Dynast felt it, almost like a tickle in the back of his mind. His troops were reporting to him from the astral plane.

They had already killed one for him.

That was something to make him happy, at least. It made him feel better as he looked at Lafitte, lying there in his bed. It made him feel less like killing him.

No, don't. He's useful.

Oh, but Dynast so loved a dead surinni. And the bastard wouldn't talk anyways. If the things Dynast had done to him already hadn't made him talk, then nothing else would do it. He was a useless dead end for information.

Dynast was just so angry. Always so angry these days. And it was all Xelloss' fault.

So angry at Xelloss.

But at least he had a way of getting back at the traitorous priest. Oh yes. When Xelloss started hearing of the deaths, he'd know who was responsible. He'd know it was his own fault for abandoning his master.

He'd realize that the only way to stop Dynast was to come back to him.

But Dynast...hated...waiting.

He was right not to kill Lafitte just to make himself feel better. The surinni was useful, very useful. Dynast could solve his frustrations with Xelloss through him. Who cared if he was unconscious while Dynast had his fun? Someone had to do Xelloss' job when the priest was away.

He doesn't even look a thing like him. He's exotic, and that's a desirable kind of beauty, but it means I can't even pretend. Dynast sunk his hands into rusty brown hair, through the light copper streak. Too long. Too coarse. He wanted to yank it right out of the damn thing's head.

Dynast stroked the surinni's face with his fingers, suppressing the urge to scratch it. Too long, too sharp. Not soft and pale and subtle, as it should have been. "It's just such a shame that you don't look like your master."

That was right! Lafitte was Xelloss' servant. Dynast had never really given it much thought, but he could feel the ethereal chain that connected master to servant. Xelloss at least hadn't had the indignity to call it his friend. He must have still held himself a level above the thing. Made him perform...tasks...

Dynast smiled, the grin cutting across his face in some wicked twist. At least Lafitte wouldn't be unaccustomed to the tasks Dynast would make him perform. Xelloss couldn't have resisted using him in that function. After all, what other use did a surinni have?

Xelloss is my servant...and if Lafitte was his servant, Lafitte is my servant too. It was like they were all connected by a chain...

A chain.

An idea sprung up in Dynast's mind, germinating from the fertile soils of envy and anger. Lafitte was useful. Oh yes...very useful. Dynast would have to wait for the surinni to wake up before he tried his theory out, but if he was right...

...then Xelloss wasn't so very far away after all.

It was a hut, just like the one she'd woken up in. It was bigger, and had its own modifications that Firia could only imagine were for special purposes, for whatever this 'Qus' did that made her so important. Firia didn't care, barely looked at the giant monument it was built in front of. She didn't care about anything but the fact that she could feel Xelloss. She could feel him close.

She ran.

"H-hey!!" Jaque yelled, reaching for her. "Don't just-- you have to be careful around here, you haven't ever been surinnar before!!"

Toh put a hand on his arm, smiling. "Let her go. She has her instincts, and they're leading her to Xelloss. Instincts are what build our world, aren't they? She's off to a good start."

Jaque sighed, and let Firia run off to where she wished. "I was happy to hear that we trust her, but...I'm still a little wary of letting her go to Xelloss."

Toh raised a thin lilac eyebrow. "That's a little odd from you. Weren't you the one arguing that we shouldn't seprarate them while they slept? To be honest, I thought you were going to put a little too much trust in her. ...As you so often tend to."

Jaque bit his lip. His face, normally bright and happy, was ill-suited to the troubled look that it currently wore. "I just...I don't think it's Firia. I'm just afraid. Xelloss just doesn't show up injured here. He knows we don't have anything that could really heal him. Remember the last time he was here and hurt?"

"...That was a very long time ago, Jaque, and an extremely...unique situation." She looked at him. "You're not thinking about Xelloss, are you? That time...wasn't troubling because of Xelloss."

The surinni nodded. "That's what I'm thinking about, Toh. What I'm feeling."

Toh was quiet for a moment. She finally sighed. "Damn you and your hunches. I feel it now too."

"I'm sor-"

"No, don't. Don't worry about this. Just think of other things. I'll be the worrier." Toh crossed her arms. "Besides, I'm blaming that damned Lafitte for all of this. He always has a lot to answer for, and I"ll just bet this is his fault too."

"Heh-heh!" Jaque smiled and set out for Qus's station again. "If you're on about him again, things might really be as they should."

Hands very lovingly carressed Lafitte's neck and squeezed him awake. There was no pause for the surinni's choking. Dynast only smiled, leaned down, and gave Lafitte's cheek a long lick. "Now now. Just stay quiet, and enjoy yourself." As the struggling began, the grin only stretched wider.

"Yes, just like that."

Because Lafitte couldn't really resist him at all, not when his mind was being climbed like a ladder...

"...Why isn't he waking up?"

Xelloss opened his eyes, only to find himself back where he started.

In pain.

Cold.

Lying on the floor of Dynast's bedchambers.

No. No no no no no- He was still there. Lying there. Bishop lying on the floor ten feet away, quartz eyes staring back at him. Face tiny and smiling and obedient. Perfect servitude in miniature.

His future looking back at him.

"NO!" But he couldn't even have that defiance. It was followed by a chain of harsh coughs as soon as it emerged from his throat. Pain tore through his lungs, the ragged gasps and shreiks echoing in tempo with the throb in his back. The ice in his back. The overpowering, gripping ice...

...taking over his mind...

"No." One last ragged whisper, and it finally dragged him into oblivion.

. . .

...lifted up from darkness.

By the shoulders. Held by the shoulders and pulled up...close...

"You tried to find me. You shouldn't do that...Xelloss...you shouldn't have, you couldn't walk in that condition!"

Being chastised for something he wasn't actually doing...had no intention of finding that bastard, that...augh, something pulling at him...pulling at his back--

Xelloss didn't even realize the screams came from him. They were distant. Echoing. Leaving him cold.

So cold...

"Too late to be feeding you...I thought I could heal you, make it easier. But it has to be now." Dynast gripped the handle of the knife.

Xelloss suddenly knew where he was. Exactly what position. Exactly what was being done to him. Dynast had laid him face down on the floor -- the smooth floor, the teleport sigil hadn't worked but it HAD vanished without betraying Xelloss. In preparation for something. For something quite obvious indeed.

"I need you to swear the oath, Xelloss. It has to be now, or I won't be able to unsheath it without hurting you. If you swear it now I can pull this away and you'll be safe. I was stalling, I'm sorry. I know you wanted this sooner...I was foolish." Dynast's voice was smooth, calm, urgent, but concerned. Genuinely concerned.

Xelloss knew that concern damned him the most.

"Come on." Dynast's voice coaxed gently. "I know you can find the strength."

Xelloss' mind lurched. Now? Now he had to make the oath, to swear -- he couldn't -- HE WASN'T GOING TO -- not now! He had almost made it! He had been so close!

He couldn't...he couldn't do such a thing.

"Please." Dynast's hand lay against his shoulder. The weight of comfort. Of command. "You've suffered too long already."

The cold dug into his back as if to emphasize the King's point. Such a sharp point. And cruel...merciless...it was really going to take him. Right now. Rend Xelloss into some empty husk-doll for Dynast to play with until he grew tired of the game. There was no escape. No options. And no time.

...He had one other choice.

"Xelloss? Can you still speak?" That awful concern. That awful, awful concern.

Serve him willingly as himself, or lose all semblance of self and then serve him.

...Wasn't it the same thing?

"Xelloss?"

Firia. All thoughts came back to her, because there was no Zelas to think of anymore. All he could think of was, what was better for Firia?

...A doll couldn't do anything for anyone. A doll would never hesitate. A doll would never hold back, would never be able to disguise disobedience as accidental. A doll would not care what Dynast did to her.

A rattle crawled out from Xelloss' throat just as Dynast opened his mouth for another concerned query. Xelloss winced, tried not to cough. That would only make things so much worse. He swallowed, tried to get any wetness into that frozen, dry cave. He had to speak. Had to...past rust and pain...sorrow and ache...had to speak the words.

"I swear my self to you, my King."

Dynast pulled out the knife at the very last syllable. Somehow it was painless. Easy. Slipped free, coaxed to be gentle by such a simple oath.

Xelloss felt chains winding around his soul from such a simple oath, and realized that this was all he could take--

"Good boy." Such praise had never resonated so strongly in so few words.

Blackness, and he was Dynast's. He could just barely feel his Lord stroking his hair before he gave out.

...Lafitte's hair was too coarse to be Xelloss's.

Dynast straddled him and covered his mouth in a kiss anyways. He didn't need it to be real. For Lafitte, it was real.

And for Xelloss, wherever he was...it was real too, right now.

Firia bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked up at Qus, her fingers twined with Xelloss'. His hand was limp, his face pale, cold...his eyes closed, no matter how hard she tried to rouse him. "Why isn't he waking up?"

Dynast plunged his hands into Lafitte's hair again, sighing at the lack of protest. The surinni had given out, it seemed. Or perhaps...

The King felt a moan between his teeth.

...Perhaps the fool had finally learned to lay back and enjoy it. Either way, Dynast would reap the benefits of cooperation, starting at the mouth...

tracing his tongue along the lips, biting at them, tasting and chuckling...

...working cruelly downwards. And while he did this, he was up to actions much more devious elsewhere.

Lafitte writhed against the sheets, his mind far too gone to convince him that any other option existed. It had been taken. Borrowed. Dynast needed a conduit, and Lafitte was unfortunately perfect for the task.

Xelloss looked up through a complete haze. Mind, soul, eyes. All foggy, all veiled...

...but not veiled against everything.

Dangling strands of Dynast's hair stroked his face not even a real veil, a brief warning before the King's lips greeted Xelloss. It was a tentative brush, just a way of welcoming...but then he came back, opened his mouth and held it against Xelloss'.

Once wasn't nearly enough.

Xelloss felt his own lips being prodded, eased apart by Dynast's tongue. He opened to his master.

--felt something sink like a stone in his chest, maybe his dignity, maybe hope--

There was a very brief but thorough exploration of Xelloss' mouth, and then Dynast stopped taking liberties with his servant. He lay against Xelloss on top of me, I'm in a bed, in his bed and concentrated...and then breathed.

Xelloss felt himself inhale his Lord's breath. It wasn't even an action he'd done automatically. It was an order.

Breathe it in.

The servant felt more than just air in that breath. Warmth. Sustenance. And...

His fists balled up the sheets at his sides.

Dynast only breathed more into him, easing in the energy. Just a little bit at a time. Xelloss couldn't handle too much. But he had to have it, no matter the amount. Had to take his medicine. How else would he get better? Dynast felt a moan of protest, tasted it struggle in his mouth. Putting up a fight? It was too late for that.

But Xelloss was troublesome by nature. Dynast repressed a smile. There would be more chances to chastise, even now.

That would be for later. For now, he simply breathed into Xelloss. Little by little. He had to take his master's essence.

Xelloss couldn't do more than clench at the bedding. He was too weak for more struggle than that. He was sworn to his new master, he couldn't fight him. He could only make his tiny struggle and cry out again. And again. He felt Dynast's hand at the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair. Holding him still, just in case. Giving the order to stay still, just in case Xelloss thought he would be able to wrench away. Another muffled cry. There was no way to stop them! Every bit of his master's essence hurt, tore at something fundamental in him, swelled up in him like poison.

He had been created by Zelas, no matter what oaths he was under now.

His cries were cut off halfway every time Dynast exhaled. Xelloss had to inhale, had to take it in -- and then just as quickly exhale, as something inside him tried to push it out--

He wasn't even trying to resist. It was just his base nature doing this. Hard-coded survival instincts. Oil repelling water.

Another attempt to push out the invasion, and then Dynast's fingers tightened in his hair. His Lord inhaled. Suddenly Xelloss couldn't help but cry out, had to, had to voice the struggle, had to give sound to everything inside him that rebelled--

Dynast sucked in a long breath and took out a bit of that rebellious energy.

Xelloss didn't have time to react, couldn't even properly sort out his scrambling thoughts as his master exhaled into him again, easing in His energy, and inhaled to take Zelas's away. In, out. In, out. Slowly, carefully, methodically.

The servant couldn't even ball up the sheets anymore. There was no room for struggle, he couldn't control his cries. His Lord was commanding those protests just as easily as he was commanding everything else that was Xelloss. With each breath in that the Lord took, Xelloss tangibly felt his master's command to cry out.

He obeyed.

Dynast slowed his breaths as he felt his servant's panic take a more severe edge that he didn't like. He slowed the pace, dragged it...finally came to a stop, and pulled away.

Cold air stroked Xelloss' lips, and the servant felt a relief that almost inspired prayer. He lay there for a few moments and just breathed. Pure, untainted air. Cold. Clean.

Dynast watched the servant's chest rise and fall. Then, Xelloss began to curl onto his side, his arms and knees tucking in. Before the King could say anything about it, Xelloss' lips parted and uttered a sound. A whimper. A sob. A choke. The servant curled tighter, balled his fists in front of his face, and coughed up a series of sobs.

...He's sick. Dynast didn't know how the treatment would affect Xelloss astrally. Mentally...he was infusing obedience, bit by bit. The hard way. But Xelloss' actual health -- it was real for Xelloss, wasn't it? And in some place, where Xelloss wasn't dreaming but was in fact existing, this was hurting him.

...Dynast smiled. He liked that. He watched Xelloss wrap his arms around his own chest and cringe. He tasted pain with that cringe. Xelloss' chest hurt. His ribs hurt. His poor back hurt most of all. His dream body and his astral body couldn't agree if the knife had left a wound or not. They couldn't even agree which was the true body, for that matter. The priest let out another whimper.

The King opened his lips to give another order, then decided against. Xelloss was barely conscious at this point. There was the chance that he couldn't even hear his King. No sense in testing him if it was meaningless.

He would save it for when it counted.

Instead he gathered Xelloss up and into his arms, giving his poor priest his shoulder to lean into. Xelloss's cheek rubbed against the fabric of Dynast's cloak. He murmured something incomprehensible, and then Dynast felt him pass out and fall against him.

...Which meant that where he actually was, he was waking up.

It was Lafitte under him now, not against him, moaning like he'd never had a protest in the first place. Dynast could feel the surinni begin to gain a little more awareness. A little more sanity, now that he wasn't just a ladder to Xelloss. But that was fine too. Now he could just be something to warm Dynast's bed. Like a good pet.

Xelloss woke up and clung. He wasn't sure what to at first. He needed something to cling to, he needed an anchor, he needed something to remind him that he was awake. Something solid. Something that ohpleasegodsanddemons wasn't Dynast. His mind was a field of terror and fuzz and no thoughts, no coherencies. He could be clinging to Dynast right now in his attempt to flee him. He didn't know. He didn't care. He was SO SCARED. He shook so bad that his fingers almost slipped away from whatever, or whoever, he'd grabbed on to.

It took him quite some time indeed to realize that he was in Firia's arms. He drew back, vision barely focusing. Too weak to see. Too weak too...cold...nnh-- He fell into her after his vision blurred into nothing, leaning into her shoulder. Like into Dynast. Except...no, that wasn't real. Please, let that not be real.

...Firia. Firia. He heard himself moan the name into her shoulder. He felt her hand against his cheek, her lips follow it. Her embrace. Completely lacking any ulterior motive. Just comfort. Just...food.

So hungry. And there was pain in her to eat. He was too hungry to think of any way that could be bad. He buried his head into her shoulder and wept. So tired. So damn hungry. Thank you. Thank you, thank you--

--you're welcome.

Xelloss stiffened for a moment. How could Firia say it that way. Telepathy. What...how was she..how did he...where was he? Senses blacked out. Barely awake. No Dynast. No Dynast here. Please please. He mentally scanned. His mind flailed out. Who was here who was here--

His fingers tensed into Firia's shoulder. HOW--he was surinnar. That was it.

...How the hell did that happen?

But it didn't matter to Xelloss. He was already untensing. SAFE. SAFE. Surinnar and he was safe. From. Dynast.

He began to cry.