A/N: I'm sorry this is so late! This chapter wasn't really all that hard to write, it just wrote itself quite slowly. Then I didn't want to edit until my beta harassed me into finishing it (Thanks for not letting me be too lazy, Z). Hopefully this relatively long chapter makes up for it, and though it does have a bit of a slower pace, I hope it will be interesting.

OH, and before I forget, if any readers read my last chapter the first day it was posted, please go back and reread the second half again. I posted the wrong version of the document and only caught it after a day had passed. There's a little but extra in the scene where Arthur hears Alfred play for the first time, but most of the changes are in the final scene.

Chapter Four

A week after he made the deal with Arthur, Alfred woke to Arlya running her fingers through his hair. He mumbled at her and groped around for his glasses lost in the blanket. He cursed when his knuckles rapped against the wood of his lyre, sending shooting pain through his hand. It was still lying in his bed. He must have fallen asleep playing again.

Arlya chuckled at her sleepy boy and a hint of sadness slipped into her smile. Every time she looked at him, she was reminded that she had failed. He was not a god and even worse, he was still bound by the vow to that cursed Daemon.

She would not fail again. Soon they would see her way, and Alfred would be safe. She was so consumed by her thoughts that she started when Alfred addressed her.

"Arlya? Is everything alright?"

She snapped back to attention and beamed at the boy. "Of course, my baby. Everything is just fine. In fact, do you know what day it is?"

Alfred frowned and shook his head.

"It's the Festival of Spring. The snows are beginning to retreat, and planting season will start soon. Heracles will be spending the day in Aenea, the city the Daemons attacked earlier this winter."

Alfred bounced in his bed. Maybe this would be the year he could finally go. He had never attended, but he had heard much about the Festival from Kiku, who went every year with Heracles. It was supposed to be one of the grander of the many religious festivals, full of color, and decorations, and dancing, and famous for the food. Every autumn, Heracles would visit the mortal realm and take offerings of the best meats and produce from the harvest and take them to Caelei, where they would remain, unchanged, until the Festival of Spring, when he would return it. Surviving the winter on nothing but preserves and salted meats inspired the bakers and housewives to prepare their most elaborate and delicious dishes with the fresh food the fertility god brought.

Arlya gave him an indulgent smile. "It is also a special time for you, Alfred," she cupped his cheek in her hand. "The winter is over. You have seen over eighteen years and by mortal standards you are no longer a child. Why don't we go to the Festival in celebration?"

Alfred leapt from the bed. "Really?" he asked, eyes shining. Despite his recent adventures in the mortal realm, Arlya rarely allowed him anywhere outside of Caelei. He dove under his bed, shaking out a wrinkled tunic before pulling it over his head.

"Of course, my baby. I'm sure Kiku won't mind showing you around, and you won't bother Heracles. He'll spend most of the day with the priests and what few farmers live in the mountains. He's already in Aenea, blessing and helping with the preparations."

Alfred hadn't heard anything past the mention of Kiku. He pulled on a pair of ordinary boots and turned to the waiting goddess. They swept off to find the craftsman.

Alfred, Kiku, and Arlya landed outside the iron gates of the city. Ribbons of bright green and yellow were draped along the top of the city wall, and Alfred could just make out more streaks of color on the peak of the temple that towered about the walls. The city guards fell to their knees as Arlya approached and ushered them through the heavy doors without a word.

The main cobbled road was lined with booths and vendors, all adorned in bright decorations. The stalls were covered in dyed sheets of fabric, anticipating the new life of the coming spring. People wandered or ran through the street, greeting their friends or contemplating buying a snack or a doll.

The small group of people closest to the entrance noticed Arlya and sank down, heads bowed. She beamed at them all and held her arms out in welcome. She turned to Alfred and Kiku.

"I leave for my temple," she said and handed Kiku a pouch of money. "Stay out of trouble, Alfred, and stick close to Kiku. Kiku, I trust you'll look after him."

Kiku bowed and nodded. "Of course, Goddess."

Alfred pouted at the condescending treatment. He was a man now. He didn't need Kiku to babysit him. He watched as Arlya turned and swept off towards her temple. He turned to his friend beside him.

"So where do we start?"

Kiku's dark eyes lit up.

"Last year there was a man who sold folded paper. Shall we see if he is here again?"

"Folded paper? That seems a little boring," said Alfred. Kiku sighed and dragged Alfred off in search of the booth. When they found it, Alfred stood transfixed and Kiku smirked.

"Look over here, Kiku! This one's a frog. And it hops!"

Alfred turned to his friend, small paper frog in his hand. He pressed down on its back end and snorted in delight as it flew out of his hand. He turned to pick it up when his attention was caught by another intricate animal.

Kiku bent down to pick the forgotten frog from the ground. Official adult or not, Alfred needed supervision. He had already manhandled most of the artist's creations and would have had to pay for several if Kiku hadn't saved the few Alfred let fall to the ground to be crushed by the masses.

"Come on, Alfred, haven't you looked long enough?"

"No way. I don't know which one I'm going to get."

Kiku sighed. The vendor was staring to get annoyed.

"Aren't you hungry?" Kiku asked. It was a last resort to move Alfred away from the poor man's wears. As he predicted, Alfred's head shot up, and he nodded, tuft of hair bouncing. They wandered off down the street to where steam rose from fresh cooking.

It turned out that Alfred was as indecisive about what to eat as he was about everything else. He meandered back and forth between the food stalls, hopelessly torn until he finally settled for a meat patty in a bun topped with some fresh lettuce and tomato. Kiku held a small bowl filled with rice and vegetables.

"The parade is about to start," said Kiku.

Alfred took a huge bite out of his meal and mumbled something unintelligible through his mouthful.

Kiku frowned. "Come again?"

Alfred swallowed and gestured around. "Where's the best view?"

"Follow me."

Kiku led the way from the packed street to the great wood and iron walls of the city and up a rickety stairwell to the battlements. They leaned against the outer wall, gazing out at the view of the city. It was a sight to behold. The great temple rose up in the center, wings shooting off like spokes of a wheel. The main road was hardly visible underneath the masses that crowded over it. Drums began to sound from the temple courtyard as people shuffled to make a path for the parade.

"First come the Daemons of winter," whispered Kiku.

Men poured out into the streets, they wore nothing but breeches and horrible, grotesque masks. They danced through the square, leaping in time with the heavy thuds of the drums. They pulled other masked people from the crowd, though these wore the faces of animals. The Daemon-dancers swept around them, and the animal-dancers spun and pretended to die. Still forms littered the streets as the remaining dancers leapt over them, moving as if they had lost all control of their bodies.

It struck Alfred as wrong. "I don't understand," he said to Kiku, remembering a pair of vivid green eyes. "Daemons wouldn't hurt animals, even livestock, and they don't look a thing like those horrible masks."

Kiku stared at his friend. "It is a representation. They do not look like that on the outside, but those masks and dances show the emotional appearance of the Daemons." He paused. "Are you defending them?"

"No. No, of course not. It's just… it doesn't sit with me right."

Kiku shrugged and turned back to the celebration. Ten dancers, decorated in various swirling ribbons and elaborate headdresses stepped out into the street. They moved with a grace the erratic movements of the Daemons couldn't match. The Daemons began to fall and the onlookers began to cheer.

Alfred turned away to gaze at the still snowy forest. Movement caught his eye. Trees were shaking and a great cloud of snow rose not to far away from the city.

"Hey Kiku, look at that!" Alfred said pointing to the commotion.

Kiku looked out with feigned interest. "I see. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," he said as he bolted for the stairs.

"Alfred—" Kiku called, but the boy was gone, already down the stairs and halfway to the gate. Kiku turned back to the festivities. He'd go find Alfred after the parade. After all, how much trouble could the boy get himself into?

Alfred ran past the city guards and into the bare land that surrounded the city. There was still evidence of the fight from a month before. Alfred climbed over cracked boulders and debris as he approached the forest. He stood just outside the wall of trees, trying to remember which way the commotion was. If he remembered correctly, it should be just straight off from the gates. He set off into the trees.

Though it was sunny, the forest was dark and cold. The snow was hard and icy, crunching with every step Alfred took. The black-green fir trees shot up every few paces, intermixed with bare, knotty oaks and ghostly aspens. Lifeless shrubs made most of the space between the trees, making going in a straight line impossible. To top it off, every direction looked the same, and soon Alfred found himself lost. He didn't know which direction the town was, much less the direction of the disturbance he'd seen.

With a sigh, Alfred let his feet wander, hoping he'd run into one or the other soon enough. He was struggling through a particularly stubborn patch of undergrowth when he heard a pained shout from up ahead, followed by a string of curses. Alfred froze mid-step. He extracted himself from prickly brush. He squinted ahead, trying to make out the source through the trees.

It's probably best to try to avoid whatever made that shout, he thought, though his feet made to move in its direction. Kiku might be starting to get worried. I should head back. Whichever direction back is.

His body deemed otherwise, and he gave himself to his curiosity without anymore useless struggle.

The voices were farther off than Alfred thought. He would have lost his way again if not for the constant, shouted arguments. Something about the voices sounded familiar. They came from a clearing, just through the trees ahead. Alfred peaked through. His eyes widened.

Ivan was standing in the middle, his back turned to Alfred. He wore only loose trousers and was shouting in pain as a bent over figure in a black cloak fussed over his lower back. Alfred shrank back when he noticed a female Daemon with distinctive waist-length pale hair pacing in front of them. She flicked a stone dagger in and out of its sheath on her waist. Her worry was obvious on her pale face and she fidgeted and shouted at the black figure to hurry up. She walked back and forth across the snow; wolf paws silent and tail sweeping.

"They have begun the mining already, Brother?"

Ivan nodded and gave another gasp of pain. Alfred could just make out a deep gash running along the small of his back, partially stitched together with slim harringbones. "They start earlier every year, Natalia," he said. "And every year it gets worse." His voice shook in bitterness. "They cut and chip away at the mountains, leaving scars along their sides. And there is nothing I can do with those cursed gods protecting them."

Alfred leaned forward to catch more of the conversation when his feet lost their traction on the snow and he crashed forward. Natalia's eyes narrowed and in a heartbeat Alfred found himself flung out into the clearing.

"What do you want, human?" Natalia asked as she stalked over to him. "You are from the city, no doubt. I should skewer you and leave you as an example to the rest of your people. How would they like to see their kin's head on a pike, hm?"

Alfred tried to scoot away, but a large paw slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He winced as dull black nails dug into his chest. The Daemon glared at him for a moment before she bent over and yanked him up by the elbow. Alfred shuddered at the coldness in her eyes. She opened her mouth when she was interrupted.

"Alfred?"

He and Natalia looked over at the black-cloaked figure. He stood up to his full height and threw back his hood, revealing short, messy hair and a characteristic frown.

"Arthur," said Alfred. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or more frightened by the Daemon's presence. But Arthur didn't look angry, just surprised.

Ivan glanced over, his eyes narrowing. "You are the gods' messenger are you not? I saw you here before. What is wrong, human, lost your wings?"

"Messenger?" Natalia mumbled to herself. Her grip on Alfred's shoulder tightened and she whipped a stone dagger from her side. Alfred shuddered against the cold edge against his neck. "It will be my pleasure to kill you then, god-filth."

"Natalia!" Arthur snapped. "Release him."

"Why? He dies, the gods lose another pawn."

Uncertainty flickered across Arthur's face, only to be replaced with calm a second later. "It's not worth it. One human death isn't worth bringing down the wrath of the gods. Not now, at least."

"Perhaps—"

"The same thing goes for kidnapping. Not worth it." He returned to Ivan's lower back. "Those stitches should hold. Don't do anything overly strenuous, or you'll break the harringbones and it will open again. And though I love your company ever so much, I would prefer to stay on my moors."

Ivan shrugged and replaced his shirt and coat. He gestured for Natalia to follow. She released her bruising grip on Alfred's shoulder and followed her brother into the forest. Arthur straightened and stretched, back arching and tail curling under his cloak. He still frowned at Alfred, but there was a small light of amusement in his eyes.

"Come along then. I presume you're lost."

"I'm not going to answer that."

Arthur chuckled to himself. "I knew it. Follow me. I'll get you back to the city."

Alfred sulked as he followed Arthur through the forest. He didn't need a baby sitter. So he was lost, he would have found his way out eventually. He resented that Arthur, a Daemon, had to not only save him from another maniacal Daemon, but had to take him back to the city like a lost puppy. He had gods to fuss over him. He didn't need Arthur to as well. He caught a glimpse of the sky through the canopy. He stood, looking at it. He missed the freedom flying gave him and he swore that he'd never go anywhere without his winged boots again.

Arthur looked back to check on Alfred and was startled when he wasn't in sight. He backtracked and found Alfred glaring up at the sky.

"Alfred?" The boy flinched then walked up to Arthur.

"Sorry. Lead the way, Daemon." Arthur was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. He lead the way in silence.

When they reached the edge of the trees, both let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Alfred glanced over at Arthur in confusion.

"These mountain forests are cramped. I like to breathe."

"Agreed," said Alfred. He was calmer now that they were out in the open.

"So I will see you soon?"

"Right." Arthur bristled at the apathy in his voice.

"You don't have to worry about anything, I'll find you."

"So you've said."

Arthur's frustration was beginning to boil over. "I suppose manners are above you. I won't wait around for you to thank me," he said.

"For what?"

"For helping you, git!" Arthur snapped as he threw up his arms in exasperation.

Alfred's tone was still soft, but held an edge Arthur wasn't expecting. "I didn't need your help."

Arthur didn't know how to respond, so he slipped into this defensive sarcasm. "Of course you didn't. You would just prefer to wander around in the woods until your beloved goddess found you and took you home." Fed up, he turned and vanished.

Alfred's retort died on his tongue. He wandered back to the city, not looking forward to their next meeting.

The parade had ended some time ago, and the streets were once again packed with people. Alfred wandered aimlessly through the crowds, half looking for Kiku, half lost in his own thoughts. The people in this sector of the streets were beginning to get rowdy from the amount of free alcohol that was present. Alfred felt a tug in his shirt. He turned to see a pretty girl with short, blond hair that had blue a ribbon tied in it.

"Excuse me," she said, voice soft but demanding, "could you help me find my brother? You seem to be the only one around here who isn't drunk."

"Of course," Alfred replied, slipping into hero-mode, "Where do you think he is?"

Her hands twitched in front of her red dress. Alfred could have sworn he saw a marking on her the back of her covered hand as she hid it. "I believe he is meeting with the High Priest. Women aren't allowed in without a male escort."

The girl wrapped her arm around Alfred's, taking care to keep the back of her hand out of sight, and they walked towards the temple. They were almost into the courtyard when a woman screamed at them. She tall, and her willowy frame was robed in pure white. The silver circlet on her brow marked her as a high ranking dedicate of Arlya.

"Shame on you!" she shouted as she strode over, and yanked the girl away from Alfred. She held the girl's hand up above her head, revealing a white crescent moon on the back, the mark of a sworn Arlyan dedicate. "You disgrace the great goddess! Hanging onto the arm of a man. What could you be thinking?"

A small crowd formed around the two women. "Chastity, purity, devotion," she said, reciting the code of Arlya, "you have none of those!" She threw the girl to the ground.

Alfred snapped out of his shock and tried to step in. "You're mistaken, she—I nev-"

"Silence! You should be punished for attempted corruption of an Arylan dedicate."

The girl on the ground pushed herself to her feet. She faced the raging woman with impressive calm. "Priestess, please, I just wanted to find my brother."

The priestess slapped her across the cheek. "You have no brother." the girls eyes narrowed, "Your family should be the Arlyan Dedicates, but now you've thrown that away. You leave us no choice, if you want to remain in the city, you will become a Dedicate of Francis, since that is what you so obviously desire."

For the first time, terror shown across the girl's face. She stepped back in horror. The priestess caught her wrist and began to drag her out if the courtyard. Alfred was trying to process what was happening and how he could help the girl when a new shout rang out from the temple.

"Lily!"

"Big Brother!"

A young man clad in green ran into the square. He shoved himself between the girl and the priestess, and drew his sword with a quiet swish.

"Keep your hands off my sister, Priestess," he snarled. He wasn't tall, and the priestess towered over him, but the way he held his sword, as if it were an extension of his arm rather than a weapon, made the woman back away.

"You dare draw a blade on a dedicate?"

"You dare threaten my sister with forced prostitution?" he countered. The woman blinked in surprise. The young man continued to glare. "Don't think I don't know what they do in this city. We may not be from here, but even we know about the Aenean Dedicates of Francis."

The priestess glanced down the length of the sword and shuffled. "All the dedicates in Aenea are faithful. Those of Francis serve their god just as diligently as those of Arlya. We obey the only the commands of our gods." With a dignified huff, whipped around and strode away, crowd parting around her.

Alfred felt his stomach twist. Francis' faithful were prostitutes? He knew the man was attracted to anything that moved, but promoting prostitution? It seemed to go against the entire concept of love Francis never shut up about.

Alfred's thoughts were interrupted by a cold metal tip pointed at his heart. He jumped back and fell to the street.

"Do you have any idea what you almost inflicted on my sister?" The young man shouted.

"I think I understood most of it. I'm sorry! She just asked me for help. How was I supposed to know that if she were seen with a man she'd be sent into prostitution?" Cold eyes glinted. Without lifting his sword, he addressed his sister:

"Why did you follow me, Lily? I sent you to the Arlyan dedicates back home to keep you safe. Now you're here, in a city of fanatics, and a priestess has essentially just banished you."

The girl frowned; her eyes were calm again, holding none of the fear from a moment ago.

"I had to follow you, Vash," she said. "What if you were hurt, or hungry, or needed some pajamas?" She reached into a knapsack she carried and pulled out some warm-looking sleepwear. "You forgot them."

With a final glare at Alfred, Vash sheathed his sword. "Life as a mercenary is never easy. I left you for good reason," he said, though he took his sister by the hand.

Lily smiled. "And that is why you need me. Face it, Brother, you are not getting rid of me." She walked over to Alfred and helped him to his feet. "Thank you for helping me," she said. "You must forgive my brother. He gets grumpy when he has to deal with strangers."

Alfred smiled and watched the two walked in the direction of the city gate until they vanished into the crowd.

"Alfred, there you are!"

He turned to see Kiku running at him. He halted and looked a bit irritated, which meant that the young man was furious as he hardly let any emotion pierce his composure.

"Where have you been? Do you know how long I've been looking for you? Only to find you in the middle of a crowd with a raving priestess. Do you know who that woman is? She is the head priestess of the Dedicates of Arlya in this city, no woman to be trifled with," he said in one long breath, before remembering his manners and looked down at his feet in embarrassed silence. "I apologize, Alfred, that outburst was unnecessary and unseemly."

Alfred looked up at the sky. It was just beginning to darken. Pinks shifted to orange as they spilled across the deepening blue. "It's alright, Kiku," he said. "Just a misunderstanding. Nothing harmed, right?"

Kiku gave a noncommittal sigh. "Shall we find Arlya and Heracles? The festival is winding down."

Alfred continued to stare upwards. He was still unnerved by his encounter with Vash and his cold, sea green eyes and how the man looked perfectly willing to pierce Alfred with his sword. Sea green darkened to forest-green and Alfred found himself playing over his recent meeting with the Arthur.

"Alfred?"

His pride was still wounded from the encounter. Not to mention he could feel a paw-shaped bruise blooming on his chest. He resented that Arthur had to save him, and his condescension was infuriating, but Alfred figured he could have been a bit more grateful.

"I'm coming, Kiku."

Alfred sat on his bed, staring at nothing. He shut his eyes and rubbed them, trying to rid them of the afterimage of the Daemon. He grabbed a pillow and hit himself in the head with it.

"Get out. Get out. Get out," he said. Every syllable punctuated with a soft thud. Soft hands pried the pillow from Alfred's fingers and he looked up into Arlya's concerned face.

"You're meeting it tomorrow, aren't you?" she murmured.

"Him," Alfred corrected. "I'm a bit nervous. He insulted me last time."

Anger flashed in Arlya's eyes. "I should go with you and make that filthy creature lift the oath. You don't deserve something like this to happen to you. I'll teach it a to mess with the gods' chosen—"

"Arlya, stop! I don't need you to protect me anymore." He scowled at her. "Remember what you said this morning? I'm an adult. I can take care of my own problems. I don't need you to take care of everything for me."

Arlya's eyes were widened. This was her baby boy. He would always need her. Despite her assurances to herself, doubt still weighed on her mind. She had to be sure he was still her's. She let the grief she felt at the possibility of losing her boy flow through her, choking her voice and filling her eyes with tears.

Guilt tore through Alfred as he looked on, and his frustration vanished. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry; I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." How could he forget how Arlya could swing from fine, to angry, to weepy in a matter of seconds? She did it to manipulate the other gods, but she wouldn't do it to him, would she? No, her trusted her.

"Of course you did," she said, voice quavering, though triumphant gleamed in her eyes. Her worries lifted. Alfred was still hers; his immediate response to her tears proved it. "But I forgive you, Alfred, and in celebration of your new adulthood," she allowed herself a small smirk at the irony as Alfred had just proved he was still under the moon goddess' influence, "I have something for you." She pulled out of Alfred's grasp and slipped a pendant out of the fold of her robe.

Alfred took it from her. It was a study silver chain with a small hourglass pendant hanging from it. It was graceful, the glass was held in a cage of golden wires. He squinted at the hourglass within. There was no sand, but the center was encased in clear crystal.

He glanced up at Arlya, her eyes were still wet and she looked so eager. In hopes of soothing her, Alfred slipped the pendant over his head and felt a chill run over and through him. He looked up at the goddess in alarm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a charm, Heracles helped me make it. It has frozen your age. The last Daemon wars went on for over a century, and the gods wish to preserve you."

Alfred slipped it under his tunic where the cold metal found an unobtrusive place to rest.

"Thank you."

Arlya pulled him close. "You're welcome, my baby." With a final squeeze, she rose and left.

Alfred pulled out the pendant again, examining it. He could tell by its design that Arlya had crafted it, though the spells were Heracles' specialty. He wondered if she had added anything to it.

He slipped it back down his neck and reached over and grabbed his lyre. He warmed his fingers up and began practicing some of his favorite pieces. He pondered which ones he should play for Arthur tomorrow. The Daemon's snide remarks on his playing still stung, and Alfred was determined to try to impress him, or at least avoid any more insults.

"Why is every song Francis teaches me about love?" he asked his lyre, though the answer was obvious. He made a note to explain that to Arthur before he was ridiculed.

He blew out the candle by his bed and lay back. He fidgeted from side to side, finally ending up on his stomach clutching a pillow. He tried to push down his nerves. Arthur left him earlier in an irritated huff, and the prospect of meeting him again was frightening.

"Why did I agree to this again? Why didn't just I let Arlya deal with it?"

Lonely green eyes swam in his vision.

"Ugh!" he said, squeezing his pillow. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

A/N: Comments make my life, so please review! Thanks to IchigoMelon for the summary advice!

Finals are coming up next week (and I turn eighteen!), so I probably won't update during the week at all, but we leave Friday for a Softball Tournament that involves a five hour bus ride so guess who will hopefully pound out another chappie or two? Then the week after is my spring break, and hopefully I'll get another chapter or two out then.

Virtual cookies and eternal respect for anyone who can figure out why the city is name Aenea. Of you can, you have way too much obscure knowledge in your head, but still, cookies anyone?