Pressed and Faded Roses

by Rain on Roses

"Besides a victory at any cost is no victory at all, not if you lose yourself in the process." Once they had been all each other had, but the pursuit of power has never come cheap, and no amount of power can keep a cut flower blooming forever.

5. If You Ever Come Back

Four Years Ago; Wilds of Meridian

The peace of the sun-soaked evening was suddenly ripped apart by the tearing of space and time itself as a flash of light in various shades of blue and green and yellow frightened away a herd of once happily grazing Hoogongs. The magical bend of reality uncaringly threw out two disorientated figures into the waist-high grass. Prince Phobos, the firstborn son of Queen Weira, immediately dug his fingers into the rough, dry dirt he suddenly found under him for purchase. It was warm and earthy, unlike the dark stone dungeon they'd just come from. Then his body caught up with him, and he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach on the ground from his unpreceded and unstable use of teletransportation.

I will never, as long as I live, do that again! He thought to himself, once his displacement sickness started to ebb, and he could clearly look at his surroundings once more.

The Prince took a glance at his companion, uncertain of his condition, but no sooner had Cedric bounced off the hard ground and realized he was out of range of Weira's suppression spell did his small and fragile human form twist in on itself and become consumed in wild mystic energy. Hard green and yellow scales replaced soft, bruised skin, and the red line of ridging running down the length of his tail was standing straight up in a mix of fear and agitation. His head swiveled back and forth till he caught sight of Phobos still bent over in the tall grass. He excitedly threw himself to the ground, so he was level with the Prince, his tail thrashing and rolling erratically behind him and flattening out huge swards of grass in its wake.

"You...you did it! Are you alright, your Highness? Do you-"

"Fine, I'm fine!"

Phobos swatted half-heartedly at Cedric's overly close face, signaling for some much-needed space. Before anything else, Phobos attempted to assess the damage he'd taken from his wild use of magic. Their escape had drained him of a fair amount of his life force, enough to make his limbs tremble and ache like when he was forced to train with the sword as a child, but he was still able to get to his feet without collapsing or needing assistance. Standing but still shaky, he surveyed the area, gazing out upon the endless sea of waving, yellow grass he'd placed them in. In every direction Phobos looked, there was nothing but hill after hill of vast emptiness, and he was nothing but a tiny speck lost in the middle of it. He subconsciously inched himself closer to Cedric's massive form for comfort, as goosebumps raised on his arms. He'd never left the capital city before, and in fact, had rarely left the castle in general. The furthest the Prince had ever gone from his home before this very moment had been the podium where his mother made proclamations to her people. How he'd managed to end up so far from the castle with no knowledge of the outside world was a mystery he would never come to understand. Cedric quickly noticed his unease with his unfamiliar surroundings and coiled his tail around him protectively.

"Do not be concerned; I'm certain we can find a village somewhere that can arrange for your return to the palace, my Prince."

Return?

Phobos furrowed his brows and looked up incredulously at Cedric. "What are you talking about?"

Had his magic addled Cedric's brain? He'd just barely managed to save Cedric from a quick, brutal execution at best, and, well, he couldn't even imagine what at worst. How could he possibly be thinking of going back?

Cedric cocked his head in confusion. "How else do you plan to return to your home, your Highness?"

Phobos glared up at Cedric, though it was not the shifter he was actually upset with. "Home? You wish to return, after what just happened?! You were but a few hours from parting with your head, and I was about to be shipped off like some stud-horse, and you think we should go back?!"

All that...drama, and for what? Because his damned mother had caught him in, well, an uncomfortable position. Shivers crept up his spine as he recalled his mother's near-apocalyptic rage at both himself and the mostly innocent Cedric. Oh, what had he been thinking?! He'd known his mother's hatred of shapeshifters was suffocating in its intensity, and he knew that if she found out that Cedric was suddenly capable of transforming again and that her son was the one who enabled him to do so, she'd be furious. Oh, but then he'd decided to add fuel to the fire, and court said shapeshifter as well, though what she'd caught them doing was far beyond polite courting. What was wrong with him? Cedric had warned him over and over what a terrible idea it had been, and still, he refused to listen. This whole disaster had been his fault, and now he'd ruined his own life and nearly ended Cedric's. But if his mother just bothered to listen to him, she would have understood. That for the first time in his life, he'd not done something he knew she would hate out of spite, but because…Gah, it didn't matter; she'd never once listened to him before, and she certainly hadn't started then. He didn't even know why he was surprised anymore.

"I…" Cedric's tail tip twitched back and forth in discomfort. "Of course not, I'm beyond grateful to have left with my life, and I have no intentions of ever going back, but that is where you belong. You are the Prince of-"

"Prince? Hah! What a worthless title!" He snapped. "You heard her; I'll never be what she wants! It does not matter what I do or how much better I am than everyone; she doesn't want me! She only wants her precious female heir that she can't seem to make. In fact, I'm confident the Queen has been pining for a good enough reason to rid herself of me finally, so she isn't forced to bear the sight of her mistake anymore. Once she realizes I'm gone, it will probably be the happiest day of her life! Why, she won't even have to be bothered to deal with me on the rare occasions when my lovely new wife drags me back to the palace-"

Phobos broke off from his tumultuous rant when he realized tears were starting to gather in his eyes, and he'd overshared more of his grief than he trusted even Cedric with. Not once before, not even to himself, had he admitted that he knew the truth, that he would never be good enough for her. He held on to the naive hope that one day, despite everything, she would finally accept him. Even if it was just because she had no other choice. But it seemed all he was ever truly capable of was making things worse, and now finally, his mother had grown tired of even pretending to tolerate him. And looking back at the events of the last twelve hours, he could hardly say he blamed her. From Weira's perspective, he'd allowed a historically hated and murderous monstrosity to roam free in her castle and seduce him like a careless maiden. And from Cedric's point of view, he'd risked his already limited freedom and his life for a stupid, selfish bit of fun. That the shifter was still here with him and not berating him when his mother could no longer stand the sight of him was nothing short of astounding.

But Cedric made no mention of his watery eyes or emotional speech, or even his mistakes. Instead, he lowered himself to an equal height with Phobos and gently and affectionately butted his forecrest against Phobos' head, unintentionally knocking the wobbly Prince off balance. Phobos instinctively grasped the ornamental protrusions that had from Cedric's shoulders to keep himself upright but did not push himself away from the shifter as his instincts wanted. So rather than disengaging completely, Phobos tried distracting himself by counting the seeds on a nearby grass pod to avoid the intimacy. But, eventually, his eyes seemed to move on their own accord, and they met Cedric's serpentine eyes, as soft and gentle as their wild and fearsome appearance allowed.

"Thank you for saving my life. I am so sorry that I caused this, even indirectly. But I think..."

Cedric trailed off, his tailing rolling out behind him once more in distress. Phobos felt the muscles of his heart and stomach clench painfully. He wanted to grasp Cedric's massive forearms frantically and beg him not to continue that line of thought. But he didn't, because if all that was left to him was dignity, he intended to keep it.

"Do you wish me to go back? To leave you be?" Phobos asked, beating down and carefully managing to suppress any hint of emotion from his tone. What did his feelings matter now after all that? He'd had his... fun with Cedric, and now...now that was done. He'd let it end in disaster just like he did everything else, maybe...maybe his mother had been-

But when Phobos dared to look back into Cedric's eyes, there was no coldness in them, nor resentment or fear or disgust. Only that soft, adoring desire that Phobos had never experienced before Cedric and that he could never hope to match- a flood of tender emotions that he could barely keep himself afloat in no matter how hard he tried.

"No, I don't. I know how much you are giving up, but...I want you to come with me. Please."

Phobos didn't try to respond, for he knew if he did, his voice would break, and tears would spill out from his eyes. It was a queer feeling to be wanted. It always left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable despite the warmth it also brought. He pressed his head back against Cedric's once more, too emotionally spent to do anything else. He'd exhausted himself earlier that morning when he'd finally lost the last shred of his composure after his mother had locked him in his chambers, howling and wailing at the door in rage and desperation. Then, the situation had seemed hopeless, and he'd resigned himself to despair. But as it always did, his sorrow changed to spiteful resolve, and he knew what must be done.

He'd known then, as he snuck down the dungeons, that he would never return to his castle, to his books and gardens and titles. His mother would never see him as anything more than a mistake, and he would rather be nothing at all than stay forever in her shadow. So, the answer to Cedric's plea came easy, for the decision had been made hours ago. For the first time in his life, he would have what he wanted, even if it meant giving up everything else, and there was no one to stop him.

He nodded.

Cedric's eyes lit up, and he tipped his head to feverishly kiss Phobos, seeming to forget for a moment he was in his true form and once again almost knocked the Prince to the ground in his eagerness. Their vastly different physicalities made it challenging to reciprocate appropriately, but Phobos attempted to do so nonetheless. He was leaving everything he'd ever known behind, good and bad. It was...bittersweet. But as long as his mother lived, his life in the castle would be nothing but misery. It was time to take a chance somewhere else, to find his worth in something other than a crown he would never have. Eventually, he broke off the kiss, gathered his voice, and turned his mind back to the more… ah, pressing situation.

"Do you, uh, know where we are, by any chance?"

Cedric's ears twitched, and the shifter raised himself to his full height and surveyed the area. He could tell by Cedric's pouting lips and wrinkled nose that he didn't.

"No, but these empty plains can not go on forever. Perhaps we shall find a village or shelter at the very least once we are past them." Cedric's tail fidgeted again, and he glanced down at Phobos hesitantly. "It would probably be...safer if I led the way, Your Highness."

Unoffended (and slightly relieved, to be honest) Phobos gestured for him to do so, and Cedric quickly turned and slithered through the grass as if it were mere water. Shrieks and loud calls erupted from frightened animals as they desperately shot out from their hiding places, fleeing from the predator suddenly in their midst. The shifter made his traversal through the wild look effortless, but meanwhile, behind him, Phobos promptly tripped and fell over an above-ground root system.

"Well, this has been a marvelous eighteen birthday!" He dared to quip as he spat out dirt from his mouth.

Cedric's eye roll seemed to break the laws of physics because Phobos swore he could see and hear it despite his position behind the shifter.

---

Present Day; Escanor Castle

Snip snip snip.

His mother had always considered gardening to be servants' work. Oh, she enjoyed the fruits of their labor as much as any proper lady but deemed herself beyond their actual care. She would stroll through her carefully cut and cultivated lawns and look at her meticulously and unnaturally arranged rows of overly bright flowers with the air of a woman who was expected to enjoy the royal gardens but would rather be doing anything else. Meanwhile, her son had been hiding in rose thickets, constantly coaxing her carefully curated garden to change its color and shape. Calling wicked, thorny vines to hang from soft, flowering trees, urging grass to grow until it was too tall to be walked on, pulling up the perfect lines of shrubbery and replanting them in random spots, and asking her beautiful yellow and pink roses to darken themselves till they were nearly black in pigmentation. It had been something of a silent battle between the two of them. The poor garden constantly in a state of flux depending on who had been there last. At the time, the young Phobos, still new in his magic, and still full of childish naivety, thought of it more as a fun game than a fight. Things hadn't been quite so bad between them yet.

Eventually, his mother had stopped ordering the landscape changed back after his foolish pranks and allowed Phobos to do as he wished with the place. That had been the closest he'd ever come to any form of acceptance from his mother, even if it was just her being unwilling to fight over something she didn't care in the least about. From then on, the gardens had been where he'd gone to clear his mind when troubled. And he was often troubled, from his near-constant solitude to his ever-growing magical powers and what they meant for him, there was much for the young Prince to fret about. Childish magic and wishes gave life to plants that could whisper things to him and move of their own accord—his Whisperers: his first companions and still his most treasured pets. Though they lacked their own free will, the young Prince could pretend at least that something wanted him around.

Snip snip snip.

And as such, his favored creations were too precious to allow peasant gardeners to cut and maim, and so he usually relied on his magic to assist him in their upkeep, but when particularly distressed, he would tend to the gardens through physical means. He would stroke the petals of the black roses while he pruned them, and his tiny Whisperers clung to his robes and told him secrets or gossip and even sang to him on the rare occasion. There was something comforting in cutting away dead leaves and withered flowers, allowing new, better buds to bloom. He needed that today.

The last few weeks had been...stressful. Zamballa, the veil, and the Heart fiasco all draining him completely in entirely different ways. The Prince looked up at the sky, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. There was no way to see the barrier that Candracar had placed around his world, but its effects were still felt. Meridian had been cut from its trade partners among the other planets, leaving the world to fend for itself. The peasants were starting to grow anxious, first a male ruler and now a male ruler who'd cut them off from the rest of the universe. Everywhere he turned, he heard discontented rumors, and that made him nervous. It would be many years before he could absorb his sister's power, and he was growing...vulnerable. He needed some way to secure himself without the Heart and quickly and without binding himself in unpleasant ways. After all, the easiest way to appease the populace would be to declare his reign a mere regency and take a noble wife, resetting the traditions of the Escanor dynasty to ensure complacency for the next decade or so till he could truly take his place. But surely there had to be a way to bide his time without such a horrific compromise. He'd come so far, thrown off so many bindings, on himself and even others. He had no intentions of stepping so far back now.

The first few weeks after he took the crown had been intoxicating, lulling his senses and dulling his sharpness. His first real shreds of glory had played tricks on him, urging him to greater and greater heights before reminding him that life would never be so easy for him. The assault on Zamballa had been beyond disastrous. Outshined once again by some woman who'd been gifted power by some fluke of fate. There had been no strategy to her victory, no plans, just unlimited raw power. Oh, he'd give anything, anything to have magic that could flow freely from his hands with no thought. Just like his mother or that Guardian, but no. Instead, he'd been drained of his life force and beaten till he was nearly unconscious. He'd been so weak, so weak he could barely stand. Anyone could have killed him at that moment. Then, of course, came the devastating news regarding the Heart. The Heart that by all right should have been his in the first place. It would be years before he could claim his birthright—years with limited power and ever-growing enemies.

The shears suddenly felt heavy in his hand.

As if to reassure himself from his self-induced fears, he grabbed the base of one of his rose bushes, one that had long passed its prime and made no flowers anymore. He could feel water creeping up from the roots, the sunlight hitting its leaves, and above all, he felt the small pulse of energy coursing through the length of the stem. He coaxed that flicker of energy up and out of the plant and into his own body. It was a strange but pleasurable feeling, like pure heat flowing into his veins. The bush began to wither and blacken till it collapsed on itself-dead. He could feel the power filling and spilling over his reserves, pouring pure energy into his veins. But it still wasn't enough.

"Are you alright, my Prince?"

He stiffened. Phobos hadn't heard Cedric approaching behind him, and his Whisperers didn't feel the need to alert him to the shifter's familiar presence as they would have anyone else daring to intrude in his garden.

The Prince turned his head slightly to regard Cedric, even as he continued his pruning. His violet eyes were pinned to the rose bush he'd killed.

"It served its purpose," he told him. "Do you have something to report?"

"Ah, no, your Highness. I simply came to seek your company, if that is agreeable to you, of course," Cedric bowed deeply, waiting for his approval.

He supposed Cedric's formality would seem unnatural to some, given their relationship. But the shifter had always been the only one, even among the servants, to treat him according to his rank as the Queen's child and not just merely the male one. He'd always returned the gesture and regarded him with far more respect than his position at the time required. Of course, the bar had been on the floor in that regard.

But at his request, Phobos shifted on the ground, suddenly apprehensive. Cedric's once comforting company had made him uneasy since...that day. Since his accident. He ventured a subtle glance at Cedric's hands, but they showed no sign of what had occurred. Neither he nor Cedric had spoken about the matter, and Phobos doubted they ever would, but it still troubled him greatly. Phobos knew the issue had been his fault, truly he did, but every time he tried to revisit the matter in his head, to try to make sense of it, all he could see was the fear in Cedric's eyes when he'd gone to him the morning after. Cedric had never looked at him like that before. Never. Like...everyone else in his life always had, and it had cut him to the bone, deserved as it may have been. Cedric had weathered his every storm unscathed, but not this one, and Phobos was unsure of how to process that. Unsure of where exactly that left them both.

But there was no dread nor fear on Cedric's face now when he looked up at the other man, just the slightest twinge of a smile on the corners of his lips as he waited for his answer. Phobos chastised himself; it was not like Cedric to hold a grudge against him for anything. He was just self-projecting into and overdramatizing a situation that he should have already forgotten. Accidents happened to everyone. It wasn't like he'd meant to do it, after all.

Phobos gestured to the empty space next to him, and the shifter quickly took the invitation and gently knelt down next to him.

Cedric was quick to speak before any undue awkwardness could creep into the lull created from Phobos' stubbornness. Cedric had always been clever like that, always able to tell just how to diffuse and control such situations, even with him. Serpentine shifters were infamous for their silver forked tongues, but Cedric had honed that trait to near perfection out of necessity when he'd been plucked from his home and thrown into the castle's unforgiving environment.

"I've never understood why humans prune their gardens; why do you not just let them grow as they wish?" Cedric asked, picking through the flowers and ends of branches he'd cut off.

Snip snip snip

Phobos chuckled, "They are growing; the more you cut away, the more they come back."

"Mmm, humans always want more than nature provides on its own," Cedric smirked at him playfully as he spoke.

Often, Cedric spoke of humans as if Phobos himself was not one. Phobos had always considered that rather flattering. He hated humans even more than Cedric did. After all, what had his kind ever done for either of them? This time, however, he stiffened. Was he referring to Zamballa? Had he not let that go either? Telling him in a roundabout way that he'd overstretched his boundaries? Was he cleverly insulting him?

He watched Cedric's expression warily, but he was paying him little attention and was instead smiling and cupping his hands around one of his Whisperers as it reached out to him playfully. Traitorous little thing. Phobos scowled at them both and went back to his pruning.

He shook his head, irritated at himself. Since when did he feel the need to read into Cedric's of all people's words? And now he was concerned that he was belittling him to his face? Cedric, who'd stood beside him through the worst parts of his life. The shifter wasn't like the others who were always whispering behind his back and scheming to usurp him at every turn. The shifter understood; he always had. No matter what. Cedric was his... Perhaps, they both needed to be reminded of that fact.

Eyeing a particularly showy blossom, he snipped it from its base and handed the black rose to Cedric with a devilish smirk. Such displays of romance may have disgusted him, but never let it be said he was unskilled in the art of seduction. He was an Escanor Prince, after all. He'd been born for courting, as his father always told him. Cedric carefully took the flower from him. A glimpse of his favorite half-smirk, the first since the accident, was reward enough for the desecration of his garden. `

"It's beautiful, My Prince. Thank you."

And just like that, it felt like the old days, when they could just sit for hours and talk about nothing of any consequence. He hated everything else about his earlier life, but there was no denying the simplicity of a servant and a prince hiding in the garden to avoid their duties. Now it seemed like they had nothing but their duties at times. There were few chances just to sit and talk with Cedric since donning the crown. They had been too consumed with his plots and plans and responsibilities to have time for meaningless banter. Oh yes, they'd enjoyed each other's company at nights when their roles allowed, but they had always been more than just that. He was not so sentimental as to say he missed that time, but perhaps at least he could enjoy just one more afternoon like he was nothing but a foolish youth with dreams of grandeur.

And so, they spoke of inanities for hours; the last book Phobos had time to read, some meaningless but highly entertaining gossip Cedric learned of while working, and other such nonsense. For a time, just a moment really, there was no more paranoia, no more inferiority, no weakness. There was only himself and Cedric and his roses. It was almost like it when they lived away from the castle...peaceful. Eventually, the shifter had transformed and laid himself out on a large rock and sunned himself as Phobos finished trimming the rest of his flowers, silently watching him with lazy and content eyes.

They were still in the garden by the time the sun was hanging low in the sky. Phobos was resting comfortably in a crook of the shifter's tail and Cedric was ranting about some member of the council who had particularly vexed him earlier that week. Phobos was barely listening, however, and was, in fact, close to dozing off. But the Prince didn't feel any guilt for his lack of interest, as Cedric was using this time to his own advantage, for the shifter would never discuss his personal problems or frustrations about anything when Phobos was actively paying attention to him. It was as calm a moment as Phobos suspected they would get considering the current situation, and he was trying to savor it as best it could.

But all he could focus on was that terrible weakness again. He could feel himself falling face-first into the mud again, his muscles straining and burning but unable to lift himself up. Vision blurry, head spinning. Reciting spells in his head but with no energy to spare to cast them. He would never be as powerful as they were, and for the first time in his life, he'd been truly afraid. Never again. He had to do something. He needed to match them, prove once and for all that he was better than all of them.

He looked back to the withered rose brush.

Perhaps the answer was closer than he'd first thought.

---

He'd retreated to his study to work out the basic details of his plan, and a few days later, he summoned Cedric to the war room alone. If there were anyone who could help him perfect his scheme, it would be him. The shifter would know precisely how to begin executing or reworking his theory, as he always did for all his grand ideas.

"We need a solution to this...problem with the Heart," he told him as soon as he arrived. Neither he nor Cedric enjoyed pleasantries when there was business at hand. It was cleaner and more efficient to keep their two relationships separate.

Cedric stiffened at his words and puffed up, nervous. They both knew how precarious his reign was without the Heart, and there had been no easy solution in sight until now.

"My lack of any sort of sustainable power is...dangerous. As long as my sister is alive, the populace will know the Heart resides within her and not me. The Court has no doubt already spread rumors of what happened in Zamballa. People will know I am...vulnerable, and with the disgruntlement from the raising of the veil, this could lead to a troublesome situation." he told him. He could openly admit to his weakness in front of Cedric, if only because the shifter already knew all the limitations of his powers from years of experience.

Cedric's mouth twisted as he bit at the inside of his lips. "My Prince, I know this is not ideal, but I can protect you until-"

Phobos cut him off. "I do not doubt your resolve nor commitment, but however mighty you are, you are still not invincible. Moreover, your duties mean you can not attend to me all hours of the day, and without a steady font of mystic energy…" Phobos trailed off, leaving the implications to Cedric's imagination. "I need power now."

"Perhaps we could-"

Phobos set down a rough drawing of the plan on the table, gesturing for Cedric to examine it as he explained. "I have devised a system that would allow me to access the arcane energy of all of Meridian. Magical roots, absorbing energy just like water from the land and depositing it back to a nexus where I could funnel to myself as needed. I could power the magic I do have for nearly a decade with that. Think of everything we could accomplish! No one but my sister could ever hope to challenge us again. And we will deal with her as soon as we possibly can."

The idea was straightforward enough. Nothing in the plant's nature would really be changed, save what and where it collected. The hardest part would be finding enough mystic energy to cast the spells necessary for repurposing the plants in the first place. They still had a few political prisoners of his mother's; perchance, they would suffice.

Cedric looked up from the drawing after he'd finished speaking, his expression completely horrified. Phobos was taken aback; that was not the reaction he was anticipating. He was expecting some praise for his remarkable problem solving, or at least for Cedric to continue his line of thought excitedly.

"My Prince...you can't take the life force of the whole planet!"

Cedric was still looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. The Prince was forcibly reminded of his mother's incredulous stare every time he dared to speak to her. His jaw clenched as his temper started to rise. It was the second time Cedric had outright decried one of his plans as foolhardy. Why was he questioning him? Phobos could handle and expected doubts from everyone else, but not from Cedric.

"Why not? Is that not my right as a ruler?"

"No! I-" Cedric bit at his lips again and paced on the floor. Cedric's display of nerves made Phobos' own shoulders tense up in response. "My Prince, if you attempt to do a thing such as this, you will have the whole planet up in a rebellion against you! There are already whispers-"

"Whispers of Rebellion?' There has never been an actual rebellion against the Escanor Dynasty, and there certainly won't be now! A few malfeasances may spring up because of this, yes, but nothing we can not handle. They are nothing but filthy peasants; they couldn't even begin to understand the complexities of mystic energy, let alone use it! But if I possessed it, I could fuel my power for decades! It would give me more than enough to secure myself from any threats until I can acquire the Heart."

This wasn't like when he'd warned him about Candracar. Phobos could admit to himself that he should have seen their interference and known he would be outclassed. He'd miscalculated. But this talk of the rebellion? Was Cedric's faith in him so shaken after Zamballa that he believed him incapable of handling a group of his own rowdy peasants?

"My Prince, your people will not let this stand. I-the-" Cedric broke off to gather his thoughts, but Phobos did not allow him the luxury to do so.

"Those poor peasants out there will always view me as a threat simply because of what I am. They don't need any other justification. Rebellion is brewing with or without me prodding it. I need that power; to protect myself."

After all, it had been the Escanor Queen's power that had kept them on the throne for centuries, not their pure and perfect dispositions as they would have liked everyone to believe. His mother had been proof enough of that.

"They view you as a threat because you are a threat to them! We have already prodded them! The veil...the veil is one thing, and certainly-eventually it will be forgotten. After all, Meridian is no interdimensional hub, but this- it could ruin their daily lives-" Phobos stiffened at the almost familiar words. "-take too much, and you risk throwing off the crop cycles, poisoning water, even disrupting the weather...you know this. Why are you risking so much? You will get your birthright as soon as the time is upon us, but this-this is not necessary.."

"You are more concerned about the opinions of peasants rather than my safety. Why do you care about what their lives are like?"

Cedric's eye's constricted into slits for just a moment at his heated accusation. He visibly stepped back and gathered his breath deeply in his lungs before attempting to continue the conversation.

"This is about your safety, your Highness! All those people could rot in the streets for all I care! But whatever life force you can siphon will never make you equal to the Heart! It won't be enough! It will just be inviting trouble that could easily be avoided. That is what I'm concerned about! I know why you want that power, but is it worth being dogged at our every next step? Assassination attempts, rebellions, never letting our guard down? For years?"

"Since when do you back away from any sort of fight?" he spat.

"It won't just be my death they are calling for, Your Highness." Cedric insinuated.

"What would you have me do then?" he snarled at him. Dread twisted his guts, for he was afraid of the answer.

Cedric stopped his pacing, his left hand curling defensively over his stomach as he looked nervously at Phobos. It was a new reflex he'd recently adapted that made Phobos grit his teeth every time he noticed it.

"My Prince, I think, perhaps, the wisest course of action would be the path of least resistance. Draining their life force to supplement your own will cast you as more of a villain than your gender ever could. If we could just appease your people for a time instead." Cedric then looked more downcast than nervous, and Phobos knew what was coming next. "I'm certain if you took a wife and conformed more closely to tradition, just until your sister comes of age and we can-"

"That," Phobos began bitterly, "will be at least thirteen years from now. That may seem like nothing to you, but that will be a quarter of my life wasted! Do you expect me to coddle some halfwit wife for thirteen years? Or worse, shall I give up my throne to a Queen Consort in regency? Shall I sire children as well? Perhaps, while I am keeping with 'tradition,' I should return you to your post as a mere castle servant or keep you as a-"

"Your Highness," Cedric had puffed up aggressively, agitated enough to dare to interrupt him. "I am simply trying to-"

"Enough!" Phobos turned away from Cedric. "Enough."

Phobos could push down and ignore most of his emotions, whether positive or negative, but nothing cut him quite like rejection. And to his mind, Cedric mentioning wives and tradition was rejection. Denial of what they were and what he was. Was he doing so because...of what he'd done? Did he no longer want him after his outburst? Had Phobos finally pushed him too far? Was he...afraid of him? Just like everyone else? Never would he have expected that dreaded feeling to come from Cedric, who'd always been so different. It had thrown off his carefully crafted defenses, leaving him vulnerable to his constantly suppressed undercurrent of misery.

It did not matter that he knew Cedric was right. It didn't matter that every logical part of his head told him to listen for his own good. Cedric had wounded him, ripped him open on the same scar his mother had created but carved it even deeper than it had ever been, and all his critical thinking skills abandoned him as all his carefully concealed despair was bared open.

"Get out," he told him flatly. Cedric stiffened, his fingers twisting nervously and eyebrows curving up in concern, but the Prince's tone left no room for any argument. The shifter dejectedly slunk away and left the Prince alone with his growing resentment...and panic.

---

The Prince had not spoken with Cedric since that disagreement. It had been the longest they'd gone without speaking for some time, and the first time they'd done it of their own accord. He knew the shifter had been shadowing his steps, but he made no effort to reach out to him, though the Prince had no desire to speak with him anyway. The entire situation was incredibly frustrating to him, and the more he stewed on it, the angrier he became. And the angrier he became, the less logically he thought. His years of solitude and indifference to most people left him ill-prepared to deal with such impassioned thoughts.

He just couldn't believe Cedric's arrogance! Phobos had given him everything he had! He would be nothing without him, and the shifter had dared to throw it back at his face. To suggest he should have to return to his miserable old life of half complacency, under the thumb of yet another woman. He'd come too far to ever return to that life. He was the first man to ever sit upon the throne of Leryn! He would rather throw himself into the Abyss under the castle than ever be shackled to a pitiful existence like the one he'd known before. He did not understand why Cedric, of all people, suddenly wished him to 'keep with tradition.' Cedric had suffered from tradition even more than he had. Taken from his home simply because of what he was, made a servant, his proper form stripped from him for 'safety's sake, and nearly executed for a simple affair that might have earned another servant little more than a scolding. When he helped him practice his magic, it had to be done in the dead of night, hidden away from everyone lest they be caught and punished, which Cedric would have borne the brunt of. He'd had to stealthy climb up to his window when he wanted to slip into his bed or even was just in need of companionship. Now he could waltz down the hallway to him whenever he desired. Why did he wish to return to that?

The only answer that seemed even remotely logical to him, for that was how he comprehended even emotions, was that Cedric did not want him anymore.

He was trying to find an easy way to disentangle himself from Phobos, one where he did not openly have to admit that he was no longer...fond of his Prince and risk his ire from the rejection. Because he was afraid of him after what he'd done.

But Phobos would not accept that. Cedric was his. He could not just abandon him on a whim like everyone else. He was the Prince! He was meant to rule; he was meant to possess the Heart of Meridian. His mother had made no mistake when she'd given birth to him first. He was her heir, and he would prove himself mightier than any Escanor who had ever come before him. And since fate wished to cheat him of his birthright and everything else, well, that was no matter; he was quite capable of playing dirty as well! Yes, he would continue with his plan, no matter what the cost was, securing himself with the power of the land, his land, as was his right. He would have everything he wanted, including Cedric. If Cedric wanted to punish him for what he'd done, for his accident, he would do well to remind him of his place. He would be dead without him. He'd proven himself to him over and over, given up everything to follow him into the unknown, and now he wanted to reject him? To force him back into a life of suffering? To leave him? Over nothing-something, he hadn't meant to do? No, he would not let him do such a thing unpunished.

It would be just a little thing, just an annoyance, really. Nothing quite like the anguish the shifter had caused him over the last week. It would be just enough so he remembered how precarious his position was without him, that he still needed him, for Phobos could take no more of this back and forth that had started since they'd returned to the castle. He just wanted things to return to normal, and to him, asserting his power seemed the obvious answer. After all, they had never faced these problems before when they lived in the castle. When their positions had been clearly defined. Cedric would never have dared to question him back then. Their years of relative equality on their own had not translated well to this new reality. It was time for things to be as they should be. If Cedric would not cling to him as he should, well, Phobos would gently shake him off and show him where he landed without him. Then, surely he would be eager to stand by his side once more.

And so, he gathered his council. Those vultures were always eager to have his ear, and that made them easy to manipulate. They picked at Cedric, he knew, but they had never really dared to treat him as they would without Phobos' protection. Phobos knew precisely how to play this, having grown up in the court, but he was still hesitant to do so despite his indignant conviction. There was a chance this could turn...wildly unpleasant, after all. But he found a justification and reason for his every doubt. Nature had provided him with her example. Sometimes one had to cut away the rotting parts for new flowers to blossom. And they always came back more vibrant and beautiful than before. Cedric just needed to be pruned, was all.

As the meeting started, and the council took up their places around him, Cedric sat on the opposite side of the table rather than at his side. Setting the tone between them before they had even begun. The shifter's spitefulness only served to strengthen Phobos' resolve, for he was confident things would return to the way they had been before...before everything, if he could just gently remind Cedric of his dependence on him. He was quick to take control of the meeting and relay his plan to the Council, who just as he anticipated looked nervous at the mere suggestion, but he did not allow them time to dwell on that. He had to refocus their attention to their default state, greed. Give them an opening to fight over in an attempt to please him, and most importantly, give them an easy target.

His eyes drifted over to Cedric. The shifter stared him down, his face expressionless and yet still somehow seething to Phobos. The Prince returned the gaze evenly, preparing the bait.

"Lord Cedric?"

Cedric shook his head and signed. Phobos watched his face twitch, and his shoulders tense up. He had one chance to save himself from this, but would he be wise enough to take it?

"My Prince, it is my opinion that this plan will be disastrous for us. We will have uprisings in the street if you attempt such a thing. I beg you; please reconsider."

Apparently not. So be it.

"This is not up for debate, Lord Cedric. This is the plan, and I simply need those loyal enough to assist me in doing so."

With those words, he could feel the shift in the air. They had openly disagreed, and blood was in the water. The Council practically threw themselves at his feet in an attempt to usurp Cedric's sudden, seemingly precarious favor. Whatever reservations they might have previously felt for his plan were suddenly tossed to the wind in favor of blind ambition. Of course, there were still a few holdouts, but even they watched the schism with great interest.

"Your Highness, I would be more than happy to assist you in any such matters! You know I am a loyal servant."

"What a marvelous idea! Truly remarkable, to use plants in such a manner, why no one would ever be the wiser! Why do you doubt our leader, Lord Cedric?"

"Having not grown up in polite society, I can understand it's difficult for you to understand our hierarchy, but the monarch's words are absolute, Lord Cedric. Surely you can grasp that at least?"

Each praise delivered was more outlandish and foolish than the last. He usually had no use for such flowery drivel, as it was all treacherous and false, but this display was not for him. But Cedric did not seem particularly impressed either, and was looking at Phobos with poorly concealed annoyance. Phobos shot him a wicked smirk, just to make his point exceedingly obvious.

"I am encouraged by your loyalty, despite the situation, my lords and ladies. It is good to know I have such faithful servants at my side."

Cedric actually rolled his eyes at that one.

As he encouraged them, the council's words became more brazen against Cedric. And Phobos' skin was starting to prickle up with unease. Poking fun was all well and good, but did not wish for things to enter dangerous territory. He was just about to end the nonsense, feeling the lesson was learned when two of the more vocal members decided to have their say.

"Your Majesty, I certainly have more faith in you than your pet here does. These shifters, they know nothing of the world, you know. To trust one's judgment in any matter of higher thought would be a grievous mistake."

Phobos froze, the nerve in his eye starting to twitch painfully. But he could not jump to Cedric's defense in front of everyone after putting this whole ordeal in motion, for he would look like a lovesick fool. And he knew the Court thought he was weak and pathetic for his attachment to Cedric to begin with, despite all their lavish praises. Everyone in the room was laughing, except for Cedric and himself. The shifter was staring down at the floor, looking particularly murderous but had said nothing to defend himself. Phobos hastily stood up, blood starting to drain from his face, and was just about to change their focus to something, anything else, to try to prevent the disaster that was coming. Only he wasn't quite fast enough.

"Indeed, your ancestors were correct in keeping them...in their proper place. Perhaps this one needs a reminder from you, Your Highness."

Phobos' stomach lurched at the ugly implications of the statement, and he realized it had gone far too far then. Trust his council to do such a thing, the bigoted morons.

Though he did not want to, he dared to look across the table at Cedric. The shifter's nostrils were flared, his lips curled up in a snarl, and his pupils had constricted into slits. Phobos picked an opportune moment to back away from the scene because no sooner than he did, the shifter stood up and grabbed the edges of the table and, in one quick moment, spun it up and over the council's head, where it slammed into the wall, shattering on impact. Papers and maps and figures flew through the air, ink pots splattered all over the ground, and several council members fell out of their chairs in terror. He would have been impressed had he not indirectly been the cause of the scene. After the initial clamber of shock and fear, the room fell silent as everyone stared at the shifter.

Cedric's whole body was trembling, but whether in rage or despair, Phobos didn't know. He took a shaky breath, wiped at his eyes, and then turned and stormed out the door. Phobos quickly followed him, unsure what he even intended to do but knowing he had to do something. His Council called after him, but he paid them no mind.

He'd never intended for it to go as far as it had. He...knew it was a possibility, but he hadn't wanted it.

Phobos caught up with the shifter and dared to reach out and grab his forearm, painfully aware of how ironic the situation had become. Cedric hissed and bared his fangs in frustration but still stopped and turned to face him. Cedric's eyes were watery with rage, and his voice shook when he spoke.

"Why did you let them humiliate me like that?"

Fighting down the bile rising in his throat, Phobos grew even more defensive at the accusation, both because he'd done exactly that and because he still half-believed Cedric deserved it.

"You questioned me in front of everyone. What did you expect? You can not just say whatever you wish without consequences."

His heart was pounding feverishly in his chest, and he did not know how to stop it. Every breath he took in an attempt to calm himself was broken and unsteady. The fact that Cedric was just as distressed as he was made the situation that much more unpleasant. How could he hope to maintain control of the ever wild shifter when he could not even control himself? He was suddenly struggling out in the deep end of the pool, and no one had ever taught him to swim.

Cedric laughed bitterly. It was an ugly sound that made his skin crawl. "Was that what that was? A punishment? You're punishing me now for worrying about you?"

"I don't need your concern; I need your support-"

"I am supporting you! I am the only one who has ever supported you! Not your people, not that council, not your mother! No one but me! I'm not trying to belittle you or make you feel incompetent, I just don't want you to end up swinging in the city square!"

Phobos clenched his fists and took a furious, shaky breath. The same white-hot magic that had started this whole mess was leaking from his hands once more. Cedric had never once yelled at him before, never lost his temper with him, and most importantly, had never dared to speak so disrespectfully to him. The rage was all the more compounded as shame crept in amongst it, for once again, Cedric was right, and he knew it. He'd been wrong. Wrong about why Cedric had rejected him and wrong to act out on his delusions. And that only made him even more enraged. Because once again, Cedric had just been trying to prevent his own self-destructive impulses and had been raked over the coals for it. His mother was certainly smiling down on him from wherever she was.

"You are too familiar, Lord Cedric," he managed to warn him smoothly through the fog of his fury. He was trying to remain calm and collected as he showed his displeasure with Cedric to stop the situation from disintegrating entirely. But Cedric had opened the floodgates, and just like opposite ends of the same magnet, as Phobos attempted to remain distant and aloof, Cedric grew more and more panic-stricken and emotional. Cedric's shaking hands moved to clutch his shoulders, and Phobos physically recoiled from the frenzied energy the shifter was exuding.

"Just...please, just listen to me; I'm trying to help you! You are going to destroy yourself if you continue like this, please, please just stop!"

"You will ruin everything you touch with this magic! Enough Phobos!"

It didn't matter that Cedric's voice was desperate, panicked, and hurting instead of cold and uncaring. In fact, for some reason, that infuriated him even further. Why did he deserve any of that? He hadn't meant to do it. It was just an accident! He wasn't like that. He wasn't!

"I am not in need of your useless opinion! You are nothing more than a servant who thinks of himself with far greater importance than he has! If you had any sense, you would learn to hold that troublesome tongue of yours before your betters! When I have a use for you, I'll come find you!"

Even as he said it, he knew shoving salt into a wound that the council had already stabbed, stirring up bad memories, but he didn't care anymore. He'd spent his whole life having people telling him they knew better than him; no more.

Cedric's eyes constricted back into slits, and his mouth twitched violently like he was attempting to stop himself from snarling or showing his teeth or, worse still, morphing. And for just a moment, Phobos felt a twinge of fear that the shifter might attack him but quickly as it came, the fear erupted into a rage at Cedric's defiance. He was the one who was supposed to be afraid!

Instead, Cedric puffed up arrogantly to his human form's full height to stare down at Phobos with a cold expression. Those few inches between them had never been more noticeable. Had the Prince not been so enraged himself, he would have realized this was-once again-quickly spiraling beyond either of their control.

"Of course, Your Highness," the shifter spat at him, "I'm certain this 'brilliant' decision of yours will play in your favor, just as the last one did."

Phobos could feel fire boiling in his veins, and bits of magic were sparking from his fist like lighting. He wanted to hurt Cedric, to burn him, or electrocute him, or even reach out and hit him as a peasant would have. He wanted him to fold, to get on his knees and look up and beg his forgiveness, to just agree with him for once; to admit his own plans had merit too-that he didn't-didn't…

Old insecurities mixed with this new unforeseen rejection and visions of blackened skin and ruin clouded his mind. The two men regarded each other for a moment, each equally furious at the other. Cedric had bared his teeth in a warning that was enough to stay the magic he so desperately wished to call forth. But the urge to hurt the shifter was too overwhelming to stop what came next.

"You dare to speak to me in such a manner? I am the Prince! And you are nothing but dirt without me! Get out of my sight, worm. Get out of my castle! Leave!" he finally snapped at him callously, hoping to see some sort of hurt glimmer in the shifter's eyes. Something to signal he'd won, that this hadn't been for nothing.

But Cedric seemed even more aggressive than before, his forked tongue flicking out threateningly, and he produced that rattling sound in his throat that always made Phobos' hair stand on end in alarm. Bits of his vivid red 'mask' were starting to peek out from under his faux human skin.

"Very well. I will not stand by your side while you tear yourself to pieces!"

The shifter looked down at him haughtily, then turned and sauntered off. Phobos was certain he'd never hated anyone, even his mother, more than he had at that moment. For she, at least, had never even pretended to care. He watched Cedric's form slink away, but he wasn't done, for he'd not won, and so he continued. If he would ruin this here and now, he would at least come out on top of the rubble left behind.

"Then go! And if you ever dare to come back, it will be your skin hanging off the wall!"

Cedric froze. Phobos face lit up in manic victory as he realized he'd finally managed to draw blood. The taste of his success was spoiled and metallic, but he relished it all the same.

The shifter turned back to him, lips quivering and eyes spilling furious and heartbroken tears. Whatever Phobos' had hoped to accomplish with his fit of pettiness, it hadn't been what happened next. Cedric reached under his robes, snapped the golden chain from around his neck, and flung the Seal to Phobos' feet. The metal let loose a shower of black sparks as it ricocheted off the ground. Whether from the sheer force behind the shifter's throw or as a show of displeasure at being rejected by its owner, he didn't know. Magical objects tended to cling tightly to those they chose to bond with.

Then, Cedric turned and somberly marched down the hall and out of his sight without another word.

The Prince stared blankly at the disregarded item for several minutes. His chest felt like someone had reached in and hollowed it out, and it took some time before his head could even truly interpret what had just transpired. Cedric hadn't taken the Seal off his person since he'd given it to him. Phobos wouldn't dare ever admit how much that had pleased him.

He actually left me.

No, that couldn't be. Cedric wouldn't have left him. Where would he even go? They- Cedric had no one else. They had always been together, through everything, and they…

No...Cedric had just gone to hide away in his chambers like he always did when distressed. Phobos would find him curled up in a ball in a few hours after they had both calmed down. Just like before. Though it...would probably take more than some coitus to smooth this particular disaster over.

He grit his teeth, ignoring the pain blossoming in his jaw, and then bent down to pick up the Seal. Cedric would surely want it back once he'd settled. But the metal sparked violently again when he tried to touch it, as if it too, were furious with him.

"That wasn't my fault," he told it stubbornly, unsure of why he even did so. It was just a stupid piece of jewelry, after all. Another flash of light and a shrill thrill erupted from the Seal before it finally lay still and silent on the floor and allowed him to pick it up. He idly rubbed his thumb against the, thankfully, cold metal as he stared down the corridor Cedric had disappeared down.

Everything had just escalated so quickly. He'd only meant to embarrass Cedric, remind him gently of his place, not drag him through the dirt. He just wanted to feel...wanted-no needed again. Disgust soured his stomach as he admitted that to himself. But he'd been wrong.

Cedric hadn't been trying to disentangle himself from him at all until now...when he'd forced the issue. Everything he desired just seemed so far from his grasp yet again. It still didn't matter how hard he toiled and schemed and fought; it still wasn't enough. And maybe it never would be.

He was so tired of feeling like this.

---

Phobos was still agitated when he dared to venture after Cedric; their argument was barely a few hours past. The torches flicked after him as he passed due to the magic leaking from his body, but he didn't care. His skin had itched and crawled as he waited in his own chamber, and his preferred solitude had suddenly become unbearable. His patience was worn thin after the events of the day, and he was eager to try to settle the matter, so, at the very least, he did not have to fixate over it anymore. These dramatics were growing ever-so tiresome. Even his body was aching from the tension his mind felt, and he just wanted it to be over, one way or another.

And so, once again, he found himself at the door to Cedric's overly bright and garish chambers, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He understood why someone who had nothing for most of their life wished to collect things, particularly expensive and precious things, but sometimes he felt like Cedric might as well have made his nest in the treasury. And all the glass...Gems and gold and crystals and tapestries were one thing, and while they were also aplenty, the shifter had developed a borderline obsession with stained-glass works and colorful blown glass structures over the years, and Phobos couldn't help but find it ridiculous. Especially since he had to put up with it firsthand while he and Cedric had lived together, and they had bickered over shelf space in their run-down cabin. Needless to say, he was pleased they had separate living quarters once more.

"Lord Cedric?" he did not usually feel the need to announce himself, but he was unsure if he was going to find Cedric in a puddle of tears or coiled up and ready to strike at him and thought it best to prepare accordingly. But there was no answer, so Phobos cautiously opened the door to Cedric's dwelling.

To his surprise, Cedric's room looked untouched and empty. There were no torn-up bed sheets, overturned desks or shredded papers, broken trinkets, and, most importantly, no Cedric. But there was also no evidence that he'd packed any of his things or that he'd returned to his chambers after their fight at all. Trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart, Phobos could think of nothing else but to check other places Cedric tended to frequent.

But he was not in the gardens nor the library nor the kitchens, or anywhere else Phobos looked. And as the Prince crossed each location off his mental list, a growing feeling of dread filled him. Finally, after a few hours of an increasingly exasperating search, Phobos was forced to concede that Cedric was indeed no longer in the castle. He was unsure of where the shifter had gone, but he refused to allow himself to become overly alarmed at that time. It was possible Cedric had gone to patrol the village or was simply seeking a breath away from his domain to center himself. Cedric would come back; of that, he had no doubt. For where else did he have to go?

Phobos knew now he was...mistaken in his reasoning and that Cedric hadn't deserved to be leveled as he had, but the simple fact still remained. Cedric needed him. He had no family, no friends, no possessions, no money, nothing. Everything he possessed came from Phobos and was right here in this castle. And, most importantly, so was Phobos himself. Cedric would be back. He would.

---

"And still no sign of Lord Cedric?"

It had been three weeks. Three weeks.

The attache to whom he spoke shifted nervously at the base of his throne. They never knew if their lackluster reports regarding Phobos' wayward lover would be met with merely brushed off irritation or full-on fits of rage. "N-no, your Highness."

He drummed his fingers against the arm of his seat. He was becoming gut-wrenchingly used to that answer. The last people to have seen him were the gate guards who'd lowered the bridge for his escape. They had a vivid memory of Cedric throwing one of them against the wall and threatening to disembowel him when he casually asked the Lord where he was going. And since then, nothing. And every day it became more painfully obvious that Cedric had no intention of returning to him.

His initial disbelief had slowly and steadily given way to wrath. Some days he wanted to order his army to tear apart the nearby towns and drag the shifter back to him, and other days he hoped he never saw him again. Every time he replayed the incident in his head, someone new was to blame. Himself for starting it, the council for taking it too far, and even Cedric for reacting so violently to what he'd done to him. But none of that changed the fact that he was all alone once more, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Very well, I've heard enough for one day." He rose from his throne, and the man at his feet scrambled to get out of his way. The Prince didn't have to sit and lament about the situation. But even still, his lips were curled into a snarl at this latest disappointment, though he was hardly surprised anymore. Cedric was probably halfway to a different continent by now, maybe even back to wherever he'd come from in the first place. A place too wild and remote for Phobos to ever hope to find him again.

Well, fine! He didn't need him anymore. He didn't want him anymore. After all, he'd told him to leave, and Cedric had just done as he ordered. He'd outgrown his favorite childhood toy, and he would simply move on to better things—nothing more, nothing less. In fact, good riddance-

*thud*

His body collided with the massive doors of his throne room, which should have been opened for him as soon as they heard him approach. He grit his teeth in a seething rage. He pried the remarkably heavy doors open, ready to voice his great displeasure at his lazy, worthless Guards but was greeted by only an empty hallway. Typical. With no one to yell at, he instead sighed loudly in annoyance and continued on, unwilling to deal with the source of the problem.

The castle had quickly fallen into disarray without Cedric. Oh, the undercurrent of the castle still continued on as if nothing happened, orders still came and went, servants still cleaned and cooked. But there was a massive power vacuum that had resulted in ugly infighting and disorder. A good deal of the non-human nobles actually left the Court when they learned of his absence. Half chased out by the human nobles eager to rid themselves of the 'beasts,' and half believing Phobos was no better than the rest of the Escanor's and had used them from the start. Cedric had been his good faith gesture to them, and now that he was gone, so were they.

His Captain of the Guard, Raythor, was trying his damndest to maintain castle security, and while the guards respected him well enough to listen to him, most others did not. The Lurdens could barely be understood by anyone but Cedric to begin with, and they were disgruntled by his sudden disappearance and Raythor's attempts to use them like standard guards. Another one of his lieutenants, Frost, nipped at Raythor's heels incessantly as he would never have dared to do with Cedric. Guards started picking sides and slacking at the other commander's orders. The Council and other members of his court bickered incessantly as they attempted to consolidate the rest of the power and responsibilities Cedric had tossed aside. And Phobos left them all to their own devices, uncaring of the disaster that was brewing under him because it reminded him that he had no concept of how to rule his castle without help and the only person he trusted to help him he'd driven off. He had even tossed his precious Seal into his increasingly unguarded vault, for he could stand the sight of it nor its constant shocks, even as he desperately tried to convince himself he did not care, that it didn't matter. All that mattered now was fulfilling the original plan, to secure himself, and everything and everyone else could come after.

It had taken nearly a month of meticulous study and planning. He'd pulled dozens of books from the library and brought them to his study, mindlessly tearing off pages and pinning them to his desk as he needed. Plant structures, repurposing spells, the flow of natural energy, the best conduits for said energy, and the principles of life absorption. Of course, the most helpful book was the one that Cedric had gifted him a few weeks before about his leeching powers but his mood was too foul and focused to find any humor in that.

A few times during the long nights, he caught himself glancing up at the empty chair in his study or distractedly mumbling some anecdote to someone who wasn't there. Cursing himself for his still lingering weakness, he would immediately throw himself back into whatever he was meant to be doing. It was all bittersweet, for he knew few greater joys than this pursuit of complex and intricate magic. Even though he spent sleepless night after sleepless night pouring over runes and rituals, he was always eager to turn the next page, to translate the next spell, and to draw up the next step of the plan. But there was no one to witness his achievements or to discuss his theories with, and he desperately wished that it did not bother him as much as it did.

The only major hurdle to his plan was where exactly to funnel the energy too. The sheer amount of vitality he was hoping to siphon would be far too significant for direct absorption, so he needed some way to dilute the power. Water was a natural conduit of such mystical energies, but he couldn't just dump the life force of an entire world into the tub in his chamber. That was a recipe for an explosion if he'd ever heard one. No, the energy needed room to spread and thin out so he could slowly and safely absorb a small amount over an extended period of time rather than risk burning out like a star by taking it all at once.

Luckily, he knew just the spot for such an undertaking, courtesy of one of the very chatty former Queens who'd poured her heart out and into the Book of Secrets. Apparently, the lavish Escanor palace was not the first structure to sit upon the natural formation it resided upon. There were ancient caverns carved from the stone the castle rested upon, places so worn and weathered the intricate architecture had melted into the limestone. All other memories of who had built them had long faded away. And there among the ruins of whoever they had been was a spring. It was a massive natural pool, already woven into the structure of the castle. Deep in the depths where it lay, it would be easy to both hide it and secure it against those who would use it against him, for while those with his particular power were rare, there were others. He could think of no place better for his masterpiece.

And now everything was on the brink of fruition. The sacrifice was about to be worth it. Power-not like the Heart he deserved-but close, so very close. It made the annoyingly sparsely guarded halls he walked down almost worth it. After he'd completed this spell, he really would have to reorganize the hierarchy of his court. But, maybe, just maybe, once he did this, and nothing happened, Cedric would come slithering back to him. Phobos chuckled at the thought. He would have to decide whether he even wanted the shifter back at that point. He'd managed just fine on his own, after all.

And yet, even as he stood so close to another victory, irritation and doubt pricked at him. All this work, night after night pouring over magic that was thought to be theoretical that he would bring into reality, and he would still be second best. His sister, a toothless babe who couldn't even roll over in her crib, had already outclassed him at the moment of her birth. Why hadn't he been born with the Heart? While the powers did have were nothing to scoff at, they were, in fact, too powerful for the limited font of energy that an average human contained. He'd never been able to adequately sustain all the innate magic he possessed, the magic he loved more than anything. Why be blessed with something so wonderful that he could never use properly? But if he did manage to pull this off, and disaster did follow as Cedric had warned, he would be all alone as he tried to contain it. But his display to the Court had also unwittingly tied his hands once more. To back down now would be equally as foolish since his plans were out in the open. The intention was often just as damning as completion, and the council could use their knowledge to blackmail him. And, he couldn't be without his second in command and a steady source of power indefinitely. Just one was precarious enough, but he could not risk two such devastating weaknesses. This was a risk he would just have to take.

Rounding a corner into a for once purposely empty corridor, Phobos pushed against a loose flagstone in the wall. The hidden door sprung from the wall with a loud pop and a rush of musty, unpleasant air. He wondered how many other carefully hidden secrets lay in this castle as he descended down an ancient, molding staircase to the caverns. He supposed he had a lifetime to figure that out. He did not understand why the all-powerful Queens felt the need to hide away the slightest dirty deed and dark inclination. He supposed being the perfect "Light of Meridian" came with certain pitfalls after all.

He came to the bottom of the stairs and then stepped out onto the natural stone floor. The sound of water dripping off stalactites and rushing down the step-like natural formations of the spring greeted his ears. Luminescent crystals that shone a soft blue color were embedded in the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft light. He took the luxury of closing his eyes and just listened for a moment. It was...peaceful, like his gardens or the library in the dead of night. Then a soft grunt drew his attention back to the matter at hand.

For he was not alone in his chamber. He turned and smiled in false warmth that the other people that had arrived before him.

"Ah, my devoted Councilmembers! I'm so pleased you could help me in this undertaking. I couldn't do it without you, after all."

The men and women to whom he spoke, five in all, responded with muffled complaints and groans to his greetings, and the two guards who'd dragged them down there chuckled in a dull, wicked amusement at the noble's bound and gagged state.

There were always going to be...opponents to a plan with such grand vision. Some had simply been louder than others, more persistent, more likely to cause problems for him down the road. A few had even been ardent supporters of the scheme when they thought they had something to gain from it, of course. But when no one was formally appointed to take Cedric's place, they suddenly switched their tunes, fearing small but troublesome pockets of rebellion in their own regions more than anything else. And the louder the complaints and warnings became, the more his court started to share them. Not out of concern for his safety, of course...as one had been... but their own. Luckily, Phobos was more than capable of running his pit of greedy vipers. Nothing calmed a mob quite like a cull after all.

And, well, the mystic energy needed to set this project into motion had to come from somewhere.

He rolled up his billowing sleeves past his elbows as he ran his eyes over the massive and complex rune he'd constructed earlier that morning on the wall above spring. Always best to triple-check such intricate spells, for he'd like to come out of this with his limbs intact at the very least. He turned back to his frightened and angry hostages, uncaring of the hateful looks he was receiving.

"I'm certain I could placate your fears with a carefully worded speech about the greater good and necessary sacrifices, but we all know that's about to be pointless, isn't it?"

Just as he had with his rose bush what seemed months ago, he reached out with his magic and mystically peeled away skin and bone and blood and coaxed out pure life itself from everyone before him, even the loyal and very shocked guards. It was meant to be a secret grotto, after all. But this time, he did not pool that energy into himself, and their bodies did not wither into roses. Instead, he collapsed and replicated the energy over and over and over, transmuting both it and their bodies into pure light energy. It pulled wildly in every direction as he tried to hold it still, wishing nothing more than to escape and evaporate into the natural flow like all other spent energy. When it realized it could not do that, it rushed back down at him, hoping to overwhelm and burn him as it had when he'd been a child. But this was not genuinely wild energy like he'd summoned then, and he already had a place to direct it this time.

It was strenuous and painful to hold something back that had no physical form through will alone. His body reacted as he was tearing to pull a great corporal weight, sweat poured from his forehead, and his muscles trembled and strained. Gods, he was so tired of feeling so weak! But he had to hold it. Had to move it. Redirect it. He pulled his arms back, and with a herculaneum effort, the magic broke its natural state and concentrated and funneled itself into the rune. He collapsed to his knees, excitement filling the gaps his exertion had left in him. The symbols sparked and glowed as white-hot as the sun, colors spun rapidly in the circle till they all merged into one, and the rune hummed loudly with power. Then the symbol faded into darkness, black and motionless as if it were merely painted ink, and the room was suddenly as painfully still and linear as a graveyard. Phobos collapsed to his knees and panted frantically when nothing happened for a few moments, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

But then the rune faded into the ground like it had never been, and a deep rumbling followed its disappearance. The tips of thick vines poked up from solid rock like it was freshly tilled soil and first snaked their way into the water. Then the rest of the massive plant erupted out from the stone and shot down and out of the castle, far beyond his line of sight.

He crawled over to the water's edge, unsure of what exactly he was waiting for but knowing it hadn't happened yet. The few minutes he knelt there seemed to stretch into hours to his anxiety-ridden mind. If this didn't work, it would all be for nothing. People would know what he tried to do but couldn't. They would know how callously he viewed his worthless people and that he was suddenly without protection because of it. No council, no Cedric, no mystic might. He might as well drown himself here and now if he failed. His mouth filled with a metallic taste as he chewed at the inside of his cheeks.

Without any other warning, the vines glowed as bright as the rune had and poured life energy into the water with the force of a great waterfall. The water boiled and writhed from the heat, and for just a moment, Phobos feared he'd miscalculated, and the space would not be enough. Then it stilled and reached equilibrium as if nothing were amiss about it at all. Tentatively, Phobos reached out and placed a shaking hand into the water.

The energy instantly coursed up the length of his body. It was warm and bright and as comforting as nothing he'd ever known. Magic and power and life and joy like he'd never felt before. His muscles relaxed, the shaking stopped, and the headache already forming melted away. This was real power, seemingly endless and inexhaustible, but still contained, not overwhelming and wild and fierce as it would be without his intervention. He could grasp it in his hand, and it yielded to him so beautifully, letting him drain it and use it as he will. Desire suddenly pooled in his heart, for if this poor substitute was so fantastic, he could only imagine what it would feel like to hold the Heart. This feeling, but neverending, and carried with him wherever he went. He wondered, would he finally be whole then?

There was a flurry of people who wanted his attention when he finally returned from the caverns. Members of his Council and Court, Raythor, and several very panicked attaches. He brushed them all aside, knowing what they were there for and uncaring of what the ants down the dirt thought about his vines. They would not spoil this victory. He'd done the impossible once again, with no assistance this time. Their concerns and false praises meant nothing to him, he was so far above them he could barely see them.

He directed himself to Raythor only. "If anyone starts to cause problems, simply disperse them."

The man's face hardened at the order, but he bowed and obeyed nonetheless. He liked Raythor, despite their differing philosophies. He always did what he was told immediately and without argument, even if he himself did not believe in it. It was an excellent quality in a lieutenant. The Lords and Ladies, however, were not so easily satisfied. They crowded around him, each trying to speak over the other till they were just a deafening cacophony he could not even begin to understand. The muscles in his head throbbed in annoyance. Why was everything in the court so complicated? This had been the plan for close to a month. Why such a panic now?

"Silence!" he shouted, "I made my intent perfectly clear to you all. Now it is your job to keep your people in line. I will not have chaos throughout the land because you abandoned your duties."

And there was silence for a moment. The Court looked at each other and him warily, their expressions a mix of fear, disgust, and resentment. He wondered if his mother had people dogging her every decision as well or if her power and position as Queen had been enough to crow them. Would he ever be taken seriously, even when he possessed the Heart? Or would he have to place his throne on the bodies of the whole damn Council before they understood he would not be sidelined? Phobos turned his back to them, but no sooner than he did, a single voice spoke out from the crowd behind him.

"And why should we do that? Hmm? You do as you please and care nothing for the consequences. Extending your power outward requires working with your nobles, and you refuse to do so! You gave every scrap of loose power to your forked-tongued whore, and then when you chased him off you refused to give it to anyone else. Because you still think that he's going to come crawling back to you on his knees when you finally prove how impressive you are. But now, we have no reason to obey you. You kill us, and you lose what little power structure you have left and will have no one to support you. Your magic is fearsome, yes, even more so now. But you are not the Heart, and even you can not fight off an army on your own. You have overplayed yourself."

Phobos was stunned to silence by the blatant disrespect. But the man who confronted him wasn't done yet. It suddenly occurred to Phobos he didn't even know the names of his Council members. Cedric had always kept track of such meaningless details for him.

"The people will be out rioting in the streets because of this. Tearing through our strongholds to get to you. And you expect us to fall in line simply because you say so? When you have completely destroyed the status quo and placed us all at risk? Honestly, the only reason no one tried harder to stop you from causing this nightmare is that we didn't believe you were capable of actually doing such a thing. And yet you have, but what has it gained you? Nothing! You are all alone, pinned to a wall unless you run this court the way it should be. Elect a proper second in command, elect a noble general, and give us all our correct titles and boons or myself, and a good number of the rest of us will be leaving. We will not fight this war of yours for free. Or continue you on as you have and will face the consequences."

Cold rage filled his veins. It was not the same desperate, panicked wrath that he'd felt at his last confrontation. He did not have to work to restrain himself, for he did not care if he made this situation worse in the slightest. The Council had been a thorn in their side from the beginning, and he only regretted not letting Cedric deal with them as he pleased in the first place rather than trying to maintain 'order' for so long. Look where that had gotten them. Magic prickled under his skin in preparation for use but did not leak from his fists. He was in control this time. Phobos turned back to face the Councilman, one thin silver eyebrow raised in defiance. His voice was cool and calm.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you all. I will never go back to the way things were before. You will never control and harangue me as you have previous monarchs, and I will never let the likes of you run my life again. I would sooner let this entire castle crumble over my body than let that happen. So, go ahead and do whatever you please. You are right; I don't care about the consequences. I am the Prince of Meridian, I am Queen Weira's rightful heir, and I will do whatever it takes, no matter what, until I come out on top of it all or destroy myself and everyone else in the process. I will not shackle or beholden myself to any of you worthless scum. Now, leave me be before I kill you all."

His declaration was met with gasps and shocked whispers. It pleased him to see them so horrified. He wanted nothing more than that since he first sat in the Council room with them and they'd insulted him straight to his face. The man who'd first addressed him, a gaunt-faced mousy little man, nose flared and his face reddened.

"You are no true Escanor! Not the Queen who should be leading us! And we do not have to stand for this!"

Phobos clenched his jaw painfully tight and ignored the man. He'd heard all that rhetoric a thousand times before and no longer cared. Without so much as another glance at them, Phobos swept through the corridor and promptly retreated back to his chambers. He slammed the door harshly shut once he was securely inside. While he couldn't say he was surprised by their treachery, he was still infuriated. His every victory had come with a greater and greater disappointment on its heels. Sometimes he really did feel as if he were cursed as some people had claimed in his youth. That was the only explanation for his damned luck.

He glanced down at his hands, they were as white and scorching as a poker iron from his anger. For a moment, he thought about letting all that magic loose in his room like an inferno that would consume everything. He wondered if he would feel better after.

Phobos snorted and collapsed into his bed. That's how Cedric always dealt with his problems and his temper was even worse than his. So, he doubted it.

The slightest hints of a smirk pulled at his lips. He was imagining what the shifter would have done if he'd been there when the Council had spoken so disrespectfully to him. Temper tantrum did not even come close to describing the bloodshed that would have occurred. Then his stomach soured when he remembered the reason that Cedric was not there in the first place. Burying his face into a pillow, the Prince decided trying to catch up on his sleep was suddenly a better use of his time.

---

A week of relative peace followed, to his immense surprise. Several of his Council members had indeed left the castle, for which he was honestly thankful for, but quite a few of them still attended him as well. Those left behind were scrambling for his attention, but Phobos was uninterested in engaging with them and their falsehoods. Everyone was desperate to use this situation against him, but he refused to allow them to do so. Peasants and village leaders attempted to flood the castle demanding an explanation for his spell, but he had them all sent away. Luckily, Raythor had managed to hold a sliver of renewed stability in the palace, to both his pleasure and shock. They had not fallen off the edge of the precipice just yet. But Phobos couldn't help but feel it was only a matter of time. He'd crossed a line, and everyone knew it.

But once again, Phobos had hidden away from it all in his chambers, desperately trying to keep himself busy. Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion every day as he experimented with his new powers. Nothing had ever brought him joy quite like magic did, so it was both a suitable and pleasurable distraction. He no longer felt winded after the slightest spell or hex, he could cast complex spells for hours and even perform a few powerful blasts of raw, pure light like his mother without any ill effects. But he was still limited, and it was still not enough. He was forced to return to the water every evening and sometimes twice a day when he was particularly active with his craft. The spring had been a brilliant idea, and the water soothed his body and mind, but, in the end, it was just another weakness.

At night, however, he could not shake the emptiness and despair that haunted his every step, and that particular night was no different. He felt like he was just a misbehaving child again, sent to his room with no one to keep him company. The Prince tossed and turned and then glared at the frustratingly empty bedside across from him. He was exhausted, but sleep had always been hard-fought for him, and stress compounded his usual problem. The hour was well past midnight, and it was roughly the twentieth time he'd performed the action. Unfortunately, he was greeted by the same sight no matter how many times he repeated the act.

"I love you,"

Every time he thought of that night, he could feel the chill of Cedric's hands on his face once more, and his weight straddled across his lap. Love? Pah, love wouldn't have left him alone to deal with all these problems, no matter what he'd said to him. Phobos tossed one of his excess pillows in frustration at the nest-like structure that remained untouched on his bed that a certain shifter should have been occupying.

But of all the stupid, hateful things he could have said, why had he chosen that? Skinning? The first damn thing Cedric had done once they'd taken the castle had been to tear his family's trophies off the wall to bury them. Of all the ugly history in all of Metamoore to bring up off the top of his head. He really did impress himself sometimes—gods, what a nightmare.

He would have to commit himself to actually ruling his own kingdom now, he supposed. The last shreds of hope for his shifter's return had dwindled away, and he was forced to finally accept reality. His powers were fearsome now, it was true, but he had traded one sense of insecurity for another. So, his options were somewhat limited. He could give power to the members of the Council who remained, but he did not trust them. Give any one of them control over his army, and he could be faced with a coup by the end of the month. Raythor was a capable enough soldier and commander, but he was shortsighted and simple, unwilling to do whatever was necessary to win his fights. Phobos didn't need an honorable man at the helm of his army. He required a shrewd and ruthless tactician who was capable of those gruesome decisions independently of him. And unfortunately, most men of that caliber were not particularly renowned for their loyalty. He'd backed himself into a corner yet again, and for the moment, he did not know to get himself out of it.

The veins in his head throbbed as he pondered all of this. Why had he been so incredibly rash that day? He needed Cedric just as much the shifter needed him. Phobos made the plans-the great impossible ideas and Cedric made them work in reality. He could do the impossible feats of magic, and Cedric dealt with the aftermath. Phobos had never been good with that, preferring to just reap the spoils, and it was more obvious than ever in recent days. The likelihood of another highly capable and cunning shapeshifter of his breed falling into his lap who was also hopelessly in love with him and that Phobos could tolerate and even...appreciate in equal return seemed fairly slim. Cedric had been the only person he ever trusted, and he'd driven him off. It hurt his pride to admit it, but Phobos was a man who could acknowledge the cold reality of things, even if he could not truly deal with them.

But gods was he tired of acknowledging it. He'd become so used to him, even his overly affectionate and playful advances that from anyone else would have made his stomach sour. Everywhere he looked were glaring reminders of Cedric's once constant presence, from the empty bed to the chaos of the poorly managed castle, and it brought forth a potent mix of bitterness and rage and anguish. Reminders that he'd become too dependent on someone else, but also that this was the reason for his recent successes. That fact alone filled him with a bitter resentment, for he hated depending on people more than anything. It was just a setup for failure. Because everyone eventually disappointed him. Or maybe, his mother had been right all along, and he was a problem. He honestly didn't know or care anymore. He was beginning to think he was better on his own anyway.

Well, there was one place Cedric had never been and thus hadn't been stained with his absence and where, with hope, Phobos could relax in peace. The hour was late for a bath, and he was already brimming with mystic energy, but Phobos didn't care. Maybe the spring and its power could also fill up the empty, achy space inside him for the night and allow him to sleep.

He tripped over his feet a few times in his drowsy state as he descended down his winding staircase, but he'd rather fall to his death than spend any more time in that suffocating room. He didn't need any more reminders of that unshakeable weakness and his own ineptitude.

He came out to the main landing of the castle and was suddenly taken aback. There was a small crowd of people clambered outside the entrance to his tower. They seemed to be in the middle of a fierce debate. Their faces were drawn and pale and full of distress and became even more so when they noticed his presence.

Phobos signed loudly and rubbed his eyes. What could possibly be going wrong now? All he wanted was some peace, but apparently, that was too much to ask for. This was why he needed someone else for them to bother first.

He furrowed his brows expectantly at his servants, waiting for someone to address him, but no one dared. They glanced at each other in pure terror, nudging one another and trying to stealthily back away from him. Phobos felt a lump start to gather in his throat as he watched them suspiciously.

"Well...what is it?" he asked them shortly.

More silence.

Phobos felt like ants were crawling under his skin. His nerves were basically shot after the events of the last month to begin with, and his patience wore ever more thin as the days stretched on.

"Well!?" he snarled at them.

A few people, members of his court, he believed, actually turned and hurriedly scrambled away from him and escaped down the hall. Phobos' jaw was stiff from how harshly he'd grit his teeth. Finally, Raythor pushed his way out from the few people still left.

He knelt on the ground before him, and Phobos could see thin lines of sweat upon his brow. His heart was clenched in his chest. Something truly horrific had occurred while he'd been moping in bed.

"Your Highness, I'm afraid...that...your sister has been taken."

At first, Phobos didn't understand the magnitude of what he said. Too shocked. Too horrified.

"Taken…?" That was all the response he could manage to form. With everything that had been going on, he'd scarcely thought of his sister as an actual person to keep track of and not just a vague future promise of power.

"Yes, Your Highness. Her caregiver, Lady Galgheita, absconded with her not but a few hours ago. It seems like an organized plot from the inside. She took the infant and tore open a hole in the Veil. All the reports I've gathered from my guards indicated she was...also in possession of your Seal. She and the infant and Seal all went through the portal. They are gone. I accept full responsibility for this, my liege."

Raythor remained solemn and calm, despite the situation. That and his acceptance of his responsibility for the problem were the only things that managed to save his life once Phobos' shock started to melt into a fiery and frantic rage.

Gone? The Heart was gone? How? Who would have…? Them.

His eyes darted up past Raythor's meaningless form to the few members of his Council who remained. His limbs shook with fury, all traces of his exhaustion burned away. The Heart had always been his ultimate goal, and now it was gone?! His birthright snatched right under his nose?!

"Did you know about this?" he asked them, his voice hard with rage.

The three of them who remained, all humans, glanced at each other warily.

"No, your Highness, but Lord Manafort made himself very clear before he left that he intended to take action against you. But you refused to meet with us to discuss that." One of them ventured hesitantly. Phobos did not even know which one of them was Manafort, but he would hazard a guess it was the man who'd spoken out against him that night when he'd confronted them.

"Are you suggesting this is my fault?" Phobos snarled viciously. The nerve of these idiotic, treasonous, worthless worms! Those leeches! Backstabbing, wretched-

"No! Of course not, your-"

Phobos interrupted the excuses. One moment magic ripped out unconsciously from his hands. The next, the floor was soaked in a shower of blood, and the noble's bodies tumbled to the ground like puppets cut loose from their strings; their throats slit open and bared. Raythor alone remained untouched, but his eyes bulged in horror as blood smattered across his back and pooled at his feet. Phobos didn't feel the slightest bit of satisfaction as he gazed at their prone forms, but at least his hands were no longer shaking.

"Where are the rest of them? The Court and the Council?" He demanded. He was going to soak the castle in all their blood.

Raythor took a moment to steady himself, responding as only a battle-hardened soldier like himself could.

"Those were all that remained, your Highness. The rest of the nobles fled as soon as they heard the word of the kidnapping, fearing a full-scale attack was imminent. But the soldiers are posted at every entrance and in defensive positions around the castle in preparation for such an event."

"They did this. Those slimy, disloyal vermin!" he screamed. He no longer cared that his calm facade was shattered, that he looked like an unstable lunatic. His reign was over. Over before it had even truly begun.

How would he ever get the Heart back? The Seal had been taken along with his sister, and there was no way to produce portals in the veil without it. It would take a decade or more for the Veil to deteriorate enough for natural portals to form. And even when he could get through, there was no one he trusted enough to send to a new world and bring back his fully powered sister to him. Anyone with enough sense and cunning to perform said mission would betray him in a heartbeat and cozy up to the 'rightful heir' for greater rewards than even he could give them.

"What do you wish me to do, your Highness?" Raythor practically begged.

But Phobos had no answers for even himself. For the first time in his life, he was lost.

"I don't think it matters anymore, Raythor," he told him bitterly. "My sister was the only hope for the future, and now she's gone. Do whatever you want. Everyone else has."

"Your Highness-"

"Leave me be!" he shouted at the other man. His voice felt nails against his temple. Raythor hurriedly stood up, bowed, and fled the scene.

Phobos stood in the empty hall for a moment, silent. Confused. Furious. Devastated.

The Heart should have been his, and now it was lost to him, possibly forever. Fate's last cruel joke on him, apparently. He'd allowed it to slip through his fingers rather than deal with any of the problems he'd caused. The traitors had stolen her, yes, but he'd practically served up on a platter made of neglect and carelessness. Why? So he didn't have to recognize what a failure he actually was? Because he'd rather ignore the world than admit, he did ruin everything he touched?

Phobos was floundering out in deep water once more, but this time land was nowhere in sight. All he could do now was wait for the inevitable. Maybe he could hold on to his castle for a few more years through brute force and oppression, but he was out of allies to do it for him and out of a future. He'd seen to that.

He wandered the now completely empty halls for hours, too numb to even know where he was going. His temper faded into despondency, for he could think of no scheme to wriggle himself out of this situation.

The sun was just starting to rise in the sky when Phobos found himself in the great pomade of the Hall of the Queens, his fingers running across the frames of each portrait. From the innocent-eyed Leryn to his stern mother, he gazed upon every face that had come before him. The line had never once been broken; no males nor nondirect descents had ever reigned as monarch until him. And look what he had done.

Candracar had cut off their planet from other worlds, the council was broken, the Heart had been stolen, and he was all alone at the top of it all.

He paused at his mother's portrait, looking up at her cold, unblinking eyes, not unlike how she had also regarded him in life. He pressed his forehead against the wall directly under her painting. He could hear her voice echoing in his head, and flashes of white magic flared in his memory.

He slammed his fist into the stone wall under the portrait. Pain flared through his bones, and an unsettling crunch met his ears, but he didn't care. He would have given anything to throw himself into someone's open arms, even her's. But he couldn't, and would never be able to again, and it was all his fault. He looked back at her, devastated and disgusted with himself in equal parts.

"Oh, mother...you were right all along."

But as he finally admitted it, it felt right. Like all the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked.

He had done everything she'd warned him he would, and yet, he was still here. Still wearing the crown, with all the life force of Meridian at his fingertips. He never pretended to be something he wasn't, but he always hoped...that maybe someday he could be. That someday, everything would be right and good. But that was not him. He was not meant to live in her perfect, saccharine, beautiful garden. He'd never been happy there. No, he was meant for darkness and disorder and all the foul tempers inside him, and if no one could handle that, then it was hardly his fault. He would burn out like a star before he faded into nothing like they all wanted him to. He would get his birthright back by any means necessary. He would show them all what he was truly capable of. Yes, if he was meant to be an abomination, then that's what he would be.

He called forth all of his stolen energy. It pooled in his fingertips till they glowed as bright as molten metal. He felt as if he held the power of a thousand suns, his fingers quivered from holding all that energy back, and his blood was aflame. Phobos teetered on the edge of creation and destruction, unsure for a moment which side he was going to come down on.

Then, he released it.

It was not a purposeful thing, not some carefully planned and recited spell but wild and powerful magic innate to the Escanor bloodline. Resentment, rage, and loss tangled with the mystic energy till it bubbled over and reached out from him to warp reality itself. Perfect white marble was replaced with stone as black and pointed as obsidian. Soft, welcoming architecture contorted into warped ugly gables and towers and hallways. Flowers and leaves withered off the great landmass that held up the castle till it was drained of any life. Dark vines covered with wicked thorns pushed their way into every crevice available to them and then blossomed with roses as black as night once they settled. And above them all, the sky darkened and darkened till even the sun itself yielded to him.

It was a castle worthy of the devil they all thought him to be, a reflection of everything he'd always felt inside of him. It was perfect and beautiful and monstrous and hideous in equal measure. There would be no more hiding, no more hoping; he would never be his mother's ideal heir.

Suddenly his knees gave out under him, and he collapsed brokenly onto the floor. He'd used up everything he'd stolen and then some to complete his vision. His limbs felt as heavy as if he were trying to pull them loose from thick mud with weights strapped to them. The Prince had drained himself many times before, but he'd never experienced anything quite like this. The sheer amount of his own consciousness he'd poured out left him feeling like he'd numbed every nerve in his body and then slit his wrists and allowed all his blood to drain out onto the floor. He could do nothing but laugh brokenly as he lay on the floor, and even that pained him. The rebels and traitors could come to drag him out and hang him in the square for all he cared; they would still be forced to look at what he'd done until his sister was returned to the world and skilled enough to restore what once was. He wondered if his mother would finally be proud of him as he faded into unconsciousness.

---

"My Prince!?"

The voice that woke him sounded painfully familiar, and his head instinctively leaned into the too-cold hand he felt cupping his face. He tried to crack his eyes open and caught a brief and blurry shimmer of loose golden hair before his heavy eyelids closed on their own accord.

Ah, wonderful, he was hallucinating now. Or maybe he'd managed to kill himself by accident from his overexertion. That would be his luck.

"Ah, what have you done to yourself?"

Well, at least the apparition was concerned for him. That was...something, he supposed. But then suddenly he was moving, up and off the floor, his torso pulled up into an embrace against another body. He furrowed his brow. No, that shouldn't have been possible. He forced his eyes open once more, but the world still looked foggy and distant as if he were underwater.

"Cedric…?"

Shaking but gentle fingers brushed away the sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to his face. They were like ice against his already pallor skin, and yet Phobos had never felt anything more pleasurable before.

Shock took the already shallow breath he'd barely managed to pull into his lungs, for this was no hallucination. He resisted the urge to laugh. It was just like Cedric to avoid him in triumph and come racing back on the heels of disaster while everyone else gladly threw themselves overboard.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

For a moment, he wanted to twine his arms around his neck and never let go, and almost simultaneously, he wanted to slit open his throat for daring to leave him in the first place. But he was too exhausted to express rage or joy. Just as quickly as the rush of emotions came, they ebbed and faded into the background, and they were replaced with one single fact. It wasn't over yet, and he'd not lost everything. Cedric could get the Heart. Cedric could take back control of the castle. It...was almost like a sign..that he'd come back at that exact moment.

Unconsciously, for his head still too fuzzy to think clearly, he pressed his forehead against Cedric's. The chill of his skin soothed the tight inflamed nerves throbbing in his head.

"You came back," his voice was flat and empty, reflective of the exhaustion and turmoil he felt.

Cedric's brows furrowed up in concern, and the lines of the rest of his face were taut with tension. He'd clearly not forgotten Phobos' parting words to him. Guilt might have stabbed at him if he had not been so worn and numb.

"Yes." His voice was stiff like he was preparing for yet another fight. "I did."

Phobos could only manage a dry chuckle. "I presume you heard what happened. You must have been closer than I thought you were or learned to teleport."

Cedric fidgeted. "Yes. I've been nearby."

That filled Phobos with a slight tingling of warmth for some reason. He chalked it up to residual magic still upon him.

"Well, unfortunately, if you intended your return to be a great spectacle akin to a valiant hero rescuing the maiden, you are a few hours too late, and someone has already beaten you to it."

The shifter lips twitched, but he didn't seem the slightest bit amused. "Yes, I see that, my Prince."

Phobos was too spent to be petty or stubborn or even mad anymore. He'd brought himself to the brink of disaster, and though later as things grew worse and worse, the truth would muddle in his head, at that moment, he knew the fault lay squarely on his shoulders. And for just a moment, as he looked past Cedric's face at the blackened and twisted world he'd created, he wished the shifter hadn't come back. That he'd been clever enough to stay away from him as he pulled himself down closer and closer to oblivion.

Then Cedric clutched him even tighter against his body, still shaking fingers digging painfully into his back, and told him in a broken but tender voice,

"I will never abandon you again. Never. I swear it."

Soothing relief and harsh disappointment clashed inside him. He tried to imagine a world where any of this had a happy ending, but he just couldn't. His gaze drifted back up to the unyielding eyes of his mother's portrait right above them.

He frowned. She'd been wrong about one thing.

Cedric had always known what he was, even when he didn't, and he didn't care. Cedric was standing in his ruins, more concerned about his state than anything else. They were the same, dark and twisted, and hated by everyone else simply because of what they were. The ending didn't have to be happy because that's not who they were. They had already lived a 'happy ending' in a pure, white castle filled with pink, perfect flowers, and it had been nothing but pain. They were already ruined, both of them, independent of the other. A perfect match. Death and destruction in equal measure. There would be no more pretending otherwise.

The shifter carefully and easily lifted him off the ground, like his weight was nothing to him, even in his human form. It probably wasn't, Phobos thought in dull amusement. Phobos glanced around at the havoc of the castle. Exhaustion and joy mixed with the leftover rage from his sister's kidnapping, and he couldn't stop a bitter laugh from escaping him.

"Also, I believe I broke my hand earlier."

He meant it as a poor, sour joke, though he certainly probably had broken a few fingers, but his voice wobbled pathetically at the end of his sentence. Gods-he was tired, even after the few hours he'd spent unconscious. Cedric snorted as he started off in the direction of Phobos' chambers. Phobos curled himself comfortably into his arms, for once uncaring if anyone saw him in such a state. Plus, he doubted there was a soul left in the castle save for his panicked guards anyway.

"Of course you did."

---

AN-

God, this chapter got so dramatic. I will admit it was a little contrived and self-indulgent, but what else are fics for? Also...why so longgggg. You can definitely tell where I started to run out of steam towards the end.

Do I think I'm stretching the limits of belief that Phobos would just let Cedric come back without punishing him? Mmm, maybe?

I think it's important to differentiate between the comics and the cartoons in this regard. Their relationship in the cartoons is vastly different in the cartoon and is far closer to equal footing both in terms of relative power and respect. Phobos is not the immortal and ethereal being he is in the comic. He has a definite power limit and is much more human. And I honestly feel like the only reason he lords over Cedric is that he lets him. I mean, he could definitely still kill or seriously hurt Cedric if he were so inclined, but I don't think he would come out completely unscathed. I don't think he was actually physically capable of really hurting Cedric until he took the power of the heart, and furthermore, I don't think he actually wanted to do so until then either. He'd pretty much lost everything at that point, and I think despite his bravado, he knew it, and Cedric took the brunt of that blame. Obviously, he tortures Cedric often in the comics for his failures and specifically "likes to watch him squirm," if I remember correctly. Phobos might find him attractive and relatively useful, but I definitely wouldn't say he's in love with him. They are only master and servant in that media. But I don't think cartoon Cedric has actually been punished for anything until the events of the Final Battle. Phobos gets annoyed with him often, yes, but I don't think he's ever been physically harmed over it. I realize this probably more because of censorship issues for TV viewers than any real meaning, and you could easily say such punishments happen off-screen, but it still lends itself to a deeper meaning, particularly when you combine the other aspects of their relationship in the cartoon.

Furthermore, I wanted to set a precedent for why Cedric chooses to come back to him during the events of The Final Battle when all his other followers have the sense to hightail it out of there.

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read this monstrosity. -RoR