Present

The distant howl of some animal interrupted their heartwarming exchange, and Moren pulled away from Lucio. His eyes roamed down the various pathways the labyrinth offered. Was there something out there that didn't want to kill them? Moren certainly hoped so.

Right after the sound, snow began to fall. Two heads looked up, and Moren tried to suppress his shivering. He really wasn't dressed for winter.

A freezing gale blasted over the wall. It dumped a mound of snow at Lucio's feet. The Count's scowl should have melted it. "Snow here, too! For once, can't we go somewhere nice?"

Moren exhaled. Had he already forgotten? Maybe, the distraction of the Devil had pulled it out of his head. "Lucio, when the beetles swarmed us, your emotions were affecting them."

"Oh!" His eyes turned into twin moons. "That. Right. So you're saying the snow."

"The snow's probably following you, too."

Surprisingly, he cracked a small smile. "Alright, Lucio. Think warm, sunny, happy thoughts! Beaches, summer!"

To his credit, the wind subsided the least bit. Unfortunately, it was still cold. Moren's skin tightened like it was trying to shrivel up for warmth.

Lucio threw a hand in the air. "Ugh! I really thought that would work." He turned to his partner in crime. "So, any ideas for how to get out of here? You said the door closed behind us."

Moren paused, listening for anything. There was nothing to hear. Everything was dead silent minus their conversation. He shrugged. "There might be another exit. Let's try to make our way through it."

Lucio's confidence wavered with an apprehensive look to the vines that lingered in dry husks upon the stone. "Uh, I've never been good at this. I got lost in the hedge maze all the time, buuut I'll take it over another round with the Devil."

Peeking down each path they came across, Moren looked for signs of differences. Regrettably, each corridor was disturbingly uniform. Only small vines marked any kind of alteration.

For lack of any better choices, Moren took the left path. He trailed his pointed nails across the wall, grazing over limestone striations and bumps. Beneath his feet, the snow crunched.

It took time, but they eventually made it to a small and overgrown clearing. The air was musty, thick, and chilly. It was resemblant of breathing in cold soup.

"Gross," Lucio complained beside him. He rubbed a hunk of mud off his boots using a nearby stump. "What do you think we're supposed to—" His jaw sealed with an audible snap.

Backpedaling in the snow, he nearly tripped over his own feet. Moren cocked a brow, but Lucio didn't elaborate too much. He spoke in an alarmed tone, "No! Oh, no no. We have to leave. Right now."

Curious, Moren followed his fearful gaze. What he saw didn't disturb him in the slightest. Two roughly-hewn headstones rested in the earth. They stood at odd angles over fresh, open graves.

The first headstone had Lucio's name engraved in an elegant carving. The second had… Moren frowned. Yes, the second most definitely did have his name. He moved to take a closer look.

Seeing something sticking out of the grave dirt, the magician muttered, "Well, how do you do?"

With knees bent, he dusted away snow and dirt to pluck up the item that had been half-buried in the snow. It was a tarot card. The simple sight of it had joy surging through Moren's heart. Asra?

Flipping over the decorated back, Moren observed the face of the card. Death stared back at him. With a scythe held in front of their skeletal, horse-like face, the thirteenth of the Arcana rested in Moren's fingers.

The comforting voice of a much less enraged Arcana whispered through Moren's head. It wasn't in any understandable language, but the magician could have deciphered it had someone not been tugging on his arm. He whipped his head around to scowl at the Count.

Lucio yapped, "Did you not see our names on those graves? Let's go already!" He sounded just as scared as he had when facing off against the Devil.

"Don't get your cape in a twist. Wait while I try to…" The whisper of Death grew too light to hear. Moren held the card closer. He put it up to his ear like that would help them communicate better, but it was a fruitless effort. Death wisped away as fast as it'd come.

"Wait!" Lucio broke for a second time. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I am. Here, look." Turning the card to face him, Moren showed off Death's image. Lucio flinched back and shook his head. The Count looked ready to cross himself like a superstitious Catholic.

"What does that have to do with anything?" His voice wavered a bit.

"I don't know," Moren replied in a noncommittal tone. "I would, though, if I could focus just a little bit more."

The Count teetered on his heels, and Moren's blood drained. Was he going to leave the magician here alone? They had agreed that they were in this together.

Instead of running immediately, Lucio backed up as far as he could. His eyes stayed locked on the empty graves. He looked as if he were waiting for something to rise from them, and immediately, Moren understood. Count Lucio was afraid of death.

What a sad thing to be scared of. Death was a transformation, a change to something new. If things never died off, people would still be wearing those hideous togas and bedsheets out in public.

Eyes on the grave dirt, Lucio stated, "Fine. Do your magic thing, then can we please go?"

After nodding at his scared Count, Moren returned to Death. The card had been warm before, but now it sat cold—cold and ominously silent.

Determined, Moren steadied his breathing and focused as much as he could. Those words Asra warned him not to think too deeply on came from his lips. In the Arache language, he whispered back, "Death. A transformation, a transition from the old to the new. Come on, guy. What are you trying to tell me?"

There came no clear answer, but something danced on Moren's tongue. It played around in his conscious mind like a fluttering moth. On a sigh, the magician tucked the card in his pocket.

"You're, uh, taking that with us?" Lucio asked.

"The answer might come to me later."

Lucio gave an irritated huff from his nostrils and grabbed the fabric of Moren's pink sleeve. The Count all but drug the magician out of the graveyard. When they returned to the bulk of the labyrinth, Moren was sure they had retraced their steps from before.

Yet, something was different. When they were clear of the graveyard, they made it to what might have been an unfamiliar intersection? Moren wasn't sure. He was more worried about the Death in his pocket.

On a whim, Moren took a right turn. The Count wasn't far behind him. He kept a close pace. Every now and then, the backs of their hands would brush together. With each bit of contact, Lucio would look at him.

The reaction made him frown. Was Lucio thinking about the card in Moren's pocket, or was he thinking about what they'd done in the labyrinth a few hours ago? The magician knew which one of the two he'd rather be focused on.

Teeth took hold of the back of Moren's bottom lip, and he tried to keep his face out of Lucio's line of sight. Just thinking back to the way Moren had dropped to his knees made his cheeks flame. He hadn't been trying to get Lucio to orgasm.

He'd actually been a little more invested in his own pleasure, to be honest. The way they had pressed into each other was better than putting on a new pair of tailored gloves. The two of them had fit, narrow hips to Moren's wider ones.

Then, there was the feel of Lucio's shaft. The Count had been as hard as the metal he wore. How could anyone expect Moren not to rub up against that length when being wound around the Count felt so great?

He hadn't had sex since he'd woken up from his coma/disaster/whatever had stolen his memories. He'd been too busy running a shop and learning how to "human" all over again. Sex had been reduced to smutty romance novels and bawdy plays that left Moren's body humming with suppressed tension. Basically, the magician had masturbated. A lot.

Thus, when a virile, attractive person expressed an interest in him, Moren took the guy up on his offer, and it had been just as good as fantasy had cracked it up to be. In the magician's eyes, he was practically a thirty-two year old virgin. How terrifying! He couldn't imagine all of the kinks, positions, and lovers he'd missed out on.

Really, though, had Moren even had a lover before the amnesia had struck? Was there someone out there in the world who wondered where their spark and flame infused mage had run off to?

Not interested in digging too deep into thoughts that would induce a headache, Moren looked back at Lucio. The handsome Count had a worried crease between his drawn brows. He was peering at Moren like the magician was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

That was not the look someone had when they were daydreaming about grinding on a stiff cock in the middle of a danger zone. Face red from the direction of his thoughts, Moren blurted, "What is it?"

"Your lips are turning blue," Lucio pointed out. He reached forward, catching the magician by complete surprise. Body gone still, Moren let the Count run a thumb over his bottom lip. He could barely feel the contact.

The realization was a cruel reminder of the predicament the two of them were in. All thoughts of Lucio's lower half went down the proverbial drain. Oblivious to Moren's filthy daydreams, the Count eased in towards him.

"Come here," Lucio encouraged. He put an arm around the magician's shoulders. "And walk faster. It'll keep us both warm."

Though his skin heated from blush, it wasn't enough to fight off the chill in the air. Snowflakes still danced on a frigid wind. They laid on Moren's mostly exposed skin and lingered.

To the magician, Lucio explained, "You should tuck your arms and hands in. Keeps your fingers from freezing."

Though Moren was curious as to how the Count of a warm city like Vesuvia knew all of these helpful tricks, he obeyed. Lucio set the pace for them. It was brisk but energizing, much better than Moren's daydreaming stroll through this frozen maze of stone walls and dead vines.

Beside him, Lucio gave off plenty of body heat. Moren couldn't resist snuggling in closer. The Count liked that. He shamelessly winked when they made accidental eye contact.

After a while, Moren finally spoke. He mentioned, "You don't seem bothered by the cold."

The smile that had been teasing his lips immediately fell. He scowled at snowflakes like he wanted to punch them. "I don't like it, but I know how to cope with it."

And just like that I remember how little I actually know about you, Moren mused in silence. They kept the comfortable quiet for several moments. When Moren shivered, Lucio would hold him closer. When Lucio looked tired, Moren would lay his head against the Count's face.

They were supporting each other without words, working as a team to make this awful situation bearable. Had Lucio not been with him, Moren doubted he could have come so far. On his own, it would have been impossible, but Lucio had been there for him each step of the way.

Granted, the Count did everything in his own style. Moren did as well. The best part about it, though, was that their methods seemed to compliment each other.

Lucio was all arrogance and bluster. Moren was more grounded but adventurous. They made a good team, as different as they were similar.

Breathing out, Moren watched little puffs of steam roll off his lips. His air twisted with Lucio's. The smoke played together in blending turns before dissipating onto a backdrop of limestone walls.

A sudden fidget caught Moren's attention, and he looked up at Lucio. The Count was twitchy. His shoulder moved on the magician's back. His right hand drummed unintentionally on Moren's arm.

Curious, Moren looked around them. There was nothing to really pay attention to. The path beneath their feet reverberated the sounds of Lucio's tall boots and the slapping of the magician's sandals.

Whenever Moren took in a breath, he smelt the cold. It held a hint of Lucio's natural fragrance, evergreen and leather. Other than that, it was essentially scentless.

"What's your favorite color?" Lucio's voice bursted out so suddenly the magician jumped a bit. "Er, I mean… You know, it's quiet here. I hate quiet. I'm used to music, laughter. Big parties and lots of entertainment. This silence is just awful. How can you stand it?"

Amused that Lucio would have come up with that question of all the conversation starters, Moren replied, "Fuschia. Kind of like my favorite flower, the fuchsia. As for the quiet…" The magician shrugged. "It's not too bad. I live alone when Asra isn't around, so I'm pretty much used to it."

"Do you always stay in your shop? It's got to be boring. I couldn't spend all day in one little area. I'd lose my mind."

I'd just bet you would. Instead of voicing that thought, Moren said, "I don't spend all day in the shop. I go to the market. I teach the local orphans how to get away with theft. I even go to plays, for your information."

"Teach the orphans how to get away with theft?" Lucio replied, his brows scaling upwards.

Oops. For a minute there, Moren forgot he was talking to a guy who lived his excessive lifestyle based upon the taxation of others. Before he could get an attitude with the magician, Moren pinched him on the butt.

The act got a little yip to come out of Lucio's throat in surprise. Smirking at him, Moren explained, "Of course, I do. Those kids don't have parents. They can't afford to feed themselves. If they don't steal or get handouts from people, they'll starve. I'm not going to let people die in my city just because the city's leaders aren't helping."

He frowned at her. "They could always get a job."

"Tell that to the toddler just learning to walk their first steps, or the teenager who smells so bad that the only job he can get is shovelling pig shit for whatever few coins the local farmer can give him. At the end of the day, he still can't feed his family."

"Why do you even care what happens to them?"

Instead of being offended by Lucio's detached question, Moren tilted his head at the sky over them. It was getting darker still. After mulling over how to answer the Count, the magician admitted, "Because if it wasn't for Asra, there's no telling where I would be right now. I owe him everything. He taught me how to live again."

The words weren't a comfort to the Count. He scrutinized Moren's face with a softly held grimace. He almost sounded a little jealous when he said, "You sound like you're really close to him."

The hint of aggravation in the Count's words shouldn't have made Moren's heart stutter, but it did. The two of them had shared passion together. The Count couldn't want more with him. Could he?

Shaking off the childish giddiness that had walked over him, Moren studied the mortar between the stones they walked atop. "How could I not be? To me, Asra is…" He paused to come up with the right words and fell short. "Asra is everything."

"Do you love him?"

Do you love him? In all his life, Lucio had never cared about the answer to a question like that. Now that he had his attention on a magician with a faraway look in his eyes, though, that question somehow mattered? Lucio's lips twisted like he'd just eaten cheap seafood.

The way Moren looked to the sky was as if he was picturing the magician, Asra, right now. The man's eyes had gone heavy lidded, dreamy even. A look of pleasant satisfaction made one corner of his lips curl.

Lucio felt his fists tighten. He wanted to be the one Moren thought about with that faraway look in his eyes. Too often, Lucio had laughed at the fairy tale ideas of falling in love and happily ever afters.

To him, a happily ever after was sitting in the best palace in the city with the entire region in love with your very existence. He liked to be loved. He loved to be feared. Power was his fairy tale, but it wasn't everyone's.

Asra hadn't been pleased when he'd seen Lucio with Moren. Moren daydreamed about his master like the man had hung the moon. A lot of people settled down into monogamous relationships. They made a family. They had kids. Was that Moren's version of a fairy tale?

Moren's laughter had Lucio's grimace making deeper furrows in his brows. "Love him?" the magician guffawed. His voice danced down the corridor. "Of course, I do."

Those words sank a hand around Lucio's heart and gripped. Lucio wanted Moren. He lusted after the magician like he'd lusted after no other. What would happen when all of this was over?

Would Moren go back with Asra to their little shop in the middle of town? Lucio wouldn't allow it! He would have the magician live in the palace, install Moren as his concubine or, better yet, marry him to prove Lucio's superiority. Asra could visit when he wanted, but Moren would be his, not the master magician's.

Then, he felt his chest grow even tighter. Would that make their relationship change? Lucio liked what he had with Moren right now. The magician had admitted to knowing nothing of the Count's prior accomplishments and prestige. Moren had met him with no prior knowledge other than the thought that he was a dead man, and he'd still taken care of him.

If Lucio forced his hand, would Moren grow to hate him? No. Surely, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Lucio was, after all, the wonderful and valiant Count. Who wouldn't want to be his spouse or concubine?

The magician's sensual, smoky voice filled his head, and Lucio parted his lips to argue all the reasons he was better than Asra. But, he stopped. Moren's straight teeth were on display in a look of happiness. His mouth was moving, yet the Count wasn't entirely focused.

He must have caught the end because he did hear, "—but enough about us. I want to know about you and Nadia. She says you're her ex, but you were married for six years. You both seem so opposite."

"I was drunk." The answer fell off his tongue before he could think it through.

Moren snickered with his canines flashing. "It makes a lot more sense now."

"Sense?"

"Yeah. You're loud and rambunctious. She's calm and methodical. While you're flying by the seat of your pants into hedonism, she's sitting in the background. You two don't fit."

Lucio slowed his steps for a second. The words marinated in his head, and he replied, "No. We didn't. She's amazing, talented. That door in the library with all the gears and locks was her creation. She makes puzzles for Chandra, uh… her owl, and does all kinds of things that I just don't have the time or patience for."

"But you still proposed?" Moren leaned forward to give Lucio a good view of his face.

Hand waving the words away, Lucio replied, "It was a marriage of power. The Satrinava family has many children, Nadia being the youngest. We met at a party I was attending, and she was curious about Vesuvia. I told her, 'You could see it for yourself if you agreed to marrying me.' We were both drunk on wine and signed the marital contract within barely a day of meeting. It was very rushed."

"Asra told me that I've never been married."

Lucio wasn't surprised. Marriage was, after all, a thing most nobility did. It became more of a formality for the lower classes to go through all the ceremony, the planning, and the contracts. Besides, when your daughter barely traded for a few heads of cattle, what was the point?

"Like I said, we didn't do it out of love. The Satrinavas were pointed out to me as a family of note, so I noted. Both of us had our lovers outside of the marriage." He pushed his upper lip out in a pout. "I invited Nadia to partake of all my affairs, but she never shared."

"Did you not love any of them?"

Again with the love word. Lucio was tempted to ask him why he was so infatuated with the term when he saw something that made him curse aloud. "I don't—what the—We're here again?!"

The same overgrown graveyard loomed in front of them. It looked identical to the one they'd seen when they'd walked the left pathway. Those haunting graves with their premonitioned grave markers stared back at Lucio like the hollowed eyes of a skull. The only difference was a low growling.

Lucio followed it all the way up to where two shadowy wolves stalked along the perimeter. Saliva dripped from jaws mottled in red. The insides of their mouths were painted the same color.

Spinning on his heel, he barked, "Oh, to hell with this!"

When he tromped off in the direction opposite the graveyard, Moren's sandals slapped behind him. The howling of the wolves felt like it was following them despite the distance his steps put in. Lucio cursed the entire length.

"So, there's a graveyard to our left, and a graveyard with wolves if we go right. Then, what the hell are we supposed to do? There has to be a way to get out of here." Lucio threw himself against a labyrinth wall with a huff.

Eyes on the ground, he grumbled, "I'm out of ideas, and you look like…" His words drifted when he saw Moren across from him.

The magician's warm skin had turned ashen under his eyes. Moren was slouched against the wall, and though he didn't seem like he wanted to stop their travels, he looked like he needed to. Swallowing, Lucio admitted, "Well, you look exhausted. Let's stop and rest for a bit."

When Moren opened his mouth to argue, Lucio held up a finger. "Ah-ah. You don't get to complain. I am the Count, remember? And we did come here for me."

Sitting down, Lucio patted the space beside himself. The claws of his gauntlet made little ringing noises with each strike. Though Moren had his hands in his pockets as a sign of defiance, he did slip in beside the Count.

Their backs rested against a wall covered in a patch of dying vines. Lucio shifted around to get more comfortable, and foliage, drawn up into husks from the cold, crunched behind him. The second Moren took his seat, his eyelids drooped.

"You okay?" Lucio wondered.

The magician gave him a weak nod. "Yeah. I'm just… just really tired."

When he gave a slight veer off to the side, Lucio reached out and grabbed him. "Whoa, Moren. Don't just fall over. That's no good. Come here."

Steadying the magician, Lucio propped Moren against the wall. He eased in close to offer up some of his body heat. The chilly air hadn't given up at all. Harem pants with open cut outs and a single sleeved belly top weren't fitting for this weather. No wonder the magician was about to collapse.

Besides, Lucio noticed with a guilty thought, the man had been doing so much to protect him. He'd fought off worms. He'd broken the hold of the Devil. More than that, he'd gotten them into this realm in the first place.

Lucio wasn't so blind to know that the expenditure of magic didn't leave one weary. He'd seen it before. Asra had shown signs of magical exhaustion before at the Palace when searching for a cure. Then, there was another person who he'd seen tired from a day of using up too much of their magic. Though that weakness had been rare for her.

When Moren's eyelashes dusted a snowflake off his cheekbones, Lucio put his arm around the magician. "There, that's better. I guess, I'll keep watch while you sleep."

Pinkish-purple irises peered up from the shadow of jet black lashes. Moren asked, "Aren't you tired?"

"No, and even if I was, I'm too jittery to sleep."

Besides, they'd seen plenty of awful things to keep them awake. There were open graves, wolves dripping saliva, and more potential horrors they'd yet to see. At least, one of them had to make sure nothing crept up on them. Or, that was the justification Lucio was giving himself.

A weight settled on his body, and Lucio peered to where Moren was burrowing inside of him. The man was so cold. The Count hissed, "Augh! Your nose is freezing!"

On reflex, Moren jerked backwards. "Sorry," he weakly apologized.

Lucio wasn't having any of that. Pulling Moren back in, he adjusted his cape to try and draw it over his scantily dressed magician. "Where do you think you're going? Stay. Let's try this."

When the fur trim barely made it to the other man's shoulder, Lucio huffed, "Hmph. I need a bigger cape." He turned his chin upwards until he was looking at the tops of the labyrinth walls. "Hey, Magic Maze, can you make my cape bigger?"

To his disappointment, nothing happened. The maze's only answer was a whistling wind and more snow. Lucio sighed, "I guess I could put some extra layers on you, but then I'd be freezing."

"Lucio, hold out your hand." Moren opened up his palm. The fingers curled gently at the ends, and his sharp nails beckoned.

Confused, Lucio put his dominant hand in the magician's palm. His gauntlet had to feel cool against Moren's skin, but if he wanted to hold hands, Lucio wouldn't stop him. He liked excuses to get closer to the magician.

When a low vibration tingled through his metal arm, he parted his lips at it. Was Moren working more of his magic? Why?

"Whoa!" Lucio exhaled. Radiating from the prosthetic, warmth blossomed. It created a cocoon of heat around them, as good as any blanket before a wood burning hearth. Lucio's eyes slid closed. He sighed, "Oh, that feels just like sinking into a hot bath after a long day. As always, you're amazing."

His eyes opened back up on a thought. To the magician, he asked, "But won't it go away once you're asleep?"

His answer was a groggy shake of the head. Moren's fingers flexed in his grip, and Lucio curled his metal fingers in to keep the magician from slipping away. On a yawn, Moren hypothesized, "Probably not, as long as we're touching. It's a magician's trick, sharing power with contact."

Lucio waggled his brows suggestively. "Contact? Oh, Moren, why didn't you say that before? You know, I love to snuggle."

Too easy, he wriggled around Moren. In a few seconds, his long legs were stretched out on either side of the magician. Lucio leaned the man back into his chest. He rested his chin on Moren's shoulder.

"Perfect," he whispered against Moren's ear.

And it was. This close to Moren, Lucio could breath in his clean scent. He could touch every part of his body, feel the magician slowly warming against him. After laying a gentle kiss to Moren's temple, the Count leaned back and sighed. Nothing had ever felt better.

"Now, you can sleep," he responded.

It didn't take long for Moren to doze off, and when he did, Lucio could feel it in the new slouch to the magician's tense shoulders. Truly, it was a wonder. For too long, Moren had held himself rigid.

In sleep, he became as pliable as silk. Unable to resist temptation, Lucio ran his free hand up Moren's arm. The entire length of the magician's right arm was coated in symbols, shapes, and what may have been a foreign language. The left shoulder was the same, flowing down in markings before they cut off mid bicep.

Running his index finger in little circles over what appeared to be a nail piercing through two circular bands, Lucio pondered the meaning of Moren's tattoos. Such things weren't terribly uncommon. Several northern, warm climate regions painted themselves to appear more threatening. For others, it was a coming of age.

He wanted to know which Moren may have been. Then, he frowned. There was a possibility that Lucio may never know. The magician had lost his memories, his life.

Lucio was both repulsed and interested at the prospect of losing his past. He could wake up one day with no sins to bury deep inside of himself. He could start his life anew with the chance for new relationships, or he could lose everything he'd worked for in his life. No palace, no Vesuvia…

Moren muttered something in sleep, and Lucio had to tag one last thing to his list: no Moren. He shook his head hard to dispel the thought. No, things were better this way. This way, he could keep moving forward. People would get over the past. They just did that, especially for him.

"Lucio?" the magician whispered, and the Count peered down at the man. He was still asleep.

Smiling, Lucio buried his face in hair that was a mix of tight and loose curls. He wrapped one arm fully around Moren's front, and the voice that had been calling for him settled.

Sins or no sins, past or no past, the two of them had the present. For the Count, that span of time was all he lived for. He'd get a body. Then, he'd treat the magician to a world of pleasures so wondrous that no Asra Alzanar could wedge between them.