-Maddox-

The sun dipped low, attempting to meet the rolling sand dunes, spread for miles, beyond where the eye could see. A breeze dulled the oppressive heat and danced with small whisps of sand, twirling upward until they vanished in the orange of the sky. To the east was a dark splash across the golden sands, dark trees, huddled together over what was likely the only water source for miles. To the west was an outcrop, a jagged cliff side, and sand. More sand. So much sand, everywhere, in many places sand should not be on a person. But he was used to it.

Maddox stood on the outcrop of rock, gazing in the direction of a small town. Smoke pillowed up, mingling with the brush of clouds above, turning them dark, ominous. It was quiet. Very quiet. Maddox was young then, a teenager, perhaps only of his 15th name day, but even so young, he knew what the silence meant. Behind him were a small detachment of men, maybe 20 or so. They were huddle near one another, their mail glistening in the sun, wrapped in light fabrics which billowed around them.

“And if there are soldiers there still?” One of the men hissed when Maddox turned to walk back along the rocks, sliding down the sand until he was beside them.

“I hope there are soldiers down there. Do you not wish to avenge those in the village who died?” He asked, ignoring the unease of the men when he approached. It did not matter that the men were uncomfortable around him, they were here because he was formidable, and required a specialized team of men. Since arriving in Nihal, less than a year ago, he made significant ground against Arcturus despite his age. Word of him, his power had already rapidly spread through Nihal, and likely to the Arcturians. If they knew what was good for them, they would have fled long before Maddox arrived.

Cithrel thrilled softy from where it was strapped to his back, and he closed his eyes, listening. But it was cold that came to him, spreading over his back and pressing at his consciousness, and then a single word.

Don’t.

Maddox’s eyes opened, lingering on the dark clouds above the town. He would not listen. This was a clear challenge to him, and he would rise to meet it. They had nothing, no one who could face him, not even the new name, whispered on the tongues of dying men in fear. The Demon. Perhaps this Demon was down there, perhaps he could remove him, remind Arcturus that he was strongest, that none could stop him.

He turned his head, looking back to his men from over his shoulder. “Come. We are going down. We will search for survivors, and hopefully slaughter any Arcturians we may find.” The men were not pleased, and several grumbled, but all followed Maddox’s lead.

They wrapped around the rocks, to where the sands were lower, less steep a drop, and slid down them. The curled back and began their approach to the town.

“What if it’s the demon?” One of the soldiers whispered, though the silence told Maddox that it was no one at all.

Maddox snorted, a toothy grin spreading across his lips. “Arcturus would never have enough to offer a demon.”

He would have continued, but they were approaching the town, and they began to see the cause of the silence. No one lived. There was a pile of bodies, small, large, old… the entire village was stacked together. The bodies were still burning, though the fire was deep, burning in the center, flickering against the waning light. The smell was intense and several of the soldiers moved their hands over their noses. Maddox’s eyes pricked with tears, his lungs heaving with the smoke. But he pressed on, averting his gaze from the pile, from the small hand he could see pinched between bodies. Blood soaked the sands, sticking to their boots, causing the sands to cling, turning to mud. So much blood, splashed along the sandstone of the buildings, crumbled now, destroyed.

They moved deeper into the village, despite the silence, despite the blood and destruction. Whatever happened there was quick, violent beyond imagining. One of his soldiers was praying softly behind him, the only sound and carrying due to that. Maddox felt Cithrel suddenly shudder, and he stopped, holding his hand up and halting his men.

His eyes swept the area, until they landed on a strange, molten mark on the side of one of the homes. It seemed to burn, but it was black as the darkest void. There were more, his eyes darted from mark to mark. Maddox stepped forward, closer to one of the marks on the buildings, and reaches for it. It crackled, spitting an electric surge of power. He could still feel the heat from the power that created it, though he already began to withdraw his hand. Whatever created this mark was powerful. Perhaps it truly was a demon.

Maddox did not draw Cithrel, fearing that it may indeed be something ancient and terrible, instead drawing his secondary sword. He looked back to his men, gesturing for them to split, to enter the houses to look for survivors, or most likely, supplies.

The town appeared empty, as it had before, and he wondered if there were none there waiting for him. He was certain before it was a trap, to lure him down and to try and slay him. No, there had to be. He could feel something, Cithrel felt something. He reached the center of the town, where a small pool was, mostly intact, but the water was red. Finally, there, near the edge of town, he could see several men, wearing the dark greys and blacks that he knew to be foe. The blue on their chests was the sigil of Arcturus, and he could see it from there, taunting him. It was not his sigil.

The soldiers that were with him fanned out behind him, but the Arcturians did not move, just watching him. Him, not them. They were not concerned with his men. Maddox grit his teeth, annoyed, and then stepped forward, holding his arms out.

“Have you been waiting for me?” he called across the square. He was met with silence. “Do you know who I am? I am the Golden one, the Hero of Er Rai! If you were not waiting for me, then that is bad luck, friends!”

The soldiers did not speak to him, but then they turned to one another, sharing looks among themselves and soft words. Maddox, more than annoyed now, stepped closer and forced the Arcturians to look upon him again. He sees then that they do not fear him like others he’s faced. They look upon him like he was a child, unimpressed, almost with cruel amusement.

They do not believe I am who I say.

Anger swelled in his gut, angered that they would dare look at him that way. He may be young, but he was a warrior, and killed men twice his age, perhaps more. They should fear him, not laugh at him. He lifted his sword, head held high.

“Fight me all at once. Only then would you stand a chance against me.” He declared, angered still. Instead of responding, the group parts and a small boy stepped closer.

He was dressed in armor too large for him, and he had yet to grow enough to fill it out. His exposed arms revealed sinewy muscles and scars, too many scars for someone so young, so small. Maddox scoffed when he saw him, inspecting him as he drew nearer. He had longer hair, and surely suffered the heat for it. It was tied tightly back, dark as the night and wild still, though there was clearly an attempt to tame it. Maddox dragged his eyes up the boy, exaggerating his displeasure, but when his eyes met the boys, he was paused. They were cold, sharp, intense, the white-blue of ice. There was nothing human in that gaze, and for the briefest of moments, Maddox felt unease.

Shaking it off, he tilted his head with a grin. “You?” He asked. “You will fight me alone?” He clicked his tongue, mockingly turning to his own men, holding his arms out once more. “If you wish to die so badly, all you need to is ask, little one.”

The boy did not respond, but at his side, his fingers flexed, wrapping around the hilt of an old sword. Maddox cooed a bit, chuckling. “Do you plan to be a hero?”

“Do you plan to keep talking, or will you fight?” The boy asked, finally speaking. He voice was a note deeper than Maddox would have expected, and stern, as if he were an adult.

Maddox snorted, looking to the men that stood behind the boy. “Is this boy that you scraped from the streets the bravest among you?”

Before they could answer, not that they would, the boy suddenly closed the distance between them, his sword shrieking as it left its scabbard, clashing with Maddox’s.

Maddox grunted, grinding his teeth at the force of the clash, but was not pushed back. He forced his sword against the other’s blade harder, forcing it down and forcing him back. The boy is smaller than him, weaker eve. He can feel the blade creak and groan under his. The boys sword was rusted, chipped, old, while Maddox’s was new, made of fine, layered metal. Maddox flung his blade out, causing the boy to stumble back, and he moved in once more, swinging in a broad arch.

The boy ducked out of range of the blade, and scrambled to the side. Maddox turned, holding his arms out again. “Is this the sort of training Arcturus provides? Will they ever throw someone into battle with me who is worthy to face me?” Maddox taunted the boy, though he had the fleeting thought that it seemed darker than it should. The sun had not yet set, or at least it should not have. How long had he been in this town?

The boy did not respond to the taunt, his eyes moving to Cithrel still strapped to Maddox’s back. Maddox smirked, turning his head a bit as if he too were looking at it. “I will not use this sword against you, as you are not worthy to face it.”

The boy returned his eyes to Maddox’s and gave a halfhearted shrug. “Only the hero of Er Rai wields that blade. I thought you were only boasting.”

Maddox barked out a cruel laugh, glancing towards the Arcturians as they moved further from them, abandoning the boy to his fate no doubt. “I was boasting. You were not expecting me to come. A pity that I did.”

The boy set his feet apart, one sliding back in the sand to prepare for an attack. “We were hoping you would arrive. We’ve been looking for you.”

Maddox raised his eyebrows when told this. Not many would wish for him to arrive. Why would they wish to find him? They would only die. Before he could press, the boy was on him, moving quicker than he had before, quicker than Maddox expected him to be able to. Maddox barely had time to lift his sword, blocking what could have been a fatal blow to the chest. The boy swung around, out of a clumsy swing from Maddox, and jabbed with his sword. Maddox stumbled, surprised and still caught totally off guard with the speed and sudden ferocity of the attack. He managed to sidestep the jab, though not completely. The sword sliced into his arm, a minor wound, but a wound still.

The boy was different then, focused, dangerous. Maddox realized that the first clash of their blades was a test, to get close enough to Cithrel to confirm his identity. Now the boy was fighting for real. Maddox felt the red heat of anger swell in him, embarrassed, angered by the blood on his arm and the clumsy swings and stumbles he displayed moments ago.

Maddox yelled out, leaping forward, but his blade is met with the boys once more. Despite the skill the boy apparently possessed, he was still smaller than Maddox, and physically weaker. Maddox pushed back, the boy sliding backwards in the sands. But then he suddenly released his sword with one hand, and smacked his hand upwards. A blade slid from his sleeve, and he slashed suddenly at Maddox’s eyes.

Maddox jumped back, stunned, stumbling over his feet when suddenly a hot, searing pain tore up his left side. He yelled out in pain, falling back and turning wide eyes down to the sword piercing his side. He opened his mouth to speak, but cried out instead when the boy shoved it further into him.

His vision began to blur, and his mind began to drift. Other men, more men were meant to meet them soon. They were delayed by a storm, but should be there. Are they there now? Are they close? Would they arrive in time?

His teeth clamp down, grinding against the pain of the blade in his side, and his body surged forward on its own. He slashed out wildly with his sword, forcing the boy to rip the blade from Maddox’s side and move from his range. Maddox fell, then rolled, attempting to clamber to his feet. He stumbled, nearly unable to pull himself to his feet, all the while wondering where the boy had gone, why he hadn’t finished it. He found the edge of the well and dragged himself to his feet, turning around to face his foe once more. The boy watched him still, sword in hand, reddened with Maddox’s blood.

He waited?

The thought was offensive. The boy watched him impassively, ignoring his struggles. Maddox’s blood streamed down his leg, leaking into his blood and staining the sand around him. He stared at the boy, struggling to comprehend how someone could have possibly gotten such a blow on him. He was already lightheaded from the blow. “Who are you?” He asked, spitting to the side.

The boy did not answer, instead he flicked his sword to the side, splattering the blood from the blade. Maddox held his sword before him, ready to defend himself. He felt his power swirling around his fingers, up his blade. The boy was wrong. Cithrel was not the source of his power. She was.

He could see the boys eyes move to his hands, and then he too held his sword before him. Maddox would need to finish this quickly. He needed medical attention, and this boy would kill him if he allowed this to draw on any longer.

Maddox suddenly turned his sword, point first towards the boy, and let loose a massive, crushing wave of energy. The boy, somehow, rolled from the way. Maddox would have gawked if he wasn’t in such a bad way. Instead, he grit his teeth, shouting as he sent another blast, then another, following the boy. The boy is growing closer, but not quickly. He is untouched by Maddox’s power, but he would tire. He had to tire. Around them, buildings crashed, falling completely. The pool is crushed, and water arched upwards by the blasts. The Arcturians, as well as his own men retreat further from the fight to avoid the heavy power Maddox is unleashing on the boy.

Then, suddenly, the boy in on him, near enough to swipe with a sword. Maddox whirled quickly, hand up and aimed at the boy, not his blade, but the boy did not move. Instead, the area which had already begun to grow even darker, became pitch. Then something slammed into Maddox with such force his breath left him. Pain, excruciating pain, erupted in his stomach and splintered into every vein of his body. He was stabbed, pierced straight through the gut, and now held above the ground, suspended in the air. Maddox gasped, blood sprayed from his lips, and then he looked down, eyes wide.

Inside of him, protruding out of him, is a swirling mass of darkness, pointed and wicked. It entered from his back, and out through his stomach, and lifted him into the air. He gasped again, and then the shadow vanished and he fell. He could not move, could barely breathe. He lay in the sand, small clouds lifting with every short, shallow breath he forced himself to take. His vision was blurring in and out again, but he could see him. He could see the boy walking towards him. He could see twisted shapes, flickering in and out of the world around him. Voids and spaces darker than the night surrounded the boy, swallowing him as he drew nearer.

The demon. They were right.

Maddox watched the demon move on him, and watched the darkness surge forward and take him.

~~~

A movement woke him, and Maddox slowly opened his eyes. He was staring up at the royal oak of the Ytthar. A dim, coppery glow illuminated the darkness. He turned his head and spotted a naked Varia, standing with a match still lit in his hand, hunched over a table. He waved the match out and pulled the lantern closer to himself.

Maddox closed his eyes, recalling the dream… no, the memory. The first time they had met, out on the sands in southern Nihal. He was wrong then, Arcturus did not have a demon. They had Varia. He lived that day, the Er Rian troops closed in before Varia could kill him and drove the Arcturians back. He was taken to healers, to mages, and tended too. He was down from battle for nearly two full moons, fighting a battle of festering flesh and rot. Varia nearly killed him even when he was miles away.

Maddox’s hand rest on his stomach, brushing fingertips against the rough, raised scarring. It still pained him sometimes, sharp and hot, searing. Reminded him of that day, the day he realized that he was not the strongest, that there was another. It humbled him. It worried him that he may die, that they may lose for the first time. If Arcturus had men like that fighting for them, how could he win?

Of course, the answer was easy. He never accounted for Varia being there with him, sharing the most intimate moments, sharing their personal darkness with each other. The key to winning was to have Varia, to bring him to his side, to turn him against Arcturus.

His eyes lingered on Varia, and Varia finally glanced back to him. “Did I wake you?” Varia asked.

Maddox smiled, and shook his head. “No.” He murmured, then lowered his eyes to the map table Varia was at. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Varia turned back to fuss over the map, quiet for a spell. He made a few marks on it, before he turned, bringing the lantern with him and sitting on the bed next to where Maddox lay. Varia inspected him, setting the lantern down on the small table near, before sliding his hand down Maddox’s chest. The lantern threw shadows over him, contouring the rise of his muscle, the deepness of scars. Varia’s fingers pushed below Maddox’s hand and paused over the scar and lingered there.

“I do.” Varia said softly. “We purposely lured you to us. Arcturus sent me in, with intention of setting me against you.”

Maddox kept his hand over Varia’s, abdomen muscles tightening under the touch. Always such a surprise, the softness Varia could exude. He bore the proof that Varia was not a soft man, yet he could almost forget about his nature when he touched him like that.

“I was thinking of that day. I was thinking of how tiny and scrawny you were then.” Maddox said, a smirk pulling at him.

Varia snorted, that odd, half laugh, half scoff sound he made whenever he was amused. “You were not so handsome a child yourself, Maddox. You were gangly and weird. You thought too much of yourself, even then.”

Maddox chuckled, making a sound of agreement with Varia’s assessment. He turned his eyes to Varia’s face, gazing up at him. Pointed nose, sharp, strong jaw. Heavy lashes and those piercing eyes. Even in his memory he could see that Varia would grow into this. Beauty wasted on war… but there was something different now. Something beyond the look of a man raised in battle. Something beyond the change that gripped Varia since he was a child soldier and grew into a commander.

Back then he saw nothing in his gaze. Just death, blood, contempt for all but his masters. He did not see the humanity that he would later he told of. He did not believe it then, when he was told, but it was there now, in the way his gaze softened when he looked at Maddox. It was there now, in the shadows of the tiny cabin, only illuminated by the amber glow of the lantern.

How he never saw it before was a mystery, especially when Varia wore his humanity so loudly now. It gave Maddox hope in his quest, in the journey he took to get to this point. It made him think that all who were lost in pursuit of his goal would be avenged. Would lay in peace. It made him believe that Arcturus could be saved.

Maddox propped himself on his elbow, reaching a hand up to twist his fingers in Varia’s hair, bringing their lips together. Varia murmured against his lips in surprise, but did not protest. They remained connected for a long moment, before Varia pulled away, climbing over Maddox to settle on the blankets nearest the wall, and Maddox rolled over and pressed himself between Varias legs and placed the other beneath him.

The next day was fraught with storm, and though the sailors spotted it long before they grew near, they still skimmed the outside of it. Maddox did not mind. He spent the day wrapped in Varia’s warm embrace, in the small cabin that was not truly meant to be a shared space, but one they shared regardless.

The day after was rainy, but the storm was passing around them, thankfully, but the rain was yet another excuse to remain indoors with Varia. He found his desire for the other was unquenchable, and divested himself of Varia’s body as often as Varia would allow.

The third day, Varia became surly, unable to be content with relaxing yet another entire day in bed with Maddox. He wished to speak more on where they were going, and their path from there. So, despite the fact that Sabre was drunk for most of their journey on the sea so far, they summoned him and Brom into the cabin to go over their route, though Maddox only agreed to tame Varia into staying with him in bed for the remainder of the day.

The group settled together, nibbling on bread and hard cheese, and some sort of fish stew that was surprisingly good, Maddox gazed at the maps both Sabre and Varia procured. Both maps, both paths seemed… similar. That was not lost on Sabre and he looked quite dismayed that Varia not only drew a route like his, but perhaps even better in spots. It was to be expected. Sabre was a politician, not a soldier, and he did not have to trudge like Varia so often did.

But something else drew Maddox’s eye. A spot on the map, unmarked. There were others, but only a few he recognized as ancient places, deep roads and temples. Ripe with old magic. The sort of magic that the demon in Varia likely fed on during its long slumber prior to them waking it with their intrusion.

It was the same magic that She fed on, and he wondered if there were a way to connect Her to the streams they flowed into, to help hold Her off for a bit longer. His eyes followed a river, a deep river that he knew, and noted it passed near the unmarked spots of the map. Varia was often found near that river underground, his shadows sliding from the waters like beasts of the deep. It was not a place he wished to find Varia in again, especially with that creature inside of him still.

Of course, Varia’s path took them directly into several of these places, or near enough them that Maddox shuddered. He placed a finger on the map, tapping one of the void spots and turned his gaze to Sabre and Varia sitting across from him.

“What is this place? Why is it unmarked?”

Varia looked down to where Maddox pointed, his eyes shifting over the drawings, tapping into some deep memory, before responding, slowly and carefully. “I believe it is an ancient ruin. Most of those unmarked spots are such places.”

“Dwarven?” Maddox inquired, and Varia nodded.

Maddox looked back to the map, tracing a finger down the river once more, all the way down to the south where it appeared to empty into the Sea of Silence, the sea that separated Arcturus from Nihal.

“The river runs straight through? Does it pass through the ruins?” He asked again, looking to Varia, for he would know best what lay underground in the deep.

Varia looked to the map, but it was Sabre who spoke. “It does empty into the Sea of Silence. There are many Arcturian camps along the river, must of their forward base there.” He was implying that the river would not be a viable way to travel, and Maddox was slightly miffed that Sabre would think Maddox would ever try to use a river to travel through Nihal.

It was a desert. Any Arcturian troops, any Nihalian troops, anyone that they would not want to run into would be gathered around the water, where ever they may find it. Before he could become annoyed with his friend out loud, Varia spoke. “The river does run through the ruins I have been too, or at least branches of the river.”

Maddox looked to Varia, and smiled softly. Varia, his little goblin, lurking in the dark. In ancient ruins, taking time from his campaign to learn, to explore. He would need to watch him carefully if they ever returned to them, for Varia could easily wander away and never be seen again.

“Do you plan to take us through them?” Maddox asked, though judging by the marks on the map, Varia certainly was. Varia nodded, and pressed a finger down, about to speak.

“What is your sudden fascination with ancient ruins, Maddox?” Brom asked from where he stood against the wall, near the door, refusing to join them at the table.

“There is nothing wrong with being interested in history, Brom.” Maddox replied, despite feeling an instant ball of anger form in his throat.

“If you are so interested in history, why is it you’ve never gone to these places?” Brom shot back, turning his body to face them fully.

“Maddox was a bit busy trying to keep out of the underground, because I was there.” Varia spoke from where he sat, though he did not lift his gaze from the map. “Even your fool brother would not put himself in my realm when we fought.”

Brom chewed his lip when Varia spoke, hearing the tone. Varia was speaking casually, did not sound angry, but there was a sharpness to his tone, and like a whip it cracked Brom and silenced him from berating and accusing Maddox further. Maddox held Broms gaze for a long moment, until Brom turned away with a huff, flopping back against the wall like a child.

Sabre looked sidelong at Maddox, then tapped on his own map. “We should move through Kjate, but then we should move underground from there and take Varia’s route to the capital. It would award us more comfort from the sun and storms, and keep us hidden all the same.” Sabre said.

Varia looked to Sabre, waiting for what would surely be an insult, before he looked to the map once more. “I… agree.” He sounded unsure, but not because of the route, because of the non-hostile way Sabre spoke to him then. Maddox was pleasantly surprised as well, though he was not fool enough to think it would last.

“The mountains of Vovam will be difficult to traverse. I only know how to go above them, there is no path below that is open to me. I do not know how to go around them, to stick to their shadow because I have not gone that path yet. Perhaps… you know a route better suited.” Varia offered.

“I do know of several ways around, and I can plot our course accordingly.” Sabre replied.

Maddox sat back, listening to the two speak without any hostility for the first time since…. Ever. Eventually Brom joined them at Varia’s urging, and they settled on a path that seemed to calm Varia’s anxiety for the time being, and seemed to please Sabre greatly. Varia and Brom still had not contact with any Arcturians, and their movements were not known to Maddox or Sabre either. They would not know until they reached the capital, and revealed themselves as alive. Sabre could gather information in the smaller towns that they would pass, but that information would be fleeting, marred by rumor and falsehoods, and they did not plan to cross many towns. Varia and Maddox were both easily recognized, and they needed to remain dead, for now.

Sabre left once the route was decided, but Brom remained behind. Brom was quiet, but he watched Maddox. He was clearly waiting for Maddox to leave so that he could speak with Varia alone. But Maddox did not leave, instead flopping back onto the bed to lay down, to at least provide the privacy of not sitting directly with them.

Brom scowled after him, but realized that would be the best he would get. He leant towards Varia, his voice soft. “When will you send a letter to Kia?”

Maddox scowled, and resisted the urge to immediately protest. Reaching to Kia meant reaching to Legion, it meant reaching to men who were loyal to Varia and enemies to him. He felt himself bristle, and felt Her stir in his subconscious. They needed to do so, they needed Legion to be brought into the fold eventually. He knew that, but was it so terrible that he wished for time with Varia for a bit longer? Once Varia’s men arrived, Varia would be taken from him.

Legion is Varia’s, and Varia is Arcturus. Arcturus is mine. I am the body, the blood of the land. Varia belongs to me, and thus the Legion belongs to me.

Her voice came to him, soft, weaker than usual. He closed his eyes, but he could not see Her. Her words disturbed him a bit. He reaches for Her, and hears Varia respond, though it sounds distant as well, muffled as he focused.

Varia stands with us. If Legion is his, then it is also ours by extention.

He could feel Her irritation, anger. Why was She angry?

You are allies now, but he will need to give himself to the cold before the end. He is mine.

Maddox felt cold burst over his chest, and felt a creeping dread that told him this was not over. He opened his eyes, and looked to where Brom and Varia sat moments ago, but saw only Varia. Brom was no longer there, and the room was lit orange with the afternoon sun. Varia still sat at the table, his hands paused in whatever they had been working on, and he was staring at him.

Maddox blinked, then sat up properly, his body aching. “Did I fall asleep?” He asked Varia, his hand lifting to clutch his head, the thump of a headache beginning to bore into him.

“You did.” Varia replied, turning his head back to the map, continuing to draw.

“Did I say anything… odd in my sleep?” Maddox asked cautiously. Varia did not answer, but his silence told him that he probably did speak out loud.

Varia was silent for a long moment, before tapping his quill and setting it aside. “Once we reach Klale I will begin to send word to Legion.”

Maddox rubbed his hands over his face. Klale. The capital of Nihal, where the Queen resided. Where he had spent a good portion of his childhood, with Sabre. Maddox’s hand lingered over his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “With our small party, we will make good time.” His voice sounded shaken, his throat dry.

Varia lifted his head once more, and for a moment Maddox saw a hint of that coldness, that anger he knew so well when they were younger. It had not been around lately, but even so, Maddox knew it. He again was concerned that Varia heard him speak to Her, but Varia was not one to hold his tongue, and he did not confirm anything he heard. He did not think he spoke out loud, though again he felt Her pushing, wanting to speak, but he drove Her back with sheer force of will.

Varia turned his attention back to the map, silent again as he traced lines downward, south, to Arcturus. Maddox watched his hands work, and sighed. He needed a distraction, before She spoke through him, directly to Varia.

“What is our plan once we reach Arcturus?” He asked.

Varia snorted but did not lift his head. “There is no plan, no concrete one, at least. I will not be able to draw a true plan until I know how many Legion I should expect.” Varia murmured.

Maddox watched Varia’s hands, watching him trace a line with his finger down, before resting on a spot Maddox knew well. “We will go to Mal’Dyr, that is certain. If any Legion will join us, they will meet us there. It is defendable, and we will be safe from attack by sea or march.”

Maddox watched Varia speak, thought he spotted a bit of longing in his gaze. “Do you miss Mal’Dyr?” He asked.

Varia was quiet again, his eyes softening. He chose his words carefully, guarded as always. “I miss Arcturus. I miss the ice, the cold… and yes, above all I miss Mal’Dyr. It was the only home I’d ever know, the only true home. I hope that even if there is rumor of my return, the Legion will go to my hold and wait for me.”

Maddox felt a pang of sadness for Varia, and understood. Both of them had no true home, not yet. Maddox would create one for them, allow Varia to remain in Mal’Dyr. He deserved a place, deserved a place he loved to retire. He would get Varia home, return him to the ice and take it back for him.

“YOUR hold?” Maddox heard himself say with mirth, suddenly enough to startle him. “I show you mercy and you think it yours.” He was not speaking, She was. She overpowered his will, momentarily lapsed with his feelings and thoughts of Varia, and spoke directly to Varia.

Maddox sprung to his feet so suddenly his head swam and he nearly fell. Her hold of him snapped, and he stumbled forward, grasping the back of Varia’s chair, digging his nails into it. The world was spinning, and he could see ice creeping into his blurry vision. Varia turned sharply when he… no, when She spoke to him, a look of disbelief on his face, followed by fury.

“Mercy?” Varia spat, his voice low, dangerous. Maddox knew the tone, and he did not want to be trapped in a small room such as this when Varia sounded like that. “What you have done has been out of self-interest, not mercy.”

The shadows in the room were heavier suddenly, hanging lower, twitching. In another time, Maddox would have expected an attack. They were no longer in the Graves, Varia was no longer limited in his powers. He was still the Demon of Arcturus, and Maddox had a suspicion that Varia wanted to remind him of that. Varia rose to his feet, and Maddox stepped back from him. Varia’s hand fell to rest on the hilt of the old, rusted sword Halan gifted him, and looked upon him.

No, he looked through him. Maddox was not certain if he knew that it was Her speaking then, or not.

But before he could ask, could explain, Varia turned and moved from the room. Maddox’s heart slammed in his chest, and for a moment he panicked. Where would he go? What would he do? Would he march to Brom and tell him that he was right all along? He needed to go to him, to chase him, to tell him that he would never say that, that it was not him, that it was HER!

But when he stepped forward, a wash of cold took him again, and he sat back onto the bed, dizzy. It was so cold, painful, it threatened to freeze him in place.

If you recall your history, Mal'Dyr was once the Aesirian Palace.

Her voice struck him, heavy and loud, wrangling his thoughts from Varia and returning them to Her.

It is only the second inhabitable part of the original palace structure that stands, the only one that is easily reachable. And when it is said to be reachable or inhabitable, that is meant as only to those whom I deem worthy. Mal'Dyr, all of the ice, all of those who were born there, are MINE. This is a reminder, love, that he does not own anything. It is all mine, the fortress, the ice, the Legion, HIM. Mine.

Maddox flinched at the tone, the implication. Never before had She been so forceful. He knew that's what She thought, that's what WAS. Though, how to tell Varia that She intended to use him like those who birthed him intended...

The heat was growing again, the closer they drew to Nihal, the hotter it got. He felt it unbearable, though he still felt Her chill.

Without him, you have nothing. You will fade, as all others like you have. Maddox's mind whispered back, pushing back against Her.

I will not fade, once he and you return to me. He is needed, as much as you are needed. You are bound to him.

Maddox scoffed at that, out loud, despite himself, and shook his head.

Born to poor farmers, no doubt. Sent away to the towers. His influence is one that he built, not one that was given to him at birth.

You are not as blind as you claim, my love. You know my words are true. His blood is that of Arcturus, he is bound, always has been bound to you. Not born as you, a chosen one, born into nothing, yet a necessary sacrifice. Just as the others before him were.

And then... Maddox was no longer on the ship. No longer on the sea, sailing for Nihal. He was no longer a man, but a memory, a distant, future memory. It was dark, too dark, with splotches of white obscuring his vision.

No... not splotches of white... snow.

Maddox looked up to the sky, seeing the steady fall of cold. He followed the path of the flakes, down to the ground. Below him. He was... flying. No, floating, and below he could see a fortress, jutting upwards to the dark sky. It looked like crystal, or ice, shaped and molded, formidable but... comforting. Yet it burned. He could hear a rumble of soldiers, could see trebuchets launching from the walls, fire, so much fire, and the gates... broken.

It was the hall of the Aeserian kings, where he was meant to sit. Mal'Dyr, as it was called now.

Vyapa Aesir. The great fortress of your father, and his father before him. And so on, further back than you can comprehend. Since I first appeared in this world. It has sat with no king for too long, with only imposters taking residence.

She sounded like she stood beside him in the air, but when he turned she was not there. He was alone, save for the voice echoing around him.

"Varia is no imposter."

He is no king.

A brush of a breeze, and She pushed them forward. To another night, one more recent, a night the same dark as the one when the Aesirians fell. That same cold brushed against his cheek, drifting downwards like She was urging him to look. And he did, down below, where he watched a group of people, bundled in heavy furs and riding atop angry looking horses down a cracked, cobbled road. Beyond the trees, there was a village. It was small, dilapidated, with skinny nags, small fires burning in the cold.

My parents didn’t name me. I was conceived purely for Arcturus.

Varia's voice. A memory, so long ago now. Less time than it felt. Back then, months ago, nearly half a year. Would be more than half a year once they arrived in Nihal. Before, when their alliance was still new, when hearing small bits of Varia's life before, of the horrors, the pride...

He did not know his parents. His parents, those in the program, bred children solely for the Council. He was taken before his birth mother could hold him, before his father could look upon him. He was taken, given to the wet-nurses and sealed away into a tower, to learn to fight, to learn how to kill. He spilled blood in the tower, all Breeders had.

He could faintly hear the wails of a woman, and watched as several men gathered outside of a shack. From inside, a woman emerged, face shrouded in a shawl draped over her head. She carried a tiny bundle, unmoving. The men were there, the ones on the road, and they all approached the bundle, gazing down at it. Several shook their heads, but one held his hands for it, and took the small thing in his hands.

He stepped into the moonlight, and pulled the swaddling from the babes head, revealing a wild mess of dark hair. Maddox felt his pulse in his throat as he watched the man turn Varia over in his hands. Varia as a babe was so small, frail looking... and he did not appear to be moving. Though Maddox knew the outcome, he feared for the child. He feared that the men there would cast him out, like so many others.

The man covered him once more, and then began to walk deeper into the woods. Deeper and deeper still, and then he was at a sheer drop, an icy cliff, jagged rocks and small bones littered at the bottom. He lifted the baby once more, and this time, a pair of icy eyes gazed back at the man, but beyond that, the shadows began to draw closer. The man held Varia over the edge, but then hesitated. The shadows crept down his arm, enveloping the baby in them. The man drew a breath, then gazed up to the sky.

Keep this one.

He heard Her voice on the wind, and snapped his gaze to where he felt where Her presence lingered beside him. He didn't need to see more, but She showed him regardless. She had been there, perhaps was there for every child that was displayed before Her. The man seemed to hear Her, and bundled the baby, so quiet, back up, before trudging back through the forest. Again, the world blurred, and Maddox found himself somewhere else.

The tower, tall and jagged, angry and evil. It was a place of pain, of horror. How any child could grow there was unknown to Maddox, but he was soon watching children, no older than their fifth name days slaughtering each other. He saw Varia, small, so small, so hesitant for so long. But, like all the others, he was forced to kill, forced to spill blood on what was once sacred grounds. To feed Her, to sustain Her while Maddox grew older with the elves. He could see the pain, watched beatings, and murders.

He watched Varia in the nights, half starved, with blued fingers and lips from the cold, huddle on the floor of his room, separated from the other children. He watched the shadows curl around him like clawed hands, scratching at him, dragging against the floor, tormenting him. He saw tears, tears he did not recognize on Varia. So many tears, no wonder Varia seemed unable to cry now. He spent them all then, in those important years.

If you think he will see you as any different, you are wrong. Your family started the tradition, and though you promise to end it, you will find it difficult to feed me without. Show him that he is mine, ours, and do not allow him to leave.

That was what he feared, wasn't it? That Varia would find no differences between Maddox and those before him, the Council, the others in his family. But he was different, wasn't he? And Varia was not unwise, Varia would see it. He saw it already. He was here, of his own will.

Is it his own will? Is he truly free to leave? You would not allow it so, and do not pretend to him that you would. Reign him in, Maddox. He is dangerous to your quest. He is dangerous to me, to all of Arcturus.

"No." It was the first he openly defied Her, directly to Her, especially when he was in Her domain, in some ancient world long passed. He gazed down at the frightened child, who shied away from the shadows creeping towards him. This was not Varia, not what Varia became. The child grew into a man who did not fear the dark, did not fear demons, did not fear him.

He blinked, and he was back in his cabin, alone. He reached for Her, but She did not answer his call. She could have been simply ignoring him, or could have spent too much energy showing him these things, flexing too much power for the heat and distance between them. He turned his eyes to the cabin door, then down to the empty bed. Varia did not return, and judging by the light peeking through, it had been hours since he left.

Maddox flopped onto the bed with a heaving sigh, running hands over his face. She had a point. Varia, though perhaps Maddox was the best option now, was wary of him. As he should be. It would save him, in the end, if Varia continued to distrust him. Maddox wanted him to be safe, to stay safe. He did not wish to use him as he was, but he had no other option. He could not allow him to leave, allow him to push away. He needed to keep him there, safe, with him.

Maddox gave Varia his space for the remainder of the afternoon, but vowed to seek him out the next day, before they landed in Nihal, to apologize, to explain what he could about the outburst. But he did not need to, for that evening while he lay in bed, he heard the door creak open and small steps approach him. He did not move, kept his eyes closed to feign sleep, but he felt lips cover his own, and felt a body shift onto the bed.

He hummed, sliding his arms around Varia's body and pulled him fully onto the bed with him. He did not open his eyes still, but buried his nose in the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent. "I was afraid you would not return." He murmured, voice heavy with sleep.

"I have." Varia replied softly, hands sliding through Maddox's hair.

Maddox opened his eyes then, only seeing the dark of Varia's hair. "I would like to try and explain what happened... I... I didn't mean to--"

"Don't. Another time." Varia whispered, and covered Maddox's lips with his own once again.

Maddox was hard pressed to be convinced, but Varia's body, not heavy with armor as it normally was, was eager for him it seemed. Varia shifted over him, pressing his knees into the mattress on either side of Maddox's hips and sat up straight over him, his hands sliding over his chest. Maddox stared up at him in wonder while Varia removed his tunic, tossing it to the floor near the bed. Maddox was already in only his small clothes, and already he tented in them, pressing against Varia's bottom.

Sitting above him, Varia looked like a god. A god of war, in any other situation, but to Maddox, under the moonlight, the other transformed. The harsh lines of his scars faded and the cold, edged look in his eye was soft. More than a god prepared to smite those who were unworthy, the god above him now only knew love and forgiveness.

Those hands, calloused from long years of sword play, spread over his body while his own held the other's hips, resisting the urge to thrust his growing hardness up. Varia was here for a reason, and Maddox would oblige. Varia's hand lifted to his mouth and he spit, then reached back and freed Maddox from the constraints of his small clothes. His hand moved over his length, though Varia's eyes remained on him. The touch was electric, and sent waves of pleasure through Maddox's body, anticipation, need for more warmth. A finger moved to Maddoxs lips, then further in, and Maddox sucked upon it. His eyes opened, resting them on Varia's face.

Varia was not one for waiting this night, and soon withdrew his finger from Maddox's mouth, and reached back, sliding his pants just below the curve of his ass when he did, and began to wet himself.

Watching Varia prepare himself was more sensual than doing it himself. He was sure Varia was doing so on purpose, the way he watched Maddox under his lashes. It was hard not to come then as wound up as he was, Varia's slicked hand covering his cock fully, adding more saliva as needed, before Varia seemed content. It would not be an easy fit, but it never was.

The muscles in Varia's thighs, barely visible from where his pants were pushed down, flexed as he rose, shifting back a bit, before lowering himself onto Maddox. His hand positioned Maddox below him, and he lowered again, then again. Finally, pushing past the resistance of the other's body, Maddox's cock popped into the warmth, sinking into the others body. Maddox audibly cursed when Varias warmth consumed him and slid lower down his cock. The tightness, the heat... His hips bucked upward, but calmed. Having control was difficult, and was obvious by the curses in various languages when Varia lowered himself fully.

He felt so good, his face was beautiful, his body warm and inviting. Maddox's hands moved to Varia's hips then lifted the other from him, before bringing him back down slowly, earning him a soft sound from parted, plump lips. Varia's hands moved over his, then drew them back to cover his ass. A heavy breath left Varia when Maddox's hands squeezed and pulled apart, bringing him down fully once again. Then Varia's hands moved back to Maddox's chest, holding him down while bracing himself, and he began to work. He rolled, grinded, bounced over Maddox. It brought memories of Varia on the sands, so long ago, riding that great black stallion so gracefully, with such purpose. He rocked, lifted, rolled, then took Maddox fully again.

Maddox wanted to lean up, to kiss him, to feel his flesh, but Varia would not allow it. But gods, did Varia look divine riding him. Like this, he could see everything. He could see his cock vanishing under Varia, could see every twitch of Varia's length while it bounced over him, tapping lightly against his abdomen. He could see his abdomen flexing, every defined muscle, every scar. Every moan, every stutter, every bite of the lip, every roll of his eye. Maddox could not stop himself, his climax rising quicker than he expected, and he thrust upwards with more vigor, pulling more moans from his lovers’ lips.

One hand remained on the other's ass, using it to move Varia quicker, harder, and the other snaked up, grasping his length and pumping it quickly. He would not last much longer, and intended to bring Varia to climax before his. He was rewarded quicker than he expected, streams of semen spilling from Varia and splattering across his stomach. Then Varia's body collapsed around him, squeezing. He would be consumed entirely. When his body crashed around him, so tight, shuddering, vibrating with Varia's climax, Maddox was too brought to the edge. He continued to fuck upwards into that willing hole, ropes of semen bursting from him and sullying, claiming Varia's body once again.

He continued to thrust up until he and Varia were both spent, and slowly allowed his hips to lay back down. Varia trembled above him, hands now pressed on either side of Maddox's head as he caught his breath. Maddox too needed a moment, and lifted his hand, wet with Varia's love, to his lips, cleaning himself with his tongue. Varia snorted out a laugh when he did, and Maddox grinned too.

"You came only for my body. I should have known I have but one use to you." Maddox murmured, his arms moving around Varia's waist.

"Mm, yes. The only thing you're good for. You're a terrible creature besides this." Varia conceded. Maddox pressed his lips against Varias, and then shifted his lips, allowing his soft cock to slide from Varia, wet from his own seed still.

He allowed Varia to slide from his body, lying next to him instead, over one of his arms. Maddox turned his head, pressing his lips against the wild mane of black atop his head. "I apologize for earlier." He whispered.

Varia grunted, but did not respond right away, instead lifting his lips to pull his small clothes back up properly, though he divested himself of his trousers and dropped them to the floor along with his shirt. "We will discuss that at another time." He murmured.

He said it with such a tone that Maddox knew Varia understood, at least a little, that it was not quite Maddox speaking then. He should not be surprised, Varia had crossed her path several times by now, but it still brought him surprise. He was always surprised by the other. By his kindness, his humanity, his understanding, his forgiveness. How this man could be plagued by war, forced to fight when he was so good at love was a tragedy.

Maddox was different than the council, he would be different than the last Aesirian kings. He would prove it, show Varia, show the world who he was and what he could do. He would create an Arcturus for Varia, one Varia loved, one Varia wanted to remain in. He would be different, he would not fall into whatever mold She decided for him. He would do it, and he would do it for Varia.