Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 25:

Allen lay curled in Dryden’s arms, inside the private cabin of the captain, who had graciously lent it the prince after learning of his identity. Sometimes being rich and famous did have its advantages. The rest of the part was below deck, taking much needed sleep in the stables with their mounts, with the exception of Lady Sora who had characteristically disappeared to haunt some unknown part of the ferry.
“What do you suppose she’s up to?” Allen asked, only half awake.
“She probably just wanted some time alone to think,” Dryden answered, idly playing with strands of his lover’s golden strands.
“Does she ever sleep?”
“Of course.”
“Mmm..”
The prince closed his eyes and made himself more comfortable against the roguish man. They were both fully clothed, with the exception of their boots and cloaks, too tired for much more than cuddling and sleep. Not that they would try anything more in some unknown’s bed. That would have just been too awkward, and rather impolite.
“Are you asleep yet?” Dryden queried.
“No. I’m still too worried about Guilavene to sleep,” Allen said, despite the obvious fact he was nearly asleep already.
The merchant chuckled and kissed him affectionately on the cheek.
“He will be fine. Fate has chosen him for something, so whatever happens it was meant to be. And with as much trouble as the Strategos and Dilandu are having with him, I doubt his fate is to end up with a demon. Even if it were his fate, however, I bet he would find a way out of it,’ Dryden said, smiling slightly as he stared up at the ceiling, ‘Like Lady Sora said, that boy is nobody’s victim. Not even circumstances.”
At this, Allen made no reply, not even his usual retort about fate. Curious, the dark haired man looked back to lover and smiled as he realized the blonde was already asleep. He shook his head fondly. Allen really could be adorable sometimes, despite his proud and gallant nature. Looking at him now, however, he seemed so young and innocent, without a fear or care in the world.
As Dryden closed his eyes, he kept Allen’s beautiful sleeping form in his mind, hoping the image would bring him sweet dreams. And for a few short hours, all thoughts of Guilavene and fate were completely forgotten, and they both found a sort of comfort in just being. In the serenity of that stuffy little cabin, slowly rocked by the river and lulled by the creaking of the wooden frame, they found their first pure moment of happiness together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Van awoke alone around noon. He sat up and looked around, relieved to find he was still within the Palasian house instead of Folken’s castle. He rested upon a large circular bed with red and gold sheets, half buried the surrounding pillows. The room itself appeared to be the master bedroom. It was large and made of the same material as the bath had been, only much more finely decorated. Tapestries of dragons and wild beasts decorated the walls, as well as the beautiful red skin of some unfortunate bethian lexic. A desk of dark red wood stood alone in the corner, covered with paper and various other items. In another corner, a small table made of the same wood sat comfortably, a tray of food and water resting on top of it.
The famished young man did not hesitate. He climbed off the bed, stark naked, and sat himself in a chair near the little table and began eating. There was nothing really fancy, just some sliced fruits and vegetables, bread, and some boiled eggs, but to him it could not have been any more delicious. He tried to eat slowly, really he did, but he could not remember a time when the urge to fill his stomach had been greater. He drained his glass of water almost instantly, and immediately regretted as he realized there was nothing to refill it with. Luckily, his tray was rather large, so when managed to ingest about half of it, his initial hunger was satiated and he was content to slow down and savor some of the rarer fruits he had never tried before.
As he was nibbling away at a pale green, egg shaped fruit he took inventory of his body. It all seemed to be there, and nothing additional, luckily. However, he was interested to find that he both looked and felt considerably better than when he had first arrived. The bruises and cuts he had collected throughout his entire journey seemed to have miraculously disappeared. Even the scar on his shoulder, reminiscent of his first battle with the Strategos, had vanished. His body no longer ached either, so he knew it was no illusion. Folken had healed him completely this time.
Healed him enough so that he could attempt another escape.
Van smirked slightly to himself. The game was starting to get redundant. If he did not know any better, he would have thought the demon wanted him to get away at times. With his half eaten fruit still in hand, he grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around himself, and then began checking the windows. He paused shortly to examine the colorless glass panes, touching and tapping them curiously. He tried opening them, but as he predicted they were locked. Well, the boy thought, that had not stopped be yet. Tossing the last of his snack away, he grabbed the chair he had previously been sitting in, lifted it, and ran for the window, attempting to smash through it. The chair bounced off the glass easily, causing both Van and furniture to be thrown to the floor.
Deep throated laughter drew his attention to the doorway. Standing there was Folken dressed in black, seemingly casual clothes, his ebony wings resting proudly on his back, and another set of clothes in his hands. The young man scrambled to his feet, wrapping his blanket more tightly around himself and scowling darkly at his captor.
“The windows are enchanted,’ Folken explained, closing the door behind him, ‘and the door is locked. Did you really think I would be that reckless?”
“You have before,” Van pointed out.
“True enough, but I have learned my lesson.”
The demon turned to the table with the half empty tray, and smiled.
“I am glad to see that you are not attempting to starve yourself, and have taken advantage of my hospitality,” he said, placing the set of clothes on the table while he sat down at the remaining chair and took a little something left on the tray.
“That is a ridiculous tactic, especially if I want to be strong enough to kill you,” Van retorted.
The pale demon’s smile simply widened.
“I am glad to see you feeling well enough again to resume your idle threats of immanent death.”
“Pompous bastard, who’s being idle?” the stubborn youth snapped.
“Why is it you think you hate me so much?” Folken asked suddenly, leaning back in his chair.
Van stared at him as if he were asking something obvious like, what color is the sky or how many fingers are on a person’s hand.
“You don’t even know?” he asked.
“Yes, sort of. But I want to hear you say it in your own words.”
“You killed my father! He tried to save me and you killed him! That alone is enough, but there is more, isn’t there? Because of your harassment on my village I was exiled from my home, away from everything I have ever known. And then you hunted me, like some animal, across the entire fucking country. I’m sure your memory is not so short that you have forgotten about all the crap that happened between you, me, Dilandu, and most of Royal Family! You’re a menace in my life. You’re worse than a natural disaster! I’ve heard of plagues less pervasive and devastating than you!”
Throughout Van’s little tirade, Folken remained seated and listened thoughtfully to everything he had to say. What he was thinking was not clear, but it obvious by his expression that he did not seem to agree with what the boy was saying. Especially, the part where he was comparing the demon to a plague.
“Are you quite finished?” the pale man asked.
“I could probably go on about your sexual harassment, but I’m naked and would not want to encourage you,” the dark child finished sarcastically.
“Thank you. First of all, I don’t agree with a damn thing you are saying. No! I let you speak, now its my turn so just listen. Regarding your long list of disastrous situations, I did not cause a single one of them. No listen,’ he demanded when Van began to protest again, ‘First of all, you were not exiled. You left of your own accord, and while yes, you likely felt compelled to go because of harassment from your village, ultimately it was your decision.”
“Secondly, the reason I chased you around the damn country was because you kept running. If you had cooperated, everything would have been much simpler. And don’t say I should not have hunted you down in the first place, because whether you acknowledge it or not, I have a claim to you. I have had it since you were born, and I take it very seriously.”
“As for the whole Dilandu and Allen fiasco, I had no part in that. I merely followed you through them.”
Van did not looked convinced by his argument.
“That’s the biggest load of rationalized bullshit I have ever heard,’ the boy retorted, ‘And you have yet to justify my father’s murder. So if you have any defense, I highly recommend you come up with better arguments than you have been using.”
Folken sighed, and rubbed his temple.
“Van, I know this issue is very sensitive for you, especially because you loved your father and respected him. However, for you to understand this you are going to have to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”
Van nodded hesitantly.
“Very well. My bargain with Gaou sixteen years ago was that I would save his wife and you, if he gave you up to me, and he agreed. However, I did something that he did not expect,’ Folken began, ‘I did not take you away right then and there. If I had, I think he would have been completely satisfied with our deal.”
The young hunter flinched in side at his words. Would his father have abandoned his own son so readily back then?
“Instead,’ the demon continued, ‘I left you with your mother and father to raise you for the time being, but I never said for how long. I am sure you are wondering by now, what my point is. It is this, because I left you there for so long, Guao inevitably came to love and care for you despite the fact he knew he would one day lose you. However, with that love, came guilt. Guilt over the fact that he had consigned you to what he believed must be some horrible fate, and had done so without any remorse in the beginning. That guilt haunted him for the rest of his life, Van. Sometimes, when I would check up on you at your home, I could actually taste it in the air when he came around. Like vinegar and salt. You grew up with him like that, so you probably never noticed, but I knew him long before then. Whatever Varie thought, I will never know. But back to my point…”
By now, Van was looking pale despite his dark coloring. His stood rigid unmounmoving, his expression blank, and his mouth dry. He did not like where Folken’s words were leading him.
“When I killed your father... I was doing him a favor.”
“You bastard!”
The demon was beside him in a second, taking hold of his shoulders as the infuriated boy tried to reach his face with his fist, completely ignoring the blanket that fell from his naked body. He shook him hard, trying to regain his attention.
“Listen, Van. Think about it. He lost his life protecting you. It was his way of repenting for the mistake he made sixteen years ago.”
“No, shut up! That’s not true. You were not there when he died in my arms. He made me promise to get strong enough to kill you, so that you would never damn another person again. Why would he say that if he was satisfied to die that way?!” Van screamed.
“They were the romantic entreaties of dying man, who cannot see the consequences of his words. He wanted you to save people from being damneds a s a demon hunter, he understood more than anyone else that my victims were damned long before I picked them!”
“My father was not damned, he was a good man!”
“Yes, you are right. He was the one exception. I would not have even chosen him had it not been preordained,” Folken conceded.
“Preordained? What are you talking about?” Van asked, pausing his
struggles.
“Do you remember what I said before? That my motivation for having you was stronger than love? That it was destiny? That was not just some romantic gibberish. I was completely honest. My own father, the most powerful demon Gaea has ever known, has foreseen it. Do you understand now? Our being together is fated.”
Van pulled out of his grasp quickly and moved away, frightened by his words more than his proximity. He came to the window and stopped, looking out over the beautiful city of Palas and tried to collect his thoughts. Images of that night alone with Hitomi in the dark little wagon, flashed through his mind. He recalled the Final Result cards she had drawn. The Servant and the Master symbolizing an unequal relationship. Again he wondered if the destiny card he had drawn would have shown him Folken.
“No... no, I can’t except this is what fate meant for us to be. If it were, why the run around? How easily it could have been over that night in Fanelia. What if I had not been able to trick you? Or those villagers had not made it in time? A thousand things could have gone wrong for me that night, and for every night since up until now, and who knows what will happen yet? Whatever you believe is meant to happen between us, I don’t believe it is what fate intended.”
Strong arms wrapped around Van’s chest, and he did not resist as he as was pulled back against Folken’s chest. They remained silent, lost in their own thoughts, but strangely thankful of the other’s company. It felt oddly reminiscent of that night together shortly after Zongi’s death.
“I will admit,’ Folken said finally, ‘That I am not a god, and fate’s intentions are not very clear to me at times. However, I know with every fiber of my being that this is how it is suppose to happen. For whatever reason, we were supposed to make this journey. her her because it is suppose to make some personal impact, or perhaps it is suppose to impact others. Maybe it is both. But now that I have you, I do not want to let you go again. This adventure has taken its toll on you, physically and spiritually. Why can’t you just give yourself to me and rest? I swear I can make you happy.”
“I can’t,’ Van whispered, ‘Despite the honesty I sense in your words and your intentions, I cannot simply submit myself to you and abandon any type of choice I might have regarding my life. To do so would go against my very nature”
Folken’s arms tightened slightly around him, but then released him all together.
“I understand,” he said.
Van remained where he was as he watched the pale man head towards the bedroom doors. Folken paused briefly to look back at him, a small smile touching his lips.
“But it would go against my nature to simply let you go. I brought you some clothes. Try to rest while I am away, we still have a long journey ahead of us.”
And then Van was alone again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dryden, wake up. It is time to go,” came a soft whisper in his ear.
The sleepy man just groaned and pretended to ignore it. Lips brushed softly against his own, and he felt obliged to continue the kiss despite his lethargy. His lover chuckled softly and pulled away.
“Well, now I know you are awake. We have to go now,” Allen said, moving away.
Dryden opened a bleary eye to watch him, vaguely surprised to see that not only was the blonde man already dressed, but that he had brushed and rebraided his hair, washed his face, and shaved. All before the merchant had bothered to open his eyes. Damn military discipline.
The roguish man yawned and stretched, and less than enthusiastically, dragged himself out of bed. He strapped on his boots and straightened his clothes but anything more was going to have to wait till he got home as Allen and his crew were in a hurry to get off the ferry.
Still groggy from a what he believed was not enough sleep, Dryden dragged
himself after the trained soldier. Outside, Gaddes and the others were already leading their mounts off of the ferry and onto the docks. A small crowd of spectators hovered a short distance away to get a look at the famous prince and his strange band of followers. Rumors and speculation spread amongst the people like wild fire, but the merchant could not bring himself to be restrested in them at the moment.
They all mounted their riding elk once they were off the docks, Dryden sharing with Merle again, and after a some difficultly wading through the crowd they managed to quickly speed through the little town and onto the main road to Palas.
“Merle,’ Dryden began tiredly, ‘If we get to Palas and find out the Strategos has moved on or Van has escaped on his own, I am going to be extremely upset.”
“Oh really?” Merle asked in an amused tone.
“Yes, I may even be moved to drastic measures.”
“Pah. What are you going to do? Fall asleep and drool on top of them?”
“Damn, Gaddes is already rubbing off on you. Next it will be liquor straight from the bottle and that little twitch in the eye he gets when he is annoyed,” Dryden lamented.
“At least he can ride by himself.”
“Ouch. You’re a mean woman. You’ll make Gaddes a wonderful wife some day.”
“Oh shut up and quit teasing me.”
What Merle did not realize was that Dryden’s comment had not been joke at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Folken returned to the mansion early that evening, frustrated and annoyed despite the success of his meeting with the Queen. She had developed some absurd idea that because he was continuing their arrangement he must have some sort of respect or, gods forbid, affection for the cold, conceited woman. The meeting had left him with an unusually strong distaste for humans. Really, mortals were at their best when they kept things simple, devoid of politics and power over others. Much like Van, whose strength and beauty was born of a hard and independent lifestyle and enough education to keep him aware of higher ideals without having his judgment clouded completely by them. If Eries had been raised in a similar way, he was certain that she would have been considerably more happy and enjoyable to be around.
Not as much as Van, of course, but better than the wicked ice queen of popular fairy tales she was becoming.
The demon pushed thoughts of her aside. His business was done with her for now. Now he could concentrate on more important and pleasurable matters, like his reluctant guest waiting for him in the master bedroom. He smiled to himself, feeling extremely satisfied with himself at the moment. Things were coming together perfectly.
He climbed the marble staircase at the entryway of the house to the second floor. At the top of the stairs he could see down a corridor, in which the master bedroom lay. Nariya and Eriya guarded the outside of the door, laying languidly on the stone floor and playing a game of cards. Upon noticing their master’s return, however, they quickly abandoned their post and their game to greet him. They bounded to him on all fours, and rubbed up against him like affectionate house pets. He returned their affection with gentle words and endearments.
“How is my little one doing? Did he cause you any trouble?” he asked in their native demon language after their greeting ritual was complete.
“He’s been... Fidgety,’ said Nariya, ‘I could hear him check all the windows and I think he broke a chair, but other than that he has been fairly quiet. We found no reason to open the door to check on him.”
“That is good. I will speak with him now.”
The twins nodded, and they bolted back to their post. Eriya placed her ear to the door and listened for a moment, then nodded the okay to her sister. Nariya lifted the makeshift latch of the door, and together they pulled it open easily.
Inside, Van sat at the dark wooden desk and barely looked up to acknowledge his host’s presence as he checked over the paper he was holding. Folken stepped inside and his servants sealed the room behind him with an echoing ‘vroom’ as the doors slid shut. As the demon moved closer, the mortal spared him only the briefest glance, before picking up the quill pen and scrawling something in his sharp, elegant handwriting.
“I see you managed to find something to occupy your time,’ the pale man said, noting the splintered remains of the drawer’s lock, no doubt where he had found the writing supplies.
“Yes, I am certain you have been keeping yourself... ‘entertained’ as well,” Van said coolly, still concentrating on his letter.
“Believe me when I say I would have much rather have spent the afternoon with you.”
“I don’t see why. Her Majesty’s company was surely more amicable than my own.”
“I do so enjoy it when you talk all sophisticated, bless your mother’s educational inclinations. As for Her Majesty, her company is becoming about as enjoyable as a nail in the head. I fear she is in the beginning stages of paranoia and madness. She seems to actually think I am her ally,” he said, coming to stand behind Van and rest his hands on the slender shoulders.
“And I am sure you will be more than happy to disillusion her,” the writer said, his voice portraying no interest in the woman he knew had betrayed him.
“All in due time. How did you know it was her I was meeting anyway?”
“Who else would it have been? It was fairly obvious from beginning when you managed to get into my heavily guarded room without so much as an alarm call that you had inside help. The guards might have been dense, but even they would have noticed your creepy figure skulking about.”
Folken smirked, and leaned slightly over the seemingly complacent young man.
“What are you writing?”
“A letter. Should your plans go awry, as they typically do, I want you to deliver this to my mother,” Van explained, making no effort to conceal the paper from view.
As the Strategos looked closer he could see why. Van had written in the Friedian syllabic alphabet instead of the the Austorian standard font. It would not be difficult to translate with a chart, but not even Folken could decode the writing off the top of his head.
“Well, aren’t you confidant?”
“Hardly. I am just being prepared. If something should happen, you will give it to her, won’t you?”
“I don’t see why I should,” he said.
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” the stubborn youth countered.
“Hm. I suppose not. Very well, if it will please you I will do as you ask, but I doubt it will be necessary.”
“Thank you.”
Van suddenly ceased his writing, blew gently across the still wet ink, then folded it into a handsome design so it would not need an envelope, and handed it to the Strategos who promptly placed it in a pocket.
“Now that I have fulfilled your wish, will you do the same?” Folken asked seductively.
The boy frowned and raised a skeptical eyebrow. The demon chuckled and took his hand, pulling him into a standing position.
“Won’t you let me see how you look in your new clothes?”
Van sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes.
“You sound like my mother.”
“Well, that’s a disturbing thought. Now please?”
“Fine.”
The stubborn boy walked a few paces past his captor to stand in the fading light of the setting sun. In the golden glow, Van’s off-white tunic and red sash made his look some famous painting of Gilicio, lastlast warrior saint of Austoria, whose regal beauty was the subject of many works of art and song both in the human and demon worlds. Folken could easily imagine him at home, somewhere hunting amongst the beautiful Furenze trees, his attire complete with the traditional breastplate and weapons, and the wind playing with his dark hair.
“I look silly.”
Van’s statement pulled the demon from his daydream, startled by the words as he had never known the boy to lie.
“You look very lovely.”
“Pthp, I am not a girl. These are too nice for me. I feel like an impostor in them. Like I’m pretending to me rich or something. And where are the pants? And don’t say demon’s don’t wear pants, because you’re wearing them now so I know you’d be lying.”
The pale man rolled his eyes and shook his head. His little one could be rather dense at times.
“Yes, demons do wear pants, but not with tunics unless it is cold outside. As for rich, I haven’t a clue what you are talking about. That’s standard quality. Even the most common of demons can afford it. Though I suppose you are used to a standard considerably below a demon\'s.”
Van sent him a nasty glare for that remark.
“No offense,” the demon apologized.
“I’m sure.”
“If its any consolation, you do manage to make even something so common look exquisite the way you wear it.”
A blush crossed Van\'s features.
“It’s not a consolation.”
Folken smiled. The mortal was just being stubborn now.
“You could always take them off if you don’t like them,” the demon suggested.
“You wish,” the young man sniffed.
Indeed I do, the albino thought to himself. Suddenly, Van sighed heavily and the easy, if not comfortable, banter they shared died. The youth moved closer to the window and pressed his forehead to the cool glass. Below him was a garden through which no one was likely to pass and see him, but further beyond that he could see the city stretched out before him, tinted red and purple by the setting sun. Despite the trouble he had found and the bitter betrayal and persecution, he still felt something close to fondness for the elegant city. He had won a tournament, tasted native dishes, met new friends, and just wander through the beautiful parks and neighborhoods here. And yet, there was one bitter disappointment.
“I never got to see the ocean,” Van said.
Folken tilted his head curiously at the comment, listening for what his little one was not saying.
“I got to smell and hear it and even dream it a little, but I never got to touch it or taste it. I wanted to see it so badly. It seems so unfair that I should get so close, yet be so far away.”
“Ah. But have you forgotten? That our home rest beside its very own ocean? That Viona rest in the center of the most beautiful forest in the world? And tthe the land itself nestled behind the very mountains you spent your youth wandering? Oh, Van, what things you will see and what people you will meet. I have lived there for centuries and I keep falling deeper in love with it the longer I stay. Whatever you hope to find in these human lands you can find in the demon lands a hundred times over.”
“It’s not the same,’ Van said sadly, but having to no way to explain what he meant he quickly changed the subject, ‘Viona?”
“Viona is the name of the demon city you saw that night. The one I rule over,” Folken stated, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Viona?’ Van said, chuckling softly, ‘Viona is the name of a mythical city that floats in the clouds. A man named Yaiser Field wrote about it in a fairy tale. It was my mother’s favorite.”
A smile crossed the demons lips, looking both pleased and mischievous. He came to stand beside the boy and share his view of the outside world.
“Field was always a bit of a devil who liked to taunt the ignorant. That mythical city is very real and happens to be my own. However, the fairy tale he wrote is based more on prophesy than current fact. It has been foreseen that Viona will float amongst the clouds someday,” Folken informed him.
“Maybe the sky is just going to fall,” Van said skeptically.
“That might just be worth seeing too.”
“Do you really think you will live that long?”
“I have the stamina to live for eternity,” the demon said confidently.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Something seemed sinister about the boy’s voice, sending alarm bells ringing in the Strategos’mind. He caught Van’s movement almost too late. From the sash around his waist, the young hunter pulled a letter opener shaped like a miniature sword, and struck hard at him. Folken twisted as fast as he could, catching little blade in the arm instead of the intended target of his... shoulder? The boy jumped back, but not as far as the demon would have expected and did not attempt another strike, despite his having regained custody of his weapon. The pale man looked briefly at the wound, which despite its depth was not serious. At least not for a demon. He looked back at his little one, seemingly unmoved by the supposed murder attempt.
“What are you playing at?” Folken demanded.
Van flinched, but did not look away.
“I missed,” he said.
“I have seen you hunt and I have seen you fight, and I know if you had been aiming for my heart you would have been a lot closer.”
“I can’t get through your chain mail with this thing,” the boy said calmly, disturbed that they were both so neutral about what had just happened.
“Ah, I understand. But that does not mean I am going to kill you now, despite what you think you want. Unlike Gaou, you have no great sin to justify your death.”
Van narrowed his eyes and tensed, giving the Strategos more time than he intended to prepare for his second attack, this one aimed for the man’s neck.
Folken grabbed hold of both wrists easily, forcing his captive to drop the little weapon. The enraged young man simply clawed his fingers and continued to attack and struggle in his grip like some wild beast.
With his superior strength he threw Van easily across the room and onto the bed, which the disoriented mortal immediately tried to climb out of. He was quickly restrained by Folken, who straddled his hips and pinned his hands down beside his head. The boy kicked and screamed, but knew immediately he would not be able to escape. Finally, as Van gradually ceased to struggle and simply glare, the Strategos spoke.
“Van, I know you are afraid and uncertain about what I am offering you, and that being devoid of options makes you angry with me. However, this experience can either be a magnificent adventure, or it can be cruel imprisonment of fear and hatred. It depends solely on whether you are brave enough to except your fate,” Folken whispered into his ear.
Then he pressed his lips gently to Van’s, making no attempt to deepen or intensify it. Beneath him his little one’s body began radiating heat, his entire form tense, but unmoving. Several long moments passed and Van had not moved to protest or encourage, until finally something seemed to snapped. The young hunter began kissing him back, even surprising Folken by slipping his tongue inside the larger man’s mouth before he could try it himself. The demon purred deep in his throat, loving the intense pleasure he felt at his little one’s boldness.
Folken pulled away briefly, Van still pinned to the bed and unable to follow, and looked his little one in the eyes. They were wide and intent, filled with conflicting emotions of fear, curiosity, want, stubbornness, and hope.
“Van,” he purred.
The boy smiled mischievously.
“Mangy bird,” he purred back.
Folken smirked.
“Imp.”
The demon released his wrists, and soon found himself pulled down to the sweet lips of his lover, still murmuring ‘endearments’ to one another.