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****please read comments before reading!!! Also, this will be a yaoi story that eventually wont be for the faint hearted! You have been warned!"
Chapter one

“Of course, High castle is a nice castle” Nathaldron said, inspecting his sharply pointed fingernails, a look of feigned boredom on his face, “Its very nice,” he said again, “But it is not enough.”
The man sat opposite him, the King of Talander winced a little, “What else do you require?” he asked wearily, scratching his beard. He looked at the Dark mage sat before him and grimaced. Giving Nathaldron his beloved High Castle was part of a pact between the two, to keep the Dark mage out of trouble. The King had asked Nathaldron to stop his…dark behaviours in exchange for the castle, as a last attempt before declaring war against the powerful young man. War was the very last option though; the King stood little change against the powerful Dark mage.
Nathaldron would have anything he required from the local people as long as his demands were not extortionate and he would be left in peace to practice his dark arts. The idea should have suited everyone. But we are dealing with Nathaldron, The King thought bitterly.
“I require…a body. Company if you will. I might get lonely up there all by myself….” The Dark mage grinned, showing off his pointed canine teeth. At this comment, a gasp sounded in the room before being stifled with a slender hand. Nathaldrix, who had been quietly sitting next to the King, looked up sharply, his face slightly pink and stared at the Dark mage. His hands twisted in the folds if his robes nervously; he had an awful idea of what Nathaldron was thinking.
“You” Nathaldron pointed at the light mage, grinning so wide he looked like a Cheshire cat, “You and the castle will do. No more murder, no more rape. You will hardly hear from me…..us.”
Nathaldrix looked away and bit down on his lip, his face twisted with fear. He was trapped. If he said no to Nathaldron, the Dark mage would not accept the bargain and carry on his vile behaviour. War would soon follow. If he said yes, he would be doomed to live in High castle forever, tending to Nathaldron’s every whim. He had no choice…and the Dark mage knew it.
Nathaldron stood, his thick black cloak billowing around him, “I will be at the gates of High Castle tomorrow morning” he said smugly. He bowed mockingly to the King, his purple and black hair spilling over his shoulders. The King did not move but sat as still as stone, his face an angry mask.
He then turned to Nathaldrix and bowed again, sticking his tongue out at the Light mage when he straightened. The gesture was not playful. Nathaldrix stiffened, his face turning crimson and looked away, trying to hide the single tear that rolled down his cheek.
The Dark mage muttered a few words and vanished from the room, the air rushing to fill the space he had been stood in with a popping sound.
The King turned to Nathaldrix, knowing that the Light mage, the most powerful of the Follower of the Flame, was trapped in darkness, the very thing he had fought against for so long.
The King opened his mouth to speak but could not form the proper words. He gave up and shaking his head, rose and left the room.

Nathaldrix stood at the gates of High Castle and sighed sadly. The sun was just cresting the horizon, shattering the grey light of dawn. A sleepy birdcall sounded from the trees, sad and lost in the greyish light of the new day. This was Nathaldrix’s favourite time of day, the time when his power was strongest but today he felt nothing, only defeat.
More birds called happily, greeting the new day and the world was suddenly alive with the sounds of nature. A light breeze whispered through the long grass and rustled the leaves of the old oak trees that surrounded the castle. Nathaldrix couldn’t help but smile.
Suddenly, the noise ceased, the birdcalls cut off and everything was still. Nathaldrix turned and found himself inches away from Nathaldron, who was grinning like a crazed demon. The Light mage took a step back involuntarily and nearly tripped on his bag, which he had left on the floor since arriving.
“Careful, I don’t want you hurting yourself,” Nathaldron whispered, leaning close, “Shall we go inside?” he asked. The Light mage could do nothing but nod his head mutely, afraid to speak lest his voice betray his terror. He let Nathaldron take him by the wrist and lead him away, through the polished gates of the castle, his bag floating behind him.