Darion's eyes snapped open. He was laying in one of the beds, covered with a blanket. No, not a blanket, he realized after further scrutiny, Hernon's cape. Darion flung the cape off him and jump to his feet, searching for the man who knocked him out. He wasn't there.

He could feel himself growing angry, rage boiling up inside of him, waiting to be released. Flames licked the tips of his fingers, dancing across his palms. He's never been so embarrassed before in his entire life. He was about to kiss the other man, he actually trusted him, and then he was deceived. He should've seen it coming--he did see it coming--but he allowed his emotions to take a hold of him instead of escaping the other man's weak pin.

Never again.

Breathe. he thought to himself. Anger wasn't going to help him at the moment. He thinks of Diana and the fire inside of him is doused, the flames on his hand extinguishing themselves. Darion's eyes drift to the cape on the bed. He snatches it up.

***

Hernon sits at the bar swirling his drink around, waiting silently. He couldn't stop thinking about Darion and the way he looked after he kissed him, the feeling of their lips fitting together. Darion wasn't like anyone else Hernon had ever met.

A door slammed open and Hernon didn't even have to check to know it was Darion. His cape returned to his neck, the speed of its flight pulling him to the floor. Hernon scrambled to his feet, attempting to preserve his dignity.

Darion stood illuminated in the glow of torches next to the entrance. His stride was powerful and angry as he stalked towards Hernon.

"Now that we've gotten to know each other, can we just sit down and talk--" Hernon was cut short as Darion grabbed his throat, slamming the man onto the bar. The wood groaned under the force as Darion leaned forward.

"I'm taking you to the queen right this moment," he growled. Hernon's eyes widened as flames reached up into his eyesight originating from the hand around his throat; the heat was manageable but increasing every second. "You should be happy you're still alive."

Through desperate gasps for air, Hernon spoke. "I never imagined you to send innocent people to their deaths." He made sure to make eye contact; he felt the connection before, maybe it could help him now. Darion's eyes flickered yet his grip remained strong. Then all at once he removed his hand and turned away. Hernon gasped, giving his lungs what they so desperately needed. He coughed a few times and rubbed his neck where he was held.

Darion clenched and opened his fists as he tried to get his anger under control. The flames once again extinguished themselves.

"I'm sorry about knocking you out like that. I just needed a public place for us to speak in concern for my life; I guess that didn't really work out." He sat back down on his stool and took a swig of his drink.

Darion took the stool next to him and faced Hernon. "You have until I tire of hearing your voice," he said. Hernon could tell this wasn't a full threat, but it wasn't empty either.

He began telling him the truth about what happened that night.

***

The doors emitted a bone-tingling screech as Hernon pushed through into his favorite tavern: the Moist Maiden. Although no one looked his way--much less greeted him--Hernon felt at home in a space welcoming to him and everything that he is. His first stop was going to be the bar, but he instead walked right into someone.

"Sorry about that," Hernon said. "I'm clumsy both drunk and sober." He looked up at who he was apologizing to. The face was shrouded in shadows by a hood looked to be pulled up as far as the material would allow. He waited for a response but none came; they just stood there in silence for a bit before stalking off to a booth.

Hernon paid no mind and grabbed a seat at the bar. He ordered a mug of ale before surveying the crowd. Men and women of all shapes and sizes gathered around the room in small groups, talking intently. His eyes landed upon a man sitting in a booth by himself. It wasn't the figure he'd bumped into; they were closer to the entrance. Once Hernon received his drink, he stood from the bar and began making his way towards the lone man with dark hair. The man looked up as Hernon approached, a smile beginning to tug at his lips.

The doors slammed open and soldiers of the royal family came marching in, silencing all conversations and halting all movement with their presence. There were four of them, clad in armor with their weapons drawn. The orange glow of the torchlight made the dark blue armor sheen. The group split apart, making way for a new arrival to the Moist Maiden.

A man in attire of the upper class stepped into the tavern, followed by four more soldiers. The protectors glared straight ahead making eye contact with no one, yet Hernon knew they were alert to everything around them.

"I am Lord Crestfall!" the man in high class apparel announced. The silence was thick. Every single person was listening; waiting to hear the reason for the Lord's attendance. "Tonight a carriage belonging to the queen was attacked! The criminal got away with the queen's jewels; the value of which is ten times any of your miserable lives."

Murmurs shot through the room as people processed what they'd just been told. How could someone attack anything belonging to the royal family and get away with it? How did they get to the jewels and escape alive? What had the soldiers been doing? Was this man even human?

Lord Crestfall raised his hands and silence fell once more.

"We have reason to believe the thief is in this very tavern!" Scattered gasps were the only reply. Crestfall turned his attention to the bartender. "You, sir. Who was the last person to enter this bar?"

Hernon knew the answer to that question before it was given. A finger was pointed at him. "That man right there." The Lord's eyes snapped to Hernon; brown pupils seemingly looking deep into him, penetrating his thoughts. Hernon knew he didn't steal anything, he'd come straight from his stand at the market to the tavern, yet he felt nervous as the man looked him up and down, judging him from the outside.

"Check him." A soldier moved forward. Hernon wanted to groan, but raised his hands regardless. The soldier removed his weapons before searching him.

"This is stupid. I didn't steal any--" The guard held up a gleaming golden ring covered in the biggest diamonds Hernon had ever seen. His eyes widened. "I don't know how that got there, I swear to you!"

"Arrest him." The words came out of Crestfall's mouth void of all sympathy. The soldier tried to apprehend Hernon, but he pulled away, heading towards the Lord before being stopped by two heavily armed soldiers. His weapons were on a table next to where he'd been searched; he backed down.

"I came straight here from the market, there must be someone who can confirm that!" The Lord paid no mind to the man pleading to him. Hernon looked over to the dark figure he'd ran into when he came in. That was no accident.  "It was him!" Hernon shouted, pointing at the one he spoke of.

"Where's the rest of the stolen jewelry?" Crestfall had listened to nothing he said.

It took multiple soldiers to hold Hernon still enough to bound his wrists with rope. He continued to plead and continued to be ignored. The restraints only made him fight harder. He pulled and pushed and shouted to no avail; he wasn't going any where. Hernon was just about to give up when he noticed the Lord and the figure looking at each other. The Lord gave an almost indistinguishable nod which the figure returned with a nod of their own.

Realization kicked in. There's a reason why they came to this tavern specifically and why they were able to root him out so quickly. There's a reason why a stolen ring had been in his pocket and why the rest of the missing goods are no where to be found and will most likely remain missing no matter how wide or how thorough of a search the Lord may order. It was his plan.

The rage surging through Hernon erupted in a fit of curses and violent kicks. His mistake was taking another step towards the Lord. The last thing Hernon saw before darkness over took him was Crestfall with a smile on his face.

***

Darion's finger rubbed back and forth across the rim of the mug he grasped. He sat in silence, his mind going over everything Hernon just told him. His gaze remained on the dark liquid in the mug, his reflection gazing back up at him. The murmur of conversation had suddenly become the loudest thing Hernon had ever experienced. He shifted in his seat at an attempt to rid his body of the lurking sense of discomfort.

Darion sighed, leaning back from the mug. His attention switched to Hernon who flinched. "If I were to help you, we'd need a plan." Hernon's face lit up with glee. "I'm serious, we'd need a perfect plan. We can't just go accusing Lords of treason without proof."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Hernon laid a hand on Darion's arm, a motion he'd deemed safe for non-Fab places some time ago. "The only reason I'm not hugging you is because we're not at the Moist Maiden."

"They seriously have to change that name."

"I know, it's disgusting." Hernon gave Darion a smile. He liked the connection they had. It was something new; beautiful in its own right. Darion almost smiled, but instead kept on topic.

"Do you have a plan in mind?"

Hernon removed his hand from Darion's arm and rubbed them together. "Believe it or not, I've actually had some time to think about this. When I was imprisoned, my original plan was to escape and somehow get the Lord to confess. Then I met you and was flung across a room by your magic--which is quite painful, by the way.

"I've heard that wizards--or whatever you are--have the ability to go into someone's memory and take out certain things. Then they're able to show that memory to whomever they want. So all we have to do is get you close to Lord Crestfall and you can do your magic thingy and bam we have a confession in the form of a memory!"

"Hernon, I'd need a spell for that and all of them are in the castle library," Darion said.

"I'm not seeing a problem," Hernon said.

"I can't just walk in. If I'm seen, the royals will know about my presence before I could even leave and considering I'd be empty handed, they'd know something's wrong." Hernon was visibly confused, what would make them think something was wrong? "I'm too good at what I do to come back without the target. They're probably already confused as to why I haven't returned yet."

Hernon's mind began racing like a stallion, creating and disputing ideas with every passing second. "What about the tower being built? Isn't that a way to get in without eyewitnesses?"

Darion knew he was on to something. The royal family had ordered for a new tower to be erected for optimal security. It was almost complete, but scaffolding still wrapped around the tower and part of the ways down the walls connecting it to the rest of the castle. Darion knew the castle like the back of his hand; more importantly, he knew the positioning of guards.

"If we do this right, we should be able to get all the way to the library without confronting anyone but the two guards at the exposed entrance."

"We should be able to take on two guards, right?" Hernon hadn't even blink at his inclusion in the mission.

"No, we're not going to fight them. I know a potion that'll put them to sleep; we're not getting violent unless it's absolutely necessary."

"So, it's a plan?" Hernon's face was one of excitement. He'd never broken into a castle before.

Darion nodded. The other man gave his fist a little pump. "But first we need to get some actual rest. After that you need to get me to a kitchen and we need to make another stop after that."

"Well, I have a pretty nice bed and my kitchen is stocked with just about everything you may need," Hernon suggested.

It was suggested that there was only one bed, Darion noticed. The thought scared just as much as it intrigued him. He didn't like being scared; instead of avoiding a fear, he'd rather face it head-on and conquer it. "Lead the way."

Those three words etched the plan in stone, they confirmed to Hernon once again that this man may in fact be a Both-lover, they confirmed that they were really about to do this. After downing his drink, he got up to take this man to his home. As they left the tavern, Hernon looked back to where they sat. Someone in a hood was sitting at the table right behind where they'd come from. Could it be the person who framed him? Someone returned from the outhouse, sitting in the seat across from them.

No, he was just being paranoid.