~The Only Prize Worthy of a King~

He ran. Never before he ran so hand or so fast. Air rushed in and out of him like he couldn't keep a steady hold on it. His leg- his entire body- was screaming at him to stop, please, stop. But he couldn't. Not when the cackling and hollering of wicked creatures echoed throughout the forest, the stomping of their feet against fallen leaves deafening his own noise.

Taran could only vaguely remember how he came into this situation. The details that led up to this, though, were perfectly clear. And it all started a few months ago. Even with the magical sword, Taran couldn't fight off all the Horned King's minions. Surrounded and cornered with Eilonwy and FFlewddur behind him, he made a deal with the Devil. In exchange for Eilonwy's and Fflewddur's freedom, he would stay and never run. Never try to escape so long as he lived. The daemon king, with a wicked crackle, granted the request. Watching the pair go, the sword slung over Fflewddur's back, was one of the hardest things that the boy ever had to do. Eilonwy whispered, as they hugged goodbye, that they would return to save him. He could only tighten his hold around her and let a single tear fall.

The red haired youth was expecting dark thing- torture, starvation, abuse- once a collar was locked around his throat. But none of that came. While his room wasn't the greatest- a cold, creaky bed, one lone window high up in a stone wall, a metal door-, it wasn't the dungeon. His food- while not of the greatest quality- was well rounded and always accompanied by lukewarm water. When he was allowed out, no one harassed him if only because the Horned King would be next to him, the chain connected to his collar wrapped around his flesh less hand.

This strange arrangement was coming on to its six month mark when the castle became under attacked. Lead by some small leagued demon who wanted to gain power and fame, the castle was stormed in the middle of the night. While the sound of dying soldiers and the clashing of weaponry filled the air, some of the demon's minions kidnapped him for some strange reason. He fought and yelled as they ran off with him into the surrounding forest. By pure chance, the human notice a slightly lower part in the ground that was covered in thick looping roots. Throwing his body to the side, he dragged his kidnappers, who weren't watching their footing at all, to that area where, in a mess of yelling and swinging limbs, they tripped and fell in. Taran managed to avoid the mess by jumping off to the side once their hold on him fell away. And as soon as that happened, he ran, not caring where he was going, the need to escape from his kidnappers fueling him.

And now, what felt like hours later, he was still running, his pursuers closing in on him.

From the corner of his eye, Taran watched a flash of silver coming towards him before a sharp pain through his leg. Taran fell with a thump and a hiss, holding onto his now bloody leg, an arrow sticking out from it. With horror filled eyes, he watched as the demons came running towards him, their ugly faces laughing. Suddenly there was lightening and the sound of neighing in the dark air, the sound of galloping hooves coming from behind the fallen human boy. Compelled to see what was now coming, the red head looked behind him only to have his blood freeze in his veins. A large black stallion was coming towards him, air puffing out of its' nostrils. But it was the rider who made Taran freeze, temporarily forgetting his bleeding leg. His hood completely concealing his face, the Horned King rode the horse like he was coming up from the deepest part of Hell.

The horse stopped right next to the boy, stooping down slightly so the daemon king could quickly sweep up the boy into his lap, a hand pressing Taran to his chest while its twin was intertwined into the horse's leather reins. The teenager looked over his shoulder to find his kidnappers on the ground, begging for this lives.

"P-Please forgive us! It was by the order of our lord!"

The king's gravelly voice rumbled in his chest, a shiver running down Taran's spine at the sound. "You attacked my castle. You tried to steal what is rightfully mine. There is no forgiveness." The ground opened up below the demons, their screams becoming louder as fire greedily turned their flesh into cinders. The hole closed with a thump, smoke twirling up from its' jagged mouth.

The horse snorted before it turned to walk back to the castle. Taran shivered as the Horned King's fingers slid down his side, his eyes widening and his fingers tightening their hold in the red cloak at the first touch to his skin. Instead of the feel of cold bone, warm skin pressed into his hip, long sharp nails lightly scratching the flesh. The boy snapped his head down to stare- his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open- at the large hand- now covered in flesh and skin and look like a human's- that was cradling his hip where his shirt was risen up and his pants hanging slightly low on his hip bone. A deep chuckle from the king shook his fingers, which started to rub the human's skin.

"What's wrong, boy? Never seen another man's hand before?"

Taran snapped his head up, his green eyes ablaze. "Excuse me if I'm surprised that you aren't a skeleton right now!", snapped the boy. The fire in his eyes quickly transferred to his cheeks as he was pulled closer to the king. His hands came up to be pressed in between their chests, the sound of a heartbeat that wasn't his own beating underneath them. The boy's blush grew larger and dark when he finally saw the Horner King's face, the larger male's breath brushing against his face as he said,

"That commonly known form of mine is something to create fear with. This is my true form."

The only word that could describe the king was beautiful. Lightly tan skin covered a sharply defined face- from narrow eyes to a hooked nose to a sharp jaw line. Deep ebony colored hair was swept to the right, some strands now tickling Taran's cheeks. The large horns were still present on his forehead, but were now slightly better taken care of. But what really held the boy's attention was his eyes- dark red with slit pupils that held amusement in them along with something else. Something that made Taran feel as though fire was flowing wildly through his veins.

"Your highness!"

The human looked over his shoulder to find that they were already back at the castle, which looked as though it was never attacked. Creep came running up to the horse, walking along side it. "Sire! Is everything well?"

"Bring a fresh rag and a bucket of clean water to my room for the boy." The goblin nodded quickly, stealing a quick glance at the boy whose head pressed against the king's shoulder before looking back at his lord. "Where is the demon?"

"Down in the dungeons, Sire. We forced him to repair the castle."

"Very good, Creeper."

The king got down rather gracefully from the horse before he picked up the former pig assistant bridal style. Letting out a small squeak, he buried his red face into a broad shoulder as he was carried to the king's room.

A sudden thought entered Taran's head- there wasn't any pain coming from his leg. He looked down and gently touched the spot where the wound should be, surprise overtaking him when he discovered that it was already healed. "A simple healing spell." He looked up to look away when he found the Horner King staring at him. Muttering a 'thank you' under his breath, the boy kept his eyes to the floor, only glancing up to take in the king's room- appropriately decorated for a king with the same dark gloom as the rest of the castle. He was placed on a large canopy bed that was surprising soft before thick fingers cupped his chin and pulled his head to look at the king. His hood was off, allowing his slightly long braid of hair to fall over his shoulder. For someone who was supposed to be an evil king, he was breathtaking.

"Lucifer."

"What?"

"My name," a smirk formed on thin lips. "I was named after the angle that refused to bow to the humans and was casted down into Hell after losing the war in Heaven." Taran's breath became caught in his throat, his cheek once again ablaze. He could only watch as the Horn-as Lucifer rolled up his bloody pant leg, his touch causing goose bumps to rise on his leg. The king grabbed the rag that was next to a wash bin on the ground and dunked it into the clear water. Cupping his thigh to place it on his shoulder, Lucifer started to wash the blood away, his hold still strong on Taran's chin. The boy's tongue ran across his suddenly dry lips, dark ruby red eyes following the motion hungrily.

Lucifer leaned in closer, to where, when he spoke, his breath ghosted over the boy's lips. "What's wrong, boy?", the daemon king purred, "You seem tense." Sharp nails scratched lightly across the wet flesh. The red head gulped before making a move to free his leg as he said, "I have to get back to my room now." The hand on his captured leg moved- allowing the leg to fall back to the ground- to pull on the broken chain still attached to the collar around the boy's throat. The hand on his chin glided across the line of his jaw and cheek, tracing the outline of a now pink ear, before becoming entangled in short red locks.

"No you aren't."

"Excuse me?"

"I said," Lucifer pushed Taran back so that he laid spread across the bed, his head on the pile of numerous pillows, "you aren't leaving." The king pressed himself between the open 'V' of the boy's legs, keeping him pinned to the bed. The red coat was discarded, revealing a strong chest and thick biceps that were barely hidden by a black long sleeved shirt. Taran gulped down the sudden lump in his throat, gasping when his arms were pinned over his head. Lucifer leaned in close once again, purring, "You are a prize worthy of me, more so than the cauldron." Those were the last words spoken before thin lips caught young full lips in a hungry kiss, the start of a process that forever marked the boy as his and his alone.