in satisfaction as weeks of ground in grime left his skin. A bar of scented soap took care of his tangled hair, it had grown out of his usual style in his weeks of captivity and his once fine moustache had begun to merge into a straggly full beard. He thought wistfully of his grooming kit and that time he definitely felt it. The magic regarded him for a moment as though it were a living thing. He knew what he would find on the desk without having to look.

A couple of hours later he looked far more like his old self although undoubtedly thinner than he felt suited him. The wardrobe had provided a set of new clothes and a beautiful warm cloak of rich blue velvet. He strolled through the great hall as though he owned the place, he had a plan. It was a good plan, not terribly well thought out but it was all his. There was something to said for that these days. The door the beast had used the evening before was thankfully unlocked and led into a rotunda. A stairway led higher up and if he was going to find where the strange creature was hiding it seemed as good a place as any to start. The floor above reminded him of the old circle libraries if they had fallen into sorry neglect. Dust covered the mostly empty shelves and lay thick on the floor. There were no footprints except his own. Another empty chamber sat above and it was clear that wherever his mysterious host passed his time it was not up here.

Dorian pulled his cloak more firmly about him as he passed through the second door on the lower floor. It led to the battlement walkway and the snow drifted in the wind as he hunched his head down and made for the tower he could see ahead of him. The magic followed him through the door like a concerned dog at his heels. It felt oddly reassuring. The room was clean and free of dust but that was the best that could be said about it. The room was freezing, no fire appeared to have ever been lit in the hearth and the bare stone floor may as well have been carved from ice. The only furniture was an old desk without a chair and a single oil lamp unlit. Random piles of old lumber were stacked against one wall. A somewhat rickety ladder led up through a hole in the ceiling and having nothing else to explore below he climbed up.

Here was the lair of the beast. Dorian had had a few ideas as he came up with his plan as to what he would find. The most likely scenario had involved a room much like his own but grander as befitting the master of the castle. Something tugged deep in his chest as he took in the bed piled with furs, the old tea chest doing a sorry duty as a bedside table, the maker damned hole in the roof that let in the drifting snow. A few simple linen shirts sat on a chest in the corner, he recognised the one the creature had worn before. He was still trying to process his discovery when he heard a door open below and footsteps cross the room. Panic seized him as he heard the tread upon the ladder and he fought for his mental balance as he tried to find a reason why he was standing in the beast’s bedchamber. A handful of arguments flittered across his mind and he drew himself up to his full height as the creature approached slowly. He could do this, Dorian Pavus, Altus mage of unparalleled brilliance could charm his way out of anything.
“Why is there a bloody great hole in your roof? Venhedis, do you want to freeze to death?”
Almost anything.
The beast regarded him curiously as the tirade continued.
“Is this acceptable to your uncultured southern brain? I know there are better rooms here, there is a whole castle to live in and you huddle in a ruin like an animal.”
Something like pain flashed across the beast’s features and he turned away.
“Oh no you don’t. You wanted me here and you gave me no choice but to come and find you as you have been so rude and avoiding me, me! Handsome genius that I am.”
Dorian pulled a lined wrapped package out from under his cloak and ignored the little voice telling him that this was not the plan, he was asking to be eaten.
“I brought you cakes but I’m not sure you deserve them now.”
The beast turned and looked at him, really looked. The mage ran out of words at the same time the shock hit him. He really was in trouble now. His legs gave out and he sat on the bed waiting for his punishment. The creature continued to stare, it’s expression neutral, still but for a slight twitch of its ears. Slowly, the beast stretched out a hand and took the parcel. Dorian watched as the beast unwrapped the package of leftover cakes, took one and then handed them back. He seemed so unsure, as though the strangest thing in this whole scenario was Dorian and the mage felt that odd tug again. He took a cake of his own and then patted the space on the bed next to him. The beast sat carefully, keeping a respectful distance between them on his own bed as they sat and shared their treat.

Dorian sat on his own bed that night thinking back over their curious meeting. He had left after they had finished and took pride in how he had kept his back straight as he left the tower, never once looking back. The beast had joined him again after dinner and watched as he drank his wine by the fire. It irritated the mage; he still had no idea what the creature wanted or why he was there. It hadn’t hesitated to use violence before with his father’s men but had been nothing but passive so far with himself. Infuriated he curled up beneath his warm blankets and tried not to think of the beast shivering as the snow drifted down through his open roof.

Dorian had missed the fade. Cut off from his magic for so long it had been a relief to be present in his dreams once more. Maybe he could find a nice desire demon to toy with for a while. When he found one it wasn’t quite what he expected. To start with it wasn’t focussed on him at all but rather on a young man kneeling within some kind of purple barrier. The man had his eyes tight shut and was muttering something under his breath. There was something familiar about him. The demon’s form shimmered and it took on the appearance of a young woman in mage robes. It stepped through the barrier and forced the man’s chin up.
“How many more nights will you deny me? I already have you for eternity, why not take what you want?”
The young man stammered and shook his head.
“Leave me, I will never yield to you.”
“I believe your guest made his feelings quite clear, maybe you would fare better with a fine specimen such as myself?”
The young man’s head snapped up and shocked amber eyes met the mages calm stare.
“Well look who it is, hello Dorian. Come to twist me around your little finger my dear? Maybe we should show Cullen here what he has been missing out on.”
The demon stepped back through the barrier and approached the mage.
“That form is hardly tempting to me.”
The demon considered for a moment and began to change into a young man, a moment of weakness between forms made it so easy for the mage to light the thing on fire. As it crumpled into ash the purple barrier winked out and the man slumped to the floor with a moan.
Dorian scooped the man up and helped him to a nearby couch as he came back to himself. He brushed the golden curls back from the man’s forehead as wide honey coloured eyes stared at him.
“Your name is Cullen then?”
“Yes.”
“And you can speak here?”
“Yes.”
“Still not very eloquent.”
“You still talk too much.”
Cullen huffed out a laugh as Dorian smirked.
“I think after saving you I deserve an explanation.”
Cullen looked distraught for a moment and he curled up into himself.
“Hey, none of that. I was only too glad to repay your hospitality but I truly would like to understand what is happening here.”
The curly haired man nodded sadly and stared down at his folded hands as he spoke.
“Around ten years ago I was a Templar. My first posting was to the Circle of Ferelden. I was so proud to serve the Maker, I vowed my life to His service. Something went wrong, the place was no more than a prison for mages and eventually they rebelled. A mage, Uldred, summoned a demon and then everything fell to chaos. Most of the mages became abominations and slaughtered the Templars, all except for me. I was the youngest, barely out of my teens and they kept me trapped behind that barrier. They tortured me and made me watch my friends die, used her form to try to break me. I wouldn’t submit. I told myself it was my faith but really it was stubborn pride. Eventually they got bored and said that if they couldn’t have me then no one else ever would. I woke up a monster, the monster you have seen, and found myself alone in our castle. The magic keeps me alive and every night the demons continue to try and break me.”
Our castle. Dorian let that one slide for now, just a slip of the tongue, meaningless.
“The magic doesn’t feel demonic though.”
“I wouldn’t know, I was only just out of training when I was posted to the Circle and my only experience with demons was as you have seen. How are you seeing this though? I may not be an expert on magic but even I know that mages cannot enter someone’s dreams.”
Dorian considered this, it was a surprisingly intelligent insight and by rights it should have come from him.
“We can’t usually, there are mages called somniari who can enter dreams and interact with the dreamers but it is a very rare skill and even then, requires ritual and preparation.”
“And you are not one of those?”
“No, my talents lie elsewhere.”
No sense in revealing himself to be a necromancer yet, southerners took such a dim view of these things. Cullen was eyeing him speculatively. Dorian was used to men looking at him but this was something new, simple curiosity with a hint of confusion. Not trying to decide what he could get from him, just unsure of what he had found. It was rather endearing. Dorian was reminded of the almost dog like magic following him.
“I wonder …”
“Hmm?”
“The magic, I still don’t think it is demonic, maybe it was already here in the castle and the demons took advantage of it to keep you alive. Regardless it feels like it wants to help. I suspect it may explain the dreams. We are both here now and if the magic truly is helpful then maybe it is giving you what you need.”
“And what is that?”
“Someone to guard you while you dream.”

The following days began to establish a routine. Dorian had insisted they coordinate their sleep patterns so as not to leave Cullen unprotected in the fade for longer than necessary. He spent a solid hour complaining about the bitter cold in the man’s tower before all but bodily dragging the man back to his own more comfortable rooms. Cullen looked far less like a savage lion and more like a nervous stray cat who had snuck in uninvited and expected to be chased out again at any moment. The magic almost seemed to purr and Dorian was not surprised to see Cullen’s chest of clothes sat by his wardrobe the following morning. Neither were used to sharing a bed with another person but after a few nights of awkward civility they relaxed into the comfort. Dorian in particular had never even considered the idea of having someone in his bed for something other than sex, his infrequent partners had all either left or kicked him out before their breathing had even slowed. He completely refused to so much as think the word cuddle.

After a shared breakfast, in Dorian’s opinion Cullen didn’t eat regularly enough, they would part for the morning. Dorian heading for the ever-filling library, and Cullen to walk the battlements. A chess set had appeared one day and they would play together after lunch and then Dorian would select a book and read out loud after dinner with Cullen curled against him on the couch by the fire until it was time for bed. The demons had begun to learn after being set on fire a few times and the nights would see them able to chat undisturbed. Dorian missed Cullen’s voice during the day, a soft yet rich voice that he would have given anything to hear during his waking hours. In truth, he was becoming fond of the man in either of his forms but he had to admit that human Cullen was one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen. A pity indeed that his inclinations lay elsewhere.

Around three months after Dorian had taken up residence, they were strolling together through the dream equivalent of the castle garden. Unlike the real thing this one was warm in the afternoon sun and rich with colourful plant life. They decided to sit in Dorian’s favourite spot, a gazebo covered in climbing roses. Deep red velvet petals twined all around them, the perfume reminded him of home. The feeling was wistful, it made Dorian want to talk about things normally best left alone.
“We haven’t seen any of your demons in a long time now Amatus.”
Cullen stiffened and pulled back a little from where he had been tucked against the mage’s side.
“No, I can’t say I’m unhappy about that.”
“Indeed, although I do wonder if you miss the form they took, someone you were close to I take it?”
Sorrow filled the beautiful amber eyes and Dorian cursed himself, why couldn’t he leave well alone? Why did he always have to pick at open wounds? This fragile tentative friendship was already so much more than he deserved but why, oh why did he have to push things?
“I’m sorry. I should have told you, after everything you have done for me…”
“No, I’m sorry Cullen, it was beyond insensitive, even for me.”
“She was a mage from the Circle, Amell was her name. I had such a crush on her, a silly thing really. I was so nervous I couldn’t even speak to her, literally ran once when she tried to be kind to me. I don’t know whether I would ever have got up the courage to do anything or if I would have just gotten over the infatuation. We had little in common to be honest and my only previous experience had been with a man during my training, at least the demons didn’t use his form. Brief though our affair was I can still think of him with fondness.”
Dorian was speechless. His wit failed him and all he could think of was what it must have been like to kiss Cullen.
“Dorian? Where did you go?”
Cullen took his hand and leaned into the stunned mage with a look of concern.
“Just surprised is all, forgive me Amatus, it must have been painful to think about.”
“It’s fine. I hadn’t thought about him in years to be honest, and besides, this right now is more than I could ever hope for.”
“Cullen, why did you bring me here?”
Cullen dropped his hand and stood, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“Your father, the way he spoke about you. He had seen me tear his men to pieces and yet he bargained you away to save himself. My family must think me dead but I know they loved me. I didn’t know you but it seemed wrong somehow.”
“You have the kindest heart Cullen. I’m sure your family would be overjoyed to hear you still live, have you ever considered writing to them?”
“Even before all this I was a poor correspondent, my sister Mia would always send back such angry replies when I took too long to write to her, I fear this time she would never forgive me, and besides, I’m a monster now.”
“You are no monster Amatus, my father deserves that title but never you. Maker knows how my mother puts up with him.”
“You never mentioned your mother before, what would she think of what he did?”
“I can’t imagine she knows; he probably spun some story of how I ran away or disgraced myself in a brothel again and got what I deserved. She would never have allowed him to harm me though, she may be rather cold but never cruel. I think in her own way she loves me.”
“You could write to her, I’m sure our magic castle could ensure a letter found its way.”
“You would allow that?”
“Dorian, you are my friend, not a prisoner. I thought you knew me better than that by now?”
“Forgive me, I will think on it.”
Cullen smiled and pulled him up and into an embrace, he was warm and so strong, it would be so easy to close the tiny gap and take his lips in a soft kiss.
“My dear Dorian, my friend.”
Of course, just friends.

Dorian considered the letter, he had written and rewritten it over several days and in the end had settled on a short account of his father’s treachery and his own current good health. He barely mentioned Cullen but took some care to assure his mother that he was well treated and that he missed her. The magic watched over his shoulder and as he sealed the missive in wax, he was unsurprised to see a large raven land on the balcony and stretch out a leg. Once the letter was gone he put it out of mind, a painful task completed.

Another month passed in much the same manner, they had their happy, rather domestic routine and Dorian was keeping his feelings for Cullen buried with some success. It wasn’t always easy. Familiarity had led him to see past the animal features and see hints of the man beneath, the same bone structure, the same scarred lips, the same smile like warm sunshine.

They lay dozing in their bed one morning. Dorian was half asleep, his fingers playing with the soft fur of Cullen’s mane. Their legs tangled together. Cullen half opened his eyes and nosed against the mage’s cheek with sleepy affection. Dorian felt warm breath play across his lips, he was so close, so beautiful. Could it truly hurt? He slowly closed the gap, melting into Cullen, wanting to taste him.

Squawk.

A raven perched on the desk, staring at them. A roll of parchment tied to one leg. They rolled away from each other and Cullen landed on the floor with a huff. Dorian hopped out of bed to help him up, his heart hammering in his ears. The paper was thick, heavy and sealed with his mother’s wax crest. The contents were devastating.

The mercenary company his father had hired has not been hard to find. The only hard bit had been sneaking out of the castle without Cullen noticing and trying to stop him. The man would forget him in time and he would be safe. Dorian had instructed the magic to take care of him, the magic had clearly been unhappy but had not prevented his departure. His mother had threatened Halward with exposure before the entire Magisterium if her son was not returned unharmed and to that end, he had hired a company of men to bring Dorian back. His mother had assured him that if his captor wouldn’t release him then he would be taken care of. That he could not allow. Nothing good could ever last for him but Cullen deserved so much more than he could give, at least he would be safe now.
“Dorian.”
“Father.”
Dorian was done playing the civil son. He sat wrapped in a blanket, staring at the floor of the tent as his father regarded him coldly.
“I see you are unharmed although of course I am glad of it.”
“Only because you need to return me in one piece.”
“Indeed, it seems that once again you are my problem. I had thought the beast would have finished you, I wonder how it is that you seem so well? Or maybe I do not wish to know.”
“Don’t you dare call him a beast; he is a better man than you could ever be.”
“You are enslaved, no matter. Once the beast is dead, we will return home and you will call off your mother. Afterwards you may go where you please.”
“Dead? What have you done?”
“Stupid boy, did you think I would let him live? He knows too much and dumb beast or not he needs to die. We will march on his castle, kill him, and take whatever magic we can find. I’m sure you will thank me when his spell is broken. Now, get some rest, we leave at first light.”

Dorian crept out of the tent as soon as his father was asleep. They would follow him as soon as he was missed but all he could think of was getting to Cullen, he had to warn him.

The castle was quiet and still. The magic hid in corners and watched warily as Dorian made his way through the great hall and up to their room. Cullen lay on the bed, Dorian’s farewell letter shredded across the floor. He didn’t move as the mage approached but Dorian could hear the little sobs that shook the man’s chest.
“Amatus?”
Cullen didn’t move.
“Cullen look at me, this is real.”
He shook his head and curled further into himself. The motion so familiar from those early days when the man cowered behind a purple barrier.
“I’m so sorry. I had to leave to keep you safe but they are coming and we need to move.”
Cullen sat up and took in the dishevelled travel worn state of the mage. Dorian was covered in mud, his hair and moustache askew. No demon would ever mimic that.
He pulled Dorian into his arms and wept silently.
Below them in the courtyard the castle gate exploded.

Cullen snarled and ran for the stairs. Dorian cursed and took after him but the man was too fast in his animal form and the mage soon fell behind. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, Cullen was going to get himself killed. The two of them couldn’t stand up to a whole company of soldiers, especially one led by a magister. The magic shuddered and began to wind itself around Dorian, the mage was pulled off course as he was tugged towards the catacombs.
“Stop this, they are going to kill him. Why aren’t you helping him?”
Shouting at a sentient castle as it dragged him away to hide was really the final straw, if he survived this, he would be having a long chat with whatever remained of his sanity. He got the impression the magic thought him an idiot. Dorian stumbled through the door and into a crypt. Skeletons lay in alcoves from floor to ceiling, many still wearing battered suits of armour and carrying the weapons they had been interred with. Dorian began to laugh.

Cullen knelt on the ground in the courtyard. A dozen bodies lay scattered about and their blood matted his golden fur. The remaining twenty or so men had managed to pin him down and as Halward approached one of them yanked his head up by his mane.
“Where is my son beast?”
Cullen snarled. A soldier kicked him in the ribs.
“I’ll ask again before my men take this place apart and I burn you alive. Return him to me and I will make your end quick.”
A drumbeat sounded from somewhere in the castle and the main door to the keep swung open. Dorian strolled through, staff outstretched, purple sparks writhing across his arms. Footsteps came from the great hall, a great many feet marching in formation, keeping pace with the beat of the drum.
“You will not touch him father. This is your last chance to leave.”
“Foolish boy, who is that with you?”
Dorian grinned, the shadows throwing his face into a skeletal rictus before he stepped forward and his face softened as he saw Cullen rise to his feet. The soldiers looked uncertain.
“Amatus, move.”
Halward readied a spell but Cullen was too fast, he sprang away heading straight for his mage. A legion pored forth from the great hall, dozens of armed skeletons descending without pity on the soldiers as they tried to run. Halward screamed at them to stop and then turned in fury towards the two men.
“Leave now father, we are done.”
Halward threw a fireball at Dorian but before the mage could react Cullen leapt into its path and roared in agony as he stopped it from touching the man he loved. A broken howl erupted from the mage as he ran towards where Cullen had fallen into the snow. A flick of his wrist sent the legion of the dead at Halward. Dorian didn’t hear his father’s dying screams as he batted out the remaining flames and took the crumpled form in his arms.
“Amatus please, don’t leave me, please Cullen.”
Dorian sobbed as he tried to find a heartbeat. It was there but faint.
Footsteps by his side made him look up. Two skeletons stood by his side with a stretcher. The magic kept him upright as several more lifted the unconscious man onto it and they began to carry him back into the castle. Dorian spared a last look at the courtyard; the rest of his summoned troops were collecting the bodies up and stacking them into a pile. Clearly the castle was guiding their actions now. The mage pulled the doors shut behind him as the pyre began to burn.

Cullen slept as Dorian stripped off the charred remains of his clothes and bathed his wounds in cool water before laying beside him on their bed. He meant to keep a vigil but his mana was drained from the battle and his limited attempts at healing magic and he dozed off. Cullen was waiting for him in the fade. His human form was unharmed and Dorian drank in the sight of him as he sat on their shared bed.
“What were you thinking Amatus? You could have been killed.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”
Dorian sat beside him and thought back with some surprise, how long had he been using that word without really thinking about it? This was it, never mind his father, this was what would finish them but Cullen was looking at him with what could only be described as wonder.
“It means beloved, the one I love.”
“I love you too Dorian.”
A tear slid down Dorian’s cheek as they finally closed the distance and kissed. Cullen wiped his cheek and pulled him in closer, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his ears. Dorian squirmed and captured his mouth again deepening the kiss. He tasted wonderful.

Dorian woke tangled around Cullen, as he usually did. He lay quietly enjoying the peace of the morning and Cullen’s warm embrace before he remembered his injuries and pulled back alarmed. He blinked, confused as Cullen opened his eyes. Pale skin, untouched by flames, glowed in the morning light. A human face looked at him in shock.
“Dori?”
“Amatus?”
The magic smiled.