This was not how adventuring was supposed to be, Stahn thought miserably as he hung over the railing of Fayte Moreau’s flagship. Granted, he was taking part in a grand adventure. He’d seen more of the world in the past few months than most people saw in their lives. Certainly more than anyone else from Lienea had seen. From Phandaria to Seinegald to the sweltering lands of Cavalese, to the bustling port of Neustadt in Fitzgald (Stahn kicked himself for the thousandth time for not sending word home when he’d been in Fitzgald’s teeming capital) and from Fitzgald to the foggy, isolated islands of Aquaveil.

He’d had battles galore. He was well on his way to becoming the great swordsman of his dreams. He’d unfortunately also discovered just how truly seasick one person could be, and not die. He took another swig of the steaming herb brew Philia had prepared for him to ease his stomach. It tasted foul and looked like brackish pond water, but it took the edge off, at least.

Stahn glanced over his shoulder at the rest of his little band of adventurers. The crisp breeze tugged Mary’s wild scarlet hair as she helped Philia learn to use her swordian, Clemente, better. In her robes and decorated braids, the little priestess was a sharp contrast to the amazonian swordswoman in her battered armor. Rutee was watching them, complaining about something. The wind took her words away, but her sharp tone still carried. Stahn winced. He’d seen Rutee capable of great kindness, and great bravery.. And the swordian Atwight seemed fond of her, but her general attitude of petty mean-spiritedness and greed rubbed Stahn the wrong way as much now as at had months ago when he’d first helped Mary rescue her from a trap in that temple on Snow Mountain.

He raked his hand though his unruly golden hair, fingers catching on the slim metal band there. With a defeated sound, he let his hand fall. Stahn... don’t worry. I’m sure Chaltier will convince Leon to get rid of those ridiculous shock tiaras.... Dymlos’ metallic voice nudged at Stahn’s mind, unusally kind. The very mention of Leon set Stahn’s hackles up. The boy.. And that’s truely what he was, Stahn would have to remind himself constantly... was haughty.. Arrogant.. And ruthless. Even after all their months together, pursuing the mad priest Lydon and the terrifying Eye of Atamoni, Leon still didn’t trust him. The shock tiaras had been placed on Stahn, Rutee and Mary in Seinegald, marking them as criminals.

That left a bad taste in Stahn’s mouth that had nothing to do with Philia’s tea.

"Gald for your thoughts?" Stahn startled at the elegant voice behind him, turning to see Leon there. His wool and velvet cloak was pulled close to ward off the growing chill as they approached Phandaria, but the wind still mussed his raven-black hair.

Stahn made a noncommittal grunt and turned back to the sea. "You’re being remarkably friendly." he said finally as Leon joined him at the railing. The younger swordsman’s eyes the precise color of blue violets in Fitzgald in the spring. Stahn frowned. It was too soft an image to relate to the young man he’d seen kill the defeated Lord of Aquaveil in cold blood.

"Well, you look like you’re thinking.. And that’s such a rare occurance, I thought you might be persuaded by money to keep up the habit." Leon’s sarcasm was oily and acidic all at once as one raven brow inched up his perfect alabaster face.

"Thank you so much for your concern." Stahn muttered, sipping at Philia’s tea again. "I just think it’s ironic that we’re going back to Phandaria." Leon glanced out at the sea, looking for the distant white gleam that marked the Phandarian coast. "That’s right.. You said your little adventure had begun there with that dragon incident." the young man’s tone was offhand, but there was a serious look in his eyes. "For a country boy, you’ve certainly had a bit of travelling." Leon turned to him, voice in it’s most condesending tone.

The seas grew choppy as the wind picked up, and Stahn felt a fresh nausea well up from his feet. Stahn, for hell’s sake.. Not again.... Dymlos chided as the mug went bouncing off the hull of the Black Cross and into the icy waters below.

"You look sick.." Leon sighed with affected disdain. "Come on. Let’s get you down below."

---------

The cabin below deck was cramped. By virtue of being the only two men in their group (with the exception of Karyl Sheeden, the bard who had briefly joined them in Moreau), Stahn had found himself sharing quarters with Leon since the beginning of their adventures together. On the whole, Dymlos’ master would have much preferred to have roomed with a shark. Or Rutee.

The Black Cross wasn’t as luxurious as some of the ships Stahn had spent time on recently (and he had spent more time on boats lately than he’d cared to), but it had the amenities that Stahn had grown particularly fond of, such as a tub with hot running water.

He was lying on the bunk in a nauseous daze when he was startled out of it by the sound of the tap turning...off. Leon was seated next to the tub, the steam rising from the water smelling of more of Philia’s herbs. "C’mon." The young swordsman’s tone was slightly less acidic than normal. "This’ll help with your seasickness." He gestured to the water, sloshing slightly as the ship crested a wave.

Stahn was too queasy to argue, and he pulled off his heavy clothing. Undressing in front of Leon, even after all these months, still carried a peculiar tension, a feeling of still being a prisoner in Seinegald. True enough, Leon hadn’t called him "inconsequential scum" in weeks, but the younger man’s chilly, clinical gaze made Stahn feel as though he were being judged.

The warmth of the water was an immediate balm as Stahn lowered himself into the herb-scented tub, trying to ignore Leon’s dispassionate but obvious appraisal of him. Stahn hadn’t realized he’d started to drowse off in the warm water until the feeling of slim fingers finding the pressure points on his neck made the sky-blue eyes jerk open. "..wha?"

"Be quiet." Leon snapped. "You’re useless to me if you’re seasick." His tone was acerbic, but his hands were gentle and skilled. Stahn suddenly found himself in the uncomfortable limbo between his irritation with the younger swordsman and sudden grateful relief as the nausea subsided.

Gratitude won out, and his body relaxed all at once with a long exhalation. Leon’s nimble touch found sensitive places on Stahn’s forehead, and he sank back into the tub, golden hair fanning out in the water like the corona of the sun.

Since they’d first learned that the mad priest Lydon was heading towards Phandaria, Stahn’s thoughts had been turning to the silver-haired hunter who’d saved his life. The closer they got to the snowy land, the more he thought about him, wondering if he was even alive.

The battle with Phandarian ships the day before.. Ships crewed with mutated lens monsters... had given him pause. Fayte’s words.. "we can assume Phandaria is under the control of Lydon and his armies"..had made Stahn’s gut go cold. As they’d battled, a small part of him prayed to Atamoni.. (Who he didn’t particularly believe in, but Philia was so insistent) that the beautiful wolf was safe, denned somewhere deep in the frozen mountains.

"Stahn.." He knew he was dreaming now, lying tangled in the quilts in Janos’ inn, the hunter’s golden arms around him, his deep voice thrumming against Stahn’s ear. "I think you’re very brave..." Any reply Stahn might have had, lost in the sudden, devouring kiss that followed.

It might have been the lurching of the ship, or a mental hiccup from Dymlos, but something nudged Stahn in his dream. "...Garr?" he was asking even as his eyes opened, looking squarely into Leon’s wide, violet eyes.

Chaltier’s master stiffened and sat back. "You fell asleep. I was making sure you weren’t dead." he spat out an answer to a question Stahn hadn’t asked.

"..thanks.." Stahn murmured, at once confused and suspicious. He touched his lips, where the echo of Garr’s dream-kiss tingled still. Stahn narrowed his eyes, and Leon suddenly turned away, stoking the fire in the small stove. "Get dressed. You’ll catch a chill otherwise and be more useless than normal."

(Dymlos?) Stahn glanced over at his redgold swordian on the bunk, but the blade remained silent. The swordsman lifted himself out of the cooling water, and wrapped a cloak around himself. "....Leon...?" he sat down next to the younger man, basking in the warm glow for a moment. "Will you take this thing off my head?" he asked, the words coming out more plaintively than he would’ve liked.

Violet eyes flicked over for a brief glance, a moment of contempt. "No." With that, Leon pushed himself from his seat, and grabbed his cloak, stalking out of the room with Chaltier.

-------------

Frostheim was the single coldest place Stahn had ever been in his life. The only one who seemed not fazed by it at all was Mary. She just looked up at the falling snow with an almost childlike wonder as the others thanked Fayte for the journey.

The young lord of Moreau wished them luck, and once again, they found themselves in a foreign land.

Rutee hugged herself under the heavy robes from the Black Cross. "We need to find something warmer.." Leon snorted. "Why, Rutee.. You’re a genius!" The two of them continued their spat as the party purchased supplies and settled in for the night at the town’s inn.

There was a general feeling of tension that hung over the town, though, a fear. The townspeople weren’t quick to speak of it, but the whispered rumours followed the same pattern that Stahn and the others had come to expect, had come to understand in their months of chasing Lydon. Death followed the mad priest like a bad shadow.

"We’ll scout out the area in the morning." Leon declared over the stew dinner they ate in the inn’s communal dining room. "This kind of cold will be deadly at night." Excellent idea, master Leon. Chaltier piped up.

Chal, you’re such a suck-up. Dymlos sniped as the other two swordians wisely remained quiet. Rutee giggled and translated for Mary. Stahn felt bad for the flame-haired swordswoman. Amnesiac and lost in the world, and unable to hear the voices of the swords that everyone else carried, she seemed very alone to Stahn.

"I think he’s right, though." Mary said thoughtfully around a mouthful of beef. "It’s terribly cold here..the snow.. Sometimes it makes me feel like I can almost remember things." She said it lightly, grinning at the others, who just nodded, not knowing what to really say.

-------------

(Another inn.. Another night spent in a room with Mr. Congeniality.) Stahn thought morosely as he stoked the room’s brazier as Leon went through his evening ritual. Clean and check the weapons, starting with Chaltier and working his way down. Carefully remove and arrange armor. Remove and fold clothing before lying down, a sword and the control for the shock tiaras at handy range.

Stahn watched him with interest though, the strange moment between them on the Black Cross not forgotten. He had originally chalked Leon’s nightly methodolgy to compulsive behavior, but he’d started to realize it was simply discipline on the young man’s part. He’d have to have been disciplined to have gotten as good with a sword at such a young age as he was. While discipline was not a big factor in Stahn’s normal life, he respected it in others. As he watched Leon remove his boots, Stahn grudglingly had to admit that the boy had redeeming qualities in spite of his arrogant, self-righteously superior persona. He was unfalteringly brave, relentlessly dedicated. And he was smart. Not as smart as he liked to believe, Stahn was sure of, but remarkably intelligent nonetheless.

Leon turned to him, as he pulled off his tunic. "Why are you staring at me, clod?" he sniped, even as the firelight gave a golden edge to his alabaster skin. Stahn shifted uncomfortably and huffed. "..I’m... not.. I was just staring off into space." There was a faint mental snort from where Dymlos laid at the foot of the bed.

"Well, don’t do it anymore. It’s annoying." Leon said crossly, tucking himself under the covers.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the darkened room for several minutes. Then...

"Who’s Garr?" The nonchalant tone of Leon’s question was forced.

Stahn blinked, sitting up in his bed. "Excuse me?"

"You... were mumbling the name in your sleep the other night."

"Oh. He’s.......a friend of mine... from Phandaria. I’ve been worried about him." Stahn said softly, curling back under the blankets. The only reply from Leon was a chilly silence.

Stahn had a restless sleep that night, dreams full of frightful portents. Half awake and half caught in a nightmare, a cool hand stroked back his hair. "Go back to sleep, Stahn... it’s safe here.." someone was saying softly.... and Stahn belived them, drifting back into dreams.

------

They set out the next morning to scout the area around Frostheim, buried in beastfur cloaks and mittens. Philia practically vanished into her mounds of warm clothing, and Rutee had started complaining the moment the biting cold smacked them in the face as they left the inn.

They’d been fruitlessly searching for hours when Rutee suddenly paused, her brilliant blue eyes growing wide. "Do you guys hear something?" They all paused, listening in the icy silence. There it was, then..

The sounds of ...soldiers... Leon nodded. "This way.. Let’s go!" The little group clambered over a snowy ridge, following the ever-growing sound, and Stahn’s fingers tightened on Dymlos’ hilt, a feeling of dread rising in him.

There was a group of them.. Men and women in brown Phandarian uniforms.. but with Lydon’s crest defaced the country’s royal coat of arms. They circled like dogs around their prey, weapons glinting in the pale light.

Their quarry was beaten down, judging from his battered clothing and the bruises around his midnight eyes. "So, this is the end.." his deep, soft voice ragged with exhaustion as he gripped his hunting knife and bow, arrows since expended.

Stahn’s heart stopped at the voice as they entered the clearing. The soldiers had descended on their victim but he’d seen the flash of silver and blue underneath the thrashing pile of brown uniforms. "No.. It can’t be.. GARR!!!!!" Stahn’s vision went red as he charged the soldiers with a roar.

"Stahn, you MORON!!" Leon’s sharp voice reached him, but didn’t have an effect. The leader of the Lydon’s soldiers wheeled around. "Kill them, we don’t need anymore witnesses!"

But the battle was brief and brutal. Months of fighting things far worse than Lydon’s dogs had honed the little group and Stahn knew, without consciously knowing, that Mary was to his right, Leon to his left. The soldiers were beaten before they even knew what they were in for.

The last one hadn’t even fallen, before Stahn was on his knees in the snow next to the unmoving figure in blue leather. "Garr?" he was asking softly, cradling the hunter’s still form and stroking back the snow-silver hair, now matted and unkempt.

"You know him?" Rutee asked as she and Philia knelt beside Stahn. There was a mute nod of a golden head, then, "He saved my life..." We need to get him to town, came Atwight’s assessment, Rutee nodding in agreement. "He’s not dead, Stahn, but in this cold, in his condition...."

Mary bent and lifted the hunter like a child’s doll, cradling him in her cloak. "What are we waiting for, huh?" Stahn watched her, part of him wanting to hold on to him. "Come on then, Stahn." he looked up to see Leon offering a hand to him. Stahn took the help, silently, given pause by the look in Leon’s eyes.

He looked.... sad.

---------

A judicious combination of healing gels, field bandaging, and Atwight’s spells had stabilized the hunter, who lay under the quilts in Stahn’s bed at the inn. "He’s still suffering from exposure and exhaustion." Philia offered, smoothing her skirts primly. "There’s no help for that other than rest and good food."

Mary nodded. "Let me go get some soup from downstairs. I can’t do much else." She gave Stahn a small pat on the shoulder just as a soft moan came from under the covers, and the hunter stirred. The midnight eyes blinked themselves open slowly. "Wh..where?"

Stahn knelt by the bed. "You’re in Frostheim, Garr.. It’s ok. Do you remember me? It’s Stahn.. You saved my life on Snow Mountain..." the words came rushing out, colored by the fear that Garr wouldn’t know him, that those blue eyes would close again.

He smiled at Stahn, a weary wolf’s faint grin. "I remember you, Stahn.." he said gently, one hand lightly covering the swordsman’s. "We’ve got to stop meeting like this." The hunter looked over Stahn’s shoulder then at the staring faces of the others. "Annnd..... you brought friends with you." he said, bemused.

Stahn colored and made quick introductions. The hunter gingerly sat up, graciously greeting each one in turn. "Garr.. What happened?" Stahn asked gently, compulsively pulling the blankets around Garr before Dymlos nudged him to stop.

The hunter put his head down for a moment, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. "Heidelberg was attacked. I barely got out." He was looking at the floor, but his expression said he was seeing something completely different.

Heidelberg... is he of royal blood, I wonder? A swordian master? Clemente mused to Philia. She was about to translate for Garr’s benefit when she saw the silver head nod. "Yes. I am.." he said softly.

There was the swordian equivalent of a sputter at Stahn’s hip H-he’s..a king?!?. "So that’s how you knew my name!" Stahn felt lightheaded, suddenly. His wolf was a prince? If he hadn’t already been sitting, he would’ve fallen down. Garr gave a small smile to the assemblage in the little room. "I heard Dymlos’ voice. I’m sorry, Stahn. I didn’t mean to trick you... and I know you didn’t like me at the cabin, Dymlos... but... I hope we can become friends?" He looked down at the blade.

To the sensitives in the room, Dymlos gave the sudden impression of looking around nervously. He would’ve been tapping his fingers together if he had them. Why..why, yes. I think.. so... the Swordian muttered weakly.

"What happened in Heidelberg?" Leon interrupted Dymlos abruptly. "Some madman...calls himself Lydon.." Garr’s voice trailed off.

"Lydon’s here... and he must have the Eye of Atamoni with him!" Rutee burst out. Garr looked up at her, eyes widening. "Is that what they call that thing?" There was a tone of disgust in the deep voice. She nodded. "It’s in your city?"

"It’s probably being kept at the castle now.. It’s become a stronghold of the enemy, though.." Stahn could practically hear Garr thinking.

What about Igtenos? He was being kept in Phandaria... Clemente broke in, the words carrying an image of a blue and silver swordian. Garr’s face darkened. "Igtenos has fallen into enemy hands." he said grimly. Leon snorted. "Great. So they have a swordian now, as well."

"But we know where he is.. Where the Eye is.. We can stop him and bring it back!" Rutee clenched her fists and Stahn nodded his agreement. "We can do it."

Leon rolled his eyes. "You two are hopelessly optimistic. I’ll have to come with you to save you from yourselves."

Plans were being formulated quickly when Garr’s voice broke in. "Don’t forget about me. I’m coming too.. If nothing else.. I’m more familiar with the local geography than any of you." There was nothing insulting in his tone, simply a statement of fact.

"Garr.. You’re in no condition!" Stahn’s voice cracked with a sudden moment of panic, but the wolf-prince shook his head. "A little food.. Clean myself up.. I’ll be fine. I was just a little tired.." He was obviously lying, but the look in his eyes said he would not be left behind.

"I don’t need anymore dead weight." Leon sniped. "I have my hands full enough with these fools." Mary had to hold Rutee back from hitting him, when Garr chuckled. "Trust me. I won’t get in your way."

------------

They were alone in the room after that, Rutee dragging the others off to find some food and clean clothing for their new companion. There was an awkward silence that hung there, Stahn pouring water into a basin on one side of the room, Garr sitting on the bed at the other.

"I’m glad.. I’m glad you’re ok..." Stahn stammered out softly, finally. "I.. You’re.. I didn’t know you were a..."

There was the soft tread of Garr’s footfall on the heavy carpeting. "...what I am.. It doesn’t change who I am, Stahn." The swordsman swallowed hard, turning around. Theworn quilts hung around Garr’s shoulders like a royal robe. "I got some water.. Soap.. so.. You can shave.." He held out a hesitant hand to the silver scruff that gilded the hunter’s chin.

An amber hand caught Stahn’s, gently pressing it to his face. "...Stahn..."

The swordsman turned dark red and jerked his hand away, Garr’s silver-gilt stubble rough across his palm. "I.. I can’t. You’re... you’re ... royalty. I’m.. Nobody, Garr.. I.."

"Shh." Garr looked down at him, pressing two amber fingers against Stahn’s lips, winter midnight meeting summer day. "...as long as you remain my angel .... I will be your wolf..nothing more..." Garr’s whispered words ended when his mouth took the place of the fingers covering Stahn’s.

The pewter basin hit the carpeted floor with a dull clang, splattering water everywhere. Stahn didn’t notice, swept up into the embrace that had haunted his dreams for months.

When they’d peeled the battered armor from the hunter’s unconscious body, and removed clothes crusted with blood and dirt, Stahn had been too terrified of losing him to be able to appreciate the lean beauty his wolf still posessed. As the quilts fell away to the floor and they sank down with them, he was able to take that moment, now.

"My..wolf..." Stahn tasted that phrase, breathing it into Garr’s hair. "Of course.." Stahn sat back, straddling him, just wanting to look at the hunter beneath him with the silver hair splayed out around him.

Stahn... There was the tiniest nudge from Dymlos. This isn’t such a good idea..

The swordsman ignored the blade, bending over Garr, his hair curtaining around them as he covered his wolf’s face with tiny, sharp kisses. "You’ve gotten bold.." came the half-whispered response. "I’ve been through too much to let you slip away again.." Stahn replied, a hint of desperation coloring his voice.

Stahn, I’m telling you... this is really NOT a good time for this.

Garr sat up a bit to look over at the red-gold swordian. "Stahn..?" The swordsman made a little dismissive gesture. "Dymlos.. Please.. I don’t need a chaperone.."

The door opened then, the heavy thump of clothing and armor hitting the faded carpeting. "And maybe you do." Leon looked down at them with a look of disgust.. Something else, small and wounded, flitted across his face before vanishing into his icy glare. "We’re downstairs when you’re finished rutting."

Leon slammed the door behind him, leaving Stahn staring at the worn wood, his fingers tightening on Garr’s.

-----------

When they rejoined the others, Garr was as poised as Stahn had ever imagined him being, graciously thanking everyone before he sat down for the clothing. For his part, Stahn fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling tiny and shriveled in Leon’s withering glare.

Rutee kicked Stahn unceremoniously in the shin, before leaning her chin on her hand. "Ok, your highness, how do we get to Heidelberg from here?"

Stahn yelped and gave her a cross little stare as Leon sat back in his chair, running a thumb over the edge of his wine cup. "Lydon’s monsters must be everywhere." Garr nodded at the raven-haired swordsman. "They are.. And his troops control the normal southern route to the capital." The hunter-prince grabbed a charcoal out of the nearby fire and sketched a crude map on the wooden table. "But there’s a local route.. Northwards up the Frozen River and through a pass in the mountains.. It essentially takes you to Heidelberg’s back door."

Leon nodded. "And what makes you so sure Lydon doesn’t have this guarded as well?" There was a thinly disguised snipe in Leon’s tone. Garr regarded him coolly. "The Frozen River’s the coldest place in Phandaria. Insanely cold. Lydon’s seinegaldian. I doubt he’d even consider it possible to travel the river." The hunter tapped the table with his charcoal. "It’s dangerous.. The cold can kill you in minutes if you’re not properly protected.. but it’s doable."

Rutee made a face at the thought of enduring more of Phandaria’s cold, but she nodded along with the rest.