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When we last left off, Aizen & Holt found themselves in the midst of a hostile trap by Cruiberg soldiers…

Trigger warning: This chapter does include some intense battles and an attempted non-con scene.

Aizen & Holt

Chapter 4: Full Circle

            “Dammit.”

            Aizen grits his teeth, thinking that it would be best to take out the ones in heavy armor first. The staff is worthless in combat to him and hasn't done him any good, despite being told that it would be of use to him at some point. He prepares himself for an attack by forming fires beneath the ground, which he prepares to use when they come in for an attack. While close combat is his specialty, he’s never had to fight against twelve men.

            One of the more well-dressed warriors stops as the others continue walking. He’s tall, well built, and has his long, greasy brown hair kept in a ponytail. Scars are ravaged across his face from previous battles, which seem just as menacing as he continues to smile at the two boys. The man speaks up, “So you're the demon that slaughtered some of my men, right? We've been looking for you for quite a bit of time, dear boy. In fact, we had enough time to find those very caves that you thought nobody else would know about.” He gawks over at Holt. “And an elf! What a lucky day we have here. After the demon is done and dead, we can take turns fucking this pointy ear bitch as we hack off his limbs.”

             As he laughs, the soldiers rush in to attack. Aizen brings up the flames, which knock three men down. He runs in the opposite direction of Holt, jumping up and kicking another man with both of his feet, then slitting his throat right as he lands. Two other soldiers are already in front of them, swinging their blades down at him, forcing him to roll and dodge, jump, and flee until he can find the right time to make a move. They're too fast. Faster than the others he fought.

            Holt ignores the words of their leader. When Aizen moves, Holt flips his dagger, catching the point and hurling it as hard as he can at a warrior in chained armor. His head is bare. A foolish choice tonight. Holt's throw is true, the dagger burying itself in the man's eye. He screams as he falls, clutching at the dagger as his own weapon falls clattering to the ground. Holt draws a second dagger, moving forward rapidly to engage a leather clad warrior. The elf moves slowly, clumsily. The warrior brings his wickedly bladed axe around, pointing the spike at its crown at the boy. He thrusts, smiling as he anticipates the kill. Alive or dead, the elf boy will be just as good a fuck to him. Holt has other ideas. He dodges to one side, parrying the thrust with Aizen's family sword. The spike misses him by several inches as he spins, using his momentum to drive his dagger into the warrior's throat. Continuing his spin, the elf boy, thin and frail looking next to the human warrior he's killing, rips the dagger forward, severing the man's esophagus and jugular as he rips it through his throat. Blood sprays and foams from the wound as the man dies before realizing the extent of his wounds. The rest of the warriors near Holt slow, realizing this boy bites.

            The commander draws his sword, still grinning as he watches his own comrades fall. “Come on, men! His moves are lousy.”

            As Aizen runs forth and kills another man, the commander steps behind him and easily grabs him with one arm, tossing him five feet away and into the ground. His staff and dagger are gone. He throws out flames rapidly, but all of them are blocked by the man’s sword, which is steaming and burning red from the heat.

            “Killed my parents! Killed my people! You vile fuck!” Aizen runs towards him in rage, throwing out another ball of fire, which is not only blocked, but puts him right into the hands of his parents murderer. The commander puts him in a quick chokehold and throws him over his back after he's passed out, ordering two men to follow with him.

            “Kill the elf.” The commander instructs. “We'll meet back where we were two nights before.”

            The rest of the men turn their attention to Holt, licking their lips and smiling to the thought of killing him. Holt's mouth goes dry. His ears are filled with the sound of thunder blasting over and over and over. HIs eyes dart at the men closest to him and to the commander who holds Aizen's limp body over his shoulder. His mind calculates that he can reach the commander in a few quick strides, but as he prepares to dash, the marauders closing on him shift their ranks, blocking his path. He can barely make out one of the pair following the commander stopping to pick up Aizen's staff and dagger. “No... no.... no...” The words escape unbidden as the elf desperately watches his love carried away.

            One of the soldiers who remains takes advantage of the elf boy's distraction, closing in quickly. He strikes hard at the preoccupied elf. His grunt as he attacks jerks Holt's attention.

            Quick as a cat, Holt drops, letting himself fall below the man's sword blade as it slices through the air. The soldier presses forward, barreling his shield into Holt. The elf is knocked flying, losing his dagger as he lands hard and awkwardly. He sees stars and bright light as his ribs burn. He tries to breath but cannot. Focusing his eyes, he realizes a second soldier stands above him, axe raised to the sky, ready to cleave Holt into the dark realms. Without thinking, the boy strikes out, plunging the red-bladed sword up into the man's exposed belly. Blood oozes from the wound and the raised axe falls harmlessly to the ground.

            The crunch of gravel draws Holt's attention. Yet another Cruiberg swings down with blackened-iron mace. Twisting frantically, Holt screams, “Aarrgghh!!!”, as the ball of the mace hits his left shoulder. Instinctively, almost as if the sword commands his arm, he swings out, barely able to raise his weapon more than an inch or two off of the ground. It's enough as the blade slices through leather greaves, muscle, and bone, severing the man's feet from his legs just above the ankles. The man's screams echo through the woods and his blood flows freely.

            Before he falls to the ground, he tosses out his weapon towards Holt but misses. A warrior helps him to his knees, giving him a small dagger. “Don't give up. We almost have him.” His friend rushes toward Holt with his long blade, clashing steel against his own sword as well. Another warrior wielding an even larger sword, twice the size of his own body, swings his blade at Holt. Somehow, he's able to jump high enough to land on it and let it cut the other man right in half. He thinks in his mind, 'two to go.'

            Holt moves away from the two still standing. One of the wounded is hopelessly binding the stumps where his feet used to be, somehow still conscious despite the horrid wounds. For an instant, Holt feels pity for the man. The remaining warriors stand between him and the direction their commander took when he carried of Aizen. Already, their shapes grow small in the distance. Holt almost panics at the thought of losing track of Aizen but realizes that he'll be able to follow their trail easily. If he survives. His ribs and shoulder burn, each competing with the other as most painful. He can feel sweat and tears dripping down his face and his breaths are as needles over his parched mouth and throat. The two look at him, their faces serious. The larger of the two leans closer to his comrade and says something that Holt cannot understand, their guttural language so much gibberish to his ears. The smaller man nods as they both smile. They circle Holt, moving away from each other. Every moment forcing Holt to swivel his head more and more. Every moment threatening to cost him split seconds of reaction when they finally decide to attack.

            The man with the long sword is the first to attack, shifting down on one left to swing at him while the other moves in with his dagger. Holt thinks quickly, immediately chopping the man’s hands off with one swing and ends it by stopping the sword that would otherwise cut off his feet, digging the blade into the ground as he does so with all of his strength. It forces the tension in his ribs to worsen, which excites the much larger and broader man. The foe releases his sword, taking his time to bring it down from the sky towards Holt, which he clashes his sword against with all of his might. Thankfully, he's able to overcome his strength and the colossal sword flies a few feet away from the man’s hand. It's just Holt and the beast without a sword now.

            Holt charges the man, anxious to finish him and rescue Aizen. He swings the sword down, the man bringing up an armored vambrace to partially deflect the blow. The sword cuts through the steel of his armor, biting into flesh but stopped from hitting bone. As Holt realizes his mistake, the man's other hand snaps forward, his long, thick fingers engulfing Holt's throat. The man smiles through pain of his wound, squeezing as he lifts the light boy into the air.

            His chest tightening as he feels his breath cut off, Holt wrenches his sword free only for the behemoth to grab his hand and twist. More searing pain, this time from Holt's wrist as bone snaps. The sword falls to the ground. The man smiles more and grunts, “I'm going to fuck you until you bleed, little boy. Then I'm really going to have some fun.”

            Panic seizes Holt's heart. His free hand searches his waist. One, two empty dagger sheaths. His sword! On his back when he switched to Aizen's! He reaches back, feeling for it as his eyes water and his vision narrows. But the Cruiberg sees the hilt and, with his blood dripping over both of them, he draws Holt's blade and holds it for the boy to see. He relaxes his strangling grip, letting Holt gasp for air. “Second sword. Smart boy. Clever boy.” He drops the sword and laughs, his head thrown back in victory. “Too bad you're puny and weak. You'll wear my cock well.”

            He looks back at Holt as he finishes laughing and gurgles. Blood spills from his mouth and confusion is writ upon his face, replaced quickly by pain, which in its turn is replaced by fear. The fletching of one of Holt's arrows juts out from beneath the man's chin. A trickle of blood from his hairline onto his forehead shows that the arrowhead has emerged somewhere in the man's dark hair. His grip tightens and Holt's eyes explode with bright lights. Then the grip goes slack and Holt drops to the ground. At the same time, the man topples backwards.

            Holt crawls for Aizen's sword. “Have to track them...” He tries to will himself to stand. Around him the bodies lie dead or dying. The man who lost his feet has passed out from his wounds, a gruesome trail of blood marking his attempt to crawl closer to the elf boy. The warrior who lost his hands lays curled in a ball, his stumps drawn up to his chest as the pool of blood surrounding him grows.

            Sticking the blade of Aizen's sword into the ground, Holt tries to pull himself to his feet.

            “Aizen...”

             He cannot and passes out, his hand still clenching the hilt of his husband's sword.

            Aizen wakes up, sitting down with his arms tied behind a tree and his clothes rugged and torn at parts. His tail feels around at the rope concealing him. It's very late into the night and there's a small fire in front of him where two soldiers and a lead commander are sitting, waiting for him to awaken. His first thought is to manipulate the fire and have it kill them all instantly, which he could do, but he's somehow unable to use his powers. 'They must have done something to me' he thinks. He tries to fight out of them but cannot do so. “Fucking pieces of shit. Holt will find me and when he does you'll all be sorry.” He spots his staff and bag sitting next to a mossy boulder. Behind him is a long river stream that has a loud current.

            One of the soldiers nudges his commander. “It's awake, sir.”

            The three look at Aizen, contempt in their eyes. The leader stands, moving closer to the bound demon. He sips a steaming beverage. “Was that the elf boy's name? Holt? By this time, little demon, Holt is being split open by my men as they fuck him to death.” He grins. “Just like what's going to happen to you.”

            He keeps trying to use his powers, but they won't work. It only frustrates him more. “You said your men would be back by this time. They haven't arrived because they're all dead. Just like the three of you will be when I'm out of this rope.”

            The men behind him snicker as the commander laughs. He kneels down in front of Aizen, roughly grabbing his chin and turning the demon boy's head this way and that. It's as if he's inspecting a piece of meat at the market. “Somehow, I doubt that. Your elf friend would have to be the luckiest sonuvabitch on the planet. As for you...” He draws a wickedly curved dagger, twirling it in front of Aizen.

            “Go on with it then, you sick fucks.” Aizen spits into his face. “Is that why you joined the forces? To get off by sadistically murdering people? Is that all your people are? A bunch of scum? Many of my people have died willingly because they wouldn't subject themselves to the act of violence. What is it that we've done that makes you hate us so much?”

            The commander scoffs. He reaches over and begins cutting away Aizen's shirt, removing strips of cloth and tossing them into the fire. “You were born. That's all. The elf, well, he's with you so he dies after my men have their fun.” Once Aizen is shirtless, the commander runs his hand over the smooth skin of Aizen's chest. “Nice. You will be fun. Your people wouldn't subject themselves to acts of violence because you're all cowards or incompetents. The brave among you died long ago.” He begins cutting away Aizen's pants. He whistles a lively tune as he works.

            “Stop! Stop it!” He kicks back, hitting the commander in the hand and knocking the blade away. Again, he kicks, landing a hit right into his face. He holds back his tears, ready to fight again.

            Touching the back of his hand to his mouth, the commander pulls away. He sucks at the cut on his lip, gazing at the blood on his hand. He smiles. “Well, aren't you a feisty little cuss?” He stands and retrieves his dagger. “Martin, hold one leg. Roci, hold the other.” The soldiers by the fire smile. The smaller of the two stands and slowly makes his way closer towards Aizen, while the larger moves much more quickly. He grabs Aizen's left leg, pinning it to the ground as the smaller man does the same to his right leg. The commander squats downs and resumes cutting away the pants. “Hope my hand doesn't slip and cut loose one of your balls, there, demon-boy. That would be painful.”

            Aizen tries to fight back, but the men are much stronger than him. Finally, he gives in and stops moving, shutting his eyes as well. He stays silent as his entire body freezes. Slowly, he begins to accept his fate, imagining this is how it will end for him, as it has been the same sort of end many other young demons have faced.

            The small man snickers. “Just like the others, sir. Give up easy. I was hoping he'd be livelier.”

            The commander shakes his head. “So disappointing. Take heart, lads. I have an idea.” He goes over to the boulder, picking up Aizen's staff and twirling it around. Roci, you still want to try that thing you're always on about?

            The larger man, nods vigorously. “Yes, sir, captain. More than anything, sir.”

            “Sometimes you even scare me, Roci.” The captain shakes his head. “But you've earned it. Go ahead. I'll loosen him up with his own staff. Maybe that will liven him up a bit before he's gone.”

            The larger man immediately lowers his head and begins licking and slurping at Aizen's penis. The smaller soldier leans close to Aizen, whispering into his ear. “Roci is going to slice your femoral artery open so you bleed to death as he's sucking your demon-cock. He's always wanted to do that to someone. Captain might keep you alive longer if you were a little livelier, a little more fun. But then again, he's gonna fuck you with that pretty staff of yours. Looks like it's loose, loose for you, demon.”

            The commander takes the head of the staff and places it under Aizen's chin, forcing the boy to look at him. “Your dead mouth will be warm enough for while, eh, boys? Don't you think?”

            Suddenly, the stone at the end of the staff glows and seems to come to life with a loud beaming sound. It's consumed with ice, which freezes the commanders hand and immediately begins to cause him frost bite. Aizen kicks back again at the man molesting him. “Serves you right, idiots! That staff is meant to protect me!” As painful as it is, he's able to break the bone in one of his thumbs in order to slip out of the rope entwining his hands. He reacts accordingly, ripping the staff out of the commanders hand and tearing his hand off as well in doing so. The ice laced over the weapon melts into water. As he pierces the ground with it, a ginormous shard of ice emerges from the lake water and blows right through most of the commanders face, leaving a large hole that leaks with brain matter, broken bone, and skewered flesh. He falls to the ground dead and silent, twitching like a fish held into the air. Aizen tries to use his powers again but is only able to emit a flame the size of a pebble. “You think the two of you are getting away from me?” He points the staff at them, and ice emerges out of it, sealing both of them by their arms and legs to the ground. As he walks over to his bag he finds his dagger, which he licks with a stunningly disturbing grin. “Don't want me to end up cutting one of your balls off, do we? Is that what you said? Or something of those remarks?”

            “We... We didn't...” Before he can speak, Aizen aims the staff at his mouth and seals it shut with ice. The other man screams out.

            “Are there more of you out here? Maybe I should wait here for them.” Aizen kneels down next to the man that has begun to sob, begging for his life. He pulls out his dagger and lifts the mans leather armor up. “You think I want to do this? I hate violence, but how would it be fair to let you walk all over me like that? And your friend putting his mouth where it doesn't belong. Now I don't want to go to that old cliché, because this will honestly hurt you much more than it will hurt me.”

            The vengeful, enraged demon presses the blade down into the pit of the mans stomach, then begins to dig through skin, letting him bleed to death. He turns to the other man, stabbing him in the chest as well.

            A minute passes. He looks on his work, feeling shocked and disgusted that he could do something like this, then proceeds to vomit. The young and naked demon sits sobbing into his hands, wailing for everything to be reversed. Suddenly, a large white wolf runs to him, licking his face and tail. Before it gets the chance to touch his horns he brushes his hands through the wolves hair, calming it down and letting it rest on his legs.

            “That's a good boy.... Why are you out here? Don't tell me you've been eating human flesh...” There's a collar on his neck, which has some written anthro language on it that he recognizes from where he came from. “Whoever owns this pet must have lived in Varn Ra, across the lake from his home. Go, boy. Find your master.” He urges the wolf to move on as Aizen puts his bag over his shoulder, holding onto his dagger and staff, then walks deep into the forest, not knowing exactly where he's going. The path is wet and the sounds cause him to be fearful of his surroundings, just in case there are other Cruiberg soldiers nearby. To him, he knows that it would be a week before they'd realize something went wrong, and another week before they'd send out a search party. Still, he can't help being cautious. Aizen walks for what seems like hours in the dark until he hears the painful groans of the lover he knows most. He sprints to the cries, rushing down to his knees when he finds Holt with his back against a torn log. “Babe... Dammit. One second.” Aizen rushes into his bag, spilling all of his goods out onto a large leaf over the grass. He fills an empty mason jar with water and forces Holt to swallow as he checks out the wounds. Left wrist is broken, bruises on his shoulder blade, three cracked ribs to the left, and it seems that his trachea is hurt pretty as well.

            Holt, battling the pain and damage from his wounds, managed to track Aizen for nearly a half mile before passing out again. In the hours since then, he's repeated the same pattern. Wake and track Aizen's captors until he passes out. Wake and repeat. His greatest fear is arriving too late to save his husband. His second is being discovered by a second group of Cruiberg.

            He wakes this time to Aizen's voice. Aizen's face. He tries to speak, but his throat burns with the effort. “Aizen...love...I was afraid...” He coughs, which sends him into agony as his throat and ribs cry out. He grabs Aizen's hand, holding it tightly. As his cough subsides, he brings it to his lips, kissing it tenderly before passing out again.

            “No no no no no no! Wake up Holt! Oh, fuck.” Aizen panics for a moment, checking Holt's pulse to make sure it's not fading or beating too fast. After measuring it and taking in account the bruises, he forces himself into a calm manner and begins to plan out what he can and cannot work on. The bruises should be simple. He opens a smaller jar with a milky ointment inside of it, then applies it to some leaves that he puts over the bruises. Next, he prepares for an old demon healing spell, mixing certain crushed herbs together with a sticky substance, then rubs Holt's wrist with it. He begins to pray as he holds the arm, speaking in the demon language. Even though the spell book he once had is gone, he's able to remember word for word, as it is a matter of life or death for him. Once he's finished with the prayer, he prepares a special drink in the mason jar, which culminates into a glowing bioluminescent green color. It'll take some time to fully do its job, but it should heal his throat by the time he wakes up. The bruises have already healed. Next, the ribs, which he can do a prayer over, but he realizes that he's ran out of the material he needs in order to perform the ritual and spell. “Dammit. I'll find something in the morning. If I have to, I'll walk with you to the house.” He checks on Holt's wrist, which is seeming to heal much faster than he anticipated. If only he had what he needed for the broken ribs...

            As Aizen watches Holt and the sun begins to fall on the horizon, the elf boy's breathing becomes more regular and steadier. Aizen gathers' wood and starts a small fire, letting water warm over it as he gather's more wood.

            When he returns to the makeshift camp, he sees the wolf that he met earlier. He's resting near Holt watching as a tall, gaunt figure bends over Holt.

            Aizen pauses, staring at the wolf, then begins to walk closer to it, not feeling a presence of fear. He sits down next to Holt, petting the wolf as he does so, then looks up at the figure shadowed by darkness. “You must be some sort of anthro. Born in Varn Ra, I take it? I can tell by your wolves tag.”

            “Sssshhhhh!” The figure turns to Aizen, scowling at him. “Why must you young ones be so noisy all of the time?” An old man, thin and balding, glares at Aizen for a moment before returning his attention to Holt.

            The man, who must be 60 years old if he's a day, is tall. Even kneeling as he is, it's easy to guess he's six feet or more. He's thin with sharp, angular features. A long, pointed nose on his thin face, his cheek bones showing easily through the gray stubble of a few day's beard. His fingers are long and boney, his knuckles seem oversized as he gently probes Holt's uncovered rib cage. He presses along the edges of a deep purple bruise that covers most of Holt's side. After a moment, the man nods, and stands. He stretches and the cracking of his back is loud and audible.

            He steps over Aizen, sitting on the ground next to him. His cloak is black, indeed all of his clothes, pants, jerkin, shoes, are black. His movements are short and jerking. He looks at Aizen and smiles showing a mouth almost full of teeth except for a noticeable gap where lower incisors should be. His eyes are black and deep, but somehow, they twinkle. “Alphonse told me you were in trouble, little lad. Seems he was right.” He scratches the wolf behind its ears. “Oh, you may talk now.”

            The blond demon speaks quietly. “We were in a fight with Cruiberg soldiers and split apart. He's been hurt badly. I'm out of the medicine that I need to fix his ribs. His wrist should heal now. Can you help me? Most people from Varn Ra seem to know some sort of healers magic.” He notices his parents long sword further away in the distance, hidden under leaves, then walks over to sit it next to his staff before facing back by the Holt and the wolf.

            “Worry no more, little demon. I've seen to his ribs. They'll knit true overnight. He should be able to move tomorrow. You're familiar with the folk of Varn Ra?” The man watches Aizen closely, even though his eyes dart to and fro as he speaks. “And, what shall I call you? Unless you prefer little demon...”

            “My name is Aizen. Born in Mooneye. I decided to travel to Harath for my coming of age ritual and move there.” He scoots closer, petting the wolves fur, focusing mostly on his ears and belly. “Varn Ra isn't too far away. I have some distant relatives that live there and many friends. Anthro friends too.”

            “And I am Garallen. Healer. Mystic. Traveller.” He bows his head towards Aizen. “My furry friend is Alphonse. We've been keeping a loose eye on the Cruiberg for a few days. I'm sorry that I wasn't around when you fought them. I might have been able to help.” He looks at Holt. “And this one? You seemed very worried for him...”

            “His name is Holt.” He smiles, looking back at him and rubbing his knee. “My husband. It doesn't matter that you couldn't help us. You're here and you've helped me already. If there were some way I could repay you... Is there?”

            “Husband? A demon boy and an elf boy?” He raises and arches an eyebrow very sharply. “Have you taking oaths and rituals then?” Alphonse wags his tail.

            “Yes. The oath of demon marriage that bounds us forever. I will love nobody but him for all of eternity. He is mine and I am his. Nothing can separate our love.” Aizen leans back on the log next to Holt.

            Garallen tilts his head a bit. “You could have stopped after yes. Haha! That must be quite a tale, how two so young could be so in love that they would forswear all other for eternity.” His hands quickly move, drawing a satchel from his hip and opening it quickly. He rummages through it, pulling a small jar and a clay mug. “As for repayment, I help who I choose, how I choose. None owe me anything but what they feel in their hearts they must give. However, I would be grateful for a cup of demon brewed coffee. I have my own beans.” He hands Aizen the jar. “…But I can never get it quite as good as your people.”

            Aizen takes some of the beans, finding a small wooden grinder that he manually uses to cut the beans, then dumps them into a golden kettle. He uses some of the fresh lake-water a few minutes away for the coffee, then returns with it already heated. The smell has a strong resin and blackberry scent to it, with hints of tobacco and pomegranate. They're definitely beans from demons near villages close by Varn Ra. Expensive ones too. He pours the coffee into the mug for him, then sits back, waiting for his approval. “It'd be nice if I could find some material to make new clothes with.” As he says this, he pulls out a fundoshi from his bag and tightly puts it on. “This will do for now, I guess. Hopefully I can find a small village to shop at on our way to Harath.”

            Garallen smiles and takes the cup. He holds it in both hands with his face hovering in the steam. He breathes deeply. A wide smile slowly spreads across his face. “Aahh!” He takes a small sip and nod his head. “Magnificent! Perfect. It's perfect. I don't know how you do it, but your people never fail when it comes to coffee.” He holds the cup down near Alphonse. The wolf sniffs. His tail wags and he looks at Aizen, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Aizen senses a feeling of calm and comfort from the wolf. He trusts Aizen.

            “As for Harath, well, your husband will need to rest for the better part of a week, I'm afraid. The wounds will knit quickly, but his ribs bruised his lung, I think. He'll be winded very quickly and in great pain when that happens, until he's healed.” He sips his coffee slowly. Reaching into his satchel, he pulls out a tin and opens it. He holds it out to Aizen, offering him a butterscotch shortbread. He takes one himself, dunking it in the coffee. “Mmm. What a delight. Do you have a camp nearby? Someplace to hold up while Holden heals?”

            Holt, sir... He grins, taking the piece of bread and chewing lightly on it. “We found an abandoned house nearby. Well, Holt knew the man that used to live there, but he passed away at some point, so we've decided to stay there. If I could ask for you're help to carry him back, I'd greatly appreciate it.”

            “Certainly, certainly. Best if we let him sleep a bit longer. Overnight if we could. But if your house is secure, it may be better to move him sooner. There are more Cruiberg patrols in the area, but none terribly close.” He falls silent, sipping coffee and taking bites of his cookie, while staring into the fire.

            “Should we go after you finish your cup?” He continues to pet the wolf, smiling as he does so. “You can stay at our place for as long as you want. Although something tells me that you prefer to constantly be on the move, never being situated in one area. Am I right?”

            “Hehe.” He grins at Aizen, a toothy grin, friendly and genuine. “I do like to move around. I've been known to stay a few nights with friends. Especially when they have need of company or counsel.” He leans close to Aizen and whispers. “Truthfully, Alphonse prefers longer visits. He's always been more comfortable around people.” pauses Except when he eats them. “Which never happens. Well, almost never. Well, seldom. Seldom happens.”

            “Well, hopefully those he ate were threats...” Aizen takes a tiny branch from off of the ground with his tail, letting the wolf play and try to take it from him with his paws. Eventually, he lets him win. “You're an anthro, right? Shapeshifting type?”

            “Hmm? Me?” Garallen looks at Aizen. “Yes. Obviously. He's not.” pointing at Alphonse, who is happily gnawing on the stick. “Full wolf, although he seems smarter”. Finishing his coffee, he packs away his cup, beans, and cookie tin. He stands and stretches, kicking dirt onto the fire. He looks light enough. “You're sure there's no gear you or he need to recover?”

            “Well...” He puts his and Holt's bag both over his waist, shoving as many items on the ground back into them as he can. “I can carry my sword and staff if you carry him. It's about five or six miles away though, so we can take stops if we need to. We have lots of food back at the house and will do any jobs we need to in order to repay you. Or rather, I will, since Holt will be resting.”

            “I think I can manage.” He stoops down, picking Holt up and cradling him almost as a child. He whispers something to the unconscious elf with Holt responding by wrapping his arms around Garallen's neck. They remind Aizen of a father carrying his son. “Lead on, dear Aizen. I'll let you know if I need a breather. Alphonse! Guard!” The wolf bounds to its feet. It shakes, starting at his snout and moving through his body to his tail Sniffing the air, the wolf moves off into the woods. “He'll be around, don't worry.”

            “Mmhmm. I wouldn't worry with a wolf like that.” Aizen leads the way through the night. He finds out that his powers have returned to normal but decides to use them only when it's too dark for them to say, just in case they're not alone in the forests. Many different animals pass them by, but none stop or attack them. A few hours pass before they reach the house. By then, the morning sunrise is already beginning to radiate its beauty along the gardens and home. Aizen leads the way inside, fixing the bed and then grabbing a bowl of cold water for the wolf. “I'll go hunt for a deer in an hour or so if you'd like. This place is pretty well hidden, it seems.”

            Garallen settles Holt on the bed. “Ah. I'll let you see to undressing him. Mind you, kiss him, but he's too weak for husbandly play. I'll fetch some herbs from the gardens, if I may?” When Aizen gives permission, the tall man leaves. Aizen can hear him whistling as he goes through the gardens. Alphonse drinks heartily, wagging his tail as he settles on the porch watching his companion.

            As Aizen undresses and lightly washes Holt, the elfs eyes flutter open. He watches Aizen for a moment before speaking. “Hey, demon-boy. Are you alright? I tried to find you, to get to you...” Tears well in his eyes and roll down his face

            “Ssshhh.” He places a wet rag over Holt's head, taking out every jar in his bag and setting them aside. “I'm fine. They've been taken care of too. You protected me. Now I protect you. I found someone in the forest that came to our help. His name is Garallen.” The wolf wags his tail as he walks over to Holt, licking his face clean. “That's Alphonse. Sit, boy. Good pup.” Aizen holds Holt's hand, kissing it and smiling. “You're going to be okay. You'll just need to rest for a few days, maybe a week.”

            Holt squeezes Aizen's hand. “I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd lost everything...” He raises his head, scanning over Aizen's body, grunting with the effort and wincing in pain. “You're not hurt? Not wounded?” His head falls back onto the pillow. Pietr scurries over, climbs the bedpost and scurries to Holt's head. He places one paw on the wetcloth, and stands on his hind feet. He sways, looking up and down over Holt, then at Aizen, then at Alphonse. He drops down and nestles down on the pillow, between Holt's shoulder and neck. “I guess he missed me...”

            Aizen lays down and cuddles under a blanket next to him. He's careful not to lean his arms or legs onto any parts of him that are still healing. “The staff protected me. You might have been hurt physically, but... They... I can't say it.” He bites his lip as tears fill his eyes.

            Holt shifts, trying to hold Aizen close. “What? No secrets, no lies. Ever. Not between us.” Pain is etched on his face, but he tries to pull Aizen close and hug him.

            “They were going to rape me.” He hides his head in Holt's shoulders. “They started to, but somehow the staff protected me. I killed them all and I did it horribly. Violently. Is it wrong that I don't regret it? That I could do something so cruel?”

            Holt holds Aizen with his unhurt arm. He kisses Aizen's head. “Shhh. Shhh. Cruelty begets cruelty. We're all capable of cruelty... The Cruiberg revel and wallow in it. Your people try to rise above it. Me? I try to do the best I can, but if they'd harmed you and I'd found them... All my moral principle would be for nothing. I would have killed them the most painful way possible. There are worse things than violence, Aizen. Shhh. Relax, my husband. We're together. Whatever else, we're together.”

            “I'm with you forever... No matter what happens. I just want to be done with this. Get to Harath as soon as you're healed, if that's alright. We can make stops on the way. I just can't go on worried of being killed every night or where I have to hide. Now that I have you, we worry about each other out here.” The demon pulls his blonde hair out of the way, kissing Holt on the lips as he lays on his back next to him.

            The whistling from the garden grows louder. Footsteps approach the door. Garalllen stomps his feet on the porch and coughs loudly. Alphonse eyes the door, his ears up and his tail wagging. Carrying a large basket of herbs and plants, Garallen enters. He crosses to the kitchen counter, washing vegetables and beginning to cook something. “Do you know that you have wild chickens out there? Angry wild chickens. And the herbs! The selection of herbs is astounding.” He looks up, noticing Aizen and Holt in bed. “You two are behaving, yes? I'll whip up something light for breakfast and then we'll all have a nap. Sound acceptable?”

            Aizen nods, then whispers to Holt. “What would you prefer later today? Chicken or deer?” He heads over to the kitchen, making a special tea for his husband to help with his throat. Once it's done, he returns back to the spot, where the wolf has already began to rest on the half-elf's chest. “Drink, my love.”

            Holt smiles at Aizen. His eyes radiate adoration for his husband. He sips at the tea, sighing between each sip. “Almost as good as your coffee.” He closes his eyes, petting the wolf for a moment, then Pietr. He alternates between the two.

            Garallen approaches the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress. “Hello. Tell me, Horscht, how's your side? Can you take a deep breath? Does it hurt?”

            “Horscht? It's Holt.” He takes a deep breath, wincing in pain. “Aahh! Yes, that hurts. It's an ache, but when I breathe deeply, it's sharp pain. Very bad. “

            “Hmm. Well, that's not bad news. You need to rest.” He feels Holt's forehead. “You just lay here and rest. He stands and returns to the kitchen. No venison. Something lighter. I'd say at least three days before he can travel.”

            “Three days will be fine. We'll stay here for a week. Give Holt as much as time as he needs to sleep, heal, and then prepare his body for travelling again.” Aizen walks into the kitchen with some of his empty mason jars, heads into a pantry, and fills them as needed. By the time he gets back to the bed, Holt has already fallen asleep. He stares at him, admiring the details of his rare beauty.

            Later on in the day, Garallen find some chickens to cook up, preserving some of the meat as well in a cold container. Aizen spends much time in the garden finding the perfect herbs, vegetables, and greens to make a salad and stew for Holt. Once he awakens, they feast wildly, although he gives his husband more calming tea to soothe his throat and to calm his mind. Aizen and Garallen have long conversations with some tulips of ale as they talk about their homelands, sharing stories and information about the encounters they've had, comparing some of them as well. He finds out that Garallen is the sort of man that can't help himself when he see's others in need. Not only that, but he's quite wise, reminding him of the stories of the wind mages. Aizen sleeps that night for the first time in a while, sixteen straight hours of rest, which means that the elf wakes up before him. Despite the fact that he feels much better, he's forced to rest even more. Three days pass, which are more or less the same as the previous, telling stories, having delicious meals, and keeping it easy while Holt gathers his strength. On the fourth day, Aizen finally lets Holt train with him on simple defensive attacks to make sure that his body can move the way it used to. Not only does he succeed in proving him otherwise, but it seems that letting him sleep made him even stronger. 'Maybe it's willpower' the demon thinks to himself. 'I wonder how much stronger he will be months from now.' While they're outside, Garallen walks out with his wolf, holding a sword carved from wood. He trains with Aizen first, giving him advice to work on his more distant combat skills, then proceeds to help Holt in areas he needs improvement in as well.

            In the evening of the fourth day of Garallen's stay with Holt and Aizen, amidst a cold downpour, the older man examines Holt carefully. Laying on the bed in just his undergarments, Holt gazes at the ceiling as Gar, as they've taken to calling him, presses his ribs and wrist. Holt feels no pain or discomfort. He's able to take the deepest of breaths easily. Still, Garallen seems worried.

            “Aizen, my boy, I need you to assist.”

            Aizen leaves the dinner stew to simmer and crosses the room. He looks at Gar expectantly. “Yes?”

            “Your demon hearing is much more sensitive than this old bird's. Can you listen to Holt's heart? Make sure it's beating strong and in a regular rhythm?” The old man stands and makes room.

            Aizen lays his head on Holt's chest, his ear pressed above his husband's heart. He faces away from Holt's face, listening.

            As he feels the warmth of Aizen against his chest, Holt reaches with one hand, gently feeling Aizen's shoulders. “You're so warm. So...everything.” He cranes his head down, the muscles in his stomach and torso tightening, giving him some slight hints at a six pack beneath what some might call baby fat. He sniffs at Aizen's hair. The demon hears Holt's heart beat strong and regular. As he listens, as he feels Holt's face in his hair, he hears Holt's heart begin to beat more rapidly. And he sees stirring with the undergarments as Holt's erection forms.

            “His heart is fine, sir. Actually.” Aizen realizes that he's never really listened to the heart beat of his own husband. When he looks back at him, something hits him hard. His heart races as well. That battle could have been the end of both of them. At no point did he believe that Holt had died when he was captured, but seeing him here right now, healed and just as beautiful as before, does something to him that he cannot comprehend. He presses his lips to Holt's, kissing him hard and rough. “I love you so fucking much babe.” A single tear falls down his left cheek. Aizen looks back at Gar. “He's good, sir. How's the meat cooking outside? Maybe we could open a bottle of wine to celebrate.”

            Garallen smiles at the two mismatched lovers. “Demon and elf.” He shakes his head, muttering. “Who'd have imagined?” He banks the fire so the stew can simmer without scorching. “I'll check the meat outside. I might be gone for 15 minutes or so. I hope you two don't mind.” He grins and winks at the couple, calling for Alphonse. They head out into the rain, shutting the door behind them. “Fifteen minutes will be enough, I hope.”

            Holt pulls Aizen close to him, kissing him hard. I love you so much, demon-husband. His hands fumble and pull at Aizen's clothes. “I need you.”

            “How badly?” Aizen grins wildly, his tail flapping back and forth. He lifts up his tunic then pulls off his shorts, all made with the help of his new friend in a matter of days. The demon grinds his erection still wrapped under his fundoshi against Holts as he rubs his lovers pits, kissing along his neck.

            The young elf raises his arms above his head, moaning at the touch of Aizen's lips. He shivers and writhes among the sheets as their skin touches, as their dick rub together through the fundoshi. “More than anything... More than everything.” He wraps his legs around Aizen's waist, his arms around Aizen's shoulders, pulling him back into a kiss. Slowly he brings his knees up, holding them near his shoulders, exposing himself to his lover. “I need you inside me...I want you inside me. Please.”

            “Oh? So I'm on top tonight, huh?” Aizen throws away the sheets playfully, standing on his knees as he unraps his fundoshi. His small, yet twitching erection bulges out and points at Holt. As he goes back down, he holts onto Holt's thighs, digging with his mouth and tongue as he rims him. He tongue explores the tight hole, biting at each of the cheeks with his front teeth, making sure that he doesn't hurt him with the sharper ones.” Fuck, hun. You taste so good. Mind if I do this for a while?” Right as Holt is about to answer, Aizen dives right in and begins to put his tongue as far as he can into his love, switching between long licks and circling the starfish hole. He spreads the legs out further so that his horns don't stab at his love. Once he's full, he spits down on two fingers and begins fingering him. His gleaming red eyes stare into Holt's swirling eyes. “How does that feel? Does it hurt? Feel good? Should I rim you some more?”

            Holt gasps and moans, clenching the bedsheets in his fists. Looking up from his vantage point, Aizen can see Holt's chest rising and falling with each deep breath. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his lover's body, catching the torch and firelight. His pale, creamy skin, so soft and smooth, shows his veins blue-green beneath his skin. With one hand, the elf circles his nipples, licking his finger tip as he traces one and then the other. “It feels really good, Aiz... put what you want, where you want... Fuck me, eat my ass...just don't stop.”

            “Of course, my love. Mind if I do more than that?” While he fingers him, Aizen licks from Holt's sack to the shaft and then the tip of his dick before taking him fully into his mouth. His mouth bops, sucks, and works on him furiously, using his tongue in wild motions as he deep-throats him with every thrust of his mouth. Two fingers push in and out of Holt while his other hand grips and rubs his lovers testicles carefully and softly. When the elf begins to moan too loud he stops, pulls out both fingers, then spits into his hand and lubes up his erect three inches. He quickly puts Holt's legs over his shoulders, angles his dick to Holt's hole, and presses into him fast. They're connected as one in a matter of seconds. As he begins to pump his dick into him he leans in for the kiss, letting his tongue play along with Holt's, sometimes composed and romantic, other times bestial and sloppy.

            Holt wraps his arms around Aizen. His head writhes in pleasure as he's taking his husband inside of him. His back arches, he moans...He kisses Aizen, deep and hard with the lips mashing together and he groans. He gasps in time with Aizen's thrusts. “Ungh...ungh...ungh...” Each cry is higher pitched than the last. Precum flows from his dick in a colorless stream. It's been days since his last ejaculation, and he has no hope of containing the reservoir of seed that's built up. “Ungh, Aizen. Fuck me... yes. ungh.” He lets go of Aizen's shoulders, one hand wrapping around his own dick and slowly stroking himself. The other goes to Aizen's chest, scratching along his sternum and pinching his nipples. His back arches and his neck arches, forcing his head back into the pillow. “Oh, fuck yes!” His head shoots forward and he sucks at Aizen's nipples and chest, licking the sweat from his lover's body wherever his tongue can reach.

            “Ahh... I can go like this all day.” Aizen licks his lips as he begins to use a faster pace, smiling wildly and in bliss as he fucks Holt. The two of them are more in rhythm now then they had been any previous time, including their first fuck. Suddenly, all of the emotion in the young demons heart hits him as he takes in account how much he loves Holt. The boy he has performed a marriage ritual with and will live with for all eternity. The one who he will become a man with, fight alongside again and again, how they'd help each other through whatever, no matter what. How they'd grow old together and never lose sight of all of their memories. Love. Nothing more, nothing less. The single emotion that is bound in the molecules of sweat dripping from each of their bodies as they kiss, stroke, and make love to each other. “Ah fuck, I'm gonna do it.” Aizen presses in as far as he can, resting his head over Holt's right shoulder as he has his dry cum. When it happens, he holds as tightly as he can to him. When it's over, he leaves soft, gentle kisses along the pale elf's body until he's low enough that he has to pull out. They pant, smiling and laughing at each other. “I love you, Holt. Always will.”

            Holt's dick empties as Aizen dry cums. When they lay together, his cum seeps along their skin, mixing with sweat. Neither of them cares. Holt holds Aizen close as they catch their breath. “I love you, Aizen. Always and forever.”

            The two lay together for several minutes, a sheet pulled up over their naked, sweaty bodies. Holding each other, satisfied sexually, together spiritually and physically, the rest and talk softly, exchanging tender caresses and kisses.

            A soft knock interrupts them as they recover. The door cracks and Garallen calls from outside. “Is it safe to come in, my boys? The meat out here is done.” They can hear him chuckle. “How's the meat in there?”

            “Oh, I think ours are spent as well. At least for the next few hours.” Aizen chucks, reaching out for his fundoshi and tossing Holt's undergarments at his face. “Get a good wiff of that. It's my favorite smell on the entire planet.” Aizen stands up, yawning and shaking his ass in front of his husbands face to tease him before he wraps on his fundoshi. He reaches down to take Holt's hand and pull him up, leading him to the backyard.

            The wolf is already eating at his chunk of meat beside the fire. There's two open seats for the boys, one taken by Garallen. He folds his arms together and whistles. “At first, I thought it were wild weird to see an elf and demon together, but now... I can't judge. The two of you go together like peaches and pears.”

            The blond demon uses his dagger to clean off a piece of meat for Holt, handing a large chicken wing to him. He takes his own, biting in and engorging himself to it. “Ahhh... Perfect.”

            “It's always nice to cook for some'un else.” He looks up at the clouds. The air smells fresh and clean, like it can after a storm moves through. Some of the flowers and herbs are at their most fragrant. “Ah, the gods favor you two. Even the storms pause to allow your affections.” He grins and begins eating. “How's the ribs after that work out, Holt?”

            Holt nods as he chews, swallowing and smiling. “Right as rain, I'd say. They didn't bother me at all.” He grins shyly at Aizen, blushing through his cheeks and ears. “'course it was Aizen doing most of the work.”

            “But Holt's the one that's typically in charge, which is what I prefer.” Aizen blushes as well as he uses his foot to pet the wolf below him. “But tonight, he wanted me, so I gave it to him as best as I could. Sorry if that's too graphic.” He stops speaking momentarily, then looks at Gar with a serious gawk. “You know, without your help, we might have not made it back alive. I'd already been damaged emotionally and psychologically, while Holt had been hurt physically. With the Cruiberg out there as well... I don't know. You saved us. How have we repaid you? A home? Some food? That's all. Well, I guess if you're from Varn Ra, then it would make since that you would be such an empath and care to help us.” Aizen drifts off into a serious daze, pondering the next few years and future of the continent that they're on, then the world at the largest scope. “We have to care for another no matter what and no matter what the cost, because all of us will be at war soon. It's been headed this way before I had been born. I don't know if I'll be fighting along in it or not, but if I do... I won't forget you and what you've done for us - a reminder of what the people of Varn Ra are like and the villages close to it. From the bottom of our hearts, we thank you Gar.”

            The old man blinks at Aizen. He turns away, poking at the fire, adding a log. Alphonse raises his head, cocking his ears and staring at Garallen's back. After a moment, he lowers his head and sighs. Gar sniffles loudly and spits into the fire. “You're wise, Aizen. War is coming, that's for sure.” He returns to his seat, nibbling at his supper. He regards the odd couple as he speaks. “But you don't realize that home and friendship is as valuable a reward as any. The past few days, tending to you Holt, he points his fork at Holt, a piece of steaming venison at the end and spending time with you, Aizen.” He points at Aizen. “You've taught me tricks and tips with herbs and potions. You've repaid with demon coffee whenever I've wanted any. No, you've given me much that I will remember and treasure. I almost feel bad for what I'm about to say . . .”

            “What?” Aizen gives a sad and painful grin. He knew that this day would come as soon as they had first settled and slept in the home. “You're leaving, aren't you?” He looks Holt, taking his hand. “But we'll see you again at some point... Nor would we ever forget you.” Aizen thinks for a moment. “If you are, then at least stay for the night so that you may rest before you leave.”

            Garallen scratches his temple. “Truth is, I was wanting to stay.” He regards the two boys from under his eyebrows, his face downcast. “This place. . .” He looks up and around, sweeping a hand as his gaze wanders. The gardens, the cabin. “I'd like to stay here, if'n that's alright with you two. The gardens need a lot more work and care and it's isolated enough to be as safe from the Cruiberg as anywhere.” He smiles hopefully at Holt and Aizen. “I was hoping that would be fine with you two. Alphonse and I calling this place home.”

            “What do you think Holt?” He shrugs, wincing an eyebrow at his husband. “I mean, I don't' think we mind, nor the previous owner if you're taking care of the home. Plus, it'll make it easier for us to visit you when we make it back.”

            Holt smiles. “I think that's a good idea. Provided you agree to take care of Pietr.” He reaches into his shirt, pulling the squirrel out and holding him close, stroking his fur. “I was worried about him. I'm not sure Harath would suit him and I didn't want to leave him here alone.” Holt looks down, speaking to the rodent. “What do you think, Petey? Do you mind sharing this place with Garallen and Alphonse?” Petey chitters, his eyes scanning the area nervously. Holt holds him out carefully, letting him smell Alphonse and the wolf smell him. “Don't you eat him, Alphonse, or I shall be very cross with you.” Alphonse's tail wags once. Without raising his head, the wolf's eyes dart between Garallen, Holt, and Petey. Holt holds Pietr in his open hand, next to Alphonse. Pietr scurries off of Holt' hand into the wolf's fur. He scrambles down the flanks, and back up to the neck, where he nestles into Alphonse's soft, gray fur. The wolf watches the squirrel, then looks at Holt with an almost mournful look. He sighs and lays his head back on his paws. Aizen senses acceptance from the beast. Pietr is part of his pack, now.

            “Perfect.” Aizen smiles, licking his fingers clean. “We'll get going in the morning then.”

            The group chatters along, eventually finding a bottle of wine to share and fill their bellies with. It's late in the night when they finally head back inside. They leave the door open for Alphonse and Pietr to come in and out as they please. Sometimes they head to Gar's room, other times they lie next to the couple. Aizen rests for the first time in a long time and breakfast is made by the time he awakens. Holt has their belongings packed and is outside sparring with Gar when Aizen walks in on him.

            “You ready to get going, hun?” Aizen reaches into his bag, pulling out a map scroll. “It will only take us, what, two weeks to a month to get there?” He giggles. “There's a village that we can rest at in a few days. I'm hoping that they have fabrics that I can purchase so that I can make us some clothes.”

            Garallen and Holt end their sparring, clasping hands as they make their way to the water barrel. They both drink deeply. Garallen claps Holt on the shoulder. “You're right as rain, I think. You've got a lot of natural talent, you just need to practice and work. Find someone to teach you, young man. Someone better than I.” He turns to Aizen. “They will. Ask for Patricia. She's always got some cloth hidden away. I took the liberty of scouting the area this morning at sun-up. No sign of Cruiberg for at least two days walk.” He looks up at the sky. “The weather should hold nicely, as well.”

            Holt finishes drinking and grabs his pack and gear. He kneels down, scratching Alphonse behind his ears and scratching Pietr's head as well. The squirrel has made Alphonse his best friend, riding along his neck, burrowed warmly into the wolf's fur. For his part, Alphonse accepts the arrangement and his new little brother.” Good. We can make very good time if we choose to. Or we can take it easy and enjoy the scenery.” He helps Aizen with his pack and turns back to Garallen.

            Aizen gives Garallen a heavy hug. “Thank you for all of your help. We'll see each other in the near future.” And then he kneels down to hug the wolf, kissing the squirrel on the top of its head as well. “You two get along well. Not that I'm worried, since it looks like Pietr never wants to leave your fur, huh, Alphonse?” The blonde demon stands up and nods to Holt, clenching his hand and kissing his lips. “Alright, babe. Shall we?”

            Holt embraces Garallen, who hugs him back roughly. When they break, Garallen wipes his eyes. “Take care, you two. You're odd and strange and people and demons are going to look at you strangely. Ignore them. Stay together. Literally. There's something about you two when you're together...” He shakes his head. “Ah, get on out of it, you two. I've got gardens to tend! Chickens to feed. Probably bed clothes to wash, too.”

            Holt takes Aizen's hand. “Whenever you're ready, heart of my heart.”

            As they start to walk away, Aizen wipes away his tears and nudges closer to Holt. They begin their walk back into the forest and take the route to the closest village slow, enjoying the nature and scenery around them. Few days later, they make it in time. While they're there, he makes clothes for Holt and himself. They travel from village to village, spending most days sleeping in the forests. Weeks pass of endless traveling, exploring, and seeing the world grow larger in front of them. An entire month passes before they make it to the wall of Harath. They're greeted by many guards who ask who they are, wanting to know why they seek refuge. By the end of the night, they're citizens of Harath and get an apartment room under a demon temple. Holt trains for the coming war while Aizen engorges himself in the studies of music at his new school.

            Together, they love, suffer, find serenity, even argue at times, but they never part and they stay true to their pledge of marriage. Holt and Aizen, lovers of fate, two of many other youths that will soon become legends of their time.

            Before their new chapter begins, another story opens in-between it, another story of love bound by destiny. It begins with a boy named Drew, another young demon boy, who finds himself locked into a cell inside of the Harath kingdom, waiting for his death after being sentenced for it, not too long before Holt and Aizen arive. The imprisoned demon lies in bed, passing the time by reading books, when suddenly a guard enters…

The End…

Hope you enjoyed the first series of stories! I am split between which of the two to do next – a tragic love story between a young prisoner and a guard, or an epic with anthropomorphic (and human) boys saving their young Prince, and possibly their own Kingdom, as well!

Liked the story? Let me know! Have an idea of which of those two I should post next? Let me know that as well. Thank you so much for reading! You’re all awesome!

Email me at Damijon123@gmail.com If you want to read more content later on! I appreciate all the comments that I can get. 