He would spend his life in a tortured delirium. The nightmares, the endless guilt and the shame were never ending. His mind, he would think later on, had never been fit for sanity.

They came back to their fort in the trees. Surrian slept for days afterward while he worked constantly on the fort. When her eyes opened once more the fort had become a home.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh Sartok,” she breathed, looking to the massive space and winding stairs that twisted into the trees, “It is beautiful.” She cupped his face and let him cry. Only when she absolved him did he ever feel better.

“Yeah, it is.” They both jumped at the intruders voice.

His eldest brother, Odion, whistled slightly. Two years older than him, Odion was the very image of perfection. He had Verdugon's straight, ink black hair swinging in a loose ponytail and glittering golden eyes.

Sartok frowned at him, “Go away! This is no place for you!”

“Aw, c'mon little brother, I'm causing no harm.”

“Yes you are,” Sartok yelled, “Surrian has been through a lot and she needs rest!”

Odion smiled one of his lopsided smiles past his brother at the young girl, “That's a pretty name, little miss. It means 'dark beauty' in Black Landish, doesn't it?”

She blushed but spared him a smile. “You are most kind, sir.”

The other boy felt himself glow with rage. Surrian was his friend; Odion stole everything from him. “Rargh!”

Surrian cried out as Sartok leapt for the older boys throat. His eyes stirred madly with the molten glow she had come to love. Yet they were not glowing beneath his eyelids this night, they were raging with an insane anger, “Sartok!”

He stopped, whimpering out as though wounded. His head bowed he crept back on the bed with her and gathered her in his arms, “M' sorry, don't cry, don't cry....”

She shared a confused look with the older boy, “He is...?”

“He's fine,” the boy chuckled, “Simple jealousy. He seems to care for you a great deal, dark beauty.”

Sartok growled into her collarbone. His only thoughts were on becoming stronger. So strong that no man could stand up to him ever again. So strong that Surrian could never fancy any other. Especially Odion.

And that resolve would breed a demon.

* * * *

The soldiers were terrified of him and he thrived off of that. An older, more toned Sartok held his sword aloft as though it were weightless.

The years had been good to him. His awkward body had become sleek and sculpted over the six years she had been gone. Never a moment had passed when he hadn't thought of her. His dear friend off studying in her people's ancient sorcery. She would return to him, someday, a sorceress to be reckoned with.

“Are all of you afraid,” he teased. His voice was droll, sensually amused. He shrugged, “Come now, my lady is coming soon. Do you want me to look bad, gentlemen?”

One at the head of the group finally stepped forward. “I-I'll try, sir...” He was a young man with only a thin rapier between him and the prince.

Sartok cocked an eyebrow at the scent coming from him. It was a honeyed scent. The scent was a woman's.

The prince sighed and tucked his sword away, “I can't strike a man down who has a love waiting at home for him.”

The soldier looked like he couldn't believe his luck but didn't question it. He thanked him quietly and hurried off. Sartok dismissed the rest of the terrified men and twirled his sword. The wind blew the hair from his handsome face.

The thought made him smile. Handsome. Since he had turned sixteen women had been clamoring after him. Such an amusing games they played for his attention.

A new scent came off the wind. The smell of rose petals and vanilla. His heart flew into his throat, “Finally...” He turned towards the figure clad in black waiting for him, “Sweetling, you must promise to visit for more than just the summers.”

Her head cocked to the side and her hair spilled from her bare, creamy shoulders as she smirked at him, “Tell me, my dear friend. Would you like to come out and play?”

He grinned wildly, “Duck, sweetling!” and his sword swung like lightning.

Her form twisted back elegantly in an arch, the blade not even touching her. She smiled as his arm came around her waist and held her still in that dancer's position.

They gazed lovingly at each other, a mix of dirty secrets, lust and emotions too powerful for either to acknowledge swarming in their souls.

Her body had become a woman's and he took in every inch with his blue eyes. Her bust had become swelled and it was clad in a Black Landish dress that framed her collarbones with a velvet sheen.

“Your body has become a warrior's, my friend,” she purred, tickling his glistening abdomen.

He sighed and rose to his full height, bringing her close to him, “I miss you. I ache for you. Why must this only be during the summers?”

“I have made sure it won't be. I have mastered my lessons so well they have graduated me early and given me the title of a full blown sorceress.” She squeezed his form, “This time I will not be saying good bye.”

Sartok tilted her chin up so he could admire her lavender eyes. “Now there is time. Now there will be an infinity for us to play...”

But his eyes were not the only ones on Surrian. The green monster was to have it's say in the development of Fate around them.