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And here we are, at long last! Yes, this is the final chapter of Blood and Water. This tale of identity and destiny ends here. How does it end? You'll just have to read on to find out!

Blood and Water has been a wonderfully fun project for me to work on these last few months, and I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to follow me on this journey of literary discovery. It's been an absolute blast, and the comments of those who have been intrigued by this tale have been instrumental in keeping me writing it. Your support has been everything, and it's been my immense pleasure to entertain you with this series.

It's my sincere hope that this final chapter is enjoyed as much if not more than those that have come before, and that this is a fitting end to the story of Deacon, Bain and Oswell. Enjoy, and read on!

• Master Meridian

Blood and Water

Blood And Water

The gaophan didn't prove to be the biggest threat in the night for Deacon and Bain. They made their way to the lake without incident, but it was just past it that they managed to stumble upon the three Ahron soldiers that had fled battle with Oswell and the Imperium forces. Appeals to the soldiers for peace ended with the three soldiers scorched beyond recognition by Deacon's powers.

Bain had been startled by the fox's use of deadly force, and it took what little breath Deacon had after the display to point out that his exhaustion had robbed him of the precision necessary for non-lethal applications of his powers. The fact that the magi was barely able to stand after the withering firestorm he'd conjured was evidence enough for the otter, who helped him back to his feet and dragged him onward.

It was hours in the end before Deacon finally called a halt to their flight. The sun was still a ways from its ascent into the sky, but the fox had known how limited his strength was. He had no idea where to go, of course. That he'd barely left the manor in his entire life was one thing, but Oswell had never tried to teach him much of the local geography beyond the manor's grounds. Quietly, Deacon wondered if that was a part of his plans in case the student tried to flee the master.

In the end it was Bain who coaxed Deacon back up on his footpaws again. He seemed to have a greater lay of the land than the fox, and helped ease Deacon into a narrow, rocky valley only another hour's walk away. There, under a bush that Bain had tripped over, they found the entrance to a small cavern bored into the rock. Deacon had crawled in to investigate first, in case there was anything dangerous inside. He'd not dared point out to the already-skittish otter that the tunnel had been carved by gaophan.

The den proved abandoned and empty though, and with the last of his strength Deacon used his powers to hollow out a larger area for the pair. It was little more than a shallow cave, but it was protection from the night and roomy enough to allow them some range of motion. Deacon had slumped down against the back wall, and Bain had told him to stay put while he hunted for food with the sword he'd lifted from the royal guard. Deacon had tried to tell him not to go, but Bain insisted that it was the least he could do.

When the otter had returned later in the night with nothing to show for his efforts, he'd been surprised to see Deacon already with a mouth full of meat. The fox had looked up from the small fire he'd built just outside the cave and waved a paw back to the little pile of small game he'd built. More than one was pre-charred from the magi's powers, and he'd sheepishly explained that he couldn't wait for Bain to come back. While disappointed, the otter had sat down next to Deacon and begrudgingly accepted his offer of fresh-roasted meat. It might not have been a feast worthy of Oswell's manor, but it was sustenance enough.

After dinner, Bain had been forced to watch as Deacon restored himself. It hadn't been a pretty sight, what with the fox's face bursting into flesh-searing flame periodically as he flooded his wounds with arcane fire. If he'd not shed his torn and bloody robes before he began the restoration, Deacon probably would have scorched them to ash in the process. It took only a couple of minutes, but it left the fox drained anew.

He sighed as he slumped down against the back wall of the cave. One eye opened and stared into the remnants of their fire. "I wish you were a trained magi," he muttered with a smile as he turned his gaze on Bain. "Ilaen magic is much, much more pleasant from what I understand. With how powerful Oswell said you could be..."

Bain didn't look away from the fire. "Oswell built me to be that powerful," Bain replied with a shake of his head. "I wasn't meant to be. I'm... I should be dead. The real me is dead and I'm a... I'm just a copy of him. One of lots and lots of me."

A frown touched Deacon's forehead as he sat up a little higher. His ears twitched back as he reached out a paw to the otter's side. "You are who you are, Bain," he said with as much reassurance as he could muster. "You are still that person you always were. You remember your home, your parents... you have family. He just... made you more." Both paws lifted defensively as Bain turned a glare on him. "That does not make what he's done right. Not even a little bit."

"And what about you?" Bain asked as he turned to face Deacon fully. A sliver of rage wormed into is voice as he glared at the fox. "You are who you are. You're still the person you always were... Oswell."

The hurt that flooded Deacon wasn't strong enough to keep him from seeing the way Bain's paw came to rest on the hilt of his stolen sword. Fingers tightened on it as the fox looked up into the angry otter's eyes again. "I'm not him," he replied. His voice was soft and quiet, and he closed his eyes a moment later. "You know I'm not him, Bain. You know me."

"Then I'm not Bain!" the otter snapped back. "If I'm still the same person I was before Oswell stole me and did... this, then you're the same as him because of what he did. And... and if you're different because you are, then I've gotta be different too! And don't tell me it's different with you, because it's not!" Bain grunted and slammed his free fist into the wall of the cave as he panted through his anger. His grip on the sword tightened.

Deacon rose to his knees, both paws still raised as he felt his tail droop. He knew that Bain's breakdown was coming. It was their first quiet moment since they'd fled the manor and everything they'd discovered. It'd been bound to happen. "Bain, you need to calm down." He glanced briefly at the sword again. The last thing he wanted was for the inexperienced otter to hurt himself with it, accidentally or deliberately. "Can you... can you put the sword down for a moment? Please?"

As if discovering the weapon for the first time, Bain looked down at the sword in his grasp. His gaze shifted back to Deacon and then back to the sword again, and it was with more than a little hesitation that he set the blade down on his side away from Deacon. "Why?" he muttered as he stared down into his lap. "You worried I'm gonna try and kill you for what Oswell did to me?"

"A little," Deacon admitted as he leaned back slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize the upset otter. "But I'm more worried you might hurt yourself. You've been through a lot in the last couple of-"

"Years?" Bain suggested.

Deacon's ears flattened as he shrugged. "I was going to say days, but that works too," he replied.

Bain's fingers flexed around the hilt of the sword as he stared at the blade. "He said you'd kill me yourself, once you figured out what I was," he muttered with a slow shake of his head. "Now you know what I am. Guess I'm just waiting to see if you are you, or if you're gonna change into him."

It was hard for Deacon to keep his eyes from the sword, but he forced them to Bain's face. Giving him the impression that he was afraid of the otter wouldn't do much to help his mood. "Maybe if I was still there," the fox replied after a moment. "Maybe if I was there, he'd have a way to make me into him. Maybe if he comes after us, he will drag me back home and force himself into my mind. Maybe he'll take me over, and maybe I'll die. But until then... I'm still me, and I would never hurt you if I could help it."

The otter shook his head a little more firmly as he squeezed the hilt tighter. "After everything he's done, can you blame me?" he asked. He finally lifted his head to meet Deacon's gaze and shook it side to side again. "We just found out that everything we thought we knew was a lie. Everything."

"We did, yes," Deacon pointed out as he shuffled closer. He watched Bain tense up, but he extended his paws slowly toward the otter with his palms turned to face the cave ceiling. It took conscious effort to force his own emotions down while he dealt with Bain's discomfort and fear, and even that wasn't enough to bury his own. "We _both_had to face that, Bain. I'm sorry. I really, truly am sorry for what he did to you... and what I helped him do. You had to face that you're a copy of yourself and an experiment."

Deacon shivered as Bain remained silent. "Consider a different perspective on this. You had a family... a father and a mother. All I knew of my mother were stories that I aspired to. I wanted to be as strong and capable as she was. I wanted to have the courage to stand firm against an evil magi and deny him, just as she did." His ears drooped low. "She was just a story. Just another part of his control over me. She was a lie. Everything that I lived was a lie. Ever since I was born, I'd lived a lie.

"You were something before this. You weren't always just an experiment, Bain. You were a normal person with a normal life and normal aspirations." The shivers in Deacon intensified and he hugged his middle tightly as Bain turned toward him. "For as long as I can remember, fath... ugh, Oswell, has been grooming me for something. I was born an experiment. I was born a non-person. I'm just another link in his chain; another way to extend his life and gain more power. So while I understand why you might fear me or wish me gone, do not misunderstand. We suffered at his whims. Not just you."

His head bowed low, and the fox didn't even notice Bain as he slipped in against his side. His ears perked up at the sound of the sword as it clattered against the cave floor, and Deacon looked up at Bain as the otter's arm slid gently around his waist. "I'm... sorry," Bain muttered, unable to meet Deacon's eyes. "I forgot that you've been around him a lot longer. I don't know what he's done to you, but... sorry. Sorry I didn't think."

Deacon nodded slowly. He watched one webbed paw slide over his leg, and he reached down to take it gently in his grip. "We've both been through more than either one of us should have to go through," he replied as he gave Bain's paw a gentle squeeze. "And I guess now we have a choice. Do we stick together, or do we split and go our separate ways?"

Bain jerked back slightly. "Why would we split up now?" he asked.

"You're thinking it," replied the fox with a shrug of his shoulders. "And if you don't want to think it now, you will later. If he's right, and I'm just a copy... then one day you're going to wake up and come face to face with Oswell." Deacon shook his head slowly. "Could you bear that? Could you watch me slowly change over the years and look more like him? Like a monster?"

The otter's paw twisted in Deacon's grip to interlace their fingers. "How you look doesn't matter," he replied after a couple moments. "You look like him now, Deacon. I can see it. He's in your eyes, your ears... even your markings are the same. But... you're right." He shuffled closer until he was leaning in against the fox's side. "You're not him. Not right now, anyway. You hate what he is and what he turned into. You called him a monster. You're not gonna let yourself become that, are you?"

When Deacon shook his head, Bain nuzzled up under his chin. "Then... I dunno. Maybe you look like him. Or maybe he looks like you. Who cares whose face is the real one? You're not the same fox, no matter what you look like." He gave Deacon a squeeze as the magi's free arm draped down over his back. "You're not Oswell. I bet as long as you remember what he is and what he did, you never will be. And if you keep thinking I'm cute, that's one big difference I know I'd like."

Deacon nodded slowly as he tugged Bain closer. The otter was making a lot of sense, but it didn't help him feel any better about the situation. "And what about that? I mean... you know..." He squeezed the otter a little tighter. "What do we do about us?"

"What about it?" Bain asked as he lifted his head. His muzzle brushed gently along Deacon's cheek as he huddled closer. "You want something to change? Are we different?"

The fox blinked and cocked his head to the side as he perked an ear. "No, I mean... look, I don't know what's meant to be said. I don't know what you're meant to do. I expect Oswell would have coached me in what I was meant to do regarding a relationship with Corella." A knowing look entered Bain's eye as Deacon shrugged helplessly. "I don't even know what we are," he admitted.

With a shrug of his own, Bain started to smile. "Oh, we're wrong," he said with a little chuckle. "Can't do this, can't do that. Two males? What would the world think? We're abominations to the Imperium and the gods. Can't you feel them staring at us now, shaming us?" He laughed again as Deacon rolled his eyes. "That's us. That's just who we are. What we are's whatever we want it to be. We don't have to be anything. We're already something. We are what we are.

"And if that's their big problem with us, they're missing the point. We're experiments. We're just magical projects that Oswell built. They probably wouldn't even call us 'people' if they knew." He shook his head and smiled up at Deacon. "And maybe that's fine too. You're a magi, so they won't mess with you too bad. You can do what you want now. You can be what you want." His ears wiggled as he smiled wider. "And I can too, if you're happy to have me around."

Deacon nodded as he gave Bain another gentle squeeze. "If that is what you want, I have only one thing I would ask of you. Just one thing." When he felt Bain nod against him, he let his head dip to rest atop the otter's. "If he comes after us... if he comes after me, and I tell you to run, I need you to run."

This time, Bain jerked back far enough that Deacon's side immediately felt cooler. "Just run?" he echoed with a deep frown. "No. I can't. I won't promise you that. Gods all, I'll sooner promise you the opposite." He lifted a paw to poke a finger into Deacon's chest. "I didn't come to your room after he tortured me so you could go and be a martyr if he comes after us. For how smart you're meant to be, you're really stupid sometimes."

"I'm trying to protect you," insisted Deacon.

"The hells you are," Bain said with a shake of his head. "You don't think you can beat him if he comes for us, so you want me to run while you hold him off. Some big and noble romantic sacrifice so I can live on. Is that it?" His eyebrows lifted as Deacon glanced away. "You really think Oswell would kill you while I run off and not come after me too? You might've turned away from him and ruined his plans, but as far as he's concerned that's because I corrupted you. He doesn't understand. He _can't_understand. And you can't do anything to protect me if you're dead, and I sure can't fight him alone."

Deacon felt his teeth grind together as he considered Bain's words. The otter had a point. His father was determined and single-minded. He hunted down the problems in his work and coldly eradicated them. From what he'd seen of Oswell's research in the laboratory, there was nothing he wouldn't do to achieve his goals. If he decided Bain needed to die for the magi's perception of 'wrong' then Oswell would go to extremes in order to correct the mistake. "No, you're right," he admitted at last.

"That happens sometimes," Bain replied with a smirk. When Deacon smiled back, Bain rolled about to settle himself gently into the fox's lap. "But maybe we don't have to fight him. You don't have to protect me from him if he doesn't know where we are. Can we run? Can we just keep running and running until he's so far away he can't find you?"

The fox shook his head. "You know he'll find us," he reminded Bain. "I don't know how to shield myself from him well enough. He'll be able to sense me wherever I go. It's... easier when you know well the person you're trying to detect, and since I'm basically him anyway..." He shrugged as he gently set his paws on Bain's hips.

Those hips began to wriggle gently in Deacon's grip. Bain shrugged and draped his arms over Deacon's shoulders as he stared into the fox's eyes. "Can you do it?" he asked. "Could you actually kill him if it came down to it?"

The question echoed in the little cave. It hung in the air as Deacon leaned forward and gently touched his forehead to the otter's. A few seconds later, he dared to shake his head slowly. "I don't know," admitted the fox with a sigh. "I honestly don't. I can hope it will not come up, but in the end I know that I will have to take some form of action, or watch us both die." His eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I... want to be able to, but he has had gods know how many lifetimes to perfect his combat magic. I doubt I have the strength to survive if he strikes with his full power, and he would attack with nothing less. Alone, I'm just not experienced enough. I'm not strong enough."

"You're not gonna be alone," Bain corrected him. He slid his arms around the fox's middle and hugged himself against Deacon's chest. "I'm no magi, but you won't be alone. I'll be right there with you." He squeezed tighter and kept the fox close as Deacon began to pull away. "And no, I won't stay out of it if he finds us. If he's not stopped, he kills us. I don't wanna die. Not after everything he's done and everything I've been through."

Above him, Deacon sighed against the top of the otter's head. "I will not be able to convince you, will I?" he asked. His eyes rolled slightly as he felt the shake of Bain's head. "Well then, we had best be ready. Oswell could attack us at any time, and there have been signs of many predators out in this area. One of us should stay awake while the other rests."

Bain nodded as he wriggled just a little more firmly in Deacon's lap. "That would be you," he replied as he glanced up. "You need your strength in case he attacks. I won't do much good against a magi, but I can keep you safe while you rest."

The suggestion made sense, and Deacon nodded along as he shifted his paws to help ease Bain off of him. When the otter refused to cooperate, he frowned and perked an ear. "You need to move, Bain. If you don't, I won't be able to lie down and get any sleep."

"Too early to sleep yet," Bain replied as he gave his hips another little wriggle. He smiled broadly up at Deacon, and the fox simply stared blankly back at him until he sighed. "I'm trying to suggest we do something other than sleep," he added, as his eyebrows lifted.

It was still a few more seconds before Deacon's eyes widened with understanding. He glanced back at the dying fire and the valley outside their little cave before he turned back to Bain. "You cannot be serious," he said at last. "Here? Now? After everything that's happened?"

The otter gave another nod as he licked gently at Deacon's cheek. "What better time than now?" he asked as he sat up a little higher. "You said it yourself. Oswell could attack us at any time. Even if he does and somehow you take him down, the Imperium's never gonna let us go after what the princess thinks she saw. We're never gonna be safe. There's never gonna be a good time for it." He reached up with one paw and cupped Deacon's cheek. "So if I might die tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day for whatever reason, I want to enjoy what I've got." He smirked. "Or was one time inside me enough for you?"

Deacon frowned a little deeper as he glanced outside the cave again. He knew his paws had shifted to slide up and down the otter's sides, but he wasn't entirely convinced just yet. Bain's closeness, his implications and the teasing, wriggling pressure of his rump against the fox's lap all worked together to fog his better judgment. "We shouldn't," he insisted, though he didn't quite push Bain back. "We'd be more vulnerable. Oswell might-"

"Can we stop talking about him for a little bit?" interrupted Bain with a chuckle. Before Deacon could say anything else, the otter leaned up to press his muzzle firmly against the fox's. He leaned up into the kiss and squeezed tightly at Deacon's shoulders while one of his legs lifted to curl up and around the magi's hips.

It caught on Deacon's robe as he pressed back down gently into that kiss. Bain was able to extricate the leg with relative ease, but it did draw the cloth up and out from between the two. It bundled up against Deacon's stomach as Bain settled back down again, and the fox tugged him in a little closer as he sighed and broke the kiss. Already, lower on his body, he could feel the tingle of desire start in his malehood. "We shouldn't," repeated Deacon. Even to his own ears, the plea seemed half-hearted.

The otter must have heard - or perhaps felt - the conflict. His hips pushed back into motion again, lightly rolling and grinding down against Deacon's lap as he smiled. "That's what they say," he agreed as he pressed down a little harder. "But the world didn't end the last time we did, did it?"

"I don't know... last time I wound up with a royal bride while you were tortured horribly," Deacon pointed out with a smirk as he touched his forehead to Bain's and lifted his hips to gently press against his partner's rump. Just because it was pointless to argue with the driven otter didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with it. After what they'd been through, maybe a little fun was just what they needed. "That could have been the gods telling us to stop, I suppose."

"Or part of their divine plan to send us right here, right now, to give them a naughty little show," Bain reasoned with a smirk. He shrugged as he pressed down harder still, rump ground against the fox's growing length. "Maybe deep down they like it. You did."

Deacon rolled his eyes as he squeezed Bain tight. He leaned back in to touch his muzzle to the otter's, pressing into a gentle kiss as he ran his paws gently up along Bain's back. "You are impossible," he muttered as he drew back a moment later. The fox chuckled quietly to himself as he nuzzled up and along Bain's cheek.

Bain simply shrugged again as he sat up a little higher. He reached back with one paw to tease a fingertip across the underside of Deacon's shaft, and the fox shivered at the touch as Bain smirked. "And you're kinda stuck with me now, too," he reminded Deacon as he pressed the vulpine's shaft upward. It ran up between his cheeks and bumped the underside of his tail as he leaned back against it. "And if the last thing we do is something that'd disgust Oswell, that just makes it all the better."

The fox's hips lifted slightly as he humped himself up through the cleft of Bain's rump, and he sighed as he felt the otter's warmth pressing down against his malehood. He felt some of his tiredness begin to melt away as he ground up against Bain. "Are you in this for our enjoyment, or just to frustrate and disgust him?" he asked as he lapped up over Bain's muzzle.

"I can do both," Bain replied as he smiled and leaned into that lick. He pressed into a kiss as he slid one paw to the back of Deacon's head. The fox was pulled in tighter against him as he began to roll his hips slowly up and down. A soft murr of appreciation marked the point where the head of Deacon's shaft brushed past the otter's tailring, and he smiled warmly into their kiss.

Bain was about to pull back from the kiss to help slick that firm length of flesh up before it entered him, but wasn't given the chance. A squeeze from Deacon kept him in place and drew him deeper into their kiss as he found himself tugged back down. The fox's hips lifted with his eagerness, tapered tip mashed up against the otter's entrance as it tried to find a way in.

When the otter finally managed to pull away from Deacon's muzzle, it came with a slick spurt of pre from the fox's malehood. He opened his mouth to speak, but a jerk from Deacon's hips speared his tailhole on the head of the fox's shaft. He yipped, eyes wide at the surge of pain from the sudden spread. "Ah!" was all he could manage to say.

Deacon immediately froze as he looked on Bain with concern. "What is it?" he asked, as he rubbed over the otter's sides. His hips twitched as he fought to keep them as still as the rest of him; each squeeze and clench of Bain's insides sent a surge of pleasure up through his shaft, throbbing in time with his quickened heartbeat. He finally remembered what Bain had done and told him the first time they had been so intimate. The otter's muzzle hadn't gone near his shaft before he'd settled into the fox's lap. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry!"

"My fault," Bain grunted through gritted teeth. He wriggled his hips experimentally against that tip, but kept his one free leg on Deacon's to pin the fox down and keep him still. He smiled, teeth clenched as he looked down into Deacon's concerned eyes. "Didn't wanna give you a chance to change your mind. Just..." He wriggled his hips again as he slowly forced his body to relax. "Just... let me. Please."

When Deacon nodded, he felt Bain relax above him again. The otter's head fell back as he experimentally pushed himself back ever so slightly against the fox's length. It didn't budge at all, but it was enough of a sensation for Deacon to loose a quiet moan. More of the fox's pre spilled up shallowly inside Bain, and he eased back up the least he could before he allowed his body to tease back down again.

It was the smallest progress, but it was progress. Instead of up and down, Bain swayed his hips side to side. The ache in his rump and the twinge of over-exerted muscle faded as he became accustomed to the mostly-dry vulpine tip wedged inside him. As the moments played on, Deacon's constrained eagerness continued to fill Bain with more of that slippery pre. The tease gave way as Bain's body began to give way.

Still, Deacon kept his hips still. The otter had asked him for control, and he relinquished it readily. His instincts still strained for him to drive upwards and hilt himself in the warmth of his partner's body, but he knew that would only hurt Bain. It was delightful torture to feel the otter sink so slowly down over him, but he forced himself to hold back.

By the time Bain had slid halfway down, Deacon's knot was already fully swollen and the fox was panting heavily. The otter gritted his teeth and pushed firmly back down until his rump bumped against that knot, and relaxed again as he smiled. His eyes opened in time to catch a sigh from Deacon, and he smirked as he ran his paws down the fox's chest. "Yeah, it's such hard work on your side of this."

"We'll trade places next time," Deacon replied, though the last word was lost to a quiet moan as Bain clenched himself tighter around his shaft. He adopted a frown as he reached back to swat lightly at the otter's backside. "You're the one who insisted that now was the right time for this, remember?"

With another squeeze, Bain grinned and leaned down to lick at Deacon's nose. He chuckled and wriggled his hips again as he teasingly pressed down against the fox's knot again. "I don't remember you putting up too much of a fight," he pointed out. He wriggled his hips again for emphasis as he grinned down at Deacon.

Deacon rolled his eyes as he used one paw to gently pry Bain up and off his shaft slightly. The otter groaned as he felt the fox's shaft shift inside him, and it turned into a shuddering moan as Deacon lifted his hips to drive himself back up to the knot into him. The fox's hips lowered again, and his grip relaxed to allow Bain to slide back down along him again. Each moment he felt Bain's body in motion against his own, pleasure lit up Deacon's mind.

Not content with Deacon taking back that little bit of control, Bain shuddered as he replicated the motion with himself. He rose up a little further and quicker along the fox's malehood, and he heard Deacon's moan beneath him cut off as he sank back down again. He smoothly rose back up again, his muscles squeezing down around his partner's length as he arched his back. When he sank back down again, his own shaft twitched in pleasure. Eager paws pulled his robe up and off, and the inhibiting cloth was tossed aside to leave him in only his bare fur.

It took a little more effort to shed Deacon's robe as well, but it gave the fox something to do. His paws trembled as he fumbled with the cloth. Each roll of the otter's hips sent him twitching, with his legs spread wide beneath Bain. They strained to push further apart, the better to push up inside the warm body riding him. His hips were still kept mostly in control, but they began to push up against Bain's efforts as the robe finally cleared Deacon's head. He tilted his chin up as he guided Bain's muzzle down with a gentle paw, and his tongue swiped gently across the otter's lips as he moaned.

Two arms wrapped around Bain's middle as he leaned down into Deacon's kiss. His body continued to rise and fall, pushed down and raised up by small degrees as he held onto his lover. Fingertips squeezed at the fox's shoulders as his tongue danced with Deacon's, groans of pleasure muffled by the muzzle against his own. His shaft continued to twitch as he bore down against that canine length buried within him, with each slow roll of his hips earning a little spurt of pre from his malehood.

It was echoed with Deacon's shaft as it slid up deep inside the otter's body. New pre began to ease its passage. It smoothed the motions out, and Deacon began to lift his hips to meet Bain's as the kiss broke. He worked himself up as the otter bore down, a natural rhythm formed from their mutual pleasure. The discomfort Bain had reacted to with the first penetration was gone, and in its place was a comfort and enjoyment that showed through on his face. Deacon drank it in as he met Bain's eyes, and their foreheads touched together as he panted for breath.

He watched Bain's face as their bodies moved together. Each slide of his shaft up deep inside him slacked his jaw. It rolled the otter's eyes back. They closed as Deacon began to pull back again. The fox watched the breath catch in Bain's throat as he broke the rhythm to buck up a little harder, and he couldn't help but smile as the otter drew a shaky breath. He offered a warm lick across Bain's lips as compensation.

Bain squeezed back down around him in response, and he smirked as it became Deacon's turn to shudder in pleasure. The fox's composure broken, Bain began to work his hips with a little more vigor. He arched his back as he pushed down more firmly. His body pulled up just that much higher before it slid down that firm, pre-slicked length of flesh again. The otter pulled a little further away from Deacon's face, and he leaned back with a gasp as he felt the fox's shaft grind up right along his prostate. The delightful quakes that rocked his body almost sent him toppling back off Deacon's lap entirely.

Once he saw Bain's reaction, there was a moment's realization from Deacon. He grinned and gripped the otter's hips tightly to keep him in place there, before he began to thrust up harder. His knot mashed up against that spread tailring with each buck of his hips, his shaft rammed up in quick, sharp bursts right along that sensitive spot. The sound of the otter's yips and cries of pleasure echoed off the narrow walls of the cave, and Deacon was immediately rewarded with surges of tightness around his length as Bain clenched around him.

Each and every effort all fed back into their pleasure. Each thrust Deacon made would crash a new wave of pleasure over Bain. The otter's malehood spilled pre across the fox's chest and belly as he twitched and writhed atop Deacon's shaft. Those twitches teased the fox all the more. Deacon's thrusts became harder and more eager. Bain started to push himself down harder still. Their bodies moved with an eagerness born of physical need, stoked to a firestorm that flared hotter with every motion. A cacophony of moans escaped the cave and into the night as they moved together.

Bain's fingers dug into Deacon's shoulders as he leaned back harder. He whimpered as he ground down against the fox's knot, legs spread wide around Deacon's middle. He only pushed down against it until he felt Deacon pull him up again, only to come crashing down onto it once more a moment later. He strained against it, and he shivered from tip to toe as he felt his body stretching in an attempt to take it. The tease of that stretch and the potential for that knot to tie him flooded him with fresh, overwhelming pleasure.

Deacon panted as he tried desperately. The same instinct as he'd felt by the lake - that need to mount and mate and tie and seed - was only growing stronger every moment that he spent taking the otter. It wiped out the magi training. It abolished his reason. It destroyed everything that wasn't tied to that very moment. The tightness of that hole, the heat of the otter's body and the sense of lust and love and want he could feel boiling off Bain were everything in the world.

Each battering thrust that brought his knot to bear against the otter's tailring was felt twice. The first time was the pleasure of the motion itself, but the second as the echo of the otter's feelings. He could feel Bain's pleasure as strongly as if it were his own. He felt the way the otter's body strained around his shaft. He felt the tingles of need and want when he ground up against Bain's prostate, and he could feel clearly how badly the otter wanted him. Each thrust brought him closer to the peak, begged on by his partner's need for him to finish.

It didn't feel like a building need to spill his seed inside Bain as a sudden, explosive surge of sensation. It came on all at once as he gripped the otter tightly. The fox's paws wrapped around Bain and tugged him tight against his chest, and his pants rose into deep, almost guttural moans of pleasure as he pounded his hips upward. He drove himself as fully and completely up against Bain's body as he could, straining to slide that knot up into the tight heat that had so completely enwrapped his shaft. He pushed up harder and harder and harder, intent on feeling that tailring give way for him. Deacon needed to be inside Bain. He needed to be fully buried in his lover.

The feel of Bain's climax overwhelmed Deacon's mind a moment before he felt the splatter of the otter's load against his belly. Thick, hot spurts painted Deacon's fur as the otter's body lost its ability to contain his pleasure. He began to writhe as he moaned in pleasure, legs spread wide around Deacon's middle as he pushed back down desperately against that knot.

And with the uncontrolled spasms that wracked his body in the throes of his pleasure, Bain's body gave way for Deacon's knot. The pain of it as it spread him wide and popped inside him was overwhelmed entirely in the bliss of his climax, and the sudden tightness wrapped around the back of Deacon's knot prevented him from holding himself back for even a moment more. His cries joined Bain's, a chorus of two that echoed back on itself again and again as he flooded the otter's depths with his seed.

Each surge mirrored a twitch of Bain's length, as he emptied himself of each sticky spurt across the fox who held him. He squeezed Deacon tightly as he rode out the intense waves of his climax, rump firmly planted again for the first time in the fox's lap. He could feel every twitch and pulse of Deacon's knot as his load surged up into Bain's body, and the otter cooed with delight as his own orgasm faded away. He was left with the fullness that Deacon's knotted length provided, stopping him up as he was filled with each hot pulse of Deacon's essence. His body drank it in eagerly as he clutched at the fox.

It was all Deacon could do to bury his face in Bain's neck. He panted heavily, breathing deep of the otter's scent as he unloaded himself completely. His body held nothing back, breeding the otter with everything he had. Even when the flood was expended and Bain was full, Deacon couldn't release the otter from his hold. He gasped for breath as he squeezed Bain tight, and it was almost as gratifying as his climax when he felt the otter's arms slide down his back to bring them even closer. Without breath and with his mind wiped clean by the raw sensation of their coupling, there was no way to articulate how he felt.

He needn't have bothered. Deacon felt Bain's kiss against his cheek before the otter rested his head atop the fox's. A smile spread Deacon's muzzle as he leaned more firmly into Bain's neck and kissed softly back. Waves of exhaustion began to roll in again in the wake of their exertion, but the fox didn't let his arms loosen their grip on Bain for a moment. Morning would come too soon as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was let the otter go.

Instead, he closed his eyes and pressed in all the tighter. He could feel the tiredness creeping up on him, but Deacon kept his arms tight and his otter close. There was no way he was letting go of the otter now, not if he could help it. There was nothing else in the world to Deacon, but for the first time he felt as though that could be okay. Oswell could take the world for all he cared. He had everything he needed, right there in his lap.

Deacon didn't even notice when he slipped into sleep, Bain still tightly wrapped up in his arms.

Morning came slowly, with the sun already high in the sky by the time Deacon stirred. When his eyes opened, it was to the sight of Bain in front of him. The otter was curled in against Deacon's chest, one of the fox's arms clutched tightly around him. Bain was still asleep, peacefully lost in his dreams. Deacon smiled softly and reached up to trace a couple of fingers down his cheek as he extracted his arm from the otter's grip. He didn't want to move, even though he knew he had to.

Bain didn't wake, but did shuffle back a little tighter against the fox. With a shake of his head and a smile, Deacon looked up at the hole in the rock that marked the cave entrance. Sunlight filtered through and past the bush that concealed their hidey hole, a warm contrast to the cold stone all around them. With great care, Deacon sat up and pulled away from Bain to sit down in the light closer to the entrance. He sighed to himself as he closed his eyes and reached out to grab and pull on his robe. The warmth felt nice against his fur, though in retrospect not as nice as Bain's body.

There were only a couple of moments to take that morning, and Deacon tilted his head into the sunlight as he allowed himself that one. He was awake, and that meant that Oswell would either already be on their trail or would be waking himself. The elder magi had sustained more wounds than Deacon had the previous night, but Deacon knew he didn't want to bet on his father being weakened any longer. Oswell would be on the move, and he and Bain needed to do the same. Still, he didn't turn away from the warm light just yet.

A pair of arms slowly wrapped around his middle, and Deacon glanced back over his shoulder to see Bain. The otter's eyes were still half-lidded in sleepiness, and he yawned as he nuzzled into the fox's neck. "Why'd you have to get up?" he asked as he wriggled in against Deacon. "I was comfy. Never gotten to sleep beside someone like that before... was nice."

"Nice as it was, we cannot stay long," Deacon replied. He turned away from the sunlight and brought Bain back into view. He opened his muzzle to speak, but was stopped by a little lick to his nose. "If we stay, he'll find us. We need to move on."

Bain held his gaze for a moment before he sighed and nodded. "Nothing good ever lasts, mum always used to say," he muttered with another nod. "I guess you wanna do breakfast on the road? Catch and char something for us to eat while we go?"

Deacon nodded in spite of the frown that furrowed his brow. Bain seemed more than a little reluctant to move. "Is something wrong?" he asked as he reached out. He took the otter's paws gently into his own and squeezed.

"Yeah, I guess," Bain replied as he squeezed back. "I don't wanna have to keep running for the rest of my life. I know," he added as Deacon opened his muzzle. "He'll never stop hunting us, and it won't be easy but it's the only way we'll survive, and all that other stuff. I know. I just..." He shrugged as he looked down.

With a nod, Deacon gave Bain's paws another little squeeze before he let go again. "You want to be able to stop. You want to settle down sometime and feel safe." He watched Bain nod. "We will. When we're far enough away from him, we'll stop. We'll build something safe; something he can't get in. He can't hunt us forever. Eventually, if he thinks we're not going to make things hard for him, he'll devote his efforts elsewhere. Efficiency will overtake anger."

Bain nodded along as he looked back up at Deacon. "You actually think we're gonna get away from him long enough to do that?" he asked.

The fox nodded. He reached up and gently stroked down Bain's cheek again as they both started to smile. "I know we will," he reassured the otter. He leaned in toward Bain for a kiss.

He never met the otter's muzzle. Force wrapped around his body and snapped him back in a fierce tug. It pulled Deacon bodily away from Bain, off the cave's floor, narrowly through the entrance and through the bush and into the light of day. It blinded Deacon for a moment, and he didn't see the ground before he was tossed bodily into it. He rolled messily through the dirt and over the rocks, new cuts in his flesh flashing pain into his awareness as he fought to look up.

He wished immediately that he'd not. Oswell stalked toward him, still scarred from the previous night but dressed in clean robes and fresh rage. "I thought you would have made it further before you stopped for the night!" he called to Deacon as he approached. Lightning flickered in his grip and crackled with each step. "Perhaps I should praise Bain for exposing your weaknesses. You would have made a poor construct."

Deacon took a quick breath before he forced himself up to his knees. Both paws flicked up as flame swirled in his fingers. It streamed out of his grasp as Oswell drew closer, a river of searing fire that enveloped the old magi completely. It concealed Oswell for only a moment before the clap of thunder reached Deacon's ears, and the flame was shattered with forks of lightning. "If you intend to run," he growled as he swept a paw to the side, tossing Deacon aside with another invisible blast, "make certain you can outrun your pursuer!"

New pain flashed through Deacon as he hit the ground again. His leg twisted, but a surge of magic pushed him back up from the ground in time to keep it from breaking. He glared at Oswell as he watched the old fox fold his arms expectantly. "Just let us leave, father," he called out, even as he summoned all the power he could to himself. If Oswell could not be convinced to leave the fight, one of the two would die. Deacon didn't have the highest hope for himself, but he wasn't about to go down quietly. "We do not need to do this!"

Oswell snorted and lifted his eyebrows. "Just let_you leave?" he echoed with a shake of his head. "No. You have no idea the extent of the planning you have ruined. You, and that little serpent-chaser you have infatuated yourself with. You have destroyed _decades worth of planning. Decades worth of effort, wasted!" One paw lifted and snapped off a quick bolt of lightning.

Before the attack even left Oswell's paw, Deacon could sense it coming. His paws were already raised before it, and the lightning sluiced off them as he thrust them out and pushed the bolt aside. It forked around the younger fox as his paws parted, and he shoved forward with his mind as the energy flashed into the ground.

The shove from Deacon came faster even than the lightning. Either Oswell wasn't ready or didn't consider it a threat, because he failed to ward off the blow completely. It lifted him off the ground and sent him up into the air. He corrected himself quickly as he began to fall toward the grass again, and he pushed back against the soil as he landed. The grass flattened out around him under his powers, and he snorted derisively again as he straightened up. "Pushing me around is unlikely to save you, boy!" he yelled back at Deacon as he began to walk back toward the younger vulpine.

Even as Deacon thought for a way to penetrate Oswell's considerable knowledge of arcane combat, he watched his creator lift a paw. A single finger pointed at Deacon, and sudden pain bloomed in the back of his mind. He was dimly aware of a scream as it wrenched itself from his muzzle. He sank back down against the ground and clutched at his head as waves of pain boiled off it and flooded his body. Words caught in his throat, doomed to emerge only as agonized grunts.

When the pain faded away slightly, Deacon was able to open his eyes. The kick from Oswell into the side of his face was almost a mercy; a pleasant thing compared to the magical pain that had filled him. He felt blood on his muzzle, though whether it was from his nostrils or mouth he wasn't certain. "I _rule_you, boy," Oswell snarled as he stamped a booted footpaw down on Deacon's chest.

Deacon lifted a paw to push Oswell off, but the older magi was faster. One of his was already pressed down toward Deacon, and the younger fox's arms were pinned by invisible force to the dirt. "Do you hear me, Deacon? I rule you. I rule, as I ruled a dozen of you before." His eyes narrowed as Deacon struggled against his footpaw. "Do you think you are the first incarnation of me that has required forcible integration? Hmm?"

When the younger fox didn't reply, Oswell snorted again. He lifted his boot to kick down across Deacon's face again. "Do you have any concept of the time I have spent? The lengths that I have gone to, in order to bring about just the right series of events?"

"Do you have any concept of how little I care for your plots and schemes?" Deacon bit back. It earned him another kick to the face, and he saw stars before a surge of painful fraen magic restored his focus and mended the cut to his cheek. "You are a monster, Oswell. You are insane."

The insult drew Oswell's eyebrows up, and he actually smiled as he pushed his boot down over Deacon's throat. "Insanity is genius that lacks vision. Vision is not something I have ever lacked, boy. Perhaps with the benefit of a couple of centuries, you might have developed a similar sense of the larger picture. Instead, you have earned death of a meaningless sort and potentially doomed thousands upon thousands of people to the same."

As Deacon continued to struggle, Oswell leaned down over him with a snarl on his muzzle. "War is coming you insolent fool, and I sense it in a way that few can. There will be a changing that will shake the very foundation of the world. Today, tomorrow or a hundred years from now... it matters not how long it takes others to prepare. I was almost ready. I was _almost_prepared." He stood taller and turned to the side with one raised paw.

The sword that had begun to slide toward his side halted in mid-swing, and Bain's eyes opened wide as Oswell glared at him. "Until you," he growled. His fingers curled into a fist and he thrust forward, and a battering ram of force launched Bain back and away from him. "For all the good work I accomplished with you as a template, _your_corruption of Deacon has ruined all." His eyes narrowed as he thrust a finger at Bain. "Wait your turn."

The distraction was enough for Deacon. He pushed up with all of his strength to drive off Oswell's pressure on his arms, and managed to break one arm free. It thrust up open-palmed, and Deacon's robes and fur flattened back against the ground with the force of his shove. It launched Oswell up into the air, and his roar of anger and surprise sent a chill down Deacon's spine.

He reached up to take a hold of Oswell, but the older magi wasn't about to let it happen. Oswell blocked and interfered with each of Deacon's attempts to grab him, but gravity did what Deacon could not. Oswell hit the ground, too distracted with his defense to worry about his descent. Deacon couldn't help the smile that spread across his muzzle at the impact, and he took advantage of Oswell's momentary weakness to launch a fresh blast of flame toward him. "Don't blame Bain for your failures!" he yelled.

The flame missed as Oswell rolled away from it, though it did manage to scorch his robes. Angry eyes lifted to take in the sight of Deacon draw an arm back for another assault. Flame already seethed in his grasp, and Oswell growled as his thoughts invaded Deacon's mind. The fire sputtered out as Deacon howled in pain again, that same spot in the back of his mind suddenly alight with raw agony. "And do not assume yourself in a commanding position on the field of battle, you fool," he snapped as he pushed himself upright again.

Oswell glanced to the side as Bain raggedly stood up again. The otter scooped up his sword, but he didn't seem all that eager to charge the magi again. As he lifted a finger to point at Deacon, the younger vulpine's pain intensified. "Be smart, boy. Know when you are outmatched," he called to the otter. "This battle is not for you."

Bain watched as Deacon sank to his knees, claws clutching and scratching at his head. His face hardened as he stared back at Oswell and raised the sword high. "You made me strong, not smart," he called back. The otter grinned as he charged forward, the blade lifted to block as he moved.

The old magi rolled his eyes as he glanced at Deacon. "Is it loyalty or self-destruction that drives him?" he asked the pain-wracked fox. Deacon couldn't reply, but he sagged with relief when Oswell withdrew the pain and raised both paws toward Bain's reckless approach.

Through the pain, Deacon's eyes narrowed as he focused on Oswell's paws. They began to flare with lightning, and he reached desperately out with his mind to shove at those paws. They tilted up a split second before the electricity streamed out of them, and it soared over Bain's head as he raised the sword to strike.

It came down as Oswell scrabbled back from it, and he hissed in anger as the tip tore through the sleeve of his robe. "I said wait your turn!" he snarled. A flick of his wrist sent a smaller bolt of lightning into Bain's leg, and the otter yelped in pain as he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. He watched on as Bain clutched at the burn and smirked. "Stay there," he added, as he turned his attention back toward Deacon.

Deacon glared at him as he fought to stand up again, and Oswell chuckled behind folded arms. "What? Are you _already_tired? Weary of the fight?" He started toward Deacon again as the younger fox raised a paw. A flick of a finger sent new waves of pain through Deacon's mind, and he smirked as his creation fell to the ground again. "Good. Do not worry, boy. It will be over soon."

The pain increased, and Deacon howled as he curled as tightly into a ball as he could. The raw sensation that flooded him was too much for his mind to comprehend, and so it started to shut down to keep it out. He could still feel his father's thoughts and will inside him, applied to one little spot of his mind like a splinter in his brain. Deacon pushed back against it as best he could, but it was no use. Each new wave of pain crashed over him and broke down his focus.

Oswell smiled thinly as he glanced at Bain. "Pay attention, now," he told the wounded otter as he crouched down beside the disabled Deacon. "Remember? Remember what I told you about your future? I told you that your precious lover here would be the one to kill you, did I not?" He chuckled as the otter glared at him, silent but for ragged breaths through his own pain. "I lied, in a manner of speaking. His form will be the last thing you see, certainly, but it will be my will that directs it."

Focus began to seep back into Deacon's eyes as he looked up. Through the haze caused by the echoes of the pain Oswell had inflicted, he could see his creator smiling cruelly down over him. "A dozen versions of me, and it remains that emeralds are the only thing that can properly bend my knee." Then his vision went dark, as Oswell's paw pressed down over his face.

It wasn't pain that spread through Deacon's mind, but something new. It was something familiar but alien all at the same time, and he felt himself instinctively try to rally his thoughts against it. New thoughts and memories and sensations flickered into his awareness, the sum total of over a dozen lifetimes worth of knowledge and planning and plotting invading his consciousness and pushing him into the darkness. It was Oswell. Oswell was inside his mind. Oswell was trying to rewrite him.

Deacon felt his teeth grit as he pushed back against the invasive consciousness. He could feel Oswell's thoughts grinding back, shredding his efforts under a practiced will. He'd done it so many times. Through the echoes of Oswell's memories, Deacon could feel them. He could feel every last version of Oswell that had come before, and how they'd all succumbed to his powers. They'd all lost. They'd all been cowed and bent the knee, just like he'd said. He could hear their screams in his head as his cries joined theirs. Pain was the key. It'd always been the key.

The younger fox's eyes shot open. Pain. Pain had been the key. He could feel it clearly in the memories. Always the pain, always the same way. The echo of his words - no, Oswell's he forcibly reminded himself - shuddered through him with the promise of a moment's realization. Bend the knee. A dozen versions. Pain. Emeralds. Emeralds.

Instead of fight the wave of Oswell's invading mind, he surged back up along it. Oswell had forced Deacon's mind open, but he'd opened himself up at the same time. Deacon searched through Oswell's thoughts and mind. He scanned the older magi's body. It took precious moments, but he found it.

Pain had always been the key. Pain had always kept his creations in line. At one point, Oswell's body had been independent. He'd done the same thing to it as he'd done to Deacon's. He'd used the same method then to raise a finger and flood his subject with intense pain. It was the same method Deacon had used to first pleasure Bain for Oswell's experimental extractions. There was a sensation orb inside Deacon's skull, but it was not a pleasure-inducing ruby like he'd used on Bain. It was an emerald, designed for and innately attuned to pain.

And there was one still inside Oswell, too!

Every ounce of feeling that was flooding Deacon travelled backwards through the connection Oswell had ripped open. It crashed into the orb. The orb amplified it and disseminated it. Deacon felt Oswell's mind instantly withdraw from him, with a resonant ripple of agony that could only have come from the older fox. When he was completely free of Deacon's mind, Deacon slumped back against the ground.

Blue sky rolled into view as he fell back, and he fought to keep his eyes open as he poured everything he'd felt and experienced back through his creator's mental link. For the first time in Deacon's life, Oswell was able to experience everything he put his son through. Every ounce of suffering that Deacon had felt as his father tried to erase his soul from existence was multiplied tenfold and fed back through the sensation orb still stuck inside Oswell's head.

The echoes of Oswell's former lives faded away to silence in Deacon's own mind as he forced himself to sit up. He caught sight of Oswell clawing at his head in much the same way Deacon had been doing only moments before. He allowed himself a moment's cruel satisfaction before he forced that too aside and turned to Bain. The otter was still clutching his leg, and Deacon reached out with his mind to the otter.

The seared flesh began to bubble under Deacon's powers, and Bain screamed with pain anew. That faded as Deacon drew himself back from the otter, the wound still branded but covered in new, smooth flesh. "Don't be stupid," he told Bain as the otter looked over at him. "You need to go. You can't fight the way we have to!"

Bain's reply was stolen away as Oswell leaped onto him. The two tumbled across the ground in a confused mess, the otter crying out in surprise and the fox with rage. Deacon raised his paws, and flame began to curl around his fingers as he tried to spot a clear shot. The two were too close, and as they continued their tussle it only became harder to find a moment to interfere. "Bain!" he cried out, as he caught sight of a glint of metal as it emerged from Oswell's robe.

The call only served to distract the otter at a critical juncture. He looked up at Deacon, and that moment was enough for Oswell to sweep the knife in his grip up under the otter's neck. "Careful, now," he growled as he looked up at Deacon. "You would not want all this effort to end with the death of your beloved, would you?"

Deacon's jaw dropped as he watched Oswell press the knife into Bain's throat. It nicked the fur as the older fox grinned through a bloody lip. It looked like he'd bitten it viciously while wracked with pain. "Clever, boy. Very clever. I should have foreseen that tactic. In the future, I will make sure the emerald orbs are removed before we reach this point. Ah-ah!" he added with lifted eyebrows as Deacon began to mentally reach back for that sensation orb again. "I can kill him in less time than you could disable me."

"You're going to kill him anyway," Deacon growled, though he drew back. Even struck with that level of pain, Oswell would still have enough strength to slice Bain's throat open before he succumbed. The fire in his paws continued to burn bright. "Let him go, and maybe we can talk."

"Talk?" Oswell spat blood at Deacon as he tugged Bain upright again. He pulled the otter's arms behind his back and pinned them there as he glared at his creation. "Let us talk then, if that is what you wish. What shall we discuss? Hmm?"

He watched on as Deacon stood still and silent, and finally bared his teeth at the younger fox. "What about history? Do you know how many times - how many lives I devoted to peacefully integrating with the people of Ahron? A waste! But even then, I was building my power base within the Noctus Imperium; the only nation in this world with the strength and the numbers to face them. I cultivated my contacts and my techniques.

"It took me generations, you fool! Generations were necessary to develop the arcane uplifting techniques that have made you what you are." Bain whimpered as his arms were tugged even more tightly, though the sound cut off when Oswell brushed the knife across his throat. "And I was close! I was _so_very close to having all the players in their positions, ready to take the stage."

"Ready to dance to your tune, you mean," Deacon corrected him with a glare. His ears flattened atop his head as Oswell frowned at him. "This has only ever been about power. Your power. Why justify it as something other than what it is?"

"I have no need to justify anything to you. You are less than a person. You are a tool, like a hammer or an axe. If you understood, perhaps you would not be so quick to kill me." He snorted as Bain began to struggle. "Everything that has happened has happened because I willed it so. Everything that has built this Imperium over the last couple of generations has been to my designs.

"I brushed off the king's courtesans! I used my magic to forge an impossible relationship between him and the peasant bitch who would birth an heir. They thought it true love, and only I knew it as what it was: simple enchantment." He snorted again as he shook his head. "I whispered into the ears of the Ahron sorcerers and convinced them to attack the Imperium, and when that bore no fruit I infiltrated the Imperium and used their own techniques to trick the Imperium into thinking the Ahron attacked first. The Ahron Rebellions began at my commands!"

"You don't even know how mad you sound," Bain grunted. He yelped a moment later as Oswell tightened his grip on the otter's arms again. "Listen to you! All, 'I did this!' and 'I did that!' about everything! You're insane!"

The tip of the dagger drew dangerously close to Bain's flesh, and Oswell sneered at Deacon as the fox took only a single step forward. "Let us try something more tied to the present. My efforts uniting the king and his queen earned me their royal favor. By marrying you to their daughter - another subtle, magical manipulation in my long list - you would take the throne."

Deacon snorted. "You mean you would take the throne," he corrected Oswell. The fire in his paws burned brighter. If Oswell just gave him the barest opening...

"Just so," the older fox replied with a nod. As if he'd heard Deacon's thoughts, he tugged Bain a little closer to keep the otter between himself and his creation. "It would be simple enough to dispose of her once a child had been conceived and birthed. I would rule as king regent until that child came of age, but I would not need that time." He tilted his head up. "I would have what I need: custodianship of the Font of Ages. It is the key to what is still to come.

"You do not even know. You have not seen it, boy. Fields ablaze, the sky black as night with not a star to be seen, the oceans boiling away..." Oswell's eyes narrowed as he lowered the blade slightly. "This world is on the verge of ending, you arrogant fool. The only person with the knowledge and the power to prevent it is me. If your life - the independent thought you so foolishly cling to as your sense of self - must be sacrificed so that I can prevent the destruction of everything, so be it!"

"And what happens afterward?" Deacon demanded. His paws curled into fists as he held Oswell's glare evenly. "You save the world, and then what? You just... keep going? You rule the Imperium, use the Font to serve your needs, and do whatever you want, whenever you want? Would you take the world? Would you stop there?" He shook his head as his ears flattened. "And you call me the arrogant fool? No. I don't care what deluded little stories you tell. You have lived too long to be a person anymore. You say I am no person because of my creation? That too is your doing. I may be no person, but you are a_monster_." He nodded to Bain. "Let him go. You have lost, Oswell."

Again, Oswell shook his head. He even smiled thinly at Deacon. "I have not lost yet," he argued with the barest shrug. "I can recover from this. The work I have done can continue. It _must_continue, if anything else in the world is to continue. I convinced the dear princess that her protector died at your efforts. Returning with you both in shackles or as corpses will go a long way toward earning me new royal favors." He spat blood on the grass, but it hardly cleaned his muzzle. "It was not my plan, but perhaps this too can be spun to my advantage."

"Let him go," Deacon repeated. His eyes widened as he watched the knife draw closer to Bain's throat again, and the flash of the fire in his paws began to recede somewhat. Oswell was still able to kill Bain before he could do anything, and Deacon wasn't prepared to accept the otter as lost yet. "You kill him and your experiment is halted. Your work would be for nothing. You would need to find another with Ahron ancestry you could exploit."

Oswell's grip on Bain's arms only tightened as the otter began to squirm against him. "I shall need to do as much no matter what," he growled coldly back as he brushed the blade across the otter's neck. New fear entered Bain's face. "This little serpent-chaser has become more trouble than he is worth, but you..." The knife sheered off a little of Bain's fur as Oswell gave a thin, bloody smile. "For my work to continue, I need your body now. You could surrender yourself, right now. Allow me to take you back and 'execute' you before the princess. I will instead take your body for my own after she has left, and I will not harm Bain in exchange for your sacrifice."

Deacon's eyes narrowed as he lifted one paw a little higher. He tried to keep the fingers from trembling as he looked at Bain's face. The otter was scared, but defiant to the last. "You wouldn't let him go, even if I let you win," Deacon snarled back as he flattened his ears. "Maybe you wouldn't harm him, but that says nothing of the Imperium. You said as much; carrying us back in shackles or as corpses gives you leverage." He shook his head as Oswell scowled. "You wouldn't harm him. You would just give him over to the people who would."

The older vulpine snorted as Bain gave as much of a nod as he could in his position. "And if I gave you my solemn vow that I would release the little brat in safety?" he asked.

"I wouldn't believe you," Deacon replied. He emulated Oswell's smile as he tilted his head to the side. "I know exactly what your promises are worth. Now. Release him."

Oswell just snorted as he tugged Bain back firmly against his chest again. "Stalemate, boy. I will not release him, because you will kill me if I do. If I do not release him, you have to risk killing him yourself to burn me down." He snorted again as he dug his claws into the otter's arm. "You cannot do that. Your sentimentality makes you weak."

"I'm not the one hiding behind a boy," Deacon countered as he curled his fingers into a fist. If he conjured his fraen powers, Bain would die. Oswell would sense the draw too soon for Deacon to strike at him, and Bain would probably be incinerated even if he managed to make an attack. He had no techniques in his arsenal that his father couldn't detect first, and then the otter would be killed. Unless...

As Bain squirmed harder against Oswell's restraint, Deacon frowned at the older vulpine. "You are not even trained in fraen magic," he growled at Oswell as he let his fingers uncurl again. "Your techniques are all drawn from aerun powers! If you took my body, you would have no power until you learned to make use of mine!"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Oswell demanded as the blade of his knife ran up gently along Bain's neck. The feel of the metal against his flesh set the otter still in an instant. "I would not have built you if I would not have had instantaneous access to the same powers I make use of now." His smile returned, cool and cruel as the tip pressed into the otter's throat. "I do not allow myself vulnerabilities to be exploited, boy. My powers would be intact; you were created with this in mind. Do not insult me so."

That was all Deacon needed. He tilted his head up as he searched through his memories. Every thought and sensation from the entirety of his life washed over his subconscious as he immersed himself in the past. His eyes locked on Oswell in case the old magi made a move. "Do not make me do this," Deacon said. His paw began to shake as he delved deeper into his memories. The sense of magic, the touch of flame and frost and stone and lightning in the corners of his mind lit up as he sifted through them.

Oswell scoffed at him. "You have brought this on yourself," he replied as he tilted his head up. "I ask you one final time, Deacon. Surrender yourself, here and now, or I will spill Bain's blood right before you." He sneered up at the young fox. "If I am to die after all this time and after everything I have done, I will die glad if I can slit his throat before you end me."

"Do it!" Bain growled. The words earned him the press of the knife against his neck, but even that couldn't silence him or keep him from straining against Oswell's grip. "Don't you dare let him in! You said you weren't him... don't you dare let him in, Deacon! Don't you dare!"

The otter repeated the insistence over and over. Each repetition echoed in Deacon's mind. A surge of power from somewhere else - something not Deacon and not Oswell but _through_Bain - rushed through him with each echo. It seared through his mind, electric in its potency. It brought with it a focus to memories that were not his own. Order and understanding came in the blink of an eye, and Deacon's head tilted up higher. The fox knew what to do as he grasped for that distant power. "Close your eyes, Bain," he said, as the last of the flame in his paws faded away.

Instead, Bain's eyes widened with fear. Deacon went rigid as he looked on, and his heart skipped a beat. The otter felt his breath catch as Deacon's eyes shifted back from him and to Oswell. He felt the knife tug in toward his throat-

Where it bent away from his flesh.

Time slowed. The metal peeled back and snapped at the hilt. That hilt wrenched itself clear of Oswell's paw and followed the bent blade into the air. Deacon's raised paw crackled with electricity as the lower thrust forward. Air rippled around Bain, and he felt himself pulled back as a wave of force passed through him and shoved Oswell away.

The otter fell back. Oswell was revealed, clear of his living shield as Deacon's eyes erupted with repressed lightning. The older magi's face was curled in rage. Both of his paws lifted as arcane electricity flickered between his fingers. He extended both paws toward Deacon, but a twitch of the younger fox's fingers sent the elder vulpine up and into the air. The eruption of blue lightning from Oswell's fingers harmlessly streamed into the ground.

A single bolt launched out of Deacon's raised paw. A wordless snarl accompanied the crack of thunder as the crimson strike arced through the air. He sensed a moment's concern from the magi who had created him and raised him, taught him and used him. He sensed that concern flicker into fear. He sensed the fear turn into horror. He sensed Oswell's pain as the bolt struck him in the chest, and he watched as red lightning surged through and around the magi's body. Then he sensed nothing.

Oswell's body twitched as it struck the ground, a mockery of the life the strike had stripped from it. Deacon's eyes remained locked on Oswell, paw still raised as he felt the residual sparks of aerun power recede. When the energy in Oswell was spent, he was left face-up to the sky. Deacon kept a careful eye on the fox as he stepped forward, closer and closer to the person who had created him.

His caution wasn't necessary. When at last he stood over Oswell's body, he could see the charred, cauterized, uneven hole he'd burned right through the magi's heart. Oswell's eyes were open, staring up with his muzzle slack with surprise. There was no sense of pain on his face and there were no echoes Deacon could detect in his own mind. The blow had been clean. Oswell was dead.

Deacon collapsed to his knees over the body as he heaved a deep, weary sigh. His head bowed low as his eyes squeezed shut, and it wasn't until he felt a sudden presence at his side that he dared breathe. That presence bowled him over before he could take a breath, and his eyes flashed open in surprise as Bain tackled him to the ground with a fierce hug.

"Close my eyes?" Bain growled as he sat up over Deacon. "Really? You wanna hurl lightning around while I'm held at knifepoint, and you want me to close my eyes for it?"

The fox looked up at Bain's mock-angry face. The barest smile curled the otter's muzzle, and the concern that Deacon had felt at the tackle faded in a sense of relief. He sat up higher and wrapped his arms tightly around Bain's middle to tug the otter down atop him. "I'm sorry," he said, voice muffled by Bain's chest. "I... I didn't know it'd work. I thought I might hit you."

Bain squeezed him back just as tight and buried his face into Deacon's neck. "Well... I'm real glad you didn't," he said. He squeezed tighter for a moment before he lifted his head and cocked it to the side. "You did it, Deacon... you're free. I don't know how you did it, I mean..." He shrugged. "I thought you did fire magic."

A smile touched Deacon's muzzle as he glanced to the side. Smoke continued to rise from the hole in Oswell's chest, and it drained the mirth from his face. Murder, he reminded himself, was no badge of honor. He'd told Bain that, and even defending them both from Oswell didn't make it a more pleasant thing. "I do," he said with a nod as he refocused his gaze on Bain. "But he used aerun magic. If he jumped into my body, he wouldn't have had any of those powers, though. He'd only have the powers that _I_have." His smile returned as understanding dawned on Bain's face. "He made me. He made me to make use of his powers, too."

"And you learned how to use them like that that quickly?" Bain asked. He glanced over at Oswell's body with a frown.

Deacon shook his head as he gave the otter a gentle squeeze. "I didn't have to," he replied with a smile. "You were right there. I could feel you... and something else. Maybe it was the Font; I don't know. I was trying to remember all the things he'd taught me about aerun magic, but it didn't matter. Once I could feel you properly, how scared you were..." He let his gaze dip to Oswell's still form again. "It was the Font. It showed me how to stop him. It showed me through you."

Bain rolled gently off Deacon and up into a crouch. He offered the fox his paw, and smiled as Deacon took it. "I bet he figured the only magic powerful enough to stop him would be something from that Font. Guess he was right." The otter glanced around for a moment. "Uh... so, do we... bury him or something?" he asked as he helped Deacon up.

The vulpine chuckled as he kept a hold of Bain's paw. He squeezed it gently as he took a step back from Oswell's corpse. "I don't think it really matters," he answered. The sight of that face, so similar to his own and frozen in death, sent a shiver through him. "He wouldn't bury us. He'd take my body and destroy his old one, and take you back for more experiments. Still..." He crouched down and touched a fingertip to Oswell's robe.

A spark of flame leaped from the touch, and it spread under Deacon's will all the way across the fallen fox's body. It engulfed Oswell in moments, and Deacon and Bain stepped back a little as the heat kicked up their robes. "Probably best we leave nothing here," Deacon reasoned as he tugged Bain by the paw in against his side. "Who knows what someone might discover from him, even dead?"

"I'm just glad to see him burn," Bain replied with a shrug. He lay his head down against Deacon's shoulder as he watched the flames. "What now, though? Where do we go? What do we do? Where will we even live now?"

Deacon let his head tilt to rest against Bain's. "Do you want to go back to your village?" he asked.

The otter shook his head quickly and looked up at Deacon. "My parents are dead. There's nothing left there for me now. I don't know enough to take over the bakery by myself, if it's even still there. Don't know what else I'd do." He smiled sheepishly. "I was kinda hoping I could come home with you."

"With me?" Deacon echoed with lifted eyebrows. "You want to come back to that big manor with me? The same one you were tortured nearly to death in by a crazy magi for the sake of strange and dangerous experiments? What happened to building a safe place together?"

Bain shrugged as he took Deacon's free paw in his other. "Well, I might have to ask you to destroy that dungeon down under the house," he said with a firm nod. "Otherwise... yeah. It's a nice house. It's full of powerful magical defenses that you already understand, and there's no one around for miles." He grinned a little wider. "Why build a new place when we can just take his and make it ours? After all this, maybe two little corrupted, perverted males with nowhere else to go could make something of it."

With a roll of his eyes, Deacon squeezed both of Bain's paws and nodded. "Let's at least wait until we get back before we talk about anything 'corrupt' or 'perverted' this time," he suggested.

"I promise nothing," Bain replied. He leaned up to kiss Deacon's cheek before he turned away. His gaze lingered on the embers that were left of Oswell's body, and he shook his head as he started off down the valley again.

Deacon's gaze set on the embers as he folded his arms across his chest. In spite of the heat that continued to boil off the dead magi's body, the chill in his spine refused to abate. He was free, for the first time in his life. He was free of the marriage that had been arranged. He was free of the magi who had run his life. He was free of expectations and rules. He had the freedom to do whatever it was that he wanted.

He couldn't help but shiver as he shook his head at Oswell's burnt remains. His father had done exactly that. Oswell had done whatever it was he wanted. He'd believed that imposing his will on anyone and everyone else was the key to his happiness and advancement in the world. He'd believed that everyone else was just a tool at best, and a plaything at worst.

As Deacon looked up and after Bain, he smiled. The chill started to recede. Bain had shown him a different way than everything Oswell had done. Deacon didn't have to become Oswell. He didn't have to do things the same way the old magi had done. He certainly didn't have to lose his mind and use the people around him for his own ends. Instead, Deacon knew what he _could_do. He could bend with them. He could share with them. He could work with them. He could love them.

It wasn't going to be easy. He knew as he started off after Bain that there wouldn't be a harder life. Being a magi was one of the hardest things in the world. Rival magi would want his - and Oswell's - power and research. Common folk would fear him, simply for his power. The Noctus Imperium would condemn him and Bain, thanks to what Corella had thought she'd seen. No matter where they went, there would be trouble.

In spite of it all, his smile grew. Trouble was fine. He'd been trained well. He was capable, and Bain was bright. Trouble wouldn't be a problem, even if he couldn't do everything by himself. For the first time in his life, Deacon felt like he wasn't alone.

That was worth all the trouble in the world.

"No, mother; I will attend to that in the morning!" Corella shouted back down the hallway. The wolfess covered her face with one paw and growled quietly before she dropped it down again. "After the last wedding you tried to organize for me, I think I deserve at least one night of peace and quiet!"

Any reply her mother could have made was cut off by the boom of her paws as they shoved the double doors to her bedroom open. They all but launched apart under the angry shove, and the lupine princess hissed a sigh as she stormed into the intricately-stoneworked bedroom. "Gods, take me now!" she growled as she stalked toward her bed.

A moment's realization broke through her anger, and her hackles bristled with unease as she looked around the room. She'd been gone for weeks, first on her way to the magi's home, then on her way back. Her room should have been dark, save for the glow of the full moon through her window. Pale light played over the sheets; the only light she would have expected.

Why, then, were there lit candles all over the room?

She turned as the double doors slammed shut behind her, tail tucked up between her legs. The princess jumped at the sound, but it was the sight of the black-robed fox in the shadow of the doors that sent a shiver up her spine. "M-master Oswell?" she stammered.

The magi stepped into the light, and her tail instantly relaxed. An angry glare entered her gaze as she flattened her ears. "Deacon? What in the hells are _you_doing here?" she demanded as she backed away. The base of the bed. There was a dagger hidden there that she could grab, and Alik had instructed her in how to use it to protect herself.

As he stepped into the candlelight, Deacon raised a single finger. From the bed came a clattering, and the dagger Corella had begun to reach for was pulled away by his powers. It skidded across the floor as he lifted his eyebrows, and he smirked as Corella's glare intensified. "I mean you no harm, my lady" he said.

"The hells you mean me no harm," she snarled as she backed to the edge of the bed. There she folded her arms and tilted her head up. "You sneak into the capital; the palace, no less! You wait for me in my own bedchambers like an assassin! I cannot believe I had begun to trust you. You! Some serpent-chaser bastard." Her words faded to a guttural growl for a few moments before she brought it back to relative calm. "If you are here, I suspect calling for help will do me no good."

Deacon just shrugged. "What sort of magi would I be if I had not anticipated that and taken measures against it?" he asked.

Corella snorted once. "A poor one, I suppose. Where is your father, then? Elsewhere, plotting to humiliate the Imperium with another false marriage? Or does he hunt you even now? Why has he not yet recaptured you and brought you here in chains?"

"Oswell is dead," Deacon growled back, and instantly much of the fire in Corella's voice and face went out. He paused long enough for that information to truly sink in before he softened his voice. "And he is certainly_not_ my father. He came to kill Bain and I. I simply killed him first."

The wolf snorted again and shook her head. "I can see the family resemblance, Deacon," she countered with a smirk from behind folded arms. "Do not think me so easy to deceive. You will be disappointed should you try."

It was Deacon's turn to rub over his face and heave a sigh. "I am not here to game you, your highness," he said as the princess snorted again. "I am also not here to bring any harm to you. In fact, I have come to help you."

She met his eyes evenly as she tilted her head higher. "You are already marked and wanted by some of our finest warriors and magi-hunters," she told him. "You are a criminal and a murderer, steeped in the blood of your family and flush with perversion. What could you possibly have to offer that is worth more than your crimes?"

"Freedom." He cocked an eyebrow as he held her glare. "Do you remember our discussion by the lake? How you wished our marriage to happen as little as I did?"

"Hardly for the same reason," she muttered.

Deacon's eyes rolled as he shook his head. "For exactly the same reason," countered the fox. "We each had a male that we desired more than the situation forced on us. In my case, Bain. In your case, Alik. Istvan's son, if I recall."

Sudden anger bloomed in Corella's face, and her arms dropped to grip at her sheets in her rage. "An honored warrior who died during your escape," she snapped back. "He succumbed to the wound Bain-"

"That was Oswell," interrupted Deacon with a wave of his paw. "He told me so. It was another manipulation; the latest in a long line of them. He was responsible for Istvan's death, to rile you against me." When she snorted and clawed at her sheets, Deacon frowned. "The Ahron assassins? He led them to you, as part of his plot to move me out with you as soon as possible. The marriage? All part of the plan to take control of the Imperium itself, through me. He was prepared to invade my body, drive me out and rule. Do not tell me that these things are impossible, my lady. You are smarter than that and you know I am more honest than that."

"Coming from the mouth of a criminal who murdered his father, I can trust nothing," Corella replied with a shake of her head. "In my place, you might doubt your word as much as I do. What does all of this have to do with Alik?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Deacon allowed himself a smile. "I went back home. Read over some of my father's old research into magical manipulation. I discovered the techniques that he used to influence the royal court." Some of Corella's anger dimmed as she latched onto the idea, and Deacon's smile broadened. "You said it yourself. The courts would never recognize a royal marriage to someone not of noble blood, nor to a foreign noble if their only claim to nobility was as a lord or lady of a magi's land."

"But you could force them to," Corella growled. She glanced around the room for a moment before her eyes drifted to Deacon again. "If you can do that, you can do anything. You do not need me to take the throne. You could take it for yourself. Take the Font of Ages for yourself. Why would you want to help me? What do you get out of it?"

Deacon's eyes narrowed as he allowed his smile to slip. "What I get out of it is simple. You strip me of all charges. You strip Bain of all charges. You allow us to go on our way, and you send no one to come after us ever again. You let us live in peace." He shook his head. "I do not want the throne and I do not want the Font. I do not want more power or more control. I am not my father. I want my life and I want Bain to have his. I want nothing more than that, and nothing less will do."

Corella looked the fox up and down as she let go of her sheets. Her brow furrowed as her ears twitched. "The only way this would work is if you were an ally of the Noctus Imperium," she said at last. "If you remained an independent magi, there would be no chance that the people would accept Alik and I. The courts would be forced into line by your powers, but the common folk would rebel against some random, new magi bringing new power to the throne. Only if you were an ally would they accept it."

"You have many magi allies already," Deacon replied with a nod. "You would not need to come bother Bain or I with anything. You could gain help from other magi you count as friends. After all," he added with a smirk, "we are not exactly friends, are we?"

The princess mirrored his smirk as she folded her arms once more. "No. No, I suppose we are not," she admitted. "Very well. You use your father's techniques to bring the courts in line to allow Alik and I to be together, and you will have the peace you desire. None shall bother you, nor Bain."

Deacon nodded once as he stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. There was no need to correct her on his relationship to Oswell; she had already decided what was truth to her. "Send a messenger to Oswell's manor when you wish to begin preparations for your wedding, your highness," he said as he bowed his head slightly. "I will receive it there, and come to help you."

She nodded back as she stood. "And then?" the wolfess asked. "What happens next? What will you do after that?"

"After that?" Deacon chuckled as his paws began to flash with fire. "After that, what happens is between me and my otter." He threw the princess a coy little wink before the fire wrapped around his paws erupted out and around his entire body. The conflagration bloomed and lit the entire bedroom as it swirled around Deacon. When the flame vanished a moment later, the fox had vanished.

The princess hugged herself as the heat from his exit washed over her. In spite of her disgust with Deacon and Bain - what they were and what had almost been forced on her - she felt a sliver of hope bloom in her heart for the first time in years. "I suppose it will be," she said to herself as the room began to cool again.

An insistent knocking came at her door, and she looked up a moment before a tall, fully-armored member of the royal guard burst into her bedroom. "Forgive the intrusion, my lady," came a voice muffled by the thick helm he wore. "Master Eneas sensed an arcane surge inside your chambers. I came immediately to investigate."

"An arcane surge?" she echoed as she stepped forward. A glance down the hallway showed no one else in sight, and the wolfess hurried over to the door to close it once more. "I do not know what to say. Perhaps his senses are addled after all these years of service."

The guard looked her over for a moment before he glanced around the room. "Are you certain, my lady?" he asked as he scanned the room. "Eneas is rarely wrong about that sort of thing. I've come to trust him."

"He is wrong in this case." Corella tilted her head upward to look over the ceiling. "You may cease your monitoring of this room, Master Eneas. I am fine." She lowered her gaze to the royal guard again, one eyebrow cocked as she planted her paws on her hips.

It took a few more moments before the guard nodded once. "He has ceased observation," the guard reported. "Is there anything more I can do for you, my lady?"

Corella smirked and nodded as she reached up to carefully remove the warrior's helm. Beneath it was another lupine face, a few years older than her own. There was a familiarity to his features that went beyond his father's eyes. She knew him well. Intimately.

That he was all left of her protector, friend and confidant of her whole life was one thing. That he was her lover was quite another. In the days to come, who knew what more he could become? "There is much you can do for me, Alik. Much you can do, and much you will. But first, we must speak about our situation.

"I believe I have found a solution to our problem."