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Many of my stories have a happy-fun little sex scene.

This story is not one of them.

You have been warned.

• Master Meridian

Blood and Water

The Gilded Cage

"My what?!"

The outburst drew frowns, not least of all from both Corella and Oswell. The latter's glare could have melted steel if not for the presence of the royal guard at the door and the princess who looked on with equal disapproval. "She is your betrothed," Oswell repeated. His voice was smooth as glass, in spite of the clenched teeth he had to force the words through. "Your wife-to-be? Your future bride?"

The frown on Corella's face vanished as the princess folded her arms across her chest. Her dress refused to rumple under the gesture as she cocked an eyebrow and perked up a single ear. "It is rude to be so obviously put off by the prospect," she added, but a smile tugged at her muzzle as she looked Deacon over again. "Many a male would praise the Mistress of Fate for a mate such as I." Her smile grew and became more teasing as she tilted her head up. "Or do you find me unworthy? Unappealing? Not pretty enough for you?"

Deacon glanced to his side. Bain looked horrified, but the otter kept his eyes firmly locked on the ground. With his head tilted down, only Deacon and Oswell had the ability to sense the discomfort and terror that suffused him. Deacon did catch his gulp before he turned back to bow his head to the princess once more. "Such a thing would not be possible," he finally replied.

Her response was to stride over before him, and Deacon held his breath as he prepared to be struck. Such a thing had happened many times before with his father... but he was instead surprised when the wolfess offered him instead the back of her paw. With another quick glance to his side - Bain only looked more and more uncomfortable for each second that passed - Deacon dropped to one knee before the princess and reached up to gently cup her paw in his own. "Stories of your beauty are a harsh injustice, my lady," he said, before he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her paw. "They do you no credit whatsoever. The truth moves me, deep and true."

"And so nimble of tongue. This is a fine quality in a husband." When Deacon released her paw again, she turned and nodded to the royal guards. The head of the formation nodded back and gestured to his fellows. They began to fan out through the foyer and head into the house. "I trust, Master Oswell, that the traditional quarters are available to my guard detachment?"

"With but a single discrepancy," Oswell replied. He gave a shallow bow as she turned her gaze on him. "The young otter here has taken one of my rooms. This will not be an issue for the duration of your stay, though." His glance shifted briefly to Deacon, who met his gaze with a mixture of concern and dread. "I have plans for him that must be attended to, and they will last the full length of your majesty's visit." When he lifted his head and turned his attention back to Corella, his smile had returned in full. "Of course, your mother's room is available and awaiting your approval. Should anything at all be not to your liking, you need only inform me and I will attend the matter personally."

Corella smiled and nodded as she offered her paw to Oswell. The elder magi bowed to kiss it as Deacon had. "As ever, your service to our family is greatly appreciated, Master Magi. You honor me with your efforts."

"Then allow me to further honor you with a grand feast for yourself and your guard captain," Oswell continued as he waved a paw toward the dining room door. "I will settle young master Bain in his new quarters and come join you with the meal within moments." He turned to face Deacon and Bain, and his smile slipped as he regarded both the fox and the otter. "Son, see to her majesty and her captain. Ensure that they are well taken care of before I return." He didn't even wait for Deacon's nod before he waved Bain to follow him. "Come along, Bain."

Deacon looked to Bain, and was met by a forlorn glance from the otter. He could still feel Bain's concern and fear as clear as day. There was nothing he could do to help his friend without outing both Bain and himself, fighting off the princess' personal guard and an experienced magi, and fleeing into the wilderness. "I will see you later, Bain," he said.

The otter just nodded, before he was ushered out of the room. Deacon took a deep breath before he turned back to Corella and forced a smile to his muzzle. "You... must forgive me, my lady. I seldom meet new people, what with our home being so secluded from the rest of the empire. To meet royalty is... I lack the words to describe how I feel."

Corella shook her head slowly as she glanced to the side. The tallest of the guards stepped back into the foyer and reached up to remove his helmet as she spoke. "I understand, perhaps more than you know," she replied as she looked to her guard. The visage that was revealed beneath the helmet was that of another wolf, as old as Oswell and with a face scarred by countless battles and wounds. "Thankfully, a pleasant lunch will allow us to use our tongues for matters which we can all appreciate."

Deacon's nod was almost half-hearted, but he turned to the dining room door and waved toward it all the same. "I am certain that my father's culinary efforts will prove far more delightful than anything that might come out of this confused little muzzle of mine," he replied. A glance up showed the captain rolling his eyes as he stepped forward and pushed open the door.

He grunted at Deacon but otherwise remained silent as he held the door open for his princess. She stepped to the threshold before she smirked up at her captain. "You must forgive Istvan," she said, as she placed one paw on his breastplate. The warrior bowed his head as she patted his armor. "He has been my protector since I was a cub. While he may not speak much, he undertakes his duties with the utmost care. I worry sometimes that he worries perhaps a little too much."

Istvan grunted again, but there was the barest curl to his lips as he did so. Corella smiled back at him before she entered the dining room, and the little smile was gone from his face as Deacon stepped forward to follow. The captain closed the door again behind them, as Deacon led them over to the table. "I am certain that once my father settles Bain, the meal will begin. We beg pardon for the delay."

As Istvan drew back a chair at the head of the table for her, Corella sank down into the seat and folded her paws in her lap. "There is nothing to forgive," she replied as she looked down the table. "Perhaps as we wait, you could tell me a little more of yourself. It would be most prudent to learn all I can of my future husband, would you not agree?"

The princess' eyes glittered as she cocked an eyebrow, and Deacon had that uncomfortable sense once again that her gaze was somehow able to penetrate his skull and see into his thoughts. At least he'd been able to avoid the shiver that had run through him at the word husband. "Yes... yes, quite prudent," he replied as he glanced back over his shoulder again. Bain was well and truly gone. His father wasn't there to guide or support him. It was just the fox, a captain of the royal guard, and the wolfess to whom he was betrothed. He'd always felt stuck in the manor, unable to leave and slaved to his destiny.

Now, though, Deacon was beginning to understand the definition of 'trapped.'

It was with no small amount of confusion that Bain found himself led down the long staircase to Oswell's vast underground laboratory. The otter hadn't seen the lab since he'd been woken up inside it weeks earlier. Eyes roamed up the vast pillar in the center of the lab and the egg-like pods set inside it. "Excuse me, Master Oswell," he spoke up as Oswell's paw left his back, "are you putting me back into that... thing?"

"Sleep pod," Oswell replied as he rounded Bain and headed over to the nearest of the tables. "They place the body of an individual into a state of sustained, deep sleep. And no, I have no intention of placing you back inside one of those sleep pods." He looked over his shoulder to Bain and perked an eyebrow. "Why do you ask? Do you wish not to be placed in a sleep state? It would be the most expedient way to avoid the unpleasantness of this royal visit. You go to sleep tonight, and you wake when Corella and Deacon have left."

Bain's eyes widened slightly as he watched Oswell turn back to the equipment on the table. "You mean D... Master Deacon will leave with the princess when she goes?" he asked. He hugged himself tightly. The lab was cooler than the rest of the house by several degrees, but that shiver that shook his body had less to do with temperature and more to do with dread.

"Indeed; that is his purpose at this point," answered Oswell. He waved Bain closer as he brushed a few errant tools aside. "We all have roles to play in momentous events, Bain," he continued, as the otter approached. "You, for instance, have been an invaluable asset in my work, and for that I am immensely grateful."

Once Bain was within arm's reach, Oswell turned. His arms swung violently up to crash a fist against the side of the otter's muzzle. Bain yelped in pain as he fell under the blow, and both paws rushed to cover his face as Oswell loomed over him. "However, the vastness of what I have accomplished is tarnished just slightly by your corrupting influence on Deacon," he snarled. All the warmth and friendliness that he'd shown the otter since his awakening was gone. Malice was left in its place.

As Bain started to scrabble back toward the thick glass doors, Oswell raised a paw. The two doors slammed shut loudly enough for Bain to turn back to look at them. By the time he looked back at Oswell, the magi's raised hand was filled with crackling electricity. "M-master Oswell, I-"

The lightning leaped out of the fox's paw and slammed into Bain's chest, and the floor beneath him cracked as the otter was slammed down with incredible force. Pain filled his body as electricity poured out of Oswell's paw, a constant barrage of arcane lightning that arced off the otter's body to the floor, the table and anything else within a couple of feet. He screamed.

When his lungs were empty, the otter felt the barrage cease. The pain refused to abate, and muscles all over his body twitched and relaxed under their own power as every nerve fired off randomly. He curled into a ball as best he can as tears began to run down his cheeks, and a cough brought the taste of blood to his muzzle. "Please," he croaked, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I'm... I-I'm s-s-sorry..." he managed to stutter out. His tongue didn't want to cooperate long enough to form the words.

As Oswell's paw dropped to his side, the elder fox shook his head slowly. He strode over to stand beside Bain, and crouched down as the otter curled tighter in on himself. "Oh, Bain. Oh, my dear little boy. You are quite mistaken. As much as I appreciate the words, you are incorrect. You are not sorry. Not yet." The fox reached out with a single paw to push past Bain's arms and wrap his fingers around the young otter's throat. "You see," he continued as he pinned Bain beneath him, "you have no comprehension of the work - decades and decades; a lifetime in every sense of the word - that I am doing here. You have no idea what you have done. Your contributions to my work have been useful, yes... oh, but they pale in comparison to the damage you and your perversion have done to my plans."

Bain whimpered as he continued to writhe on the cracked floor. "I d... I didn't-"

"Did not this, would not that." His ears flattened as he bared his teeth at Bain. "You did not think? You did not want this to happen?" Eyes narrowed as he squeezed the otter's throat tighter. "I _know_you, you pathetic little wretch. I know you, inside and out, far better than anyone else in all the world possibly could. Certainly I know you better than Deacon."

Anger seeped into Bain's face as a moment's defiance took a hold. His head lifted slightly as he spat at Oswell. The blood-tainted spittle struck the fox's cheek as Bain coughed. "You don't know anything," he snapped back with a clarity of speech that surprised him. The pain in his chest began to recede, beaten back by his anger. "You don't know me!"

Both of Oswell's eyebrows lifted politely as he swiped two fingers through the mess Bain had made on his cheek. He huffed quietly at the blooded spit before the fingers curled into his paw and he slammed the fist down across Bain's muzzle. The otter groaned as his eyes lolled back into his head, and they fluttered there for a moment as he fought to maintain consciousness. "Oh? You think that simply because my son deigned you worthy to receive his seed that he understands what you are better than I?" Oswell smirked as he pushed down on Bain's throat just that much harder. "You are a fool."

In spite of the choking grip, Bain lifted his head and pushed back against the fox's paw. Blood trailed from his nostrils as he glared at Oswell. "Deacon knows me," he ground out as best he could. "He cares about me... about what happens to me." He bared his teeth as best he could at Oswell. "You just want me for your experiments."

"Has he told you your parents are dead?" Oswell asked. He watched with a cold smile as Bain's eyes widened. "Hmm? I suspected not. I did ask him not to, after all." The smile broadened slightly. "I wonder if that means he values his father's judgment over your feelings. I wonder if that means my work and I are worth more than your life."

Bain shook his head defiantly. "Not to him," he spat.

With a roll of his eyes, Oswell stood and released Bain from his physical grip. He kept his fingers hooked as though wrapped about the otter's neck, and invisible force kept Bain in place as Oswell stepped back. "Only because he does not understand what you are. Once he does, I suspect he will come to understand what he is by extension." One ear perked up as he folded his arms. "When the time comes, he will kill you himself. You will look into his eyes as you die, and know that it could not have ended any other way."

Again, the otter shook his head. He pushed back against the force that held him down as his rage built, but he wasn't strong enough to break the magi's telekinetic grip. "He never would," Bain managed to say at last. Blood spilled from his muzzle as he gnashed his teeth in his attempt to push against Oswell's bonds. "It wouldn't matter what you said or did. He _never_would. Never!"

Oswell lifted one paw, and Bain rose into the air with it. The otter's arms and legs spread out wide as he hung a couple of feet above the ground, and Oswell looked him up and down with that same, cold little smile. "You are so sure of that. Even after I tell you that he stood in witness to the deaths of your mother and father, and did not make mention of it to you. You truly have such faith in him?"

Bain just forced a smile to his muzzle as he stared back at Oswell. "Sorry I disappointed you."

That smile went slack as Oswell began to chuckle. "All will be forgiven when my plans are set into motion, I assure you. Still though, you are not truly sorry. Not for what you have done... not yet." The fox's arm swept back, and Bain followed the gesture. He was ripped through the air and flew across the room to slam into the central pillar that contained the pods.

When Bain tumbled to the ground and rolled into a heap, he was still save for the ragged rise and fall of his chest. Oswell walked calmly over to him and looked down at his broken body. "But for what you have done - what you have forced from me - and how you have corrupted Deacon, I promise that you will suffer. You say you are sorry now, but when I am through with you?

"Then, my boy, you will be sorry."

When Deacon had tried to take a seat, Istvan had been quick to correct him. Rather than a spot far down the table from Corella, the guard captain had instructed him in no uncertain terms that he was to sit up at the princess' end of the table, nearer to her. He'd followed the instruction while Corella laughed, and then found himself across from Istvan himself. When he had asked as to the nature of the shift, he'd been told that Istvan knew and trusted Oswell, but had no reason to trust Deacon. By sitting across from the fox, he could observe him.

The closeness to the princess had been entirely her idea, and in contravention of Istvan's wishes regarding the matter. She had insisted Deacon move to her side as best he could and, while he sat to one side of the table with the princess at the head, she seemed pleased with his presence there. Deacon, by contrast, had to fight to hide his discomfort.

It had only grown harder when the questions had started. Silence hadn't been allowed to reign in the dining room for more than a few moments before Corella perked her ears and turned to Deacon with a smile. "So, future husband. Tell me of yourself."

There was that word again. Husband. It stuck in Deacon's mind like a splinter and caused his features to slacken. He caught himself before too long, but it was clear from the confusion on Corella's face that she had seen it. The fox quickly forced the barest of smiles. "I... begging her majesty's pardon. You must understand that I have had very little contact with the outside world. My studies have taken all my time, all my life. I know little of courtship matters with fine females such as yourself."

"And yet you have a refined tongue and the mind to use it," she countered with a smirk. "Is small talk such a challenge for a powerful magi? Have I perhaps found a fatal weakness?"

Deacon coughed and shook his head as he glanced at Istvan. The massive wolf was staring at him, as if waiting for the barest hint of arcane power to be manifested. "All I mean, highness, is that this is sudden, unexpected, strange and overwhelming," he replied at last. He glanced up as Oswell swept slowly into the room, his eyes studiously locked on his son. "An hour ago, I was training at the lake and keeping a watchful eye on Bain. Now, I learn I have a... a wife come to visit me." He bowed his head. "Your majesty has stories told of her grace. I humbly beg that grace of you as I process this most unusual circumstance."

"You must not be so harsh on Deacon, my lady," Oswell finally said, as he began to approach the table. "He speaks truly, though far too apologetically for his own good." The princess laughed as Oswell came to stop behind Deacon's chair. "Many magi do not take partners. We often do not pass down our powers or our blood to new generations because of the innate fear that comes from that which we are. Ours is a lonely pursuit of knowledge in many cases."

Corella nodded and waved to the table, and Oswell bowed as he began to move around Istvan to take a seat at the guard's side. "And your son is as a mirror to you, Master Oswell. Should his mind and spirit grow to equally mirror you, I believe I shall be blessed with the most wise and skillful husband in all the empire."

When Deacon cleared his throat, three pairs or eyes turned on him immediately. He gave the slightest smile and a shrug as he folded his paws in his lap beneath the table. "Before we begin our meal, I was wondering if perhaps I might learn more about this... betrothal. If, that is, your majesty is willing to speak of such things."

"I am quite certain the particulars of marriage negotiation are not of interest to the young princess, Deacon," Oswell quickly said with a wave of his paw.

His jaw set quickly as Corella waved her own and smiled at Deacon. "On the contrary, I find the story incredibly fascinating. I would be more than happy to share it with my future husband." One of the wolfess' eyebrows perked as she glanced over at Oswell, who forced a smile and reclined in his chair. "As it happens, my mother was not always possessed of courtly grace and the mind of a queen. She was in fact much, much less than that.

"Before she met my father, the late King Tiege, mother was the last of her family. Bandits had destroyed most of their farmland, and killed everyone she had known. She was broken and distraught, but she worked the land as best she could and provided enough for herself to survive." Corella's eyes sparkled with pride as she smiled wide. "Mother is a survivor, and she worked hard to instill that same quality in me."

Deacon glanced over at Oswell, who had since lost his smile entirely. "Forgive me, but is it not true that only nobility can marry into the royal family?" he asked.

The wolfess nodded and threw Deacon a sly wink. "Exactly so. Even if she had been a noble, she had no interest in the throne or the crown. She cared little for father before she met him. However, one of his guard captains insisted that he travel the imperium to see how renegade forces were running amok within his territory. They wished him to increase the imperial army to better defend ourselves.

"Instead, he came across this one little farm with this one lonely female tilling the soil. He insisted that he speak with her, against the wishes of his commanders." Corella grinned wider still. "As mother tells the story, she all but chewed his ears off. She was angry to see so many soldiers protecting one male, while her family had been slaughtered and her farmland decimated. By law, she should have had her tongue cut out for the curses she spat at him."

"But instead, Tiege was quite taken with her," Oswell continued with a smirk. He looked up at Corella as she nodded. "He admired her fiery spirit - a quality I recall I warned him against stoking - and was intrigued to learn more."

Confusion spread across Deacon's face as he perked an ear toward his father. "You were there?" he asked.

Oswell just nodded. "It was many, many years ago now. I could not see in Margot what Tiege could, but he was my king and I respected his interests."

For her part, Corella perked an eyebrow as she smiled at Oswell. There was more than a little hint of teeth in her smile, and it turned the gesture just that little bit more predatory. "You do not value a strength of will and a fire in the spirit, Master Oswell?" she asked.

"I am magi. I value order over all else." His eyes flicked to Deacon. "Willfulness disrupts the order of things, unless one has the will to enforce his own order. Death is merely the result of the orderly decay of life's energy, but necromancy proves this is not a definite end. Illness is a corruption of the order of the body, but rejuvenation magic sets the order back in place." Deacon caught a glimpse of his father's fangs before Oswell's smile softened and turned on Corella. "I am an agent of order, my lady. Your mother was... disruptive."

Again Corella began to chuckle. "And while he did not give his blessing, he did ensure that I could exist," she said as she turned back to Deacon. "As you said, a peasant female could no more marry the king of the Noctus Imperium than the king could marry one of the gods. Your father was, at the time, an advisor to the king in matters arcane. When the party moved on, mother begged he stay with her for a moment. Father's kindness and reason had captured her attention as well, and she wished to see him again." She shrugged. "But now does a farmer arrange to meet a king?

"It was impossible, so your father said. But when he returned to the king, he was struck by something." Again she glanced at Oswell, and this time the older fox did little to hide his soured expression. "Father was equally taken with the simple farmer as the farmer had been with him. He wished to help her, yes... but he was also smitten. It had not been her beauty that had ensorcelled him so - there were many, many beautiful females at court who desired his favor - but her mind. She had done one thing that no other courtly lady had dared do. She had _defied_him."

When Oswell snorted, Istvan turned to glare at him. "I was there too, magi," he growled, his voice deep and guttural. "It was love at first sight. You can't fake love."

Oswell just cocked an eyebrow and turned to meet the much larger wolf's glare. "What you call 'love at first sight' is nothing more than a chemical reaction," he calmly replied. "I can replicate it at will in any subject I choose through my magic."

Corella held up a paw, and both males instantly fell silent. When she dropped it again, she smiled over at Deacon. "Father insisted that they find ways to communicate. Master Oswell invented new magical devices to facilitate such things. When their bonds grew, the king asked him to help smuggle her into his palace. And when mother fell pregnant from one of their trysts, it was again your father who came up with a solution." One of her ears twitched as she smiled wider. "In fact, it is the same solution that allows our marriage."

Deacon again looked confused, but Oswell caught his eye. "I claimed her mother's land as my own," he explained. "Magi do not hold official land inside the Noctus Imperium. Any land claimed by a magi becomes sovereign territory, but law must be administered as per the rulership from whence it came. I and the few other magi in my position are, technically, sovereigns in our own right. We have the power to name those inside our territory as lords and ladies. We can grant noble titles freely."

"Of course, the royal court was not willing to accept my mother even as a noble," Corella continued. "Only the court could approve of a marriage to a foreign noble, and they would never have accepted a former farmer whose only claim to nobility was the will of a magi." She bowed her head to Oswell. "Thankfully, the will of a magi is a versatile thing and can be applied to many, many people. The royal court came to love my mother almost as greatly as my father did."

Oswell shrugged as he folded his arms. "They were in love," he simply said. "To allow mere law to dictate what they could and could not do was simply unacceptable."

Deacon's muzzle opened before he even knew it had done so, but the obvious question that almost came out instead was quickly squashed back down. The last thing he needed was to bring up any possibility of his activities with Bain. "And both the king and queen were in your debt for bringing them together," he said instead.

"Though my father died five years later in the Ahron Rebellions, he maintained to his final day that mother was the greatest gift the gods had ever visited upon him." Corella bowed her head again as she sat back in her chair. "Mother took over as queen once the high priests of the gods came to see her and ratified her rise to the holy throne, but she deferred to the court for over a year until she came to terms with her grief. She holds the position now only until I reach an age appropriate to take on my birthright." She smiled over at Deacon again. "And now, when I take my throne, you will sit beside me."

With a soft smile of his own, Deacon nodded to the princess. "I am truly privileged. And I thank you for the story, my lady... it has helped me to wrap my head around this whole situation." He glanced at his father. "I think I understand now. Apologies for delaying our meal with my queries."

Oswell's snort was overwhelmed by Corella's chuckle. "Think nothing of it, Deacon. It was my own long-winded tale that has delayed us." She turned to face Oswell and nodded once. "We will take our lunch now, master magi, if it is not inconvenient."

"It is nothing of the sort, my lady," he replied with a bow of his head as he stood. "Give me but a moment, and I shall bring out a feast that should draw a smile to the face of even the most stoic, sour guard in all the empire." He tilted his head toward Istvan, and Corella laughed as the older fox started toward the kitchen.

Deacon, for his part, just sank back into his chair. There it was. The queen had owed his father everything for bringing her to her husband. The only reason they had been able to be together and not tear the kingdom apart with their relationship was because Oswell had been able to keep their relationship hidden. Dominating the entire royal court's will such that they would accept their union was child's play for someone as powerful as his father, but it was worth more than gold to the king and his new queen.

He had to have checked that favor he was owed to ensure the princess was to be wedded to his son. There had been no warning for Deacon. He'd been given no chance to question it. He wasn't even entirely sure that he could refuse and keep his neck. Between his father's years-old favor going to waste and the scorned heir to the throne, it was a question of whether Oswell would get to him before the swing of Istvan's sword.

As his father returned with steaming plates of food held aloft by his powers, Deacon could only sink down further in his chair. He couldn't fight. He couldn't resist. He couldn't leave. All he could do was sit there, eat his lunch, and try to make small talk with the princess that his father had bought for him to wed. Some part of him knew that hundreds upon hundreds of males all across the Noctus Imperium - indeed, the whole world - would give anything to be in his place.

Deacon's plate hovered into place before him, and he tugged it to the table's surface with a sigh. Maybe those hundreds upon hundreds of males would have smiled, but Deacon couldn't summon the joy for even that.

The lunch in and of itself was a relatively quiet affair. Corella and Istvan both were silent for the most part, save for their voracious - if polite - devouring of the arrayed food and the princess' rather long-winded prayer to the gods before they began. Deacon too spent most of the meal eating and listening rather than replying. There was little he had to say, and the last thing he wanted to do was say something that would incriminate himself or Bain. Instead, he spent most of the lunch wondering what Bain was up to and how the otter fared.

Oswell was the predominant speaker for the meal. He asked all manner of questions of Corella and Istvan regarding the state of the empire and its connections with the rest of the world. He discussed at length the nature of reverence for magic giving rise to religious orders in distant lands. He spoke of his experiments and of the groundbreaking new healing techniques he was working on. Pride touched every word, and a smile never once left his muzzle. Oswell all but glowed as he extolled the work he was doing.

Deacon refused to contradict him on his inconsistencies. Not every single fact he quoted was correct. Not every single timeframe he announced was accurate. Not every technique he mentioned was as perfect as he had said. Each little fallacy did little to diminish the wonder in Corella's eyes, but it did alter Deacon's perception of his father's words. He already knew from direct experience the skill with which Oswell could weave lies into the truth. He was used to it from his father when speaking with him, but to see Oswell lie to a member of the royal family - his future daughter-in-law, no less - was slightly more shocking.

But for the entirety of the meal, Corella hung on his every word. With no frame of reference and no dissent from Deacon's side of the table, she absorbed every piece of information as if it were gospel truth. She expressed her awe at his knowledge and wisdom and her appreciation for his constant and ever-appreciated assistance to the Noctus throne.

After lunch, Corella had insisted that she be allowed to walk the grounds herself. Istvan had complained about such a thing, and the complaints had gained volume when she had informed him that Deacon would be there to protect her. Deacon, who had for the most part begun to tune out the useless banter between his father and the princess, was suddenly thrust back into the spotlight as a point of contention.

It had taken a royal order on Corella's part to cause Istvan to back off. Oswell helpfully offered to assist the captain with his defensive preparations for their stay within his manor while the young couple was sent off. He'd assured Istvan that Deacon knew the layout and the dangers better than any of his contingent possibly could, and that Deacon himself was capable enough with magic to be worth a dozen of any of Istvan's soldiers. While the large wolf had snorted at that, he'd finally relented.

As soon as they were out the front door and away from both Oswell and the other guards, Corella surprised Deacon with a question. "Can they hear us out here?"

The fox blinked as he glanced back at the door before he turned his eyes on Corella. "Uh... not physically, no," he answered after a moment as he waved her forward. "If you wish for more limited magical detection, then we should move further away from father's home first. His ability to sense thoughts and emotions extend for a considerable distance past the walls. Why do you ask?"

Something new sparkled in Corella's eye as she looked back over her shoulder at the towering manor. Her gait was the practiced, smooth and graceful walk of an heir to the throne, but there was a hurry to her steps that hadn't been there before. "I just feel as though I cannot breathe in there," she replied.

Deacon finally recognized the look in her eyes when she turned away from the manor. It was fear. He remembered it from his reflection in the mirror after that first night with Bain by the lake. Why was she afraid of Oswell? Was it just a reaction to his magi powers? "I... understand. Being around my father is often intimidating for the few he deigns to see. I am probably used to his presence in a way many are not."

The princess just nodded as she hurried away from the house as carefully as she could. Deacon kept pace with her easily with his greater understanding of the terrain, and more than once he reached out with his mind to steady the wolfess when her footing became unstable. She didn't seem to notice the subtle use of his powers, but Deacon was less interested in her gratitude and more interested in Istvan not cutting him down for dirtying the princess' gown.

Five whole minutes of hurried walking was all it took for Corella to be satisfied with the distance from the manor. She stopped dead in her tracks and sank down into a crouch, and her ears flattened as she panted quietly to herself. "Forgive me," she breathed. "I prefer to study diplomacy and courtly duties... not athleticism."

Deacon simply nodded as he looked around them. While they were closer to the forests than he was normally comfortable with, the day was still young enough that the gaophan and the other predators within were unlikely to be active. "I am used to it. I make these treks daily with Bain," he replied as he scanned the horizon.

"I was surprised when your father led him away before lunch. I do hope he was given something to eat; the meal was superb." She glanced up at Deacon as the fox continued his scan. "It was a shame that the company did not measure up."

He just nodded along for a second before the words sank in. His head snapped down to the princess, and then bowed low. "I apologize for my lack of speech during the meal. I was hungry from my training earlier that morning."

The wolfess just snorted and gave up on her crouch. She shuffled to the side and into a particularly grassy patch before she sat back with a grateful sigh. "I more meant your father. Respected magi or not, there is only so much one can hear about alchemagical resonance sequencing before one wishes a bolt from the heavens to strike one dead. Or deaf, perhaps."

Deacon sat down beside her as he gave a snort of his own. "You get used to it. Now, the lectures you receive when you find yourself unable to properly explain back to him the exact alchemagical processes that the sequencing can result in? Those are truly painful." His chuckle was for her benefit; she didn't need to know how painful the lectures often became.

"Well, it is nice to know even a magi can find a magi's conversational topics distressing," replied Corella. She wagged her tail a little as she looked over Deacon. "What about you, though?" she asked after a moment. "Your father's passion for the arcane is clear. What motivates you?"

"Bain," Deacon answered. He turned a second later and forced his face to smile, to better hide the horror at his slip. How could he have been so careless? "He has been my charge for weeks now, and responsibility for another living, thinking being carries with it a need to learn how best to care for them," he explained. It took conscious effort to keep his voice even. "I take my studies seriously, but in looking after Bain I have found a different sort of passion than that of my father. We both seek to help people, but I believe his methods are far-reaching and impersonal."

Corella perked an ear and lifted an eyebrow as she nodded. "Whereas you seek a more personal means of assisting others?" When Deacon nodded, she turned her eyes across the horizon. "I wish I was capable of such self-determination. You have my envy, Deacon."

It was impossible to hide the huff of the fox's breath as he shook his head. "There is no need, my lady," he replied. "You are heir to the throne. You will be queen one day, when you are ready. Once queen, you will be able to choose your life's path for yourself. You will have a whole empire at your fingertips."

"All the power of the imperium means nothing if you are trapped in a palace," she reason with a smile. Her head tilted to bring Deacon back into view. "A gilded cage is still a cage, Deacon... and please, call me Corella. If we are to be married, I suspect you will be required to gain a certain comfort with my name." She turned away again and sighed.

Deacon frowned slightly but followed her gaze out across the plains. She was a princess. What did she have to sigh about? "I am sorry, Corella. I suppose I am still just trying to process all of this. This whole marriage business is so sudden, and I did not..." His gaze dropped slightly before he realized that Corella had turned to bring him into view again. The fox immediately tucked his tail in and flattened his ears. "I am sorry. This-"

"Oh, do not be sorry," the wolfess interrupted him with a smirk. "What, you think I asked for this? To find myself marched across the empire so I could meet some little fox I had never even heard of and inform him that he is to become the most powerful male in the world some day? Please. I did not expect this any more than you did."

With a cocked head, Deacon leaned back slightly. "You had no idea either?" he asked.

The princess shook her head. "None," she replied. "Mother sprang it on me as a surprise a little over a fortnight ago. She told me that she had arranged for me to be married to someone more powerful and more perfect for me than I could have imagined." Her eyes scanned up and down Deacon as she smiled. "And while you certainly seem cute and are apprenticed under the most powerful magi my mother knows of, I do not know you. Perfect? Hardly."

The tip of one of Deacon's ears perked slightly as he dared look up at the wolfess. "Well, I understand. I just..." He shrugged. "Cute?"

Again, Corella looked him up and down. She mirrored his shrug as she smiled. "Eh."

Deacon nodded slightly as he turned away to try to hide his blush. It was almost like Bain was there all over again, but with considerably less interest in his body for physical pleasure. At least for the moment, he realized; if she was to be his wife, at some point he would have to address the matter of mating her, and... "Ugh."

Both of Corella's eyebrows lifted as her ears flattened. "It _was_a compliment," she pointed out.

With hurriedly raised paws, Deacon shook his head and turned to face the princess head on. "No, it was not that, I..." He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet her eyes. "Look, you are... you are my betrothed. My future wife. In that spirit, please allow me to be frank with you for a moment." Deacon waited for her nod before he took another deep breath and held it a second. It hissed out as he fought to find the right words, eventually settling on, "You want this marriage as little as I do, don't you?"

Corella instantly sagged and leaned forward with a deep sigh of her own. "Bleeding gods, I was wondering which one of us was going to have to say it first!" She shook her head vigorously. "Goodness, no. It is nothing personal, Deacon; you seem like a nice enough young male, well-read and caring, but this whole notion of our future being laid out for us?"

"Absolutely ridiculous," Deacon finished with a nod of his own. "Is this how it works for people not in our positions? Do they have the right to choose for themselves who they wish to spend their lives with? Or do they have to suffer through the choices that are forced upon them by those who still control their future?"

The princess only grew more animated as she gestured wildly with her paws. "And after my mother's stories of how she came to fall in love with the king, no less! She raised me on that story, you know! After a lifetime of hearing that, for her to simply announce one day that I am to be offered up to some magi's son to pay off some debt of hers?" Her fist thudded down against her leg with such force that Deacon jumped. "The gall! The hypocrisy! The nerve of her, to betray me so! To betray us!"

They fell silent as their minds raced to process the shared acceptance they both had. When Deacon looked at Corella again, he didn't see a princess for the first time. He didn't even see his future wife. He saw a trapped and frustrated, lonely female. He saw himself in her place, and at once he was certain that she could see herself in his own. "So then," he finally said. "We do not want this. What do we do?"

"We d..." The instant reply from Corella stalled out after a moment, and faded into an angry hiss. "I would like to say that we simply do not allow them to do this to us," she corrected herself a moment later. "But let us consider. We would be defying the most powerful magi in the Noctus Imperium, and its queen in the same stroke. By extension, we would have to face the entire imperium."

Deacon felt his teeth grind together at the prospect. If it was just the queen and the empire, then he might have learned enough of his father's techniques to mentally force them to accept the abolishment of the arranged marriage. He could do for himself and Corella exactly what his father had done for Corella's parents. He could spare them both what had been chosen for them.

But the problem wasn't soldiers, or kings and queens, or laws. The real problem was Oswell. Deacon wasn't sure he had the power necessary to defy his father, even if he wanted to. He didn't want the marriage, but face Oswell? Telling his father 'no' was not something he could undo, and Oswell had always warned him what would happen if he ever dared utter that word to him. "There is nothing we can do," he muttered, as he slumped back into the grass.

He heard Corella lay down beside him, and the wolfess sighed and shook her head. "You are a magi. I am heir to the throne. There has to be something that we can do to convince your father and my mother than this is not in their best interests."

"If you want to convince my father, the job is all yours," Deacon replied as he waved back toward the manor. "Once he decides he wishes to undertake a certain task, or see me undertake it in his stead? It is easier to stop the sun from rising than change his mind."

The princess gave a distinctly undignified grunt as she folded her paws atop her stomach. "This is... most unpleasant." Her head rolled over to look at Deacon. "Do you have anyone to whom you show your affections? Do they know about this? About... me?"

Memory of Bain's face and the fear on it that he'd barely been able to control flashed through Deacon's mind at the question. Bain knew what this would mean for... whatever it was they were building. It wasn't like they could themselves be married. What did two males do instead? What union could there be if any union would be considered desecration? "I... no. Bain is the closest thing I have to a friend. I have not even the chance to explore what affections I might have with anyone."

The answer seemed to satisfy Corella, and she nodded as she breathed a sigh. "You have my jealousy once more, Deacon," she mumbled to herself. "You have no one you will have to disappoint with the news of our marriage. And while I know that I probably would always have come to this point, with a marriage of necessity thrust upon me in place of true love... I had not expected that such a thing would come to pass so early in my life."

Deacon looked up to find the wolfess. "Who is he, if I might ask?"

"His name is Alik. He is one of the finest young warriors-in-training in the palace training yard." Corella began to smile, and she even chuckled quietly to herself as her eyes drifted off. "Istvar is his father, if you could believe it from how verbose Alik is. He is clumsy, though. Sometimes he forgets to keep a firm grip on his sword, particularly when I walk the grounds. His instructors chastise him for looking above his station, but we sneak out from time to time late at night, and spend time with..." She coughed quickly and shook her head as she sat up. "Excuse me, Deacon. I should not speak of such things. I have already said too much."

The fox shook his head with a smile as he sat up with her. "There is nothing to excuse. I have heard nothing you have done wrong." His smile only broadened as her expression turned worried, then suspicious. "If it is a question of honor or chastity, I give you my word that I will breathe not a word of it to anyone. Honestly, it..." He looked down a little even as his smile flickered. "It is... nice. Just to know that you can have that connection with someone. That you would risk so much just to be near to him is an admirable thing, my lady. It is a beautiful thing."

Corella's eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned Deacon's face for any sign of duplicity. Her expression softened when no deceit could be found. Her ears remained tipped back, regardless. "Once again you surprise me, Deacon," she slowly said. "Most people in the empire would see such impropriety and... well, they would look down on me if I were lucky, and attempt to use the information against me if I were less fortunate."

"Then maybe you are luckier than you know," Deacon replied as his smile began to slip away. "I... know that we can do nothing to prevent our marriage. It is little comfort, I know, but I will do nothing to betray or hurt you. I swear it." He tried to hold onto the smile for Corella's sake. "We may both be stuck in this situation, but we do not need to make one another miserable. If we work together, maybe we will be able to make some sense in this mess. Maybe we can find a way to be happy."

Contrary to her usual smile, Corella still looked a little crestfallen as she started to rise. Deacon pushed himself upright quickly to help the wolfess up, and she gratefully accepted his paw with a shake of her head. "In a loveless marriage? I wonder if happiness is something that either of us will ever be able to find."

Deacon shrugged as he looked out across the fields again. "Life is long," he reasoned as he looked into her eyes again. "Who knows? Perhaps you will find happiness along the way. Perhaps it will not be quite so bleak as we feel it will be at the moment. Perhaps we will give one another at least some small measure of solace."

"Perhaps we will. And perhaps I misjudged you, Deacon." Corella leaned in slightly and smiled as she brushed her lips gently against his cheek and planted a light kiss there.

While Deacon didn't jerk back from the contact or twitch away, he had to force the smile to his muzzle that the wolfess was no doubt expecting after such a gesture. He watched her start back up toward the manor again and fell into step as the forced smile gave way under the harshness of his realization.

Bain's little kisses often left him feeling calm... or excited, depending on the situation. There was a warmth behind the otter's gestures; a desire that he could feel through that moment of contact that showed what the otter really wanted. It was simple and it was intimate and it was, for lack of a better word in the fox's vocabulary, beautiful.

But that simple little gesture from Corella was absent any of those feelings. There wasn't any calm, or any warmth. There certainly wasn't any excitement. It was empty of any romantic or sexualized notion. It was just plain empty, and what would his future be if such a gesture could be so empty?

Deacon sighed as he followed his wife-to-be back toward his home. If nothing else, he had a frame of reference. He knew where Corella stood. She was as disinterested in the notion of their marriage as he was. She even had a paramour that waited back home for her, not to mention the legion of nobles who would queue to take her as their own. She could have anyone she wanted, and she was stuck with Deacon as surely as he was stuck with her.

If nothing else, he knew where they both stood.

Miserable.

Oswell sighed to himself as he pushed open the thick glass doors to his lab. The soldiers in Corella's contingent had been an insufferable bunch. They had insisted on having a complete schematic of the manor and the right to sift through each and every one of the rooms within its walls. The fox had had to tell them precisely where they could shove that plan, and then had endured hours of lectures regarding security protocols, the safety of the heir and a dozen and one other matters that the magi didn't give the slightest inkling of a care about.

As he swept into the lab and rolled up his sleeves, a smile creased his face. Down here though was where he could shine. Down here, in his lab, he could deal with a problem and solve it. Down here, he could take a little time to burn off some of his excess frustration in a venture that would help him advance his plans.

He skidded to a halt beside the table he'd strapped Bain down atop. The otter was naked again, with more than a few cuts and gashes layered over his body from when Oswell had taken initial observation readings before lunch. He glanced up at the ceiling and fell into thought as he wondered how long it would be until dinner, before he realized he would detect hunger in Deacon and Corella when it was time to eat.

Satisfied, he reached down and grabbed Bain by the muzzle. He reached into the otter's body with his powers and infused fresh strength into him, and pinned Bain down all the harder as he jerked and tried to sit up. "Ah-ah, little otter. No. Calm. Calm," he repeated with greater insistence, as he squeezed tightly at that muzzle.

It wasn't until he squeezed tight enough to draw a pained yelp that Bain stopped his senseless struggle. Oswell held him there for a few moments more before he let go and smiled coldly down at his captive. "There, now. Better, mmm? Much better. How do you feel? Fatigue? Nausea?"

"Rage," Bain replied, and spat at Oswell's face.

The spittle only reached the fox's chest, and Oswell didn't even dignify it with any brush or wipe. Instead he brought his other paw around to punch Bain firmly in the cheek. The otter's head snapped to the side, and a groan broke through his suddenly blooded muzzle.

Oswell shook feeling back into the paw as he looked down over the otter with distaste. "You might now be experiencing some dizziness," he growled as he stood up a little straighter. "I _was_about to offer you a little solace for what is about to happen, but you have just lost to right to any mercy." Oswell leaned over Bain's chest and raised both of his paws. His fingers hooked in sharply as if they were about to pry the air itself apart.

The truth was far, far more horrific. Instead of the air being torn open, Bain began to scream. The fur of his chest turned red as a massive gash tore from his neck down to his sternum. His back arched as he cried out in pain, a shrill, terrified sound that echoed off the dome and filled the air. The rip in Bain's chest pulled open wider and wider as Oswell pulled his paws apart, the fox's teeth grit tightly together as he watched Bain scream in agony. "Be silent," he growled from behind his teeth, "it will be over soon!"

Oswell's words faded into a wordless growl as he began to peel the otter's chest open as if it were hinged, and the seam in his chest turned into a grotesque pair of doors that swung open under the magi's power. Bain's body convulsed beneath Oswell as the blood poured out of him. His screams reached a new pitch as his ribs began to crack, before they snapped and peeled outward just the way the otter's flesh had done. The wet, ripping sound that came with their prying apart signaled the end of Bain's screams.

The fox didn't lower his paws until Bain's heart was completely exposed. It beat rapidly as Bain all but choked on the raw pain that flooded his awareness. Oswell smiled as he watched it begin to slow, the nearby lungs straining to draw breath as Bain gurgled and groaned through the pain. "Oh dear," he muttered as he looked at Bain's face. "It looks like you are dying. Your body was not meant to sustain this sort of trauma, was it?"

Any words that Bain tried to articulate were swallowed up by the fluids that bubbled up his throat. Oswell just rolled his eyes as he lifted one paw up and hovered it over the otter's opened chest. Bain began to convulse again, but more quietly as his failing body took its toll on his energy. "Perhaps I should let you die like this," he suggested as he flexed his fingers over the otter's bloody innards. "Hmm? Would that be a suitable punishment for what you have done? Would your precious gods approve of something like _you_suffering this death after corrupting my son the way you have?"

When the otter's only response was to roll his eyes up into his head and slump back on the table, Oswell sighed. "Never as strong as I hope," he muttered as he reached his other paw unceremoniously into Bain's opened body and wrapped it around the otter's heart. He squeezed it tightly as he extended the fingers of his still-raised paw, and flickering motes of blue light began to boil out of Bain's body. They gathered in the magi's raised paw and swirled into a small, roiling orb of energy. "No, little Bain... alas, you do not get to die today, nor so quickly... now, wake up!"

As Oswell squeezed the otter's heart tighter, Bain's eyes shot open wide. He gasped for air as he strained up off the table, but Oswell's paw and his powers married with the table's straps kept him bound low. The fox smiled cruelly as he wriggled his fingers, alight with the energy drawn out of Bain's body. "Thought you were off to see your mother? Father? Apologies. I just needed to bring you to brink of death so that I could access those delightful, latent ilaen powers you have trapped inside you."

He wriggled his fingers again and smiled toothily. "Fear not. My experiments have almost reached the point where I have no further need of you. Soon, Deacon will be halfway across the world and you will have given me everything I need to advance my plans. And if you are real good and give me what I need before dinner this evening, I might even show you mercy and kill you quickly." Oswell let go of the otter's heart and reached into his robes. From within he withdrew a scalpel, blade hooked and barbed and alight with a crimson, arcane glow. "Shall we begin?"

Bain's eyes widened, and the otter's gurgled cry for help went unheard.