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.

7. Springtime in Meridian pt 1

*Trigger Warning*

Allusions to past abuse. Depictions of violence.

---

Six Years After Elyon's Kidnapping

The hour was just before dawn and the world was quiet and still. The humans and galhots were hiding away in their hovels. Their sanctuaries where they thought they were safe from the predators that stalked in the receding night. They were wrong. The long shadows of the night were of no concern to him. Every indentation and fleck in the wall and every gilded book that sat upon the shelf he was lurking behind were clear as if it were day to the shapeshifter. His tail tip twitched in anticipation of the strike, and his scales brushed silently against the marble floor as he inched closer. His quarry laid upon their bed, still very much awake, circles darkening under their eyes from their stubborn refusal to sleep during the night like everyone else. He hadn't slept either, too preoccupied with disposing pieces of ripped and torn skin from his domain.

Then, without a warning, the room erupted in a light eerily reminiscent of the sun that no longer truly shined, and the shifter fumbled over his tail as he tried to shield his eyes from the too-rapid change. Substantial white spots blurred his vision, and the world flickered painfully as his eyes tried to switch from his greyscale perception of the night to the vivid colors of the day. He hissed and snarled as he rubbed his head among his coils in distress.

Caught.

"Lord Cedric, do not try my patience."

Prince Phobos sounded like he would enjoy nothing more than to turn his magic on him. However, the years of relative bliss between them had returned their relations to 'pre-disaster' as Cedric called it, and so that tone brought him no fear but did make his tail twitch playfully. Such a petulant thing his Prince was. Shaking the last of the stinging discomfort from his eyes and not heeding the warning in the slightest, Cedric invited himself up on the bed. He laid his striped tail directly across the Prince's stomach, intending to catch the Prince's eye forcefully. Instead, Phobos coughed and sputtered at the sudden massive weight across his abdomen. Cedric knew he was straddling the edge of disaster, but he did not care. Phobos' nostrils flared out in rage at his forwardness, but then, his nose wrinkled up as if a thought just occurred to him. The Prince then took a moment to examine the coils smothering him with a disdainful snarl and furrowed brow, and he let out an exasperated sigh of understanding.

"Ah. I see. You are looking remarkably colorful this morning."

Cedric's tail thrashed and rolled off the Prince and onto the floor in feverish delight at the almost complement. Phobos quietly groaned and put one hand delicately to his head as the bed swayed side to side in time with his movement.

"Is there anything worse on this planet than the Spring?" the Prince asked no one in particular.

While Cedric was not some primitive beast whose mind fogged with rage and primal needs, he was still susceptible to nature's seasonal changes, as were all true born denizens of Meridian. From the lowest beast to the near human Galhots, whether in Spring or Autumn, they all felt it. From full primal madness in the animals to the most insignificant change of mannerisms for sentient beings. Cedric's, however, happened to be a little of physical and mental change. He'd spent the last week or so shedding his skin in preparation, not because of new growth, as he sometimes did, however, but for showing off. His people's patterns and colors were always especially alluring and vivid after the Spring shed to assist them with their spirited flirtatious endeavors.

"I will never understand why every other monstrosity in this land acts like a mindless barbarian, and yet you are like this."

'Obnoxiously soft and senseless' was how he chose to describe it the first time he'd encountered Cedric's too-bright mood and insistent playfulness. It had been additionally unfortunate that the emotionally distant Prince had first been subjected to it during both his first taste of real freedom in nearly a decade and the year of his sexual maturation. He was confident the poor man had been rethinking the entire 'running away' endeavor as Cedric clung to him giggling like a mad man in their bed, lost in the fever of his near delirious euphoria as if he were intoxicated. This, of course, came directly after a week of snapping at him and everything else that moved from the fatigue and stress his shedding induced. His hormones had leveled out a great deal as he aged, but there was still nothing he wanted more than to tightly twist himself flirtatiously around the Prince as if he were one of his own kind during the Spring. Regrettably, Phobos far too small and breakable for him to ever dare attempt to do so. The closest he could come was carefully draping himself over him as he'd done.

"If my people rutted and fought like animals or were any more aggressive than we already are, even for just a few days, I'm not entirely sure there would be anyone else left on Meridian," he teased him.

Phobos' stroked his goatee thoughtfully and then chuckled, "True enough, my pet."

Phobos seemed to realize his grievous misstep the moment after he finished speaking, and his lips pursed in irritation with himself. Egged on by his favorite endearment, Cedric propped himself up eagerly, two massive arms on either side of the Prince, tail writhing even faster in renewed excitement. Something crashed loudly somewhere far behind them. Phobos raised an eyebrow coldly at his enthusiasm, but it did nothing to dampen it. It would take far more than the Princes' near-constant dour mood to do so this morning.

"I needn't have to remind you that dignitaries from the Western Isles are coming to discuss trading proposals this morning."

Usually, that would have been the end of the discussion. He did not need to be told twice. Their duties always came first. But, he could swear he saw the tiniest hint of mischief in the Prince's jade green eyes. So, instead, exercising extreme caution, he continued his prodding.

"And as the Prince, you have far better things to do than meet with such unimportant people. You haven't slept, you are exhausted and-"

"And?"

Cedric gave him a salacious smirk that was nothing but vicious, pointed teeth.

"And that was not quite a no."

The Prince seemed lost in thought for a moment. Cedric's body stilled as he intently watched the Prince's brows furrowed in contemplation. Then his thin, perfect lips split into his own wicked smirk.

"Oh very well-'' Cedric's body arched as he prepared to rework the very fabric of his existence into a more appropriate form for his beloved Prince, but Phobos' quickly reached out to stop him.

"No! Stay in this form."

Cedric's tail drooped lifelessly behind him, and something else crashed loudly in its wake.

It wasn't as if they had never done it before. It was possible if they were exceedingly careful. But it always put Cedric on edge. Phobos was just so tiny compared to him that he was always concerned he would snap him in half or tear him or accidentally gouge him open with the edge of a sharp claw if he moved too quickly. Not to mention his potent and rather traumatic memories of Queen Weria catching them in the middle of their poorly timed first-ever round of experimentation with this body. But…

He hadn't spent the last week moody and irritable as he scratched himself relentlessly against any rough surface he could find for nothing after all. If Phobos wished to appreciate his efforts, he would certainly let him. Cedric brought the rest of his body back to the bed, surrounding the Prince predatorily with his massive, gleaming coils. A tiny, precious thing indeed.

"Whatever my Prince desires."

It was a...pleasant way to spend the early hours of the morning.

---

It wasn't often that Cedric fell for tricks. In fact, he prided himself on sniffing out even the most complicated and complex traps and ambushes laid for him. This morning, however, he had definitely been tricked. Humans used a vulgar saying about thinking with the wrong head that seemed at least halfway appropriate in this situation, all things considered.

Between the still lingering afterglow and the seasonal hormones, he'd been in a reasonably good mood. Trade talks were tedious and dull but certainly not difficult. He was a decent enough negotiator, and if he was truly not pleased with what the other side offered, he simply took what he wanted. Thus, most were not brave enough to challenge him. Nevertheless, he still felt a twinge of regret that Phobos would not be in charge of the talks. Despite his utter lack of interest and general disdain, in dealing with courtly affairs, the Prince was an excellent politician when the situation demanded it. Whether because of his royal breeding, or years of dealing with his unyielding and terrifying mother, Phobos far outclassed Cedric (and everyone else) with his handling and manipulation of diplomatic matters. Cedric had been groomed to tailor his wit and charm to the illicit purpose of luring humans to their deaths, while Phobos had been trained to bend them to his will, and the differences of their upbringing were glaringly obvious in such matters. In the Prince's empire, there was often little difference, but Cedric enjoyed watching Phobos conquer people with mere words rather than bloodshed all the same. It was refreshing (and meant Cedric did not have to lift a claw himself, which was even more refreshing). However, after the events of that morning, he doubted Phobos would be up and moving for a few hours at the very least, and so, he was prepared for a long but uneventful day of his own attempts at the genteel affair of diplomacy.

The pathetic light of the sun had risen into the sky when he made his way down to the throne room. It gave him no small amount of perverse pleasure to enter from the private door that came from Phobos' chambers. His smugness was immediately dampened, however, as he took note of the chaos of the throne room. Raythor was arguing with one of his underlings rather heatedly, and the large group of servants there to attend the dignitaries flitted back and forth in obvious distress. There was a sharp gasp as his presence was noticed, and the room promptly stilled in response. An eerily silence fell as every spine bowed at his arrival as if he were the Prince himself. An iota of his smugness returned at the sight. And why not? He possessed a secure and unchallenged claim on the Prince himself and was a creature with a fierce and dangerous reputation. Moreover, since the Council's disbanding, he was the last noble left in the castle and the sole hand of the Prince's power. He'd truly reached the full height of his power within the monarchy, climbing even higher than the meek Royal Consorts of the past. A co-ruler in his own right, just without the titles or frivolous marriage vows.

Of course, he still had his adversaries.

Raythor, in particular, gave him a look that verged on distaste as he moved to approach him. The Captain had taken a dislike to him from the moment they'd recruited him and had even gone so far as to attempt to stop him from returning to his Prince after the Princess had been stolen away. Cedric would not call the altercation that followed his attempt a pitched battle by any means, for however great of a swordsman Raythor was, he was never going to hold a candle to a particularly irritated shapeshifter. However, Cedric humored his foolishness all the same. He'd gifted the Captain with a lovely ragged scar across his face for his efforts and a warning never to try to interfere with him and Phobos again. Naturally, their relations hadn't improved any since then.

"Lord Cedric," the captain's voice was tense as he again bowed slightly to him, "Where is his Highness?"

Sore and satisfied in his bed where he'd left him if he had to guess. Instead of smirking as he wanted, however, he arched his eyebrows into a mimicry of concern.

"Prince Phobos is unwell, I'm afraid. So, I will be conducting today's affairs in his stead. Now, what could possibly be going on this early in the morning to cause such a fuss, Captain?"

Raythor studied him for a moment as if he knew he was lying, and Cedric instantly bristled in response. They rarely spoke to each other if they could help it, with most of their communication (aside from direct orders) exchanged through the secretly amused Prince. But there would be no skirting around each other this morning, and so Raythor's jawline tightened as he gestured back outside the doors of the throne room.

"There is a small bit of a...demonstration going on outside the walls. It appears the Lady Amelda was caught in it as she and her entourage entered the castle."

Cedric's head snapped to attention in a decidedly unhuman-like manner despite the guise he'd donned for the events of the day, and all the residual bliss from that morning vanished instantaneously. This was the third one of these 'protests' this month.

"Another one?" Cedric snapped. "Was Lady Amelda harmed?"

"No, my Lord. It's just a few peasants armed with old produce, as I'm sure the Lady will very loudly attest to when you meet her. I would have summoned yourself or his Highness, but you seemed rather...occupied."

Cedric felt his lip curl. He hadn't noticed any interlopers during their activities, but, of course, he had been 'rather occupied.' He did not enjoy being spied upon, even if it was just Raythor standing abashedly outside the door for half a second before fleeing like a virginal coward. Unfortunately, it was just one of the hazards of bedding the Prince. They were still the most interesting piece of gossip in the castle, even after all the years of their coupling.

So, Cedric turned back to the actual problem. "Of course. And such impressive logic too. They claim to be starving and yet have enough excess food to waste it assaulting the nobility."

He may not have liked the man, but he had to admire Raythor's bravery as he stared him down and told him boldly. "They are starving."

Cedric hissed lowly in warning at the Captain, a gesture that made all his other soldiers quiver in fear but did not even make Raythor cringe. Brave but stupid.

"I know that. You speak as if it is my fault."

Phobos' energy absorption had not taken quite the effect on the land Cedric first feared it would. While no food could be grown near the capital, where the effects were the worst, the surrounding communities still remained surprisingly fruitful. Enough so to make up for the shortcomings near the capital without a substantial strain on the farmers or the land itself. Something Phobos received no small amount of pleasure in smugly pointing out to him every Harvest season.

This year, however, was different.

Crops were withering in the fields, and what fruit they did manage to produce was small, black, and rotten. Cedric was unsure if there was a natural explanation or if Phobos' leeching had finally caught up with them, but either way, the results were disastrous. Food shortages affected everything and everyone from the livestock to the castle itself. Everything, even grain, had to be shipped from the most distant lands, like the Western Isles. Because of that, Cedric had to increase the taxes so the castle could afford just to eat. And it was starting to leave fewer people who could afford to buy the food that was shipped to the village. It was a vicious cycle he had no way of stopping. Well, no way he was actually willing to do. He had plenty of precious things he could trade instead of the tax money if he really wanted to, but he was...sentimental about his treasures. They could have been dirty rocks picked off the ground, and he still would have fought someone to the death over them because Phobos had gone out of his way to give them to him. That they were so valuable and that a great many belonged to him in the first place (or rather to his people) only made him all the more protective. He did not enjoy causing the people anguish, but Cedric wasn't going to give up even the tiniest bits of his luxuries for those who'd cheered for his kind's desecration and massacre. He'd suffered for over half his life, and his people had more than suffered for centuries, but no one had ever cared about them. Yet now, as the rest of Meridian tasted the slightest bit of that misery for but a few months, it was apparently a matter of grave concern.

"What do you wish to be done about the protest, now that they have 'assaulted the nobility'? Or shall we consult the Prince?" Raythor subtly mocked him, pointedly ignoring the exchange that had just occurred and questioning his abilities in the same breath though his tone was respectful enough. Cedric wondered how disappointed Phobos would be in him if he just 'happened' to savage his Captain of the Guards in front of everyone. Probably quite a bit.

Cedric hummed thoughtfully for a moment, refocusing his mind away from mauling Raythor.

"I do not have any food to give them," he began.

That was, at least, true. The castle barely had enough food stored to support itself at the moment. And short of giving them what they wanted, there was little he could do for them.

"Just leave them be. They will grow bored eventually," he stated, waving a dismissive hand to the man.

Cedric felt no desire to kick the hornet's nest and incite the people to violence. The last outbreak of rebellion had taken him damn near three years to quell entirely, and most of Meridian hadn't even stood behind the perpetrators. Even now, every time Cedric let his guard down, it seemed a new noble would poke their fat head out and cause such a scene that his presence was required to personally put an end to it. And while these pests were a troublesome and noisy bunch, they also were, as far as Cedric could tell from the few times he'd observed them, simple peasants. Just poor, starving farmers, merchants, retired soldiers, and the like. Cedric could...sympathize with their plight. They were not pampered nobles trying to gain more land than they knew what to do with or trying to worm themselves between him and his Prince, they were just hungry. A hunger he could help but feel slightly responsible for.

Raythor, who was ever suspicious of him, appeared surprised by his lack of malice on the matter. Clearing his throat loudly, and staring at him as if he'd not heard him correctly.

Cedric discreetly rolled his eyes. Why did everyone always think he was the problem between the two of them? He knew all the nasty rumors by heart now. "The serpent has one hand on his cock, the other on his leash," one particularly uncouth saying went, in regards to his 'relationship' with the Prince and some of their...less than benevolent decisions over the years. Apparently, he was one coming up with all these monstrous ideas while pulling the otherwise saintly but naive and brow-beaten Phobos along by a collar made of lust and coercion and deceit. Everyone just knew an Escanor, even a male one, could never truly be responsible for such heinous acts and only did so after being duped into them by the dreaded worm. He supposed the rumors were made worse because he was the face of Phobos' empire. Very few people had ever laid eyes on the secretive Prince himself, but everyone knew his 'forked tongued whore.' And who better than to blame for misfortune than the literal snake in the garden, after all?

Cedric did not claim to be innocent in the matter, not in the least. On the contrary, he knew himself to be exceedingly vicious by human standards, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the fighting and conquering, but if it had been entirely up to him, they wouldn't have never gone out of hiding. The castle and its fineries were lovely to bask in, of course, but all he needed was Phobos. He could murder and maim things out in the safety (and peace!) of the woods just as well as he could from the Palace, after all. But where his Prince went, so did he, and what his Prince wanted, he gave him, even if he, or anyone else for that matter, did not personally agree with it.

"Do you disagree with my decision, Captain Raythor?" he questioned him, his head cocked challengingly as he addressed him.

The Captain was not one to back down from a confrontation though, especially from him. Cedric always thought in a sick and morbid sense of amusement that he would have made an excellent Paladin-hunter if they were still under a monarch who endorsed such a sport.

"Of course not, my Lord. I am simply surprised it came from you."

Cedric held back a snort, "You really do not know our Prince very well, do you, Captain?"

Raythor's face was hard and stern, "I know the Prince is a great and honorable man to give a being such as you the pleasure of his company, especially after you so carelessly abandoned him."

That comment managed to shake Cedric, mainly because it was true. Contrary to what most everyone else thought in the castle, he had not left Phobos' side for selfish reasons. He simply knew his limits, and it had gone far past his breaking point that unfortunate day. To have yet another human dare to insinuate he should be collared and leashed once more? The Council was lucky he managed to hold himself back just enough to not morph and disembowel them all on the spot. Then, of course, his beloved Prince Phobos had chosen that exact moment, for the first time in his fucking life, no less, to try to fix the mess he'd made. They had never really fought before that moment, and, in hindsight, Cedric had been utterly shocked and horrified at how quickly he'd lost his temper with the Prince. He was in love with the man for god's sake, and yet, by the end of the argument, Cedric had come fairly close to quite literally ripping Phobos' face off. The nasty words they said to each other could be forgiven and forgotten, but the wave of pure hatred Cedric felt in that moment could not.

He still had the occasional nightmare about what could have happened if he'd lost control. If he'd attacked him as he desired so badly…Phobos was so small-so soft, and his magic hadn't been enhanced nor fueled adequately at the time. Cedric had little doubt he would have killed him. Nowadays, the Prince stood a more than decent chance of defending himself, but he hadn't back then. The shifter would have torn him into shreds before he even realized what he was doing, lost in the red haze of his rage.

Though he knew the Prince would never discuss the matter again, Cedric wished he could articulate to him exactly why he had left him, but he just couldn't. He did not want the Prince to be...wary of him (for he could not imagine the Prince afraid of anything, not even himself) or to treat him as if he were some senseless beast who could not be spoken to without provoking him. He simply did not wish to be spoken to in that manner. And he hadn't come back...because... he'd been afraid. Afraid Phobos really would have him skinned or rebound forever into his human form, or he couldn't imagine what, and knowing he would have deserved it. He'd insulted him to his face, bared his teeth, threatened him. Phobos should have punished him, but he didn't because he loved him, even if he was incapable of recognizing that fact for himself. And regardless of what everyone else thought of them, Cedric knew that fact for sure.

Cedric puffed himself up in self-reassuring arrogance. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Captain?"

He was trying to deflect away from himself now, and the dim-witted man was usually an easy target. However, Raythor just looked supremely unimpressed with his accusation. Cedric did not necessarily think the Captain harbored any romantic feelings for the Prince, or he would have mauled him to death when he stood between them, but he was still...strange in his way when it came to Phobos. Cedric could not put a label on it as sexual, or familial, or even platonic, really, but it made him defensive all the same. Phobos was his Prince.

"Perhaps we should attend to more pressing matters, Lord Cedric," Raythor told him bluntly.

The Captain seemed intent on vexing him this morning, and he'd been planning on having such a pleasant day too. Cedric held his gaze nastily, and the world's colors sharpened and refocused as his pupils slit of their own volition. The Captain met his leer with his own, and eventually, Cedric was forced to look away, not out of fear or submission but because he could feel his blood rising in aggression from the sustained eye contact. He had to shake his head vigorously to get himself back on task. Raythor was nothing but a mangy, jealous dog nipping at his tail-tip, nothing more. Cedric did not answer the man, instead turning away from him and seeking a more agreeable informant. To that end, he spotted a familiar pair of pointed ears peeking out from the crowd.

"Giana, come here!"

The figure froze, and the ears he'd recognized twitched back and forth at his call. The servant he summoned was an unfortunate-looking thing. She was mismatched, like she'd been stopped halfway through a morph. She had the colorful skin and ridges of the Galhots and the pointed, tufted ears and curved eyes of one of the lesser species of shifters. In addition, she was covered in fine hair that true Galhots could not grow but was not the thick fur of her shifter forebearers either. It wasn't uncommon for such odd combinations to present themselves when shifters intermingled with the samelings, particularly those of already diluted blood, such as the woman was.

"The Lady Amelda?" he started leadingly as he pressed the tips of his fingers together.

Giana's nose wrinkled, and her ears pinned out flat to the side, and Cedric braced himself. Giana possessed a...unique way with words.

"Well, she's a right bitch, my Lord, I'll tell you that."

Cedric couldn't stop the loud, improper snorts that escaped him at the crass comment. Several other less familiar servants, including Raythor, looked at him with wide, stunned eyes, for they'd never heard him freely laugh before. Then, feeling awkward at being caught so discomposed, he cleared his throat and drew himself up as regally as he could.

"Giana-" he tried to reprimand her.

"She is! She took one tomato to her fat tit-"

"Giana!"

Sometimes the half-shifter seemed to forget they were not mere children gossiping cruelly about their oppressors in the bakery anymore. Giana was now in charge of the maids, personal servants, and the like. An exceedingly good position for someone who had the misfortune of looking like her. Though he was not close to any of the servants anymore, he still remembered who had been kind to him and who had not. Giana liked to joke that letting the 'terrified little snake' sleep in her bed all those years ago had its advantages. Cedric had never slept alone till he'd been kidnapped. He was used to being half smothered every night by his multitude of brightly colored brothers and sisters and sometimes even his cousins too, and then his mother and/or his aunts additionally coiling themselves protectively around the unruly bunch. And it just so happened that Giana's twilight blue skin was the exact same color that large splotches of his mother had been, so, naturally, he found himself drawn to her and her warmth as a traumatized child, though she was only a year older than him. And though the young girl had been concerned by his desire to bury himself under her in his sleep she tolerated him all the same, something he'd never forgotten, and thus she found her quickly moved up the ranks of the castle once he'd been made a Lord.

"One! You'd think the woman had been speared through the heart; you would! Then she has the nerve to call me a dirty, half-breed mongrel. Pah! Good luck with this one, your Lordship. A true same skin through and through."

Giana had apparently missed the notice that she possessed so much 'same skin' blood that she was incapable of morphing between forms either. Cedric it unnecessarily cruel to point that out to her after the morning she'd apparently had.

"Alright, alright. Yes. Thank you. Please send someone to inform her I'm ready for her whenever she has...recovered from her trauma."

She snorted loudly, which he ignored because it was not directed at him, then she stooped into a graceful curtsy before him. After that, Giana turned away and very loudly roused her human-looking assistant in the 'Language of the Beasts' to fetch up that…ah...

Cedric wasn't sure there was a direct translation for that particular word.

---

There was roughly half an hour of mindless waiting. Cedric paced back and forth along the edges of the viewing stone, a habit that was more of a reflex than a show of nerves. He'd learned that the luxury of remaining still was reserved for the safety of his true form alone and that this form always needed to be up and alert and moving if at all possible. Knives bounced harmlessly off his natural skin but not so much off his human skin. He could feel all the servants' anxious eyes on him as he marched. Cedric did not know why pacing unnerved humans so much, but it certainly did. Even Phobos would tolerate it for so long before snapping at him.

"She's coming up now, Lord Cedric." Giana's announcement stopped him. The few servants who dared to lean while in his presence suddenly stood at rigid attention. Cedric drifted up the first few steps of the throne to the midway landing. The shapeshifter had been up to the top a few times, but never for official purposes such as this meeting. He could feel Raythor's eyes boring into him from where he stood guard below. Cedric rolled his eyes. It's not as if he were sitting on the Throne-even he was not so imprudent.

Cedric was thinking of some jab to level at the dreadfully unamusing Captain when the great doors of the throne room swung open for the dignitaries to enter the hall. The shapeshifter was suddenly thankful he was not in his more expressive true form; his tail would have been quivering excitedly from the sheer amount of color that flooded the space. Crimson, indigo, emerald, and sapphire silks lined with gold draped elegantly from their bodies onto the drab floor. Little wonder the dreary Prince had shoved this particular meeting off on him.

The flamboyant entourage briskly parted in what he assumed was a rehearsed flourish, and two female figures made their way up the break to stand before the throne. One was a servant with far more lackluster coloring and adornments and a plain face. The other woman, well...beautiful, seemed a poor epithet to describe her. From the dazzling and almost familiar vision of mismatched colors on her long, and very revealing, draping dress to the resplendence of her sharp-featured face, she instantly caught his attention. He fought down the instinctive (made all the more significant by his seasonal flex of hormones) urge to puff himself out as he often did to catch Phobos' attention when in this form. However, there was no room in his heart, or bed, or anyone other than his Prince, and so he forced himself to merely admire her like one might an exceptionally splendid bird. But then, Cedric's eyes were immediately drawn to the woman's sternum, not because of her ample exposed cleavage but rather for the fist-sized jewel resting above it. It was sharply cut, bluer than the water of any spring, and reflected even the poor light of the castle in dazzling bursts like sunshine off a pool. His fingers suddenly twitched with a very different kind of desire.

The Lady Amelda, however, misinterpreted his ogling. She tensed her shoulders and cleared her throat loudly, a look of hateful discomfort on her face. Cedric tilted his head, confused for a moment, before remembering that was one of the numerous and complicated mating signals humans used among themselves.

It was easy to misstep with the other creatures, even after all these years. It seemed their rules were endless and ever-changing depending on the situation and how much they wanted something. They supposedly didn't share partners or lay with those of the same gender or outside their species, and yet from the moment he'd first started interacting with the species, he quickly found those rules flexed and broke on a whim.

Thankfully, however, the woman did not linger on his misstep. Instead, the Lady gestured to her attendant, who bowed nervously before him, her fingers constantly trying to tuck a length of hair behind her ear even though no loose strands framed her face.

"Her Ladyship, Lady Amelda greets you, er, is pleased to meet you. Umm...happy to meet you. We were expecting to meet with His Highness, and we do not know of anyone who speaks your um, language, so I hope you might-can understand me." Her voice was irritatingly loud and slow, as if she were speaking to a dull animal. Her mistress would not even make eye contact with him as she spoke. He heard Raythor cough awkwardly below him, which to his slight surprise it sounded more like discomfort than amusement.

Cedric took a few moments to process such a...unique greeting. Did they really think Phobos would place a simple-minded dolt who could not even speak their tongue on the throne in his stead? Or did they just mean to insult him under the veil of ignorance? He suspected the latter and thus struggled to maintain his facade of pleasantness. The shifter had not been spoken to, by anyone, in such a way for many years now. Oh, of course, he knew all the nasty, ugly rumors people said about him from behind his back, but to his face? He was now far above such discourteousness. The Council had been the last ones who dared try to make a fool of him, and he'd made sure they immensely regretted their bigoted words. Now, the only nobles who were left were either non-human and thus found him quite the inspiration, or humans who knew that he was to be well-respected, or at the very least, well-feared. Cedric would well be within his rights to snap her neck for such an insult. Still, the Prince had entrusted his royal duties to him, so he would conduct himself with the utmost propriety, even with these people. He managed to give her the barest nod of acknowledgment that his wounded pride allowed him.

"I offer a most gracious welcome to her Ladyship on behalf of his Highness, Prince Phobos, and I can offer her a reassurance that despite my...heritage, I speak the Escanor tongue quite fluently. Therefore, you needn't speak to me as though I am a hard of hearing infant."

The attendant's face donned that familiar look of pure terror that often occurred when he addressed peasants or servants. He might have felt a shred of pity had he been so rudely provoked by her. But, to his surprise, Lady Amelda then pushed aside her mousy assistant and gestured with her arms wildly in a way that activated his fight or flight response, and he had to call upon a great deal of willpower to hold himself still.

"Thank the Heavens! Do you know how rare it is to find one of your kind who can speak the proper tongue?"

Cedric blinked slowly as he tried to absorb yet another insolent statement without a reaction. He wondered what she meant exactly. The lesser breeds of shifters, those who had long ago integrated with the humans, usually weren't even taught the Language of the Beasts. And while it was true his people tended to converse in their own dialect of the tongue; he'd never seen another one outside of his village before. The few remaining members of his kind learned centuries ago they did not often survive venturing into the human world.

"Have you met other serpentine shifters, Lady Amelda?" He never used the proper name for his people. It was a grave taboo to utter it to the samelings. Though he wasn't particularly superstitious, the practice meant only a handful of humans knew it anyway, and they were usually those who hunted them.

She 'tsked' loudly and gestured dismissively. "You things are all the same, aren't you?

Raythor coughed loudly again, and Giana's fur fluffed up aggressively. Lady Amelda's servant looked as if she would instead be hanging by her toes over the moat than deal with the disaster her Mistress was making of the situation. Cedric just stared at the women blankly. Then he took a few moments to wonder if it was too late to switch positions from an overworked and under-titled Lord to a pampered royal concubine. He could have entertained himself that morning and laid happily around in bed all day. He recalled once that he'd spent a whole night crying at even the idea of Phobos keeping him as a mere pet and wondered why he'd been so ridiculously stupid. Apparently, the Prince was not the only one with an ego bigger than his common sense. Finally, he cursed his lover to the underworld and back because Phobos must have known exactly who he'd sent him out to entertain while he lazed about. No wonder he'd been so quick to acquiesce to his advances!

"Now! We simply must discuss my grievous assault this morning! I trust the crown is willing to pay for the damages done to my person!"

If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn he heard Raythor groaning below him.

Thinking with the wrong head indeed… It was going to be a long day.

---

Cedric trodded miserably down the infernal steps of Phobos' secluded and empty tower. The shapeshifter wished he could perform a tracking spell to keep tabs on the Prince; this horrible castle was far too massive to traipse after the man all day. He had half a mind to simply venture back to his chambers and bury himself in his bed for a month. Unfortunately, however, Phobos needed a progress report on the talks he couldn't be bothered to attend. His very tiring meeting had been spent carefully stepping around the unreasonable and volatile Lady Amelda and her outlandish requests. After several hours of being forced to listen to the entire history of her region so that he might better appreciate her goods, the talks quickly started to break down. First, because she insisted upon treating him with little more respect than she had Giana, and then because she demanded far more than the going rate from her goods because of the 'indignity she'd suffered from the rebels and having been forced to converse with such a 'lesser species.' Eventually, he could hold his tongue no longer, and the exchange had gotten so heated Amelda refused to speak with anyone but Prince Phobos the next day. He wondered if the esteemed Lady knew he was more than capable of killing her on the spot and taking her region (and charming necklace) by force. She must have. Their empire was well known for its warmongering, he in particular, so why she insisted on pushing and prodding him to his breaking point, he had no idea. That he hadn't snapped her perfect neck was a testament to self-control. But he was not so interested in renewing conflicts with other regions just yet.

Although it seemed like it might be warm there, he might consider starting a new civil war if it meant trekking to a place where he might be able to shake the constant damnable chill from his spine. But, as his mind wandered to bright tropical flowers and warm seas, it occurred to him that if his Highness wasn't lurking up in his tower, he was most certainly down in his pool. So, once he'd lumbered down into the central part of the castle, he strolled off in the direction of the hidden chamber.

The Prince was rarely on his own anywhere else anymore, except for his beloved gardens. The loss of his sister had driven his already considerable paranoia to levels bordering on insanity, though Cedric could hardly blame him. The Council and the Court had been rotten to the core and taken advantage of their...momentary distraction to nearly bring their world down upon their heads. And since then, everyone with the slightest sense of ambition and sense had been looking to do it again. Traitors were forever prying into the foundation, searching for cracks they could slip into and pull them and their empire apart. They could ill afford to ever trust anyone else besides themselves with their plans, thoughts, or lives ever again. But Cedric didn't mind that. He did not trust other beings, especially those outside his species, as a rule anyway. Centuries of ancestral mistrust and his personal experiences had seen to that.

Cedric's tongue flickered out appreciatively as he slipped into the hidden stairwell that led to his Prince. He was greeted by the familiar smells of ancient, crumbling limestone, the faded but oh-so intricate carvings upon it, and the potent (but welcome!) torridness of the space from the steam that rolled off the magically infused water. Every time Cedric joined the Prince in the cavern, he was smacked with a powerful wave of homesickness that he thought himself long outgrown. If his brightly colored and cluttered chamber served as his makeshift nest, then this was as close as he could ever come again to the estuaries and springs he'd played in as a child, even if the water contained the stolen lifeforce of innocent people, and made his faux skin prickle with a feeling akin to discomfort. One in his position could hardly afford to be picky, after all.

His Prince was indeed there, his body stretched out languidly on one of the more shallow shelves in the spring. The water rushed and splashed around him because of his proximity to the waterfall, causing tantalizing drops to roll off his bare skin. However, Cedric was far too fatigued to do anything but observe the striking sight dispassionately.

"My Prince."

Phobos cracked one lazy eye at Cedric's announcement of himself, then he shut it again and gestured for the Lord to join him. Cedric hesitated and raised an eyebrow suspiciously, wary of falling for another trap. They relaxed in the spring together often enough, but rarely after Phobos had already been subjected to a whole morning of his lavish attention. Still, even at his most cautious Cedric would not turn down another invitation for nestling against the Prince.

He divulged himself of his formal robes and carefully stepped into the water. The sting was barely noticeable anymore. He slipped through the spring quietly and ever-so-carefully draped himself across the Prince's chest, watching him intently for any signs of refusal or discomfort. But, to his surprise, Phobos seemed equally content, even allowing him to lay his head upon him without so much as a furrowed brow. Delighted, Cedric sighed happily, soaking in the serene moment after the day of tension and difficulty. Phobos allowed him quite a long time of perfect and silent intimacy before finally engaging him in a somewhat guarded tone.

"Did you manage to secure trade lines with Lady Amelda?"

Cedric felt his nostrils flare out as he quickly propped himself up on his elbows to stare down the human. He might have found some humor in his Prince's duplicity if Lady Amelda had been the average spoiled brat, but he did not enjoy having someone so openly prejudiced to his kind dumped on him without any warning. It was too much like the awful Council ploy Phobos had pulled on him. Pain and suffering rolled off his back like water, but nothing wounded him quite like the loss of his dignity. Phobos was the one human to ever treat him with even a modicum of respect, and so to have such a humiliation be sanctioned by him was a betrayal that still stung him all these years later.

"No! She is an absolutely terrible waste of flesh! She terrorized the shifter servants and called me a 'loathsome worm' more times than I can count, and because of that, the talks will not continue without you. The Lady does not wish to dirty herself with my presence anymore. "

Rather than looking displeased or chastising him for his failure, Phobos simply shifted restlessly under him. His left eye gave a tiny, barely noticeable nervous tick, one Cedric might not have caught at all were he not staring so intently at his Prince.

"Truthfully, I am surprised she came at all or even stayed past the first hour," he said crossly. "The Lady Amelda is a staunch traditionalist who believes 'simple minded' men have no place in politics and 'most certainly' not on the throne."

Cedric's temper cooled and then instantly redirected even hotter and fiercer than it had been before. No one spoke (or rather wrote he supposed) to his Prince in such a way! He hadn't noticed he was snarling until Phobos reached out and stroked his cheek with his thumb to calm him.

"Easy, my pet. She is nothing more than a simple-minded, hot-tempered wretch and we have far more pressing concerns than her mouth. I watched the little 'display' this morning from the balcony, it seems we have the beginning of yet another rebellion, and we do not need to fight on two flanks quite so soon."

Cedric felt a painful lump form in his throat, and it was his turn to fidget uncomfortably. Ah, there was nothing like quite re-hashing the inherent values of caution over action, especially after the last philosophical discussion of that nature had almost led to them killing each other. And he'd hoped his altruism would go unnoticed by the more hands-off ruler. What a foolish thought.

"I...did not engage with the protestors today, and nor do I intend to. I do not think it is necessary."

Phobos' face darkened. "What?"

"It's just words, my Prince. Escanors have held unpopular stances and faced natural disasters before-"

"You are the one who warned me of rebellion in response to my magic! And yet, now you do nothing as men shout below my castle that they wish me to rot in prison or worse? Do you think they will stop at that? Do not be a fool!"

His voice was dangerously low and menacing, and unlike that morning it brought a sense of dread to Cedric, who could not stop the memories of their quarrel from flickering in his head. He pursed his lips and danced his fingers nervously against the fine hairs on Phobos' chest as he avoided answering. The Prince's muscles quivered and twitched even though Cedric had not intended to tickle him. Humans were just so sensitive everywhere.

"It's not a rebellion. It is windbag peasants with rotten fruit. They are starving-"

Phobos cut him off with a cynical, barking laugh.

"Do you think that is going to change?"

"Next years crop might be more productive-"

"You do not know that!"

Cedric bit his tongue to stop it from flicking out as his blood started to rise. He took a breath as he attempted to reign in the situation before it escalated to disastrous proportions.

Again.

As he gathered his thoughts, he further pondered, in bitter amusement, how many tyrants held heated discussions with their underlings nude in the bath…Couldn't this discussion have waited till at least one of them had their clothes on?

"Yes, you are right. I don't know that. And if things continue on as they...have" Cedric held back a guilty glance at the water that surrounded them "rebellion is inevitable. They won't allow themselves to starve without taking action. But once it does start, the moment we persecute the common folk, no matter how justified the reason, we cross a line. And after we have, it will be like kicking an anthill and everyone will start coming from everywhere to attack us. It will be a war of attrition, and it will not stop until the Heart is returned and your sister is on the throne fully powered or you are. And if we waste resources now snapping at every act of petty defiance as if we are swatting at flies, the less chance we have of mounting a proper campaign when it's truly needed!"

Phobos leaned his head back and laughed in dark, cruel amusement. He supposed it was meant to frighten him, but it just made him feel like baring his fangs to the man. So much for relaxing.

"You wish to tactically delay the inevitable? Say, for argument's sake that I did tolerate their disrespect, do you not think they would not simply bide their time as well? Use our benevolence to gather resources to combat us?" The Prince stated with a frustrated air.

Cedric faltered. He did not have a rebuttal to that. Phobos' logic was just as sound as his own. The Prince took advantage of his quiet to press his point further.

"What I know is if we continue to allow them to do as they please, they will grow bold enough to rise to action! We cut it in the bud, here and now, before it can really threaten us. Any defiance needs to be dealt with harshly! We will make examples of their entire families if we have to!"

Something inside Cedric, long-buried and repressed, snapped at those words. Veins throbbed in his neck, muscles tightened as they prepared to change and rage overtook any higher thought. But it was not Phobos he was furious with, not really. Perhaps without meaning to, Phobos had stumbled on the crux of his reluctance with this whole situation.

"I do not want to go out the streets and murder children."

Even the heat from the Prince's body and the steaming water wasn't enough to stop the chill creeping up his spine, as he realized what he'd done. Phobos stared at him with wide, astounded eyes, just as stunned by Cedric's outright refusal as he, himself, was. The shock did not last long, however, as Phobos' eyes darkened and he hissed out his breath of air between his grit teeth.

"Ah, yes. Of course. I-"

Prince's biting sarcasm died on his lips, and his face slowly slid into an unreadable expression. Cedric's muscles tensed painfully in preparation for the inevitable, but there was no explosion of rage or temper or burning magic leaking from his fingertips: no sour expressions or petulant curling of his lip. Cedric watched him with wary eyes, but no reply seemed forthcoming. The only sound to be heard in the chamber was the rush of falling water as he gawked at his Prince. The noble's skin shivered with nerves, and his fingers involuntarily twitching across the Prince's chest once more, as the other man surely contemplated what punishment Cedric deserved for his outburst.

Phobos just… did not understand. The Prince had been neglected for a royal child certainly, but the closest Phobos had come to knowing real hardship was walking unsheltered in a storm with him and helping collect firewood for their fireplace. But Cedric knew. He knew the feeling of being orphaned and alone in the world. What it felt like as your stomach gnawing at itself in starvation, or as whips ripping into taut muscles, or as foreign fingers trespassed on new strange pale skin. He knew what it was to be lesser, to be owned, to be used. And thus, the subjugation of Meridian had never come quite as easily to Cedric as it had to the Prince who knew that as his birthright.

Guilt was not the right word for what he felt because sometimes it was justice to torment others as he and his people had been, and sometimes it was just an unsettling feeling that burned in the pit of his stomach. Cedric was not an empathic being by any means, but he was still capable of looking into frightened, tearful eyes and seeing himself in them, despite how much he wished he couldn't. In some respects, it made the act easier. His place at the top ensured that such things would never happen to him again. He was safe. People may have viewed him as a vicious, mindless monster, but he would much rather be a monster than a victim any day. But maiming those who wished to harm him or his beloved was an entirely separate matter from terrorizing the crouching shadows of the peasantry. However, at the end of the day, his weak protests were just that. If protecting the Prince meant tearing apart families and laying waste to his people, he would. The act would burn at him, but Phobos was worth more than all the souls in Meridian to him.

Phobos shifted under him, and Cedric timidly dared to look up at his Prince with eyes on the verge of watering, painfully recalling the last time he'd broken rank with the Prince. However, the Prince's face seemed almost as drawn and uncomfortable as his own.

"You… have not been wrong in these matters before. And so I will leave the issue in your hands. I trust you will choose to act when the situation requires it."

Cedric blinked rapidly in utter shock. His head unconsciously cocked in curiosity, unsure if he'd heard the Prince correctly. They had not argued nor disagreed on tactics since the first catastrophe their differing opinions had caused. Instead, Phobos listened to him with respect and Cedric had been sure to watch his own tongue in response. But he'd been anything but careful this time, speaking insolently enough to his Prince it could have earned him a death sentence, and yet he'd ignored that in favor of letting the matter go entirely. Cedric did not understand.

"I-yes, my Prince," he finally managed to answer, after realizing he'd been disrespectfully quiet as he processed the information.

In complete disregard to what had just happened, one of Phobos' eyebrows arched with an unusual air of mischief, and the shifter could see the beginning of a smirk forming on his lips. Cedric just stared at him incredulously. Why was he in such a pleasant mood? Maybe he wasn't the only one susceptible to the influences of the spring after all.

"Now, enlighten me. How did you let the trade talks go so horribly astray?" His voice was still hard, but the lingering playful expression on his face betrayed the sternness of his tone.

Hesitantly, Cedric laid his upper body back down upon Phobos' chest, expecting to be swiftly rejected this time. Instead, the Prince laid his arm leisurely across Cedric's back, almost...comfortingly, as if nothing had transpired between them. Cedric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Phobos' mastery of pretending nothing affected him was second to none. However, Cedric was just as eager to dismiss the matter, distracting himself by rubbing his hand against the Prince's muscles appreciatively as he relaxed upon him once more. They'd played this game of stepping on each other's toes and then pretending they hadn't hundreds of times now. It was as necessary to their relationship as breathing, otherwise, they would have torn each other apart long ago.

"Ah, where to begin?" He snorted nastily as answered the question. "My mere existence, I suppose? Or the tomato that hit her bosom upon her arrival to the castle? Or when I told her seven times the average price for grain was absolutely unacceptable?"

He could feel Phobos sputter slightly at his words. "Seven times? Is she quite serious?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Whatever the case, she made it more than clear she no longer wishes to debate with me. I suppose it's now a matter for you species blessed with 'higher thought.'"

"Oh, what joy," Phobos drawled.

"I was also regaled with over two hours of very engaging facts about the Western Isles extremely fertile sediment that I believe may have been a very drawn out and dull innuendo despite her outward disdain for me."

The Prince practically choked at that statement. Cedric heard him hold back a few dry, cynical laughs.

"I trust you are already planning your visit then?" Phobos said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Naturally. I enjoy nothing more than crawling between the legs of people who call me a 'mindless, man-eating savage' in open court." Cedric jested, with just a hint of the resentment he truly felt about the matter slipping into his tone.

"Are you certain Lady Amelda is still in possession of her head to debate with me tomorrow after such words?"

"Unfortunately-" he looked up at Phobos with the most pitiful expression the Prince would tolerate from him "-but if you do end up having to execute her, she has a very charming sapphire necklace that could soothe my extremely wounded heart."

The Prince shook his head and signed loudly in exasperation. Cedric winced as the Prince leveled him with a hard look, complete with raised brows and curled lip.

"We are trying to procure grain so that we all do not starve death, not worthless trinkets."

Cedric considered reminding Phobos of the fact that his breed of shifters could digest neither grains nor bread and thus his stakes in the matter were low but thought better of it. Instead, he responded to the Prince's change of tone in turn,

"Of course, your Highness," and he bowed his head in contrition before solemnly laying against the Prince's chest once more.

However, as if in apology for his crossness, Phobos' fingers slid among the strands of his loose hair, stroking and teasing it softly. Cedric let his eyes flutter shut amidst the surprisingly tender ministrations. Even Phobos was just buttering him up for some other unpleasant task, it was certainly worth it at this point. Cedric could feel himself practically melting into a useless puddle as he relaxed upon the Prince, amusing himself by imagining they were not in the dreary, stressful castle, but indeed, anywhere else. Faraway in the cool, freshwater spring near their former hideaway or even in the temperate waters of his lost homeland that Phobos had never even seen, but Cedric desperately wished he had. He would give almost anything to hear again the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks or to slip his body through the tangled roots of the mangrove's dense mass of barrier trees chasing after hundreds of brightly colored fish. Though he was probably far too large for that game now, he realized with a dull ache. Maybe he could just pick Phobos up by the scruff of his robes and take him back with him, all their troubles forgotten. He found himself lost in that happy daydream for some time, so consumed he did not even hear the Prince speaking to him until he'd nudged him.

Cedric could barely lift his head anymore. The stress of the day and the concurrent nights without sleep from his shedding had finally caught up with him, it seemed. He managed to cock his head up slightly and gaze up at Phobos with a lopsided expression.

Phobos chuckled at his clumsy drowsiness. "To bed then?"

Cedric immediately perked up at his words. Sex that morning, this embrace now in the evening and sharing his bed all in one day? All that in addition to his peculiar good-temper? And after a disagreement no less? Phobos was either feeling incredibly guilty or just unusually and wildly affectionate. The Prince did have the occasional bout of such unrestrained cheerfulness, but it usually required Cedric doing something ridiculously impressive, and could not recall performing any noteworthy accomplishments recently. Regardless, the shifter would happily take it. He would deal with the nightmare that was Lady Amelda every single day if it meant enjoying the Prince so thoroughly. He nuzzled his head aggressively into Phobos' chest, who gave him a sharp warning glare for the overexuberance. Cedric wriggled and hid his sheepish smile against Phobos' chest.

Better not push his luck...

---

POV CHANGE

---

Phobos had enjoyed what one might consider to be the epitome of a good day—ditching the tedious diplomatic work he so loathed to catch up on sleep, his magical hobbies, and even a few hours of gardening. The fact that he'd convinced Cedric it was his own idea to take over the royal duties and lost himself to a mountain of yellow and green coils that morning was just icing on the cake. Usually, he would have to harass Cedric to don that form to pleasure him, which naturally, his ego did not often allow him to do. So, the fact that he did not have to reduce himself to begging to indulge in one of his favored forms of gratification had mellowed his mood greatly. Even Cedric's little rebel revelation and the negotiation failure hadn't been enough to fully dislodge the lingering bliss from him today.

He'd even taken pity on the tired shifter and invited back to his chamber to recuperate. He had tricked the poor creature into even more work after all. Shedding was an arduous process for Cedric, and while he preferred to be alone for the actual ordeal, he usually emerged from it drained and badly in need of warmth. Even the rush of hormones that filled him during the dreaded spring shed would only carry him so far before exhaustion claimed him. Like now, for instance.

Phobos had to hold back a cruel laugh as he watched Cedric stumble up the steps to his tower, feet catching on his robes and even the stairs themselves. The shifter frowned and grumbled under his breath, too low for him to hear. Phobos pointedly ignored what he suspected was foul language as he opened the doors to his quarters and let them both in.

The maids had sent up wine and a plateful of cheese, bread, and cured meats for his dinner. He looked at the food with disinterest (as he often did) and instead simply poured himself a glass of wine. He slid the plate in the shifter's direction in a silent offer. However, Cedric was also apparently not interested in food and politely refused before practically dragging himself to the bedchamber.

Phobos followed him, took a seat on his nearby divan, and watched dryly as Cedric removed his robes once more and crawled upon the bed. Tearing apart his meticulously made sheets and folded blankets till he'd created a burrow to nest himself in. He paused halfway through construction to yawn, his jaw stretching past the point of dislocation, and then snapping back into place with a crack that made Phobos cringe but didn't seem to bother Cedric in the least. It never ceased to amuse the Prince how his reptilian characteristics carried over to his human form. The shifter, pulling another pitiful face, reached out to him in an effort to get him to join him. How much affection could one creature possibly require? Phobos had indulged him to the extreme already and instead shot the creature a look to convey how thin his patience was wearing with him. Cedric huffed loudly and rather disrespectfully before burying his head under his blankets for presumably the rest of the night.

Phobos merely rolled his eyes at Cedric's little display, and then sipped his wine and leaned leisurely into the sofa. Rain pelted off the windows of his balcony in thick sheets as it often did in the evenings since his magic had begun to influence nature itself. He'd always enjoyed the rain, from the darkened skies to the sweet smell it left after it passed, so it seemed an appropriate ending to his rather picturesque day.

But with nothing left to occupy his mind or distract him, his thoughts quickly started to blacken. Leaving rebel activity unchecked did not sit well with him. They were like rats. If you saw even one, you already faced an infestation. Their rousing words would only grow louder and stoke the fire of more rebellion unless they were crushed here and now. Perhaps he would simply order Raythor to have the next little round of protestors arrested to put his mind at ease.

He twisted his lips between his teeth, glancing at where the shifter hid with a twinge of guilt.

Their little bout that evening had threatened to send him over the edge, so painfully close to their first fight, and his ire at the situation had grown steadily with every passing sentence. Confused and hurt at his reluctance to protect him and furious at his stubbornness to relent, he'd fully intended to put Cedric back in his place once again. Until the shifter had snapped.

Suddenly, he realized the situation was less to do with him and more to do with the crimes of his family.

There were certain aspects of Cedric that even he did not dare to trespass upon. Rather like himself, he supposed, the shifter's past was a verbatim and deeply prickly subject. Cedric was, at his core, still just a pup who'd been ripped away from its mother before being fully weaned. However, instead of making him timid and clingy (though he certainly could be the latter of those traits) it just made him...unstable. Cedric carried the memory of his past everywhere and it affected his decision-making and thought-process in strange ways. Sometimes with violence and sometimes with sorrow, but most often in a dangerous mix of the two. And from the moment he'd snapped about killing little children Phobos knew that their discussion was quickly going to devolve into another catastrophe because of this fact, just as the first one had over his own...sensitive issues, and he deemed it not worth it. It took every ounce of his poor self-control and restraint to allow the matter to drop because no matter how much he truly thought himself right at that moment, his desire to avoid a repeat of that situation was greater. It was a revelation that surprised even himself, to be honest. It seemed he'd allowed Cedric to gain a greater hold over his conscience than he'd let himself believe.

Still, what if, despite his over-emotionalness on the subject, he was right? He'd been eerily correct in his predictions about both his conquests of other worlds and his vines. Their disagreements had nearly driven Cedric off and caused the Heart and his Seal to be snatched from his fingertips. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd listened to Cedric in the first place if the rebellion would exist in the state it was in now. Perhaps he would even have the Heart in his possession right now? The thought was too bitter to contemplate for long.

The reality of the situation was without his missing sister's powers; he would never be fully able to control his world. They had known that from the beginning. This rebellion and others would continue to fester until he claimed his birthright and with it absolute dominion over the land. Why be so eager for a fight now when the next one was always lurking just over the horizon anyway? He'd retained Cedric as his sole advisor for a reason; he would be foolish not to heed his advice even if it went against his instincts. Perhaps that was even for the best. His track record in these matters was less than sterling, after all. His ego made that difficult to admit, but one only had to look back over the events of the last six years to see the truth of it. His mother certainly hadn't been wrong in noticing his destructive tendencies.

That unbidden thought made him snort loud enough to cause the shifter to stir in his nest. His mother was a more touchy subject than ever for him.

Once the growing pains of his ascension to the throne had finally faded away, Phobos had time for more trivial pursuits. One of which was a detailed study of his mother's reign, for antiquities sake, but which in time had morphed into a study of her. He'd listened to all her entries in the Book of Secrets and read all private thoughts and diaries she'd made over the years. It was an...uncomfortable process. His father often jested how similar he and his mother were, but the petulant teenager refused to concede any likeness to his loathed matriarch. Later, however, as a grown man with a multitude of mistakes under his belt, it was difficult not to read her words and see them as thoughts that could have been his own. She lamented how, when plagued with stress, she would lash out at Zaden, or her other lovers, or even himself, and then later lack the words needed to make amends. How the decisions she made when her tumultuous emotions overtook her always came back to haunt her. How she ruined things.

Even now, Phobos was not quite sure what to make of her troubles. She had an interesting way of looking at things. She was quite certain that she had somehow cursed him in her womb, for multiple doctors had assured her that he was to be born a female. However, as she watched her decidedly not female child grow, and noticed his powerful magic and softer inclinations and his...disinterest in the opposite sex (all things she had criticized him relentlessly over), she became more and more convinced the doctors were right in the first place. That she had conceived her ideal heir, and then somehow...twisted it. It was all very convoluted to read. His mother suffered from a sense of paranoia that outclassed even his own.

She, apparently, regretted chasing him off as well. However, there was no mention of the incident directly after it happened in her personal thoughts, just the official records, untrue, of course, that he'd been kidnapped and presumably killed. It was only later, once she was pregnant with his sister, that she finally seemed to process her thoughts on the matter. He'd been surprised to learn that his mother thought he was dead. That Cedric had most certainly devoured him after perhaps a few months of capture and torment, and that she felt she'd chased him right into the monster's clutches. She was left to wonder how she could possibly be a good mother to this child when she had failed her last one so. Phobos couldn't help but agree with her.

It was impossible for him to reconcile the harsh woman he'd known all his life to her actual thoughts. She was terrified of and hated the magic she possessed and had so since she was a child, and yet all he could remember was her creating his favorite glowing orbs for him to play with as a young child. Every scream she leveled at him, she then wept over behind closed doors. And worst of all, to know everything she'd found fault in him with, she would have praised a female child for. Her exact words burned at him almost every night since he'd heard them, "Phobos is the perfect heir in every way, cunning and sharp and intelligent, but for what lies between his legs." It was, honestly, easier when he'd assumed she simply despised him entirely. Occasionally he even wondered if his mother knew the day would pass where he would possess all her things, and she merely wanted to haunt him from beyond the grave for daring to sit on her throne. That seemed like something she would do, after all.

Besides the existential dread it caused him, the whole ordeal made him exceedingly thankful he was indeed not a female, nor laid with one who could potentially bear him children. It seemed Escanor's made quite the terrible parents. He'd listened to half a hundred stories of his ancestors who could not stand their mothers or children. Why it was almost a family tradition at this point.

Phobos chuckled darkly at the thought and then got up to prepare himself for bed as the hour was not late yet, but it took him some time to carefully unbraid and comb through his hair. He wondered idly, as he brushed his locks if his paramour ever faced such problems with his progenitors. The closest Phobos had ever come to asking was an offhand query he'd posed to the shifter, after finally seeing his true form as a youth, of whether he resembled his mother or father. Phobos thought it an innocent enough question, but the hesitant, reluctant reply of 'not particularly' suggested otherwise and made Phobos averse to pursuing any other lines of inquiry regarding the matter ever since. He supposed it mattered little now anyway. His own family had put an end to Cedric's long ago. Phobos did not need to be constantly reminded of the transgressions of the past when one of the very people his family had tried to hunt to extinction was nestled in his bed. He was certainly more than paying for their crimes, he thought dryly, his memory drifting back to that morning when Cedric's overexuberance had nearly crushed him.

After he'd performed his nightly routine, he slipped into his bed, careful not to disturb Cedric, lest he attempt to drag him into his burrow with him. He was not especially tired and would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of the night awake reading or casting spells as he preferred, but the next day would no doubt be a test of his patience. Might as well give himself as much a boost as possible. He knew various spells for putting oneself to sleep, though he saved them for occasions such as this. Calling forth the tiniest bit of his energy, he summoned his sleeping sands which landed upon him and melted into his skin like snowflakes. Almost instantaneously, his eyes grew heavy, his muscles relaxed, and he drifted off to sleep twirling a lock of Cedric's hair between his fingers that he'd fished out from the pile of blankets.

He awoke to a flash of lightning and the deafening boom of a thunderclap. He stared blearily out his window for a moment, trying to comprehend what was going on. It must have been a close strike, as he could practically smell the scorch from wherever the lighting hit. Such severe storms were not usual in Meridian now, and while they were entertaining and pleasing to him during his waking hours, they quickly became annoyances when he was trying to sleep. He attempted to get up to close the still open curtains but found himself pinned down with a heavy weight. Sometime during the night, Cedric had wormed his way out of his blanket nest and draped himself over Phobos's torso. He made a few groggy attempts to dislodge him, but the shifter hissed softly and clung to him tighter in his sleep. Finally, rolling his eyes, he flung the heavy curtains shut with his magic and covered both of them with the remains of his 'nest' to help combat the chill that Cedric carried with him everywhere.

His magic was still working on his consciousness and he'd nearly fallen back asleep when, without warning, he felt Cedric's body tense upon him, his fingernails suddenly more like talons digging into his chest. The shifter leaped up from him the next moment and hit something next to his bed with a heavy thud. He heard an unknown voice yelp in surprise and pain, and the rattle-like hiss Cedric produced deep in his throat when extremely enraged. Startled, Phobos sprung up from his bed, now very much awake. Without a thought, he cast a spell and bathed the room in bright, white light. Phobos froze in shock as he saw what was happening.

Cedric was grappling with another man on the floor, a knife embedded in his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck. The assailant was a large man, and he wielded a short sword, but he was little match for Cedric, even in his lithe human form. There was a moment of tussling before the shifter twisted them both upwards and over, and in a moment, he was on top of the rebel, and the man's arms were pinned with enough force the weapon fell uselessly to his side and Phobos heard the ugly snap of bones cracking in half.

"Really?" Cedric snapped, "this is best the rebellion can muster for an attempt on the Prince's life?! Where are those useless Guards?!"

Cedric then grabbed the man's face, pearls of blood falling from his face where fingernails had morphed into claws, and slammed it into the floor with a sickening crunch, knocking him unconscious. But the shifter did not stop there, his fingers digging in deeper into the man's flesh until Phobos could hear the man's skull start to crack under the pressure. Instinctively, Phobos hurriedly leaped off the bed and attempted to pry Cedric's arm off. He might as well have been trying to move stone.

"Enough! We need to-"

Cedric growled furiously, loud enough Phobos could feel the air around them vibrate from the force of the sound. Goosepimples formed from the base of his neck to his wrists, and a lesser man might have moved aside completely. And then, that horrible rattling started once more, and Phobos suddenly wished he had a very long stick to poke Cedric with rather than his own hands.

"This...this...thing tried to kill you."

The shifter's voice had lost all the soft, elegant sibilance that made it so pleasing to the ear. It was hard and rough and furiously tremulous. A far cry from the playful nature he'd been full of all morning. Instead, wild and wrathful and entirely thoughtless in his rage. Naturally, it couldn't have come at a worse time.

"Yes, and we have to question him, you puffed-up idiot!"

Cedric's head quite literally head snapped to attention, slit eyes and elongated fangs all leveled at Phobos in his heedless rage. It took a great deal of bravado and all the centuries of his royal breeding not to flinch but to instead evenly meet his gaze while silently commanding him to desist. The slightest bit of sense then reassured itself as he did, and Cedric let the man's face go with an ugly curl of his lip and a final warning rattle.

Phobos finally had a chance to take in the scene, first in horror, and then an increasingly familiar cold rage filled him. He could hear the heavy, clumsy footfalls of the worthless guards running up the stairs. He grabbed one of their robes that had been thrown carelessly aside earlier and hurriedly pulled it on.

"Did I not tell you this would happen?! Did I not say these roaches would come crawling!?"

Cedric snarled and hissed and shook his head back and forth wildly at no one in particular but said nothing. The shifter then pulled the knife from his shoulder and hissed in fury as he flung it aside, ignoring the blood that spurted furiously from the wound in his furor. Phobos could hear him starting to breathe in thick, heavy pants, not unlike a severely overheated animal, but ignored the strange sound and chalked it up to pain.

The rebels would pay for this act! The next time those disgusting peasants dared to show their faces, he would have every one of their heads on a spike! He knew he should trust his instincts! Cedric and his fears be damned!

Two of his guards then burst through the doors to his chambers and immediately recoiled in shock. Understandable, considering the guards had come face first with their Prince gesturing and yelling wildly at his nude second in command who was still straddling an unconscious man on the floor.

"Where have you been?! You are meant to be guarding me!" Phobos bellowed at them.

"M-master! We were! We-"

"Then how did this man manage to waltz his way up the only entrance armed with a weapon!"

The guards fumbled over each other, attempting to answer. Phobos felt his hair start to stand on end as his patience wore even thinner. The guards suddenly fell silent, their eyes widening further in horror. He could feel the tingle start in his fingertips, like static, as his magic reacted to his mood.

"Well?!"

The guards did not seem to have an answer and instead were most likely seeing their life flash before their eyes. He fully intended to cut them down at the moment when a new horror unfolded before him.

"Phobos…"

Cedric's voice was irritatingly soft considering the situation, and the use of his name with no honorifics in front of others only infuriated him more. He was quickly becoming overwhelmed. He pulled the other man up by his forearms and whirled him around to face him, shocking him in the process with the magic furiously leaking from his fingertips.

"Damn it, Cedric!" He never cursed. It was unseemly for true-born royalty. "I want some answers-"

He froze, his magic reacting so violently the temperature of the room dropped so low he could see his breath.

Blood dripped from the shifter's nose and the corners of his mouth, and his ordinarily golden skin had all at once paled to a sickly white. Cedric's hand cautiously moved to catch the flow, looking at the red liquid as if he couldn't believe he was truly seeing it.

Cedric was devastatingly silent as Phobos took his hand in his own, looking at the blood with both uneasiness and morbid curiosity.

"Perhaps poison," the Prince stated in a detached voice, "it must be, but it shouldn't have any effect on you, should it?"

"I…?"

Cedric's eyes began to glaze over, and the hand he held started to twitch. That was the only warning he received before Cedric ragdolled, and it was through instinct alone he'd caught him before he hit the floor. He struggled to keep them both upright, cradling Cedric's heavy and gangly body awkwardly in his arms. To his complete shock, heat seemed to be practically rolling off the shivering form he held, something Phobos did not even think was possible for his kind. Suddenly feeling oddly empty, the Prince turned back to the guards, who were still cowering in fear.

"Do something! Go inform the healers, now! And get the captain of the Guard here as well!"

The imbeciles practically fell over themselves to leave the room. Phobos would have killed them on the spot, but currently, he faced more significant concerns.

He'd managed to lay Cedric's increasing hot body on the floor just before the seizing started. All of the horror novels he'd indulged in as a teen always made poisoning sound almost romantic. Beautiful maidens with pale lips delicately fading into oblivion, beautiful in its melodramatic way. Unfortunately, the reality was nothing like that. Cedric's body arched up hideously, ribs pressing against his skin till it seemed they would split his flesh open, and then his body crashed back down into the marble, convulsing wildly before beginning the process over again. His mouth foamed, and he produced a horrifying, strangled gasp as he choked on his own blood and spit. His body fighting desperately against itself to draw in even one breath as it writhed wildly.

Phobos moved to touch him but straight away thought better of it. The thrashing was violent and swift, and he had no doubt that even in these death throes, Cedric would have more than enough strength left to gravely injure him if he caught him. An atypical feeling of helplessness crushed his throat, knocking his own breath away. He knew a handful of healing spells, but they were all for suturing wounds. He could detect poisons but knew precious little about extracting them, especially on such an unknown and fast-moving one, and in a body that was not truly similar to his despite outward appearances in physiology no less. The more he realized his ineptitude, the more enraged he became. Cedric should not have been susceptible to any poison, and someone who could barely keep themselves warm enough to survive should never have been that hot. It just wasn't possible...

Phobos had little choice but to kneel next to the shifter and watch the ghastly process unfold. It lasted only a few minutes, and as copious amounts of blood spilled from his mouth, the seizing subsided. The Lord lay still on the floor as death, save for the small trickle of blood continuing to spill from his nose.

"Cedric?" he asked in a voice that sounded too small, too weak, to be his own.

Cedric remained motionless. If he was breathing, it was too shallow to notice with the brief glances Phobos spared him.

The Prince pulled back. He didn't dare to get closer. Whatever happened was fine.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Cedric had brought this on himself, wanting to cater to the miscreants as he did. This wouldn't have happened if he'd just obeyed. But, instead, he'd given the rebel rats an inch, and they took everything instead.

Phobos got up and sat down on his bed, looking everywhere but at the shapeshifter. He ran his fingers painfully through his tangled hair. He needed to focus. He needed to learn how the Rebellion or...whoever, had slipped past his guards and what sort of poison these pests were armed with that could...could…

He was unsure how minutes past with his head buried in his hands, desperately trying to pull himself out of his shock. But his head was too jumbled, and his thoughts swirled unbidden in every direction. Nothing was fine, and yet it had to be.

Raythor was the next person to burst unannounced into his room. The Captain of the Guard nearly tripped over Cedric's unnaturally still form in his hurry. Nevertheless, he surveyed the scene with calmer eyes than his guards had.

"Your Highness? Are you injured?"

Phobos stood up, managed to fix his coldest expression on his face, and regarded the Captain. His show of indifference ruined the unstoppable trembling of his limbs.

"I was nearly killed by this man!" He gestured to the assailant. "I want him taken to the dungeons, and I want some answers as to how he managed to slip past your guards! And this-"

He picked up the knife Cedric had so frivolously pulled from his shoulder. He tried to examine it himself, but all he could see was his shaking fingers. He slammed it down against his vanity harder than he intended.

"Take this to the alchemist as soon as possible; there may still be traces of whatever poison they used. I want to know exactly what we are dealing with."

Raythor made no excuses for his lack of competence but merely saluted in respect. Then his eyes drifted downwards as he noted both Cedric's lack of clothes and condition with a suddenly awkward air.

"And...Lord Cedric?"

Phobos turned his back on the other man. His massive chamber suddenly seemed far too small. Too empty.

"As I said, poison. If he's alive, he needs to be taken to the healers," Phobos was cautious about making sure his voice was calm and empty of any emotion, "if he's dead…"

He tried to remember what shifters even did with their corpses; that hadn't ever seemed like important information to him. Despite his precarious position as his general, Phobos had never really contemplated Cedric's death before. He'd always assumed, even with his magic, that Cedric would long outlast himself.

"I believe there is a pulse, your Highness."

Phobos turned back to look at them, unsure of whether to believe the man. Raythor had pulled off his officer's cloak to cover Cedric and was attempting to gather him in his arms. Phobos nodded, unsure of what to say. Instead, he watched solemnly as Raythor took Cedric away, the shifter dangling lifelessly in his embrace.

Phobos was frozen to the spot he stood upon. None of this was even possible. Surely he must be dreaming. He could accept an assailant getting past his good-for-nothing guards and prepared accordingly. The door to his chamber was littered with complicated wards. How in the world could anyone manage to break through them? They would have to have considerable magical skills and studied them in detail from close proximity. His guards may have been wildly incompetent, but surely they would have noticed someone lurking outside his door for hours. His chamber should have been the most secure location in the castle. And poison?

That...that just wasn't possible.

Phobos' eyes fell to the floor. Blood pooled on his perfect, marble floor.

Not possible at all.

---

AN-

I was not originally planning to make this chapter two parts, but it threatened to grow too large to manage if I didn't. So, unfortunately, it got left on one of those terrible pseudo 'cliff hangers'. We'll deal with the aftermath in the next chapter. We are also about halfway through the story in terms of what I have planned, so that's...something, I suppose. It's the farthest I've gotten on a chapter story in terms of reaching the end goal anyway.

It's important to note Cedric has a line he's not willing to cross just yet, though obviously, that's about to change due in part to this assassination attempt and its fallout.

A big thank you to my reviewers, I always deeply appreciate you commenting on the story and sharing feedback! And to my viewers as well, thank you for taking the time to read this nightmare!

-RoR