He had tried to locate a mage, anyone with the slightest inclination as to how Caoilfhionn could be helped in his current state. There were none available. No doubt, they had been ushered down into the lower levels of the castle, the ones beneath the ground. They weren’t allowed to call it a prison or a dungeon, it was simply where the occult creatures lived that served the king. He didn’t like going down there, there was something in the air that made it feel like he was choking on nothing, the walls were too close, the ceiling too low.

He wasn’t brave enough to venture down into the mildew riddled depths of the castle. Faelin spent what little time he had speed walking around the castle, peering into rooms for anyone that looked like they might be of help. Unfortunately for him, the sun was dipping below the horizon, a fact that he had completely forgotten about being important today. It started as a tingling beneath his skin, as though he had too much energy to contain within his physical form. It barged up against his skin from within, begging to come out.

Then came the crepitus feeling within his joints, it was an agony he was accustomed to. The grinding of fragmented bone in every single joint within his body. This was when he realised his mistake of not keeping an eye on the sun. He paused in the hall, feeling the crunch in his knees and ankles as he willed them to stop. He waited only a moment before he began rushing to the door closest to him, the one that led directly towards the garden and the woodland beyond. Incredibly lucky.

Faelin’s eyes winced as he slammed through the door and set out sprinting towards the forest. He could explain the running, the panic he was so obviously in. Normally he would announce a hunting trip, a solo one, that he would return from in the morning or in the next few days. Not so easy this time, he would have to think of some strange danger he thought was within the forest. It was of little concern at the minute as the second he pushed his foot down into the spent pine needles, he could feel his bones changing.

The lick of darkness travelled across the tree tops and engulfed the canopy, then the undergrowth. The last beams of light fading beyond the horizon, replaced by the cool moonlight. Every full moon it was the same, torturous pain that broke his bones and pulled muscle fibres free from their tendons in order to rearrange. He could do this on command but he never did, he hated it, he hated being a creature. He was forced on these clear nights when the moon was at its fullest to embrace the fur and teeth.

For hours Faelin padded around the forest, his head held low to the ground in pity. His tail hanging loosely behind him. If he stood tall and proud, Faelin would tower high into the sky, but he didn’t feel confident, he didn’t feel proud of being this way. It was a curse on his blood, bestowed upon him by fate itself. Animals appeared and fled when they spotted him in the gloom, rabbits scurrying into burrows and birds alarm calling into the quiet night.

A particularly loud bird call made Faelin stop in his tracks beside a softly babbling creek, a shadow of a bird darted over his head. The moon behind it illuminated the very edges of black feathers before the animal vanished into the night. Faelin remained staring up at the night sky, ears limp, aimless in his goal of gawking up at the light. If it wasn’t for the cruel thing it represented, it would be a rather pretty sight.

His pondering was interrupted by something in his chest. It felt like an arrow had gone clean through his ribcage and snagged his lungs on the way. His front legs buckled in surprise, ears pinned back against his cranium as he whipped his head around to try and see where he had been hit. There was nothing there. He spun in circles trying to see or smell blood but there was none. He righted himself and then the feeling came again. A sharp blast of pain through his chest that pulled a whine from the back of his throat.

It was only after the third electrifying jolt through his chest that something felt like it was pulling him. This time it was a familiar sensation, it felt like before. The pulling when he was waiting outside of Alucard’s chambers, when he was forced to wait for them to finish their conversations in the next tower. His paws were moving before he could properly process any of the information, not that he had much say in the matter as his huge paws began sending him sprinting across the leaf litter.

It was almost sunrise. He knew that, he could tell by the way the creature’s grip on his mind had weakened. It wasn’t gone, not at all, it was very firmly in control and he almost wanted it to stay there. Something within him was begging him to melt into the impulsive feeling he was being called towards. Something was wrong. It was bad. He needed to be there.

Faelin breached the tree line before the garden, rocketing out through the shadows as the light kissed the peaks in the distance. It had taken him too long to get here, something within him was telling him that, scolding him for taking so long. The longer he ran the more he felt his logical self slipping into more base instincts. The snapping of his body back into that of a man was barely registered as he trampled through the flower beds, half-man half-beast. His skin drenched with sweat as he flung his shoulder into the door, snapping the lock within and racing down the hallway. It was early enough for a few maids to be walking around and preparing the chambers, but only a handful. They stopped and stared as the sweaty, frantic image of Faelin charged past them. He paid them no mind, eyes wide and teeth clenched tight.

The moment he took the turn, he knew where he was being summoned to. The stairs were the last thing he needed to conquer, he scrambled up them, nails gripping the rock walls in a vain attempt to propel himself faster. Then he was in the hall, through the door, the wooden thing clattering against the stone wall with the effort it was opened with. The hinges groaned as their strength was tested. The smell, oh the smell. Faelin keened at it, a dull sound that came from the back of his throat.

It led him straight to the balcony, the fallen figure on the floor, draped in a silken fabric on the cold tiles. His own clothes were soiled, dirtied with mud and debris from his sprint back. The sun rose above the trees now, letting the beginnings of the morning light through to the estate. Faelin crashed down beside Caoilfhionn, he didn’t know why but his nerves were on fire, the overwhelming panic felt as though he were dying.

His hands moved to lift Caoilfhionn, bracing the limp figure against his chest and bent legs, his free hand came to tilt the mage’s head towards him. Using a finger and thumb to lightly grasp his jaw and tip it up towards Faelin, he searched his face for something that meant he was living. He could hear his heartbeat, he could smell the intoxicating concoction of his pheromones. He was alive, but he was wrong. In the blurry haze of his mind, the memory of the previous evening rang through. His hand dipped from his jaw and ghosted over the collar, he wanted to tear it from his throat, but he couldn’t. He had enough of his mind left to know that if he did, it would be trouble, it would mean explaining a broken collar and who knows what it might do to Caoilfhionn.

A short grumbling growl came from his chest as he grew frustrated, his lip curling to show his teeth. After last night, the canines had grown back into true form. A dual set on both the upper and lower arcade, evidence of his tainted blood. Faelin leaned back, his back pressed against the little fence that enclosed the balcony, readjusting himself and Caoilfhionn. Now he pushed Caoilfhionn’s face into the crook of his own neck, feeling the graze of breathing over the spot where his pulse thrummed strong. Beside the tendons that poked out from the effort of straining his neck, giving space to the man he was cradling. He pushed and nudged Caoilfhionn, knocking the tip of his nose into the flesh of his neck, trying to draw him back to some form of consciousness to drink. He couldn’t do anything else, if he didn’t wake up he didn’t know what he should do.

Rip the collar off.

He wanted to. He really wanted to do it. The longer it went on, the uncertainty around Caoilfhionn made the urge grow stronger and stronger and it felt as though he was being taken over again. Just as he had the night before.

As the body in his arms began to twitch and return to the land of the living, Faelin glanced down and met the wet eyes staring back up at him. A feather light touch on his jaw accompanied the sight, leaving the guard mesmerised. He stared down at Caoilfhionn, the black within his eyes consuming the iris as the pupil dilated dramatically. The touch moved from his jaw to his lower lip, pulling it down gently before letting it go, momentarily revealing the weapons behind. Faelin’s mind hazed over with a cloud of bewilderment, any of his distracting thoughts from before were eradicated from his thoughts, replaced with the overwhelming urge to clutch Caoilfhionn tighter.

The words didn’t register in his mind, silently obeying the touch of the hand on his jaw as it lifted his head. The back of his skull kissed the iron bars behind him, his eyes were forced away from Caoilfhionn and up at the sky. The darkness was slowly being replaced by a purple smog, dawn was breaching the night. The pressure lasted a moment before the sharp tips of teeth sliced into his flesh, his back tensed and arched into Caoilfhionn. A low pining sound pulled from his chest at the sensation, the blood loss adding to the dizzying feeling of this man’s ministrations. His hands had slipped down to hold the mage firmly, one on either side of his torso, just above his hip bones. The soft fabric felt good beneath his fingers but he wished it was flesh instead, the thought made his fingers curl tighter into the fabric and meat beneath.

The loss of blood made his nerves tingle, they weren’t receiving enough oxygen to function, eventually his grip on Caoilfhionn weakened as the muscles slowly gave out. He wouldn’t let go completely, he did his best to keep holding the mage where he sat, even if he could only manage to keep his hands on his thighs. Like lead weights, they sat there, listening to the quiet sound of Caoilfhionn breathing, accompanied by his own occasional broken whine.

The feeling did not last for long enough as soon Caoilfhionn was retreating from his perfect position beneath Faelin’s neck. Then came the loss of heat, it was yanked from his gasp so abruptly that Faelin whined at its loss. His head trying to straighten itself to see what had happened, where it had gone, why it had gone away. The light colour of his eyes clouded by his pupils that remained huge, finally landing on Caoilfhionn in the distance. He had gone back inside, he was clutching at himself and fixing the gown he was in. He looked alone.

Faelin picked himself up from the floor silently as Caoilfhionn muttered his apologies and fretted about his actions. Slowly he approached the other man, his neck felt cold in the breeze of his movement, no doubt a light streak of blood was left on his exposed skin. It didn’t matter, what mattered was that his mage looked frightened and alone. Stepping into the darkness of the prince’s chambers, Faelin stopped just short of Caoilfhionn, listening a moment longer before couldn’t bear it.

In a swift movement, the guard had snatched Caoilfhionn from where he stood, strong arms encircling around him and pulling him into his chest. His larger form engulfed the mage as Faelin dropped his skull down towards the other man’s and buried his nose into the thick red hair on the top of his head. Inhaling deeply, he hummed a broken noise, enjoying the assault on his senses as the scent ran through his brain and down his limbs. It only made Faelin’s hold tighten, pushing his face deeper into Caoilfhionn’s hair, hunched over the other man as though he were shielding him from an unknown danger. All the while he was practically huffing and panting above him, savouring the sweet scent he had spent more than two weeks avoiding like the plague.

Why had he ever tried to resist this? He felt like a fool, it was perfect, this was perfect. The pulling in the centre of his gravity wasn’t there anymore, it was gone, it had been pulling him towards Caoilfhionn. He didn’t know what had happened, not the details, but he had known that his mage needed him. Even when he was so far away, he had needed his guard and Faelin had known. He remained where he was, unwilling to let go.

The release of pressure from within his bones felt like a tidal wave of warmth, something within his body was releasing a coiled tension that had been wound so tightly. Faelin had not known life without this tortuous feeling within himself until that moment, a release that felt so perfect that all the man could do was press himself closer to the source of the relief. Pushing his head down into Caoilfhionn’s, his broad shoulders curling inwards in an attempt to hide him from the world outside.

Only when Caoilfhionn twisted his head to look up at him did Faelin lifted his own head and give the other man any semblance of personal space. He peered down his nose at the mismatched eyes looking up at him, another wave of contentment. Slowly, the beginning of a smile began to curve the edges of his lips, but the expression was interrupted as Caoilfhionn peeled himself away. A complaining whine pulled from Faelin’s throat and the smile had gone as though it had never been there in the first place.

He waited beside the chaise as he was instructed, waiting obediently for Caoilfhionn to return. The chill of the room would have been biting at his skin if it wasn’t for the overwhelming warmth that flooded his veins. It took too long for Caoilfhionn to return and Faelin was growing impatient, glancing over his shoulder towards the door. He didn’t think twice about the fact the Prince’s door would need repairing, that dirt was marring the floor, none of it mattered.

When the mage did return, Faelin was standing exactly where he had left him. The guard looked at him expectantly, eyes darting over his form and then to the items he was carrying. Unfortunately for Faelin, he was instructed to sit down and sit still, a very difficult task when Caoilfhionn was touching him. His muscles taut with effort from holding himself still as he allowed the mage to wash the dirt from his face that he didn’t even know was there.

Faelin’s gaze remained locked onto Caoilfhionn, big and shining in the early morning light of dawn, ever so slowly a smile crawled back onto his face. He observed with a dumb admiration until Caoilfhionn moved away from him. A threat.

Faelin’s eyebrows furrowed, the smile wiped from his face as he looked over his shoulder towards the archway that led to the bed chambers. He knew that Caoilfhionn intended to go into there, but he didn’t sound like he wanted him in there. He wanted to sleep. But he wanted to sleep near him. With a pitiful noise he looked back to Caoilfhionn and shook his head. He wanted the mage to rest, after finding him in such a state he didn’t want to make it worse.

Something akin to rational thought was returning to his foggy mind as he watched Caoilfhionn vanish into the bed chambers. He stared after him long after he was out of sight. The pull was still there in his chest but Faelin sat there for as long as he could manage. Eventually, the soft embrace of sleep captured him in spite of his yearning, the exhaustion won the battle and he slumped into the chaise. He did not change his clothes, he sprawled over the seat unceremoniously until the trilling of a bird woke him.

It had been hours, the sun was high in the sky but not quite noon. Faelin woke with a thunderous pounding in his skull, when he wrenched himself upright to try and nurse it there was a painful ache in his neck. Gods, what had he gotten himself into last night? Had he ran into those boars again? Or perhaps foxes. They were both prone to rushing him on sight.

Blinking his bleary eyes open, his gaze settled on the fresh set of clothes before him on the table, a table that he should be nowhere near. With a startled half-cough, half-choke, Faelin sprung up from the chaise and looked around the room in a panic. What was he doing in here? He should be in the barracks or his own chambers. With all the brain power of one cell, Faelin decided the best thing to do would be to get himself out of these filthy garments and pretend he had not just woken up within the prince’s chambers.

He did not have his gear, no armour, no shawl and no sword. Incredible. Faelin stood in the room for a moment, glancing around to try and piece together the previous night’s events. He smelt no blood other than his own, which wasn’t unusual. Caoilfhionn interrupted his thoughts by making a noise in the other room that sent Faelin scrambling for the door. A door which he noticed was worse for wear and needed repair, undoubtedly his own handy work.

He pushed himself out the door and tried to flee down the spiral stairs, to anywhere but directly here. Then he realised he was supposed to be here now. He was the mage’s guard during the day. His night cover had already left or had never shown at all because he was not there to summon him. With a grimace, Faelin turned and took up a post outside the room, pretending that the door wasn’t falling off its hinges and that he didn’t have a drop of armour nor weapons upon him. He stood straight backed as though he were completely normal, eyes trained forwards at the brick wall.

The soft creak of floorboards behind him revealed the awakening of Caoilfhionn, he fought the urge to crane his neck and peer into the royal chambers for a glimpse of what lay within. Faelin shook out the thoughts, his hair falling even more unkempt than before, one curl in particular stuck out from his crown before gently collapsing back down. What was wrong with him? His hand that usually settled upon his sword twitched, it felt uncomfortable to not have it with him, he was careless last night. He had come back into the castle whilst still rabid and raving, he could smell it in the air the small corridor held. The mingling of pine, snow and musk. His lip almost curled at the realisation, that was when the sudden flurry of movement came barreling out of the door and down the curling staircase.

Faelin stood astonished as the blur of movement as the sound of footfalls descended even further. His position at the door was broken, he had stepped forwards and ventured a foot or two towards the staircase. He didn’t move for a moment as he processed who had just darted past him, the swirling of sweetness that trailed after him. Distracted by the delicacy of the scent, Faelin had to yank himself free from its embrace to push forwards. He needed to follow him, what if the mage had suddenly decided he was going to rampage his way out of the castle? Oh gods and he didn’t have his sword on him. The collar was still in place, he knew that, but Faelin couldn’t shake off the nervousness that prickled along his arms.

His foot had just landed on the first step down when he heard the resounding crack of skin against skin, Faelin’s eyes blew wide as he scurried to shove himself down the staircase quicker. His lips pulled right into a grimace as he began to panic about the repercussions of his lack of discipline. The Prince would not be happy about this, which meant the King would not be happy and consequently Faelin would be in for a world of hurt.

“Fuck.” He seethed out between his teeth as he clatted down the steps only to be met with the returning figure of Caoilfhionn. He staggered on the step he was perched on, back pressed flush against the curving stone wall as the man walked back up the stairs. He stared after the mage for a moment before blinking widely and looking down into the space below, the scene was unexpected. A collection of handmaids hurried around each other, some sniffling, others were comforting her. One had a slash of red skin across her cheek, it seemed he had located the source of the noise.

Faelin scrunched his nose as they looked at him, almost asking him to do something about the creature he was in guard of, but instead of speaking he retreated up the stairs. He did not want to deal with the disharmony brewing there. He would take the barbed tongue of the mage instead.

As he rounded the corner to the royal chambers, the door was left wide open and Caoilfhionn lay sprawled out on the chaise. Before Faelin even had time to question what was going on, Caoilfhionn was wailing his sorrows to him, leaving Faelin to stand there like a statue as he continued.

There wasn't an opportunity to enter into the conversation, if you could call it that, as the mage wasn’t letting up on his words. Like an endless stream of thoughts that were pouring from his mind onto his tongue and escaping into the air around him. The only thought that occurred to Faelin was bewilderment. Why did this man care so much about what these people thought of him? Did he truly want to live up to this trophy wife visage he had been assigned? That didn’t seem true to form, not the mage he encountered in the forest. That mage was vile and spat venom, this one was pouting and whining about the pettiness of handmaids.

“Why do you care?” Faelin interjected once but it was drowned out by the constant blabbering of the other man. With a twitch of irritation in his eyebrow, Faelin walked up to the chaise and stood over Caoilfhionn who continued to talk. He wasn’t even looking at him, he was looking anywhere but at him. A low grumble of annoyance resonated from the back of his throat as Faelin darted out a calloused hand to grip the stiff collar around his neck. He held it before jerking the encircling metal sharply. Not enough to cause any form of injury, but enough to wrench the other man’s attention back to him.

“Caoilfhionn.” He barked out, the edging of a growl in his words, his hand remained firmly in place. Lip curled and revealing the sharp points of all four canines. “Stop your whining! You have been here less than a month and you expect the immediate compliance of the help? You are considered as an extension of the royal family once you are wed, not before.” Faelin threw the collar out of his hand and took a step back. He hadn’t realised it before but he had leaned over Caoilfhionn and loomed above him, close enough to cast a shadow over his form. Only the enticing scent of the other man made him wish to lean closer, instead he walked away and closed the door to the chambers with a soft click.

“Get a hold of yourself, you are acting like a petulant child, not like this so-called incredible mage everyone proclaims you are.” Faelin let his words fall with the insult obvious in its tone.