A Wizard and Devil Fall in Love

[starry_climes]

A/N: Nothing is mine. Everything is Hima’s. I mean no disrespect to the Catholic Church, or witches, or by anything that could offend in this piece. I think of it like a fairytale, and so it is more a tale of love between two very different people in a world filled with superstition and hate. Needless to say, the devil!Alfred is not innocent in this story, he has done many things to corrupt others in this world, and steal souls. Peter is just looking for home, and acceptance in a world that seems to be tossing him about like a little ship in a storm. Wizard!Arthur is who he is, and finds himself pushed to be involved in a world so different than his own.
Please also forgive all historical and musical inaccuracy, this isn’t placed in a real time period. Now, on to the tale.

A Wizard and Devil Fall in Love

It hadn’t worked.
Arthur, spent and exhausted, crawled past his meticulously drawn out magic circle, its chalk now scattered in fury. Inching his way to his straw-tick bed, each crawl was gruesomely horrible. His Familiar meowed, following him worriedly. Blessed by the Queen of Faerie, his fur lined blanket sent him swiftly to sleep despite the pungent odor emanating from the cottage. Arthur lay as if dead, his Familiar laying contentedly on the top of his head. A lazy blue smoke rose out of the middle of the destroyed magic circle and drifted from the center of the construct out the wind hole towards the village.

~o0o~

There was new boy in the village. Or, Arthur changed carefully in his head, a young man. The young man was lazing by the side of the village fountain. Macabre gargoyles leered from the fountain’s spout over the newcomer’s head in sharp contrast to his good looks. He was a pretty one with shiny dark ebony hair, muscles rippling under his shirt, lovely white teeth in his mouth (a fortune could be made there), and eyes so blue that Arthur could see them across the square.

Those blue eyes were amused, watching the other beautiful man in the village, a troubadour, his long blond locks flowing about his outlandish, garish doublet, his soulful violet blue eyes closed as he sang of love and loss. There was a look of lust also in the fountain boy’s eyes and so Arthur, having learnt the hard way, thought he might dispel some of the misunderstanding.

“He only cares for woman,” he said, after his feet somehow lead him to the raven-haired boy. One strand of the boy’s fringe was sticking up in the air, the wind playing with it. Such hair would tempt many a maiden to tame it down, and give them ample opportunity to run their hands through the soft hair. Arthur had never been so tempted before to touch someone, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to flatten that wayward piece.

Blue eyes peered at him, a soft pout on the lovely lips, and the smirk that followed was disconcerting, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Arthur was sure, and as if to prove his point, two of the governor’s daughters sashayed past the troubadour, and visible was the approval in the musician’s eyes. The troubadour spoke to them sweetly and offered a rose making the ladies giggle. “He cares nothing of men.”

“Do you?” The brazen question made Arthur stop and stutter.

“H-h-ow? Nevermind, what ridiculousness!”

The boy shrugged nonchalantly, a faint blush on his cheeks, “Perhaps with a little persuasion?”

Such words! Out of an innocent! Was the boy in trouble? With looks like that, maybe he had come to selling his body? Why hadn’t he worked instead, he had enough muscle? Arthur hadn’t realized that he was blatantly staring as he worked through his inner monologue.

The boy slyly took in the looks, “You’re Arthur, right?”

Arthur was torn out of his musings. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Everyone in the village speaks of you, the crotchety old witch who lives on the edge of town.”

Crotchety? Old? “I have you know, git, I’m 24 years old,” his cold reply was. “And it isn’t witch. That’s for females. It’s wizard. Wiz-ard.”

“Oh, so you are a witch.” The boy’s large blue eyes were innocent, but the words made Arthur freeze with fear, what if the boy was a witch-hunter? He had just given everything away.

“I-I-I must go. God be with thee.” Arthur handed the boy a coin. “I must part.”

He did not look back at the boy as he hurried on his way. No good would come of it. A slightly mocking call came, “Where are you going, Artie?”

He bristled and turned, only to be shocked by the lad following right behind him. “It’s Arthur.”

“Sorry, Arthur.” The words were elongated and filled with laughter.

“Do you have no place to go?” Arthur was genuinely curious. The fruit vendor looked suspiciously at the two of them.

“Hmm…” The boy’s eyes flashed with light, and it was in that instant that everything was made clear to Arthur. He froze like ice and watched as the young man picked through the apples. “I do. But I cannot go back. Not until I finished what I’ve started.” A huge smile filled with warmth came his way, and Arthur could feel the heated tendrils of something pull on his fearful heart. “I’m Alfred, by the way.”

Alfred, demon, passed the coin Arthur had given him to the fruit vendor. Tossing the apple lazily in the air Alfred perused Arthur with his sky blue eyes.

“Why are you here?” Arthur said sternly. As they passed out of the earshot of others, he added, “demon?”

“Demon?” laughed the young man. “Artie, Artie, Artie…” He tutted softly, grinning mischievously at the wizard.

“Arthur,” was the grated reply. “Git. Devil plonker.”

“Ooh… And I swear your soul never looked so tempting.” Alfred devoured the apple with fervour.

“Is that why you are here? To take my soul?”

“Hmm…” Confusion reigned in the demon’s eyes. “I am here.”

Wonderful, thought Arthur the wizard, wearily. It was not a good week. First a spell gone awry, his familiar concerned, a new apprentice, and now a wonderfully handsome, alluring tempter in the form of a demon to make it complete. Across the square Francis sang of woe, and to that tune Arthur was pretty sure his life at the moment sounded like the beginning of a long and sad epic tale.
~o0o~

The boy followed him home. Cheerful, whistling, the lad had told Arthur he was just taking the same path, and why was he so worried?

Glaring at the demon, Arthur ignored the laughter and teasing at his red cheeks.

Soon though, the two fell into conversation, and it was worrisome, how easy it was to give and take insults that meant no harm, and to compare interests. The walk was easily a couple miles and by by the time afternoon came about they arrived at the edge of Arthur’s cottage.

“Oh, so this is the witch hut!”

“Wizard.” Arthur spoke through his teeth. “Wizard, and it’s my home!”

“Oh, humans have such pretty things.” The demon saw the flowers poking through the back wicker fences.

Arthur blushed. His gardens had practical means, he used the herbs and spices for potions, and they fed him when there were no work requests from the villagers. It was nice to hear someone praise him, even for his flowers. He loved the colours and the hard work and seeing vibrant displays in every season.

His Familiar roamed to meet the two, meowing at his Master. “Cute kitty!” Alfred exclaimed, and like a child crouched down to pet the big cat, who purred and ate up the attention like nothing else. “Cute kitty, pretty flowers, handsome wizard, what am I to do?” Alfred seemed to be talking to himself as the cat rolled back and played with a string that had suddenly appeared in Alfred’s hand. Arthur flushed at the praise. The demon’s eyes glowing beautifully as he peeked side-ways at Arthur.

“Come on, idiot.” He could feel the redness in his cheeks again.

He entered the low door to his humble abode, and went through to the kitchen that lay on the right side. He had to prepare some food for Peter, and had bought bread especially today, so that his young nephew wouldn’t have too much of a shock at Arthur’s sad cooking skills. Alfred hung outside the main door and peered in.

“Do you give me permission to come in, Arthur?”

Arthur froze in the midst of putting the bread in a basket. His heart raced. He knew that whatever he said could change everything. Alfred, no, the demon, he reminded himself, was giving puppy dog eyes and a sorrowful pout. “I’ll be good,” said Alfred, trying to play innocent.

“Fine, you git! Come in.” Alfred just looked at him. Arthur sighed in resignation, “Yes, I give you permission to enter.”

Like a giddy child, Alfred started poking around, noting the semi-contained rooms. Arthur’s little study/studio with tables of strange stuffs and old books filled with strange symbols, Arthur’s bedroom tidy and neat next to that, a second sleeping place which looked just rearranged with a small straw tick, filled with some toys for a child, and the side alcove that led to the back door, and back to the kitchen.

“Now that you’ve seen this, you should get on your merry way,” Arthur sternly said. “Weren’t you just accompanying me on the same road by coincidence?” The demon pouted, and then grinned at Arthur with a seductive leer. At that look, Arthur scrambled for thoughts.

“I, I’m going outside. Yes, outside. And that’s it.”

Alfred’s blue eyes grew bright, and he thoughtfully watched the wizard go out the door, head resting on his fist propped up by his elbow. “Hmm…”
~o0o~

A trio came over the hill. Three silhouettes against the sunset trudging up the dirt path. The littlest silhouette bounded ahead, a white fluff of a dog running with him. “Peter,” the shorter man called, “Be careful.”

“We’re here,” said the taller man to Arthur as soon as they came close to his little house. “Brought ‘im.”

At that, Peter looked between the two blond men with dismay. He clung to the hand of the tallest one.

“Come in,” Arthur offered. “I can feed you and shelter you for the next trek of your journey.” He had spent the afternoon in the gardens picking vegetables and weeding, waiting for them and avoiding any devils, especially one with blue eyes and sly tongues.

“Ah, thanks, Arthur, but we must be on our way. Peter would like some though.”

“Tino,” Peter said, his messy and unkempt tow-head hair mirroring Arthur’s own, “why am I staying here?” He bent down to catch the white dog and clutch him close. “It’s alright, Hanatamango,” he said gently to the dog even as his blue eyes looking up fearfully at Arthur.

“Peter, you know that Bernard and I must continue on.” Tino looked at Arthur apologetically, “Ever since his parents…He has been a good boy and really took to living in our village. I think this will be hard on him.” Arthur nodded, he could see how the two men, with that air of a couple about them, could easily be substituted for Peter’s dead parents.

“No!” Peter shouted at Tino, clutching Bernard’s hand again.

“Don’t yell at Tino.” Bernard chastised gruffly.

Peter looked down, “Sorry.” Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

“Peter.” Tino knelt down to look Peter in the eye. Gently he said, “You know this is good for you. Boys your age need an apprenticeship to learn. It will make you a place in this world. Didn’t Eirik say the same thing? He was so impressed you were going to learn your Latin and magic. Didn’t Toralf say he wanted you to do some magic for him when you come back?”

Peter rubbed his eyes, his cheeks suspiciously wet. “Don’t leave me. Can Hanatamango stay?”

“No, Peter,” Tino said calmly, firmly, “Hanatamango is coming with us. We need him to be our guard dog and keep us safe. Isn’t he a good guard dog?”
Peter nodded, a sob coming from his throat. Bernard gently patted him on the back, “I’m proud of you. We’ll be back.”

Arthur watched the scene, much like a mother and father sending their little one off to school or work for the first time. “Peter, I can promise you I will teach you to the best of my ability. You could be a great wizard.”

The three said their goodbyes. Tino hugged the boy, and then Bernard gave him a great bear hug. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Arthur held Peter’s hand as the boy wept silently, watching the two men wave while they continued onward. The white dog barked at Peter, running back as if to say goodbye and then chasing after the men.
~o0o~

“Who are you?” Peter bluntly asked the dark-haired man sitting at the kitchen table.

“I’m Alfred.” A wide grin accompanied the buoyant greeting.

“What are you doing here? Are you apprenticing too?” Peter sulked as he hopped onto one of the chairs.

“No.” Alfred’s eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“Uncle Arthur’s gonna teach me magic.” A little chin was propped up by little hands, a pout on the lips.

Alfred grinned. “I’m just here to clean the house and do chores.”

“Tino does that at home.” Peter looked bored and was now tracing the lines of the oak pattern in the wooden table. “Are you like Tino?”

Arthur came in. “Why are you still here?” he asked Alfred, annoyed.

“Artie!” Alfred came over and hugged him. Peter snickered. Arthur turned a deep red.

“Get off me, you git!”

“Where does Alfred sleep?” Peter asked curiously, for outside Arthur had told him the guest bedroom was his own. Arthur suddenly realized he had created a houseguest by inviting the demon into the cottage.

Arthur’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance. “Alfred can sleep in the corner on the floor.” The phrase was clipped, wry, and without humor.

“Ouch!” Alfred said to Peter, who giggled. “What if I get cold at night?” He wriggled his eyebrows at Arthur, who sputtered.

Peter watched interested, “Yeah,” He piped up, “What if Alfred gets cold? Sometimes Timo and Bernard shared a bedroll ‘cuz it was cold. I was fine though,” he declared boldly, puffing out his small chest. “Although I did share with Hanatamango sometimes though,” he conceded, and then went off to explore the place.

Arthur glared at Alfred as to say, look what you started.

Alfred just shrugged and gave a wide smile. Then he winked. Arthur’s mouth opened and then he shut it with a snap, pink rising in his cheeks.
~o0o~

Arthur awoke to the smell of good food. It crept under his blanket and made him salivate. Somehow when he made food it never smelled this delicious. He heard the high voice of Peter talking with someone else. Sitting up, bed head, he could just see Peter’s head and another head of hair, this one jet black.

“Hey sleepy head,” Alfred teased, as Arthur walked out into the kitchen to see a perfectly set table. Even some flowers from his garden were picked and placed in the middle of the table. Plates were heaped to overflowing with food, eggs, sausages, all perfect and gleaming, not a sign of burning anywhere.

Sitting down stunned, Arthur finally tuned in to what Peter was saying, “Alfred made all the food. Isn’t it good, and I met your cat, and he’s so big! I like his fluffy mane, and he meowed until we gave him food, and I like how he jumps from the rafters down onto the shelves…”

Exhausted already from the energy of the youth, Arthur put effort into eating his food. Eggs halfway to his mouth, he realized he was being stared at. Looking up, he saw Alfred ogling him. Blushing, he shoved the food into his mouth, hoping he didn’t spill everywhere and make a fool of himself. This was some strange dream, a handsome man teasing and making love to him with his eyes, and somehow infiltrating his house! Nevertheless, his commonsense side reminded him, Alfred was a demon, and not to be trusted. He would need to be dealt with.

Peter was now onto another topic, Arthur pointed to his plate and demanding, “Eat your food, Peter.” Shoving food into his mouth, and chewing fast, another breath and Peter kept on.

“Were you making a love spell, Uncle Arthur?”

“What?” Arthur was startled.

“Me and Alfred were looking at your big book of spells and you have it open to a Love spell.”

“Nonsense,” Arthur grumbled.

“Yeah! That stuff’s for girls!” Peter wrinkled his nose.

“Oh,” Alfred said, “Only for girls?”

Arthur said practically, “You might like one in the future.”

“Yuck! Lovey dovey stuff is gross!” Peter said emphatically.

Alfred winked at Arthur, “I totally agree.”

Scowling, Arthur cleared his dishes and went to place them into the wash tub.

“He’s grumpy,” Peter stage-whispered to Alfred.

“That’s for sure.” Alfred whispered back, “He’s always telling me off.”

Peter nodded, assured that he had made a confidant, “I know. Me too!”

“I can hear you two!!!” Arthur said loudly from the kitchen, “And Peter, you better get on to your lessons, or I will do more than tell you off.”

He saw the faces the two exchanged. Great, he thought, he had two children in the house, one physically a child and an adult acting like one, and both of them in agreement. He had to do something about the demon. Alfred had brought his dishes over, somehow bumping into Arthur and his hand had brushed Arthur’s as he put the dishes in the basin. Arthur’s hand still tingled from the slight touch. Even though the attention was nice, it had to stop.
This whole thing, whatever it was, had to stop.

~o0o~

Romano had agreed to come in the morning. Alfred had been doing chores faithfully all morning, from gathering water from the well, to doing dishes, and cleaning. No matter how much Arthur cursed at him, or gave him tedious chores to do, Alfred continued on. With a smile and often time he teased Arthur until Arthur’s temper blew up. Sometimes Alfred didn’t wear his shirt, and Arthur couldn’t help stare at Alfred’s rippling muscles. It also didn’t help that Peter had grown close to Alfred, becoming close friends. As much as he truly didn’t want to call Romano, he had to, it was just too dangerous not to.

The village priests were brothers. Their personalities were as different as they looked alike. Romano was always called out for exorcisms since Feli was more timid and frightened by the idea. So it was Father Romano Arthur had called upon.

Alfred came to the front door as Arthur called him. Upon seeing Alfred, the priest grew paler. “There you are, you bastard.” Romano said with false bravado.

Looking at Arthur, Alfred just said, “What is this?” His blue eyes met guilty green.

“The Father has promised to send you back where you belong.”

“Where do I belong, Artie?” Alfred asked stubbornly, crossing his arms, and not even looking at the priest.

Arthur groused, “Not here, you idiot.” His heart fluttered, and something inside mourned the demon leaving already.

Romano, still pale, had shrunk aside, but loudly declared, “See, he has already bewitched you Arthur. You devil, begone!” He rummaged through his bag for the crucifix he pulled out and showed the demon.

Alfred regarded it, bored. “Yes? I know what that is.”

Arthur looked worried. “Even the demons tremble…” He muttered with realization.

Romano, his face flushing with anger, threw water onto Alfred, “Demon, begone.”

“Holy Water?” Alfred sputtered through the wetness. “Thanks, I need a bath after chopping all that wood.” He grinned at the priest, whose venomous stare could have bored holes through stone.

“Well, if that is it, I’m going to start looking at the roof.” Alfred sauntered off.

Turning to the priest, with a desperation growing inside, Arthur said, “I thought you are supposed to say, the power of Christ compels thee?”

Romano scoffed and angrily said, “Obviously, this has gone on far too long. If you want to exorcise him yourself, go ahead.” The priest looked slightly guilty as if he was going to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was angry mutterings to himself, “Stupid bastard, shouldn’t have met him already, shouldn’t have trusted…” At Arthur’s look at the cursing he said, “I’ll do penance later, idiot!”

Coming over the cross path in the distance, there was a loud, “Hello!” It was the farmer, Antonio. “Come walk with me, Father.” The bellowing was loud enough to wake the dead. Wincing, Romano, red faced and sputtering, stuffed his holy relics in his bag and walked down the path.

“What am I to do?” Arthur called at the Father’s back, angry and relieved at the same time that this hadn’t worked.

“I cannot say,” Romano yelled. “Figure it out yourself.”

Glumly, Arthur watched as the two walked away into the far horizon. Shoulders slumping, he was surprised by a sharp wolf whistle. “Hey, Artie, lookin’ good! Even for someone who doesn’t like me much.”

No, Arthur’s inner voice said, I like you too much.

“It’s Arthur, you git,” was what he said out loud.

It looked like the demon was there to stay.
~o0o~

Alfred had decided to re-thatch the cottage for summer. “Then you can see the stars at night,” he told Arthur, outlining his plan to fix the damaged parts and leave one section open like a wind hole in the roof. Then in the winter one could pull the attached cord to close it. Arthur just nodded. Internally he was grateful, as he hated thatching his roof himself, and the villagers who helped each other, only wanted to help Arthur if he gave them something, whether potions or alcohol.

Alfred grinned at Arthur’s agreement and started his project. Peter said that the work was distracting his lessons, and that they were important, because he was going to become a greater wizard that his Uncle. All Arthur had to say to that was, “Get back to your lessons, brat!”

“You just wait, old man!” was Peter’s cheerful riposte.

Arthur had been in the gardens, the yard a riot of color and smells, and he felt alive. Watching butterflies flitting from one flower to another, the bees happily gathering pollen, and the perfume of the flowers made his heart happy and joyous. Sitting on the bench set against the back of the cottage and enjoying his own concoction of ale, he saw Alfred come up from the stream, his shirt off. Muscles gleaming as the young man moved up the path, water droplets ran down that lovely skin and made his pants cling to his legs tightly. When he saw Arthur he gave that beautiful smile that seemed to be only reserved for Arthur.

“Hey!” He came and plunked himself down on the bench next to the wizard. “Enjoying your beer?”

Arthur could only nod. His heart was hammering, surely someone could not be so handsome, it should be a sin.

“Ah, I think I’m almost done with the roof, but you probably saw that.” Here the boy leaned close to Arthur, and wrapped his arm around him to point out which section he was talking about.

Enjoying the slight buzz the ale was giving him, Arthur leaned back into Alfred’s arm. The move was either brave or extremely foolish, he decided. Alfred just grinned and moved his face closer to Arthur’s.

It was a heady moment, the perfume of the garden wafting about him, the smell of the lemongrass soap Arthur had made for bathing in the river, and the smell of Alfred. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered and almost closed. The soft pressure of lips on his own made his eyes widen. “Wha...” He sputtered trying to back off, but Alfred’s arm was there, and his halfhearted protest opened his mouth so that Alfred could kiss deeper, his tongue sliding into Arthur’s mouth.

“Mm…” Then there was only the sun on his face, and the warmth of the kiss, and the soft sound of the two of them parting to breathe. Blue and green eyes only an inch or two away met, and Arthur realized what had happened. “Ah, no, Alfred. Sorry.” He pushed away from the young man, still gloriously half unclothed, and eyes dreamy from the kiss. “I have to, I have to…” What he had to do was never finished, but he went into the house to escape.

Alfred just sat and watched the garden’s activities. The owner of said garden had a soul as riotously glorious as it, and one that Alfred yearned for. Soon, he said to himself, patience. Patience. It was not always Alfred’s best traits. But that was his line of business, who needed good or best? Those things were lesser. He smiled as he peered up at the blue sky, mirroring the blue of his eyes.
~o0o~

The ensemble of instruments was set up in the field. Billowing sheets acting as walls and banners fluttering around gave a sense of an enclosed area. A dais set up with benches and chairs let the surrounding people view and hear the music. Here Arthur sat next to Alfred. Arthur had brought him along for the midsummer entertainment, thinking that he deserved it after all the chores he had been doing so faithfully. Peter had been allowed to stay over at a friend’s house, which allowed Arthur freedom from following the young boy’s giddy flitting around during the festival.

Music swelled and wafted about the crowd, enthralling everyone who was there. If there was magic in music, Arthur thought, this would have be it. The notes fell and rose, the imagery of a ship upon a torrent storm on the sea came to mind. From his vantage point, he could see, the troubadour, Francis leaning forward tears streaming down his face. The singers were pulling everyone in the drama and sadness of the music. It was beauty.

Alfred leaned over to Arthur and whispered, “The music has bewitched me, do you know what I wish to do to you?”

Arthur shook his head, a flush coming high upon his cheek. “ Pay attention, git!” he hissed back.

“But, Arthur,” Alfred’s breath was hot on his neck, the little hairs catching the slight puffs and making goosebumps rise. “I long for you. I want you to know how much I care for you. Make you open to me, like a flower opening for the sun…”

The music rose, and Arthur’s heart simultaneously picked up with the rapid beats, “Not now…” It was weak, and the roar of the music was overpowering it.

“To know you better,” Alfred’s hand gently rested on Arthur’s thigh above the knee, buried in the folds of the fabric of Arthur’s cloak, “To find out all your secrets.” The hand slid slowly up his thigh and moved inward, trailing heat.

“For pity’s sake.” Arthur desperately said. The handsome man’s eyes were magnificently blue, the lips so close to his own.
The drums rolled, as the singers wailed, pleading for mercy.

Alfred’s other hand had slid across the high back of the chair around Arthur’s shoulders. His fingers played softly on Arthur’s neck, behind his ear, making him shiver, “To discover bliss together.”

Arthur could feel his legs start to tremble and ache, desire welling, his eyes closed at the touch of soft lips behind his ear on that sensitive spot, and the hand sliding to its final destination. “Come home with me, Arthur, my love, take me to your bed and love me.”

“Ha..” Arthur gasped, at the crescendo of the final chapter of the music. Rising to the final damnation. The final chord of the requiem. The end. Leaning into Alfred’s beauty he spoke without remorse, “Come home with me, Alfred.”

Blue eyes flashed, and small triumphant smirk was on those beautiful lips. The hair in the fringe bouncing about, as he helped Arthur with his cloak, as they stood up in ovation for the musicians.

Francis turned toward the two men during the thunderous clapping, and his eyes were filled with hate, and deep sorrow. Arthur only had eyes for Alfred, adjusting the scarf around his lovely neck. Francis’ glare was only for Alfred. Shrugging, the demon looked away, with horror filling those violet blue eyes. Grabbing the velvet cloak he had wore, Francis pushed and pulled through the crowd to leave the auditorium. Arthur smiled up at Alfred, a rare sight, and Alfred smiled back gently. Excitement flowed between them as they waited in the queues leaving the makeshift stands.
~o0o~

The walk back went quickly. The demon gleamed in the moonlight and the world lay about them in deep violets and blues. Dreamlike, it was all so dreamlike. Alfred leaned down and captured Arthur’s lips with his own. Swaying into the kiss, Arthur could only deepen it, tongue seeking Alfred’s own. Parting from Arthur, the demon smiled, its sunshine and cheer filling his being, but then his eyes grew dim, and he seemed to be in pain.

“Are you alright, Alfred?” Arthur was concerned. The demon had clutched at his heart. His hands had become talon-like for a minute.

Ever cheerful, Alfred said, the familiar gleam coming back into his eyes, “Of course. Just overwhelmed from your beauty.”

Arthur flushed at the praise, the sincerity ringing true. Alfred winced again, and turned away from Arthur, “Do you, magician, have a light for the path?”

Pleased and flattered at Alfred’s confidence in his magic, and the weakness showing through Alfred’s usual overconfident self, Arthur conjured a wisp-o-wisp to guide them along the path. Alfred’s hands gripped Arthur’s own underneath all the layers of clothes. Alfred seemed to be drunk, his feet unsure.

“Come on, poppet,” Arthur urged, his lust growing over his concern, “Just a bit farther.”

“Arthur.” Alfred’s speech became slurred. The demon seemed to change, his hair looked larger in the dark and his eyes half closed, pleading with Arthur with confusion.

Staggering through the door, and into the little kitchen, herbs hanging from the ceiling and brushing into his hair, Alfred sank down to sit in the middle of the floor. Arthur noticed awkwardly that it was right in the middle of where he drew his chalk circles and said his incantations.
He said, filling the ladle with water and holding it to Alfred, “There you are, my darling.”

“Am I your darling?” the demon asked, curling up to a sitting position. He sipped the water slowly from ladle Arthur proffered.

Arthur blushed. He said, “I-I-I’m just saying. Not that it matters.”

“Oh, but it does matter,” said Alfred, lifting Arthur’s chin with his right hand.

Arthur looked away. “I didn’t know what to think at first, Alfred. But you are such a good lad, and you seem to serve me well with all your heart. You take care of Peter, and such things are not to be expected from your kind. I admit,” he stuttered, his heart racing, “I’ve grown to fancy you, and…” He cleared his throat, his face a vivid red from the blood rushing to his cheeks and back of his neck, “I love you.”

The demon seemed to perk up. He smiled, “Ah, I love you too, Alfred,” then winced as if the words hurt him. “Come to bed.”

Kissing, touching, the demon seemed to regain his power. Arthur basked in the warmth of the touches; he could only rapturously kiss whatever skin he could find. As Alfred found and used the oil Arthur kept for these purposes and he felt himself spread for the demon, he rasped, “I love you.”

Alfred responded with a deep kiss.

It was no ordinary kiss. Not like the ones before. It was filled with power. Deep pleasure filled Arthur, but at the same time he felt something pulling from the depths within his body. Arthur realized as he madly kissed the demon, and fingers prepared him, that this was his life force. Alfred was stealing his soul.

Deep inside of his heart, a dark cloud of angst and betrayal filled the gaping hole left behind from his partially taken soul.

Arthur’s eyes went wide, “Liar!” he cried out as Alfred entered him; the bliss was overwhelming, pain mixed with pleasure. He raked his nails against Alfred’s back in desperation, and curled his toes with delight

Alfred mimicked the love-making with his tongue. Breaking the kiss for air, Arthur moved his hips in time with the demon. “Ah! Liar!” cried out Arthur as stars crossed his eyes, and the pleasure rose with each thrust. The demon’s eyes were glowing bluer and bluer, his skin almost radiant in the moonlight flitting through the cracks in the hay roof. Lost to the abandon of the otherworldly bliss, Arthur cried out to the night, his voice half wailing loss, and half crying out the joy that had come to him.
~o0o~

Arthur woke to find Alfred gone. It was no surprise, as Arthur pulled himself out of bed, his body aching from the night before. Limping to his Familiar’s bowl and preparing breakfast for them both, he thought, I knew better. Demons always lie. A small sob came from his mouth.

Bitterness had replaced that some thing Alfred seemed to have taken from him. Emptiness had filled his being, he felt no longer whole. “Here kitty, kitty. Where are you?” His Familiar did not come out.

Arthur felt tears come to his eyes, brushed them away, as he busied himself tidying the small kitchen, washing himself vigorously in the half tub he kept about for bathing, and picking up some of Peter’s toys.

“Uncle?” Peter’s blue eyes looked at him through the doorway.

“Ah, you have come back.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t Feli feed you? He’s always on about that pasta of his.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry still.” Arthur sighed, as the boy exuberantly gave him a hug, “Where’s Alfred? I want to show him my new spell I learned. One day I’m going to be a greater wizard than you!”

Arthur just coughed, “He’s not here. He left. I don’t think he’s coming back either.”

Peter’s face fell. He just nodded and looked away. Arthur felt for the lad. The boy had lost his parents, and his foster parents, and now his friend. Similar feelings burst in his heart, but losing a lover, or someone you thought you had loved, and loved you in return, it seemed to drain Arthur. Empty, he was so empty.

“Father Feli was really sad. He said that Alfred had told him he would do something for him and he didn’t, so I was going to ask if he was going to keep his promise.” Peter was chatting on.

Numbly, Arthur nodded, he could hear someone coming up the path. If it was that tosser, git, wanker, he was going to give him a piece of his mind, no matter how much it hurt just thinking of it.

“Witch! Come out!” Arthur and Peter exchanged glances.
~o0o~

Peter couldn’t help it, but the tears still came. They were different than usual though, these were hot and stinging tears, the kind that came from the anger in his heart. “But how?” He sobbed as Brother Feli, kept snipping away his hair. “How can Uncle Arthur tell them anything with that thing in his mouth?”

Brother Feli was crying too. “It will be over soon, Peter,” he soothed, his eyes red. “Now you must be very still.”

Peter started bawling as he saw all his hair on the floor. Feli was placing some sort of cream on his head, and a sharp razor was laying there by the basin.

“You are very brave, Peter.” Brother Feli looked as if he wanted to flee. “Soon it will be over,” he repeated. Slowly and surely he shaved the top of Peter’s head. Ludwig, the head guard came to sweep up the hair.

“There are already buyers outside,” came the gruff explanation.

“W-w-why do they want my hair? Why are they doing this to us?”

“Because they are silly and foolish people,” said the priest wearily, and the guard patted Feli on the back reassuringly.

“What will they do to us?” Peter asked fearfully. “They won’t kill Uncle Arthur, will they, cuz he’s a powerful wizard, and…”

“Shush, Peter.” Feli said. “Try to rest. Say your prayers and know God is good. I will make sure no one harms you tonight.” Peter sat on the small bench in the filthy prison cell. He looked so little to the priest, his hands tucked into his legs, his eyebrows huge against his bald head.

“Father,” came Ludwig’s stern voice. “You must leave now.” There was urgency as if something else was going on. A scream echoed down the hall.

The last view Feli saw of Peter would haunt him for a long time, those blue eyes wide with horror at the scream. God rest their souls, Feli prayed softly as he left the child in the dark, for He might not spare ours.
~o0o~

Arthur had never felt such pain in his life. All he could think of was the torturous childbirths he had encountered and helped with. The screams coming from him sounded like those poor women, but he knew after this was over, there was no joy in the form of new life. Unless, it was the afterlife.

They really hadn’t wanted him to confess to anything. Using such a device rendered him speechless. No, they had only wanted to cause him pain and the cruelty of being deprived of his tongue. He had heard of tongue screws, had heard of the torture devices that caused people pain and disfigurement. They were used many a time with black magic, something he did not practice.

He could still remember the accusations, “He was walking with the Devil. The Devil had horns and a forked tail. He conjured lights that led him and the Devil to his house. Fornicating with the Devil. The beast leading him astray into the night. We all know he’s a witch. He has become a black magic practitioner; he has been seduced by the Devil. He’s no longer good.”

No tears left to cry, he could only despair at the fact that he hadn’t been more careful walking home with Alfred that night. He hadn’t realized Alfred had been hiding his true form from him. All they had thought of was themselves. Fool, he thought and cringed, as the hooded torturer came over again. I am such a fool.

He could hear the jail cell door open, and arguing came from beyond. Angry arguing, Arthur could hear Romano’s voice. If only I could escape, he thought madly, but the chains had him bound at hands and feet, and that ever-maddening weight on his mouth. Romano came up to him, pity on his face. “Dammit,” he cursed. Arthur’s eyes did enough to convey the question that he was dying to ask with his voice.

“Peter’s safe. We have kept him safe,” the priest whispered. Romano’s eyes looked faintly red as if from crying. “But Arthur, if you survive this night…” The priest’s face fell. “Dammit.” He sucked in his breath. “Arthur,” he said with heavyhearted gravity, “I am here to give you last rites. I have begged for it.” The hooded torturer looked on, from the wall.

“He won’t die tonight.” Cackling came from the hooded specter. “I’m awesomer than that.”

Arthur closed his eyes.

Romano said, glaring at the torturer, “I’m sorry, Arthur, if you survive the night, these sorry bastards are going to burn you at the stake tomorrow, and the boy.”
~o0o~

Hypocrites, Arthur thought wearily, peering at the angry mob of his fellow villagers surrounding them. There was the farmer’s daughter he had given the love charm to; she was the one throwing rotten vegetables. The mayor had the worse case of foot rot and he had cured it. The mayor was presiding over the burning as if it were the latest festivity he had thought of for the village, trying to get people on his side for reelection. The twins, he had persuaded their mother not to kill one of them because of the supposed “bad luck,” were lifting the hay bales to stack about the stakes.

Sobbing, Peter clung to his hand. Such a little hand, he realized. So small and fragile. He squeezed Peter’s hand in encouragement, making the crying boy look up at him. The pity was apparent in those big blue eyes, Arthur tried to smile through his profound pain, and Peter clung even harder, though he had grit his teeth and was trying to stop his tears.

Peter’s eyes looking at him for guidance reminded him of other blue eyes. Two sets of eyes in truth. His apprentices from the past came to mind. Strange how death made one look back on one’s life. It hurt to think of them. Beautiful twin boys they had been. They were outcasts like himself, most likely Francis’ bastard offspring. Poor girl hadn’t had a chance making it through the labor. Matthew especially had taken after Francis, those beautiful violet blue eyes mimicking the troubadour’s. Arthur had raised Matthew and his brother Alfred, only to hold their tiny little hands as they died from the plague that had moved through the village. Watched them suffer, poor ethereal Matthew went first, calmly in his sleep, mercifully to Arthur’s thinking. Alfred, on the other hand, had clung to his life, fighting for it. Every gasp, every sorrow in those blue eyes, Arthur would never forget it, his sweet lad, dying wretchedly in his arms.

Alfred…he mused…perhaps the demon was mocking me more with that name. For his young Alfred’s eyes and demeanor were similar to his devil Alfred’s.

They were going to try him as a witch during the plague, but he was the only one who would go to the sick and tried to heal them. The townspeople never spoke of that dreadful time, but some still came to him for healing, remembering how he had helped them then. Apparently there was no remembrance of his help now.

The townspeople had now started throwing more rotten stuff at him. Trying to block Peter, he realized the boy had stepped in front of him instead. Loyal boy. Sweet boy. It reminded him of something Matthew would have done.

Feli and Romano were standing on the edge of the mob, watching the pageantry. Feli had tears running down his cheeks. Romano stared away angrily, cheeks red. Francis was watching from a balcony, his face blank.

They were not the only ones speculating from the sidelines. Untouched by emotion, a pair of bright blue eyes watched, leaning on the fruit seller’s forgotten wares. Chewing on a shiny red apple, Alfred watched the pair, their shaved heads making their large eyebrows even more odd. The strange round hats they were forced to wear were bedecked with human ideas of devils, their ugly forms, and mocking words. They were only clad in thin white shifts, spared the humiliation of nudity. Alfred threw the core of his eaten apple to the side as he saw them led up to the stake and tied on.

Trembling, Feli walked up to the two. Go little priest, thought Alfred moodily. Try to spare their mortal souls. That one is mine. He circled Arthur from afar with his finger.

A breeze rushed by, and everything became deathly still. The raging mob didn’t seem to notice it, but with that wind, Alfred looked up to the sky. A great cheer came from the crowd, drawing his attention back to the earth. They had lit the farthest straw and pulled the hats down over the eyes of the two.

Cringing, Alfred fought the pain that clutched his heart. Soon Arthur would be his. Frustrated suddenly by the fact that he couldn’t be sure if the fire had reached them because the mass of bodies kept blocking Arthur from his sight, he started moving towards the crowd.

Alfred looked up again and noted the sky. Everything had gone calm, except at the horizon a cloud so low it seemed to be brushing the trees was silently rushing ahead. Black and wall-like, it was moving towards the small square where the burnings were taking place. Then a great gush of wind came, and all of the torches in the villagers’ hands went out. The flames sparked higher, flickered and burned towards the two forlorn figures in white, but in doing so a great leap of sparks went up and were caught in the wind snapping at all the wooden and straw buildings nearby.

A shout of panic started through the crowd, and Alfred could see Feli on his knees praying. Yes, Alfred thought to himself, I do declare the little priest has some things right. For at that instant a great roar descended upon the village, and rain started pouring down in great torrents, so thick that there was a gray wall of no visibility.

Alfred sat in the rain as he watched the humans, screaming and crying, fly to shelter, things being picked up by the wind and blowing by, the shutters rattling madly in their panes, and then there was rain, and ice in chunks as big as Peter’s fist, and more rain.

Feeling weak and horrible, Alfred pushed against his instincts and ran against the hurtling rain to the stake. Without being able to see he felt the slick ropes and cut the two pitiful creatures free. Gently he laid the larger one on the ground. Arthur, he thought woefully. The little one was shaking with terror. He tucked him by Arthur’s side, making sure their faces were upward. Humans were such fragile things, and drowning would be so easy.

He could feel Arthur’s soul drifting. Oh to catch it, and have it whole. A pain ran through his being, but then he would never speak to him again. Or laugh, or kiss, or touch. Gently, so that his great strength didn’t hurt them, he cradled the two as one would a babe, on each shoulder and ran through the storm to the church.

The howling and pounding on the walls and roof echoed through the vast chambers. On the front altar he laid them, and whispered, “Sanctuary.” Gritting his teeth at the man hanging in pain on the cross, he ran back into the inferno. The storm mirrored the chaos of his thoughts.

~o0o~

After the storm had ended, the rain continued on and on. The next mass was to tell the village that trying to burn Arthur and Peter had been a great sin, and therefore the rain would not stop until they were free. Brave Antonio stood, and said happily that he agreed. The murmurs of assent continued on, even to the back pew where Alfred sat and watched. Romano grimaced at him. Francis would not look at him. The silly daughters of the mayor kept on sending him flirtatious looks, but his mind was only on one thing. He looked at his hands, which unbeknownst to him had been cut as he saved the two from the stake. They had supernaturally healed, but his internal conflict had not.

It burned, you know. It burned him deep inside, devouring his strength, devouring his sight. He grew weak, you know, thinking on it. It clawed at where his heart should be. Still he clung to it, like a stubborn child with a sweet. It was his. And only his. But how he longed for something, something he was not supposed to have. He bowed his head, and cringed at the prayer from the front of the pulpit.

~o0o~

It was the next spring when Arthur’s hair had finally grown back. No one bothered him and Peter, for now they were truly cast out from the village. There were those who showed pity, but more laughed at Arthur’s attempts at speech and laughter.

He had seen Alfred about town still, for the devil did not to want to leave. Alfred, for some reason, kept on pestering Arthur, greeting him, acting as if nothing had happened.

Once, at the pub, as Arthur had been drowning his pain with alcohol, he had slid a note to Alfred, dark hair shiny and lustrous, that damned piece of his fringe flying about with ease, and those magnificent blue eyes making all the men slightly horny that day. It said, “Why do you not leave me alone? Haven’t you gotten what you wanted?”

Alfred had crumpled it, and looked away. He looked at Arthur, whose hard green gaze seemed to make something inside him break. “I’ll never be content.”

Peter had grown inches, and he had become quite adept at cleaning and chores. Boasting that it would make him a greater wizard than Arthur, so great that no one would dare confront him and he would make witch hunts illegal, he kept on with his lessons. Painstakingly written by Arthur the days before, the lessons were laid out so well, that if Arthur wanted to go to the pub day or night, Peter would continue on.

It was after Peter’s ninth birthday that a new wanderer came into town. It was an old ragged man, or woman, no one could tell because the person was so covered in cloaks and hoods, that all they could tell was it was filthy and smelled. Some people whispered of a plague bringer, and with the recent plague in mind, there wasn’t a day that went by without someone treating the stranger poorly, mocking, throwing stones, or other cruel things.

Arthur had been in the pub, at midday. People stared at him, and he knew they most likely thought of him as the town drunk. Staggering out into the square he saw the most curious thing. Alfred was talking to the wanderer.

The demon was wincing as he talked to the wanderer, and the wanderer seemed to have a great distaste for Alfred, staying a good couple of feet from him. Alfred seemed to be begging, his hands gesturing, imploring. The wanderer did not move, or seem interested. Whatever the wanderer said, it made Alfred stand straight, his lips pursed flat, and his fists clenched. He nodded, and then strode away, the wanderer watching him go.

Peter, who had been most likely been roaming around the town feeding the stray dogs, went to talk to the stranger too. As the stranger sat by the well where Arthur had first seen Alfred, the boy came up and offered food he had left over. Another stray of a different kind? Arthur mused. He had guessed right, for Peter was pointing at Arthur and reaching down to help the old person to stand. Arthur internally sighed, but he understood. Peter was an outcast and had a good heart, the stranger was an outcast, and Peter understood what it was like to be treated poorly. Arthur walked over to aid the boy.

They helped the stranger all the way to their cottage on the outskirts of town, a hard feat, for the stranger had trouble walking and leaned heavily upon them. The stranger did not talk the whole way to their place, but when seated in their kitchen and offered food and drink, rasped his thanks.

Sometimes, Arthur forgot that he had no speech, and he started to say, “Take my bed,” when the horrible noise came out of his mouth, and aghast he clasped his hand over his mouth. With trembling hands he wrote the same message. The guest was old and should have the most comfortable bed in the house.

The stranger clasped his hands on Arthur’s shoulders in thanks and comfort, and it was odd, Arthur’s self-hatred and sorrow seemed to lift. Later that night, after they had gone to bed, Arthur woke up from the makeshift cot Alfred had used when he was there. There was a faint glowing in the hut. Curious to see if Peter had made a fire or was practicing magic, he moved towards Peter’s corner. The light was ethereal, sweet, and as he got closer he felt peace come over him.

There was a man, in a white toga, his wings white as a dove, leaning over Peter watching him sleep. As Arthur made his presence known, the man, a halo drifting about his head, looked up and smiled. He had deep green eyes and blond hair, and to Arthur it was like looking at his reflection in a calm lake or shiny kettle, except that this man was handsome and pleasant, and his eyes were filled with power. There was a radiance falling all about him, and it lit up the room.

“Arthur,” the man spoke. “I have a gift for you.” He held out his hand to Arthur.

Arthur took the object it contained. Nodding his thanks, he bowed too, feeling as if he should pay homage to the great power this being had.

The man, or angel, smiled. “You are indeed very loved.”

Arthur felt tears come to his eyes. His pain seemed to be melting away, and the angel put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he wept. Feeling cleansed, Arthur stopped and smiled sheepishly at the angel.

“Here, place it in your mouth,” the angel instructed, and helped place it where his tongue used to be.

Arthur bowed again. The whole house now glowed with fierce light, and he went back to the cot and fell into a deep and healing sleep.

When he woke in the morning, the wanderer was gone. The sun shone through the open wind holes and thatch. Slowly stretching, and enjoying the feeling of being refreshed, Arthur realized he was clutching something.

Putting it up to his face for inspection, he realized it was a stone, simple and grey. Then he realized with a shock that his mouth felt different. Almost giddy, full of hope, he tried speaking. “Peter?” It came out gravelly and quiet, but it was his voice! His tongue was back as if that horrible day in the dungeon had never happened.

“Peter!” he cried out joyously, and his nephew sped into the house followed by his Familiar.

“Uncle! You can talk!” He hugged Arthur vigourously.

‘Yes, yes,” Arthur gruffly said, patting the boy on the back and reaching to scratch his Familiar behind the ears.

“I thought so! I had the strangest dream. An angel came and talked to me! He was glowing, and I was happy! He said he would watch over me, and that he was going to take care of you. So it was true! I’m so happy!” Here the boy burst into tears.

“There, there,” Arthur said soothingly, his heart still racing with delight and hope. “The worst is over. We have been blessed, just as we are to bless people.”

Peter nodded. He rubbed the back of his eyes, and then perked up. “I’ll help with breakfast!” Arthur chuckled, and got out of the cot to dress.

As they were singing over their foodmaking, they heard steps coming up the path. A black piece of fringe was waving in the wind, the only thing showing over the hill.

“Alfred!!” Peter ran to the door and down the path. From the kitchen wind hole, Arthur watched the two hug.

Repentant blue eyes met his. Arthur, not knowing what to do, looked down at the burnt scones he had made. His joy, it wasn’t receding, but it was as if he was given a bit of strength to forgive, and so his heart did not hurt as much as he thought.

Reminding Arthur of the first time Alfred came to the house, Alfred leaned at the door, and asked, “Am I allowed to come in?”

Nodding, Arthur gestured to the chair in the kitchen. Peter came rushing back in, “Now we are back to normal again! We are all here again!” The two adults looked at each other.

Arthur held out the stone that had been given to him. Alfred flinched as he saw it. Standing quickly, he came up to Arthur and said as he dipped slightly lower, “Are you healed?”

“Yes,” Arthur managed, their faces so close to each other, the magnetic feeling of wanting to kiss those beautiful lips making him want to close his eyes.

Alfred breathed as he tilted his head further, his long dark eyelashes brushing Arthur’s face, “Good.” Lips met lips and Arthur couldn’t help the happy hum that left his mouth as the two met. Tilting his face further to deepen the kiss, Arthur could feel something slipping back into him, warm, spirit like, a wisp of heat. Breaking the kiss, Arthur reeled back dazed. He felt complete again. Alfred was looking at him slightly peaked, his eyes not as brilliant blue as usual.

They both looked to see Peter with his mouth wide open gaping at them. He just was looking at the two of them. “I thought you didn’t like girlie stuff?” he stage hissed at Alfred when he reclaimed his wits. His hands were on his hips, like a fishwife denouncing a truant husband.

Alfred laughed sheepishly, his hand ruffling the back of his head. “I guess I lied?” Alfred said, “especially when your Uncle is concerned.”
Peter gave him a long, piercing gaze, and finally nodded his assent, “I guess it’s alright.”

“You guess, you little brat!” Arthur said, “I don’t need anyone’s approval for my love interests.”

Peter and Alfred gave each other speaking looks. Arthur rolled his eyes, not this again.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred said to Arthur. “I really am. I’ve figured out some things.” Then spitefully he added, “That guy had things to say to me.”

“Hmm…” Arthur said, as he softly touched Alfred’s face. “Well, love,” he blushed, “I suppose then you should get on with your usual chores.

Alfred beamed, still a bit pale. “Yay! Artie, I shall!” He gave the wizard a peck on the cheek, and grabbed the water buckets. Whistling, he went through the back to get water from the well.

Peter was faithfully perusing his lessons by the great book of Magic, and thoughtfully he looked up, and said, “Did you get your soul back? Maybe he took part of your soul, and then he returned it? Maybe the angel made him? Like you got your tongue back too?”

From the mouths of babes, Arthur thought, and said, “That would make sense. It sounds like someone has been doing his lessons.” Peter beamed at him.

~o0o~

It was hard to trust, but Arthur was willing to try. He was lonely, outcast, and had been lame for months. More than that, though, was the fact he finally had Alfred back, and everything had been fixed. He had tapped Alfred on the shoulder, leaning over his cot.

Alfred looked tired, and his eyes weren’t as bright, but he smiled. “Want me to warm you up, Artie?”

Arthur blushed in the dark. “You git.” But he took Alfred’s hand and led him through the semi-dark to his bed. “We’ll need to be quiet---Peter’s sleeping.” He hissed to Alfred. The younger man kissed him. Tongues tangling and hands wandering, they stumbled to the bed. The Familiar meowing as they accidentally sat on him. They paused just long enough to hear the same loud snores from Peter.

Alfred sighed as Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. Contently nosing at the man’s neck, he kissed at the wizard’s soft skin in pecks and little bites, making Arthur shiver with delight. Gently, each touch fueling the strong fire between them, they made slow love, the bed creaking in time to the rocking. Arthur curling his toes at the pleasure, truly Alfred was the best lover he had ever slept with, but the fact that in the morning they would be together and in love, made everything so much more potent and wonderful.

The sweat on their skin cooling, facing each other, they just took in each other’s faces. “I missed you so much,” Alfred said, his blue eyes worried. “I needed you. I thought, it was only your soul I wanted. I mean,” he stumbled for words, “I was so attracted to you from the beginning. Your grumpy exterior covering up your sweet interior, your eyebrows,” he got a small smack for that, making him grin, “Your smile, your magic, the way you took care of me, how you looked at me. Most people, all they want from me is something I usually can’t give. Their true love, forbidden love, power, wealth, perversions, but you never asked anything from me.”

“I made you do chores.” Arthur said softly, tracing the slim black eyebrows with his finger.

Alfred took the hand and kissed the finger. Then the inside of the palm. He placed the hand on his cheek. “It is how it is in most families. Everyone does a part of the work, and everyone is included. You included me, even though you didn’t want me around. And soon, I craved you passionately. Even with part of your soul, something to keep me warm and remember you, I was never content, I never could rest. It wasn’t what was irking me. I realized that I love you.” Here Alfred gave a gasp as if he had been stabbed.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nevermind that, Artie.”

“What is it?”

Alfred gave a painful laugh. “Ah, I do not think demons and true, unconditional love go together well.” Arthur realized that Alfred was killing himself slowly and surely. If the boy had been deprived of his power source...

“You gave back all your contracts.”

“Haha.” Alfred sheepishly laughed. “I needed to save you. I did whatever I could.”

Arthur felt tears in his eyes.

“Ah, don’t cry,” Alfred said earnestly. “There have been so many tears. Let us enjoy these days, maybe weeks.”

Nodding, Arthur weakly smiled back.

“Now come on sweetheart,” said Alfred in the seductive voice he used so well, “Let us try that from a different position. I promise you it will be well worth it.” Shifting in the bed, Arthur felt Alfred spoon him from behind. Soft, sensual words came from behind him. Yes, Arthur thought, as his lover stroked his back and started kissing down his spine. I will enjoy what I get, and I hope it is a long time.
~o0o~

“So, I think I was right,” came Peter’s voice from the studio. Arthur was drawing a new magic circle on the floor.

“What were you right about?”

“That Love spell. I think you conjured Alfred, with your love spell.”

Arthur’s mouth gaped. “What foolery are you talking about?”

Peter came with a vial of something oozing and spitting, thick gloves covering his hands. “I was looking into it. Something about conjuring your true love or some such.”

“What!”

“Well, it makes sense to me.” Peter walked back to the studio, the Familiar following the fishy scent the potion was giving off.

Arthur just looked at his circle. That’s right, something had been off. He had been almost killed that day, he was certain.
~o0o~

Day by day, he enjoyed Alfred’s company and love. They were foolish, Arthur was certain, to anyone who saw them flirting. Peter was proof of that, eyerolls and “gross!” coming often towards their private displays of affection at the house.

Painfully, he knew that soon he would have to let go of Alfred. The devil had become weak and yet was always cheerful. Alfred was sitting on the bench outside. Arthur went there to join him.

Sweetly, Alfred set his head upon Arthur’s shoulder. They sat there and watched the sunset. Arthur moved his head to the side and kissed the top of Alfred’s head.

“I was thinking. I was think that if I could magick you to stay with me forever I would. But that is a selfish thought, for if I did, you would die. I love you.”

Alfred sadly chuckled on his shoulder, shaking Arthur’s head too. “Ah, I have been wondering what to do. I want to stay with you forever, Artie. I love you too.” He winced and moaned softly from the pain.

“Love, I cannot keep on seeing you in so much pain. I think it is time.” Arthur’s heart was devastated, but he kept on.

Alfred looked up and sadly took in his face. He traced the edges as if memorizing it. “I’ll never forget you.”

Arthur blinked back tears and nodded, “Peter, come say good-bye to Alfred.”

Peter came out to the bench. He hugged Alfred, “Good-bye, Alfred.” Alfred shook his hand.

“Good-bye, Peter.”

Turning back Peter ran into the house quickly as if to hide his tears, but the two could hear him crying in his room.

The wizard and devil kissed slowly, and not without a few tears running down cheeks.

“Good-bye, Artie.”

“It’s Arthur, you git.” Arthur sobbed, and wetly laughed. Alfred grinned back at him with tears in his eyes.

“Love you.” Alfred stood up.

“Love you too, Alfred.” Arthur placed his hand on Alfred’s forehead. “I release you.”

Slowly Alfred dissolved into a blue mist, that floated down the hill and out of sight. Watching the mist fade away, Arthur shaded his hand against the orange and red sky. He felt a soft tug at his heart, a warm feeling, almost blue in nature.

Silhouettes were coming over the hill. Two to be precise, and a white blob that ran ahead. “You came back!” was the loud yell of Peter as he ran to meet them, joy in his face. The white dog ran fast to meet him, and there was a blur as the two met and rolled about. The two figures came to Peter and hugged him. A quiet happiness came over the moment.

Arthur smiled. Deep within his heart a fire burned, something blue and warm, something that he knew he’d treasure to keep him warm for all the days of his life.
He also made a mental note to bookmark that spell.

THE END.