I feel at odds with myself, never before had I questioned my sexuality or how people saw me and yet, before all these people I couldn't bring myself to declare us. Try as I might, I can't seem to convince myself that only the fear of him would make them turn me away.

 Something more made me hold back, and I tried desperately to push it from my mind. Every evening for the past week, the same memory snuck into my nightmares, and he walked away from me all over again with the same hurt expression. 

The logical side of me knows he understands; the side of me that belongs to him understands why he's hurt.

I run my hand through my hair as I head towards the simplistic courtyard that seems to have once been a small park. There is little to no electricity in this city, but there is nature, and that, alone, has been quite refreshing, save for the cold. 

I could admit I'd be even more thrilled if we were going through this in the spring. Brittle grass grows up through the cracks of the worn sidewalk, and overgrown trees reach branches through every previously primped crevice, now covered in ice and fresh fall from this morning's snowstorm. 

Gardens are overgrown with brush and dormant frosted plants, it's not home but it's more than I could ask from for a city in modern times. I've thoroughly enjoyed the silence and nights that are only illuminated by candlelight. But, candlelight and no electricity all represent a lack of heat, it would be the cold that threatens to freeze me each and every night.

It would appear as though as my powers change, so do I. My abilities to heal were lessening, while I could manage small tasks like bruises and cuts, recovering someone from an actual injury seemed beyond my capability. It was as if a mental block had asserted itself between me and that side of my magic.

 What's more, my ability to regulate my body temperature seemed to be waning for it seemed I was much colder than I ever remember being. Perhaps I'd grown spoiled by the blessing of a lycan furnace, it doesn't seem to matter how much I layer I can't escape the frosty chill that sinks into my very core from the moment I open my eyes each morning. 

I push the thought that this is a more recent occurrence to the back of my mind as I bundle in a jacket and an overcoat, hoping to block out the breeze and the threatening flurries that morning brings.

Days tick by like small eternities, swallowing me in their everlasting longevity. I feel as terrible as I'm sure that I look, my eyes feel heavy and puffy, and my body feels like it's running on fumes. The mental toll of ruling on my own is threatening to overwhelm me as we near a week that I've remained here in this lost city. 

My lack of ability to warm my body lingers in the back of my mind and provides a heavy drain on my mental state which hasn't helped me see deeper into the plight of these people. The thoughts circle in a continuous loop and yet, I still have no answers. The humble shops are all too inviting, the people smile too brightly, they don't look busy enough or bored enough to be civilians, and I feel myself tapping into my acquired paranoia. 

Part of me wonders if I should be looking for a spy, if this was all for not, and Red knows right at this moment that I'm alive and hiding here.

While these people might carry the blood of magic users, their bodies and their minds were nowhere near fit enough for the tasks at hand. I had jumped in with every ounce of optimism, knowing they came from all corners. The resounding hope for effort had clouded my judgment.

 If people had come so far, indeed they would be prepared to do what was necessary, read the history books, and memorize my battle tactics. Unfortunately, I was mistaken. I had not taken into account that people worked many different occupations in today's world, my people had been farmers and philosophers, and here, people worked behind a desk. 

I struggle with the pace of this society and my inability to motivate them to move faster. My life feels like it's stuck in a delay, rolling downhill in slow motion. I had to find my edge, I had to make some moves.

These people were hardly above the rank of children, a society of purebred victims, I felt as if most of our communal meetings were nothing but more avenues to socialize. Frankly, as their King, I wouldn't have listened to them with their lack of practice and minimal solutions. 

The longer I'm here, the more I begin to see what Verando was talking about when he handed over the fledging lycans to Helen and suddenly I'm no longer judging him for passing the torch. He leads who he chooses to lead, perhaps there was still so much more to learn from him. I had to be decisive, this wasn't the time to play the role of the nice guy. 

Not when I was freezing, not when I was miserable. I cling to the thought that I had learned enough from these people, it was time to shift the plan.

Grayson waves me down, and I force a small smile, preparing myself mentally for another day of frustration. In a way, I can't say I don't blame the man for my current predicament as he could have prepared me better before I sent my fiance away. 

I feel as though valuable time is wasted just trying to get this community off of its knees and onto its feet. There are no ledgers, no rules, no documents. We are putting in place the first pieces of infrastructure in this hobo town. This is a job for an assistant, a court, anyone but me. I sigh, taking the notebook from his hand and glancing over it. 

When one wins a battle, sometimes they win the remains of the civilization left behind by the loser. Society was usually in shambles, there was an adjustment period and the realization that maybe the war wasn't the best plan in the first place. 

"How are we doing on sorting those who have -actual- powers, Grayson?" I keep my tone crisp, reminding him that I don't consider 'basket weaving' to be a power even if the woman can do it with her mind. 

Despite multiple meetings on gifts and powers, it was hard to convince anyone to single any individual out as better or worse than the collective. Ungoverned people were hard to govern, they had been on their own for too long.

An all-inclusive magical community was a fantastic pipe dream, but the reality was, that most of these people were gifted and not magical. They were, for the most part, useless to me. The only thing binding them to us was the fact they were illegal, and it made me question the validity of a magic society hiding here, the government left them alone because they weren't a threat. 

We couldn't trust these people; we couldn't waste the time and energy into assimilating them. But, I stop myself mid-mental rant, if I could collect even just one valuable member this would have all been worth it. We were a mere three weeks away from leaving for France, time was not on our side, and kidding myself into thinking that there was powerful magic hidden in this depressing city was laughable.

"Yes. We've narrowed it down to fifty, sir." 

I can see the disappointment on his face as well. An optimistic man, he honestly did believe he had brought me an army. His inexperience with magic is not his fault; he was a magical being who had been taught he was no better than anyone else. Notable was terrible, scary, dangerous. 

It would take some work to pull him out of his shell, but he was salvageable. What I needed now were competent people that we could put in positions of power and begin the ball rolling in the right direction.

"And their ages?" I ask. 

Grayson winces, flipping the page for me and I glance down at the margin of eighteen to thirty-five-year-olds.  

"Fifteen." I nod, the first bit of good news I've had since deciding to seclude myself here. Fifteen I could handle; they could be dealt with and sorted. I wasn't prepared to lead hundreds of unpracticed gifted into the fray of something I didn't yet understand. "Believe it or not, this helps." I try and reassure him, earning the flash of a smile.

It was becoming increasingly clear to me that there would have to be a war, against what I was not sure. This foreign land had strange customs that were difficult to wrap my mind around.

 Every man had a say, at least a vote, yet it seemed the higher-ups made decisions independently if they were deemed too necessary for the common man to comprehend. The complex ecosystem of man didn't have room for medieval warfare, and we didn't quite have the weapons compared to what I saw on television. 

Something had to change where we could all coexist, I was seeing my own people on repeat and recalling that meetings and talk did little to persuade anyone. 

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" His voice brings me once more out of the depths of planning, trying to concoct a way to hand this over to someone else while I focused on what I needed to do.

I blink, handing him back the notebook. "Just tired, I haven't done this in a little while, and before I had staff and an advisor. It takes a lot more than just stern looks and walking about to run a rebellion. Bring me these 15 people, today, and we will meet over lunch. I want to speak with them and get a feel for their personalities." 

Grayson nods, jogging off, and I make sure not to let him see me rub my temples as if my very brain has split. Kindness and mannerisms were moving this program painfully slow, everyone was on their own time, and we were about to waste half the day just to organize a simple meeting. As I walk, I pull out the phone and press the button. 

I need to speak with him; I need clarity in so much murky water.

"Hello." It hardly even rings. I smile at his accent; how I'd missed it. Everyone here sounds the same.

"Do you sit around waiting for me to call?" I asked him timidly, I speak to him every day, but it hasn't quite been the same since I've been here. He's upset, and I can't say I blame him.

"I'm actually doing a run-through for a benefit I'm doing in your honor; some of us have jobs, bodies to bury, fake funerals to plan..." He retorts though I can hear the lightness in his tone; he's happy to hear from me even if on the back end of his words, I can feel the tension. 

Below the surface, he almost sounds winded, as if he has just finished something that requires a good deal of effort. "I've been quite busy; also, you left your child in my care, and I'd like to return him to you." 

My child? I hesitate, and I can practically hear him roll his eyes. 

"Tyler."

"Oh, right." I did drop off the face of the earth. The news had not been kind to how they speculated I died; while I was painted a hero, they struggled to believe the story that Senator Campbell painted for my death being caused by the building falling. An assassination was proposed, but our political supporters struggled to point fingers at Red.  

Red was doing her best to pacify the nation, but she had only done one conference; I wondered if it was because I tried to vaporize her, and she didn't want to show the people that a God could bleed. 

"Hey. Why don't you bring him to me? I've done some work around here; I'd love your opinion. Actually.. could you bring everyone? The fledgling lycans and Helen as well? I think I've gone mad; might as well have an audience."

"That would be incredibly kind of me; I have a life, you know. So, just so I'm certain, you sent me away because they were afraid of me, and now you want me to come back, with more of my kind, to do... what exactly?" Sarcasm drips from his voice, hard in his tone. He missed me, he'd been dying for any excuse to come see me without outright asking, but he wouldn't come so easily now that I offered. 

My manly warlord, never one to show any sort of weakness. I could picture Alpha with his singular tail wag, making me almost chuckle.

It's my turn to scoff. "No, you don't. You boss people around all day; you can take a break from terrorizing your staff." I remind him. "Just trust me on this. I have a theory."

"I do, darling." His tone softens minutely. "But you see, that life is very far from me right now. I hope you're taking good care of it and its assets. I do recall an activity that was cut so rudely short that we never, quite, got to finish..." 

Clutching the phone tighter, I hug myself and hear him sigh. 

"I'm sorry, darling, I don't see how- What-" I hear the distant tone of someone talking in the background, the authoritarian bark making me jump. He must actually be busy. "Incompetence is a plague in this time." 

It makes me smile.

"Be kind." I plead. "Come tonight? Bring Tyler and Helen, the lycans, your best self would be lovely. If this works, I'll be back before you know it."

"What I wouldn't give to have you back. Are you doing alright?"

I can't do this right now. "I have to go. It's a date, can we talk tonight?" 

"I'll be taking a thorough inventory of what belongs to me, so prepare yourself." He murmurs, though I can read between the lines quite easily. He loved me, he missed me dearly.

Hanging up, I find a new purpose in knowing he will be here in a few short hours. Shivering, I find my way to city hall, where I've taken refuge to plan and call gatherings. Usually, my days would be full, stacked to the brim with meeting after meeting, but the infostructure was lacking, and I was finding myself with a surprising amount of free time. 

Sef opens the door and peers in, noticing me rubbing my arms.

"Are you okay?" 

Why does everyone keep asking me that? 

But, I'm glad to see her because I'd like her opinion on my lack of warmth.

"Quite. Just a touch chilled. Have we been watching the news? Where is Grayson's sister?" I ask as she approaches me, putting her hands on me and spreading warmth over my body. She shivers with me, widening her eyes as she takes me in.

"Oh my gosh, you are freezing!"

So it's not just me? 

"It's my element. I must be hemorrhaging magic somewhere. Can you scan me?" 

She warns me with her eyes before kissing me, clutching my face with her hands, and I'm overtaken by the intensity of it as I retract. 

"Maybe you should work on not needing to kiss?"

She chuckles, "I've always done it that way. Why fix something that works?" 

Diseases? I think quietly to myself. Pascal enters the room, as if on cue or because some psycho lycan was threatening her life, and nods her head to me with respect. 

"You feel fine; I've never felt anything like it before, actually, you have so much magic. I almost feel.. thirsty. Are you missing something?" She touches her lips, and her cheeks redden as mine do. 

Her fingers slowly spread to cover her mouth with her hand, and she clears her throat, "Oh." She exhales with a giggle. I'm missing my fiance; one could hardly blame me for feeling lonely. What she felt was my undeniable lust for the man who promised to make good on my desires later.

I shrink back from her, hiding in my massive overcoat. "You should work on your tact," I warn her, an empty threat. Pascal eyes me, and I dismiss the giggling healer. Maybe I don't need any more magic users; perhaps I should become a hermit and wait out the world's end on my own. 

"How's the outside world?"

She knows exactly what I'm asking, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she eyes me suspiciously.

"Everyone thinks you're dead, just by following the news. No signs of Red around here, the whole city is distracted by the building falling, and I haven't seen a single whisker of the cats in a week." Yet, there is no information on my warlord. 

Taking in the silence, she fumbles with her sleeve before revealing the gunshot wound on her arm beneath the lycra and jacket. "Did you know that Mr.Mercer shot me?"

"I was told you shot him first. Actually, I was there." I remind her, point blank. I want someone around to warn me if I'm being attacked, not play a thousand questions.

Pascal smirks, shrugging me off. "Do you know why?" I don't entertain her; I'm not interested in why Verando chooses to shoot people. Usually, it's a good reason. "He shot me because of you. I put you in danger. Why would he do that?"

"I'm quite valuable. You should be more grateful and less annoying." My tone is irritated as I cross my arms over my chest to huddle deeper into my coat. Pulling my hood up, I wonder if my magic extends far enough to displace cold as much as it creates it.

Moving to step in front of me, she makes an attempt to catch my gaze. "History dictates you both were always together. I know most of this community has not done the research, but my brother and I have. Are you not together? Mr.Mercer often refers to you as his husband-"

"Keep your voice down." I snap, glancing around us to make sure we are alone. "This is not the time or the place. Bigger things are at stake here, and trust me; I don't plan on being here alone any longer than I have to be. If you truly believe in the cause, keep this to yourself. They need to trust me before I spout off that I'm marrying the man they're terrified of." 

I don't expect the grin that follows, and I wonder if I'll have to kill her.

"So there is a plan? I knew it! The whole thing looked suspicious-" She breaks into a ramble, and I decide it's not worth my time as she erupts in propaganda and theories. Instead, I command her that if she's going to spew nonsense, she can at least make me lunch. 

So, I follow her to her home and muse that it's nice to have someone else talk for a change.