Nivean and he Dvergar

Nivean and he Dvergar

Nivean and the Dvergar

This story is a retelling of a fairy tale. There are also some authoritarian elements in the story.

There will be some non-consensual scenes in the story, although the main character does eventually acquiesce. This story is fantasy. In the real-world consent is not only important, but also sexy.

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You can contact me at pseudonominius@gmail.com.

Author's Notes

·         If you want to be informed of new stories, send me an email, and ask to be put on the notification list. I'll send a notification. Everyone will be on the bcc line so your email address will not show to other members.

·         I have created a google group for people who want to get more information about my stories in that format. Only I can view the member list, so data should be secure. If a reader sends a question my way, I will post the answer to that group after removing any information about the reader. It's a good way to get more background information if you want. https://groups.google.com/g/pseudominius-stories

·         If you like this story, you may like Jack and the Giant and Sacred Submissives (see below).

·         My Stories

o   College Magic

o   Jack and the Giant

o   Sacred Submissives

o   Bellus Cinaedus

o   Guardian Angel

Nivean and the Dvergar

In a faraway land there lived a queen named Amalthea. In her youth, every knight in the land sought to marry her. Her father decided to hold a contest and the best knight would gain her hand in marriage. All the knights of the kingdom came to participate in the contest, each hoping to wed the princess and share in her crown. But the greatest knights in the land were beaten by a handsome youth from a distant land who introduced himself as Sir Lucan of Silverthorn. Unbeknownst to the other knights he was a lord of the Seelie Courts in the lands of Faerie.

In time the king died, and the princess was crowned queen. Her husband was content to serve her and never sought to steal her power. She gave birth to a single child, a son she named Nivean. He was a fair skinned child with hair of raven black. He had the best features of his mother and his father. And the kingdom rejoiced upon his birth. Only a few knights who had tried and failed to win her hand remained displeased, and chief among them was Damian Darkheart, a recent widower who had been widely expected to win the contest.

After losing both the contest and the hand of the queen, he had turned to the study of dark magic and had sworn service to a frightful being of the deepest realm of shadow, a being known to mages as the Dread King of Shadow. And it was this patron who had informed him that the queen's consort was one of the faerie folk. Under his patron's tutelage, he built a trap, a magic mirror to ensnare his rival and to force him to do his bidding. One night he surprised Prince Consort Lucan and trapped him in the mirror. To all appearances, the queen's husband had just disappeared without a trace.

After a year of mourning, the Prince Consort was declared missing. There were no open mages in the kingdom since Queen Amalthea's grandfather had executed many mages and driven the magical folk out of the kingdom, so there were none who could divine the location of the missing prince consort. The queen refused all suitors until ten years had passed, and young Prince Nivean was eleven years of age.

Damian Darkheart had access to the queen since he was her second cousin and was counted among her heirs. He began to use his magic to woo her. He didn't charm her or dominate her (that would have been noticeable without magic by those who knew her well), but he did use magic to watch her from afar and to see when she was alone and approachable. He could listen to her thoughts and say exactly the words that would turn her heart.

Within a year, the two were married. Darkheart had three sons of his own from his first marriage. These three boys were close in age to the prince, but older by a few years. Armand was the oldest and he was six years older than the prince. Bruno was the middle son, and he was four years older. And the youngest was Caspian, a thoughtful youth who loved books and learning of all kinds. He was two years older than the prince.

Each of the boys were like their father in some ways. Armand had a tactical mind and great ambition. Bruno had his powerful build and his father's dark good looks and demeanor, although his cruelty lay closer to the surface than his father's. But it was Caspian who had his father's deep intellect and ability to keep his thoughts hidden from his face and his body.

On Prince Nivean's thirteenth birthday, a year after his mother had married Darkheart, the oldest brother led the prince on a hunting expedition. Armand was nineteen years old and had already mastered horsemanship and the art of the hunt. He was under instruction from his father to offer fine wine to the prince when they were alone. When served in a prepared cup, the wine would make the prince vomit blood until he died. And Nivean's stepfather, in the cruelest trick of all, called his slave, Nivean's own father, from the mirror and compelled him to turn into a magnificent stag and lead the party on a wild chase so that Armand could complete the dead.

But Lucan the Seelie Lord was free, even if it was just for a moment. At the right moment in the hunt, he assumed the form of a magnificent stag with silver horns and the hunters gave chase. Armand was a skilled rider, and he was able to slow his horse and that of the prince down enough that the hunting party left them behind. When they had fallen far enough behind that no one would accidentally turn back and come upon them, Armand put a hand on the prince's reins and stopped his horse.

"I fear that the hunt has left us behind, my prince," he said. "At this point we will not catch them, try as we might. We may as well enjoy a drink while we wait."

He pulled out skin of wine and two cups. One cup was of gold and the other was of silver. The golden cup had been rubbed with the magical poison that would bring death. But a moment of confusion struck Armand. He handed the silver cup to the prince and drank from the gold cup himself.

A sprite hovered invisibly nearby and congratulated himself on his spell of confusion. He was Timroth, one of Sir Lucan's flying guards. Despite his six-inch stature, he was deadly with a bow and quick with spells of trickery and misdirection. He'd waited for years to hear from his lord, but he hadn't been able to find him. As soon as Lucan had been released from the mirror however Timroth had been able to determine who held his lord. And he'd followed Darkheart to overhear his instructions to his oldest son.

"And now my prince, you will die," Armand sneered. "Before you go, you should know that I put the poison in your golden cup at the command of my father. When you are dead, I will be the heir to the throne."

Prince Nivean clutched his cup in fear. He had never been close to his cousins, but he had no idea that there was a plot to kill him. And his cousin Damian Darkheart (he was Amalthea's second cousin and Nivean's third) was the commander of the guard. Nivean stared at his cousin Armand and couldn't believe the look of hatred he saw in his eyes. Then he glanced at the golden cup held in his cousin's hands, and the silver cup in his own.

Armand coughed. A look of worry crossed his face. He glanced down at the golden cup that he held in his own two hands, a look of horrific understanding spreading across his face. And then he vomited blood. He dropped the cup and fell to the ground.

Prince Nivean watched in horror as his cousin vomited out his life. In hindsight, it would probably have served him better to make his way back to the castle in secret so he could find protection with his mother, but Nivean was only thirteen years old. The sight of his dying cousin and the knowledge that his mother's husband wanted him dead and that he had the resources of the castle guard at his command, struck him with terror. He mounted his horse and rode off, getting as far away from his Darkheart's men as he could.

The young teen rode through the woods for several hours, crossing into that part of the forest where many of the magical folk had fled to escape the persecution perpetrated by his great-grandfather. As he entered the forested foothills he came upon a large house, nestled near the swampy region known as the Great Morass. It was on the high ground next to the trail that led into the mountains. He was tired as was his horse, so he dismounted and looked around. It was in the latter half of the day and the sun was still shining hot above them. Nivean knocked at the front door, but no one answered, and all the windows in the front were shuttered. He led his horse though the garden gate and back to the well where he used a bucket to draw water. He poured some into a trough near the well for his horse, then he pulled another bucket to slake his own thirst, and finally a bucket to pour over his head to wash away the sweat and dust.

There was a stable in the back of the garden and he led his horse to it and opened the door. It was well-built and in good repair, but it needed a thorough cleaning. It had filthy straw on the floor and feces in the stalls. Nivean grabbed a rake and cleaned out one of the stalls and spread fresh straw. Then he led his horse inside and closed the gate. He took some hay and placed it in a feedbox and filled another bucket with water from the well. He took the saddle and harness off the horse and removed the bit from its mouth. Finally, he found a brush and groomed him.

After he was done, he tried the doors and windows of the house. It was locked and barred securely against his attempts to get in, so he found a grassy area in the shade of an ill-pruned hazelnut tree and fell asleep.

************

Damian Darkheart was in a rage. The man kneeling before him cowered in fear. He'd served his lord for ten years and he knew his dark temper.

"And somehow the prince tricked my oldest son into drinking the poison meant for him and my heir died instead. He's the only person standing between me and the title of heir to the throne and he escaped. You're telling me that a scrawny slip of a boy managed to evade my best hunters," he said. "Explain to me how this is possible, and you will convince me that you should live. Otherwise, I will rip out your heart and consign your soul to the deepest shadow."

The chief huntsman cleared his throat and collected his thoughts. Then he said, "My Lord, I cannot explain how your son came to drink from the poisoned chalice, but I can attest that we followed the prince's tracks through the woods until they entered a thicket of thorns. There was no sign of his passage, and there was no sign that he had gone around it. I would submit to you that magic must have been involved. The thicket seemed to stretch for miles in each direction."

The huntsman expected his master to dismiss his explanation, but instead his face turned dark and pensive. "For now, we will put it out that the prince and my son were both killed in the forest by wild beasts. I will use magic to change Armand's corpse to match the story, and we will say that the prince's body could not be found. You are dismissed."

Once he was alone, Lord Damian Darkheart strode over to his magic mirror and called forth the image of his slave. "Tell me slave of the mirror, did you see what happened with my son?" he asked.

"No master," the image of Sir Lucan of Silverthorn answered. "I was leading the hunting party away from the prince as you commanded."

Darkheart touched the mirror and pain shot through the image of Sir Lucan. He narrowed his eyes and said, "And did you compel my son to drink from the wrong cup?"

"No master!" the image screamed.

"And do you know who did?" he demanded with a snarl.

"No master!" the image screamed again.

Darkheart moved away from the mirror and threw himself into a chair. He had enemies, and one of them must have taken this opportunity to ruin his plans. He brooded in silence and made dark plans. He had two more sons, and he knew that he would eventually find the prince or his body. None of his attempts so far had been able to scry his location, but he would find a way.

Sir Lucan was trapped in the mirror and there was little he could do. The master of the mirror could force him to perform vile acts, and often he did. But he took solace in the fact that words had meaning. He didn't know who had used a confusion charm to dupe the prince, but he had his suspicions and those suspicions brought him hope. He silently prayed to the Queen of Air and Fire that his vassal had sense not come tell him where the prince was. He couldn't be compelled to tell that which he didn't know.

************

Timroth the sprite sat invisible on a tree branch watching the dvergar returning to their house after a long day working in the mine. He was uneasy leaving the boy in their hands, but he knew that their house was warded against magical scrying, and the warlock would be confounded in his attempt to discern the boy's location. He wouldn't be able to get inside unless they left a window or door unsealed, but at least he would know where his lord's son could be found.

Dvergar were not known as great fighters, but they were deadly with spells, tricks, and traps, especially when cornered in their own home. He knew that the boy would suffer at their hands, but he would live. And he hoped wouldn't have to stay here long.

He found a bole in a tree overlooking the garden. It was the home of a surly squirrel, but he made short work of him and set about making the bole into a comfortable home. He tanned the squirrel skin to make a cover to keep out the elements and preserved the food with a spell so he would have meat for a while, not mention all the nuts the squirrel had stored away.

************

The seven dvergar had been working a long day in the mine and they'd come back with their donkeys laden with gold bars and gems. They were heavily shrouded in thick cloth and dark glasses to protect themselves from the sun. They stood only half as tall as a man with long beards sticking out of their scarves. They were intent on getting their donkeys unloaded, but the most observant of the dvergar noticed Nivean sleeping under the tree.

"Hold brothers," he said in a very low tone. "We have at least one visitor today. Do you see him lying there under the hazelnut tree?"

The other dvergar peered in that direction and Blix, the stealthiest of the dvergar crept forward and saw the boy lying in exhaustion. He crept back and said, "It's a human boy, scrawny by their standards, but still taller than us."

"We should kill him," said Plix, fingering an iron rod with arcane sigils inscribed along its length. "No good comes from interacting with humans."

But Flix, the oldest and most perceptive of the dvergar, the one who'd first seen him, said, "We should take him as our thrall and make him clean for us. None of us has the time and our house becomes more unlivable every day."

They held council among themselves in low whispers until they came to consensus. Snix, the strongest of the dvergar and Whix, who made the cleverest items, crept forward. Snix grabbed the boy in his mighty grip. Although he was only three feet tall, a little more than two feet shorter than the prince, he had the strength of a bear in his arms.

Nivean came awake screaming, just as Whix was attaching metal cuffs to the boy's wrists and ankles. With a word, the cuffs pulled together in front of the prince and locked onto one another, so that he was bound, wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. He was too frightened to speak, especially with the burly dvergr staring at him through his dark glasses.

Flix and Blix were peering into the barn, while Plix checked to ensure that the magic spells that sealed the doors and shutters had not been broken. Seeing that the boy could not escape and that they were alone on the grounds, they gathered around Nivean.

Flix, who often spoke for the brothers, said, "You have trespassed on our property, boy, and your life is forfeit. We cannot have others knowing the secrets of our house."

Nivean was terrified of these small creatures, and he started to sob. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude in your home, but I'm lost and I'm afraid."

He told them his tale and they were moved, not by pity because dvergar were known neither for their pity nor their mercy, but by greed. Hearing the boy's tale, they knew that there was little chance that he would be missed, and they could use his services as their thrall to do all the work they hated around the house.

"We will let you live," said Flix, "but you shall be our thrall and do all the things necessary to make our house a pleasant and comfortable home. If you work well, you will go without punishment. If you fail to serve properly, your will be punished."

"I have no choice, sir," Nivean replied. "I will submit to your rule and do what you say. I really have no other place to go."

His life had gotten progressively worse since he'd left the castle that morning and he was overwhelmed with despair. He couldn't survive on his own and the dvergar were offering him safety in return for his service. The fact that they had chained him first probably meant that serving them wouldn't be easy, but he wanted their protection, no matter the cost.

The dvergar took his fine clothes and gave him an old tunic to wear. Then Blix tore the clothes and smeared them with blood before leaving them on a trail in the woods far from their home, in a place where they were found by huntsmen who took them to the palace.

Upon seeing the bloody clothes, the queen fell into a deep despair from which she never recovered. When she died a month later, few dared to whisper that her death was suspicious and that her cousin and husband who now inherited the throne was the one who had benefitted most. And those who did dare would themselves die of mysterious circumstances.

************

Nivean had no idea how to do the cleaning around the house since he'd grown up in a life of privilege, surrounded by servants. The dvergar punished him with beatings, but they were careful not to cause permanent harm. They knew that he wasn't being obstinate; he was learning. He cleaned the house, washed the dishes, and cooked the food. He didn't know how to cook, but he learned well enough to suit the dvergar who had simple tastes. He served them from plates and bowls of gold while he himself ate from a golden dish on the floor, but only after he had served them throughout the meal.

He did the laundry, which was a tireless task since the dvergar came home every night covered with dust from the mines and soot from their smelters. He raked the stables and kept fresh straw for the donkeys and for his horse. Once when he'd become frustrated and had tried to escape by horseback, he found that the cuffs locked when he left the gate, knocking him out of the saddle. The horse didn't leave him. He thought it was from loyalty, but it was the magic of Timroth, his father's faithful sprite vassal that kept the horse there and used gentle words in the speech of beasts to convince him to drag the boy back inside the gate so the cuffs would unlock, and he wouldn't suffer a horrific beating at the hands of the dvergar.

After he'd had a chance to recover, he was glad that he hadn't succeeded. Certainly, the work was hard, but it wasn't really any harder than the servants back at the castle did every day. And he was beaten when failed to complete his daily tasks. Queen Amalthea never allowed the servants at the palace to be beaten, but most masters in the kingdom wouldn't hesitate to use a cane or a strap on an apprentice or a bondservant. And whatever else they did, the dvergar kept him safe.

He had little to do in the garden because Timroth gathered the local pixies and sprites to keep the gardens pruned, watered, and weeded. And their magic caused it to bloom and bear the tastiest of fruits and vegetables. They could enter the garden, but none of them had magic powerful enough to breech the wards the dvergar used the seal the house. So long as the house was shuttered and the doors locked, no one could get in. And even if the house was opened, it would take a powerful mage to enter without an invitation.

Nivean suffered frequent punishment because the dvergar were stern taskmasters. Snix wielded the cane with force but made sure to land each blow on the boy's round butt where it caused the least damage, but no less pain. Blix used less force, but he preferred a flexible strap that curled around and sometimes struck him in a more sensitive place. Whix used a short rod which delivered a jolt of pain with a single touch. It left no marks, but it hurt worse than the other implements.

From time to time, chosen merchants who were known to the dvergar and were familiar with their ways and their wares would come to the house to trade things the dvergar needed for items of silver and gold, which the dvergar had in plenty. They kept Nivean hidden within the house when these visitors came, but from time to time, one of the merchants would catch a glimpse of him, and the rumor began to spread among those in the know that the seven dvergar held a human boy as a thrall.

Nivean's beauty was a stark contrast with the dvergar. They stood around three feet tall, with Snix being a few inches taller and Blix being a few inches shorter. They all had long beards and round bulbous noses that seemed too big for their faces. They were very hairy and sported warts on their faces (and as Nivean would later learn their penises as well).

It was Flix who first noticed how beautiful their slave was. He was small and thin, with fair skin and dark raven hair, and his eyes were a shade of gray that almost seemed silver in the right light. It was a month after they'd enslaved Nivean and he saw the boy moving around the room, just finishing the dishes. His brothers had already gone to their beds, and he was finishing a last mug of ale.

"Come here, boy," he said, pointing to the ground at his feet.

Nivean walked over and knelt on the sold stone. He looked up and said, "Yes Master Flix? What can I do to serve you?"

"Do you like to make your masters happy, boy?" he asked.

Nivean didn't really care whether the dvergar were happy or not, since they made no effort to ensure that he was happy, but he did want to ensure that they never grew angry with him for they were quick to anger. He nodded and replied, "Yes Master Flix. I do like to make my master's happy."

"You're a good thrall, boy," Flix replied.

Then he undid his belt and dropped his trousers. Like all the dvergar, Flix had skin that was pale as a maggot – indeed the first dvergar had been created from the maggots that burrowed through the flesh of the primordial giant Ymir when he was killed. Their skin never saw the sun. They went outside during the daylight only when shrouded in thick cloth, because the light of the sun could turn them to stone.

Flix's penis was six inches long, which was on the larger end of average for humans, but quite large in comparison to his three feet in height. Indeed, it was fully one sixth his height! It was also thick and knobby, and the boy thought it was quite ugly.

"Take my cock in your mouth, boy, and suck it," the dvergr commanded.

Nivean hid his disgust and bent forward toward the dvergr's heavy member. The smell was unpleasant, a heavy, sour smell that came from too little diligence in cleaning. He swallowed and stuck out his tongue to lick the head. The taste was worse than the smell, but the boy didn't let on that he noticed. He gagged when he took the head into his mouth, but Flix simply assumed that the boy was gagging because of his inexperience.

Nivean had been masturbating since just before his thirteenth birthday, and he knew that he would be done with the task once the dvergr had cum. He worked his mouth to bring the dvergr to orgasm with all possible haste. And he was rewarded, if it could be called a reward, with the dvergr's seed as he shot load after load into the boy's warm wet mouth.

Flix patted him on the head and then went to his room. Nivean rushed to the bathroom and washed out his mouth as best he could, then he curled up on a blanket near the hearth and fell asleep. And he dreamed. In the dream, he was in the house, still wearing his tunic and his cuffs of servitude. But he knelt, not in front of the dvergr, but in front of his handsome tutor from when he was still living in the castle. The scholar was still relatively young at thirty, with brown hair and a small, well-groomed beard. He'd been an object of Nivean's fantasy even before he'd begun to shoot cum from his dick. His erotic fantasy provided him some relief from a life of servitude.

From that first night, Flix would either stay up later than his brothers or come out after they had gone to bed so that Nivean could suck his cock. And pleasuring the dvergr had become another daily task for him. It was just in a long list of jobs that he did for him without complaint. And deep inside, Niven found that even though he couldn't claim to love it, neither did he hate it.

It was Blix who first noticed that something was going on between his brother Flix and the thrall. He crept out one night and observed them from behind the door. What he saw gave him an immediate erection. He licked his lips as he imagined the thrall's pretty lips wrapped around his own tool. And once Flix had strutted off to bed, Blix came into the room.

"Ho, ho," he said. "It looks like my brother Flix has found another way for you to make our house into a comfortable home, and there's no reason why you shouldn't service me in the same way you service him."

Nivean was tired from a long day's work and from tending to Flix's cock. The smell and the taste had improved after two weeks of nightly cleaning, and he no longer minded sucking the elderly dvergr's cock. Now he crawled over and reached up to lower Blix's trousers and pull out his cock. Blix's cock was almost identical to his brother's cock in size, shape, and cleanliness. Suppressing a gag, he went to work, licking it clean and using his tongue to bring his master to orgasm as quickly as possible. He knew that this brother too would become cleaner over time.

And now Nivean was sucking two cocks every night. And in another week, it was three when Plix the illusionist discovered the secret. And within two more weeks all seven dvergar were using the thrall's mouth, but the line was taking too long every night and neither the thrall nor the dvergar were getting enough sleep to work the next day. It was Whix the artificer, the smartest of the dvergar, who came up with the schedule. The dvergar would only get the use of the thrall once per week, but each would have him exclusively to themselves one night of the week.

This solution satisfied the dvergar even if it did mean longer between their sexual release unless they wanted to go back to masturbating. Even Nivean was happier since he didn't have to service all seven dvergar every night. And this became the daily routine.

Over the next year, Nivean was punished less frequently by the dvergar since his performance had improved so much. And it had to continue improving. When he had first moved in with them, the house was filthy, but as he had made it cleaner and more livable, their standards had increased. It was the same for his cooking and his cocksucking skills. As soon as he surpassed his best performance, that became the new standard for him in the future. He'd made the mistake of seeming to be eager when presented with Snix's cock. (Snix was the youngest and strongest of the dvergar). Snix demanded that level of eagerness each time and soon the other dvergar saw his performance with Snix and they too demanded that he be eager to service their cocks.

Nivean hadn't yet admitted it to himself, but he had become a little eager to serve the dvergar. It was clear to him that they had come to care for him in their own way. He'd started displaying eagerness because that was what was expected of him, but he came to care for the dvergar as well. Although he didn't realize this change in himself until what happened to Plix.

************

It right after the anniversary of Nivean's enslavement by the dvergar that rumors began to reach the ears of Damian Darkheart, who now wore the crown as King Damian the First. No one was hinting that the prince was still alive, but the traders told the tale of a small and beautiful teen with raven black hair and skin as fair as snow who served seven dvergar in the magical forest near the mountains.

He called his chief huntsman to a secret meeting. They met in his private office, long after everyone else in the castle was asleep. The huntsman was standing at attention, while the king sat in his chair behind the desk, holding in his hand the ebon rod he used to weave his spells. He stared coldly at his man.

"Word has come to me of a teen who serves seven dvergar as a thrall," he said, slowly. "The description of this teen matches closely with the appearance of the missing prince. I need you to track these merchants to the home of the seven dvergar and determine whether this thrall is indeed my missing nephew."

He was called a huntsman, but assassin would have been a more apt description. He worked exclusively for the king, but the king's harsh policies left him no end of enemies who needed to be killed. The assassin still felt the stain of dishonor from the one job given to him by the king that he had failed to complete. He wanted to regain his honor more than anything.

"However, I can be of service to you, your highness," he said sincerely.

King Damian smiled at him and said, "If the boy appears to be my nephew, then you will give him this gift."

He held forth a tunic of the finest black silk, embroidered with colorful flowers of every hue. It was a gift worthy of royalty, tightly woven for strength, but with only two layers of cloth so light that the whole tunic could be wadded into a ball and held in the hands. The king folded it carefully and placed it in a box made of cherry wood.

"Be careful not to touch the cloth with your bare hands," he said. "The inside of the tunic has been treated with a poison made of magical venom. It will be activated by body heat and then it will kill whoever it has touched. Only a master alchemist would have the skill to counteract the poison.

"You will track these merchants for they know the way to the dvergar home, and then you will call on them after the merchants have left. You will sell them the teas and rare foods that I will provide you and then you will offer them the tunic as a gift for their pretty thrall. After he has worn it for a few minutes the poison will take effect and you will be long gone."

"Your highness," he said. "How do you know that the dvergar will not claim the tunic for themselves? After all, the boy is just their thrall."

"Because it is too elegant for the dvergar," the king replied. "They are a practical people, but they like beautiful objects to adorn their homes. Play up the beauty of the thrall and insist that the tunic will make him even more of an ornament for their home."

"Do you think they care so much for the thrall?" your highness. "As you said, they are dvergar."

The king sat down and leaned back in his chair. He smiled and said, "I have heard tales that the dvergar have begun to value their thrall, perhaps even to love him. You will see."

************

And it was true what the king had heard. The dvergar were limited by their agreement that the thrall belonged to each of them only one night a week, but they had realized that he could be persuaded to serve them at other times. The agreement prevented them from ordering him to serve on days other than their own because it caused dissention among them. So, they had taken to trying to seduce him to serve at other times.

The first thing Nivean noticed was that the dvergar began paying more attention to their cleanliness and to their appearance. They had begun to brush and braid their hair and to trim their beards. And they took greater care to ensure that they smelled better. Quix the alchemist had created new soaps that were better at removing dirt and grime, as well as removing foul odor.

The second thing that he'd noticed was that they had begun to help him with his work while they were home. He still did most of the work during the day while they were at their mine and their smelters, but they would dry dishes for him in the evening. And then there was the day that they told him to sit at the table and enjoy a meal with them instead of waiting to eat from bowls on the floor. He still got up to do the serving, but now it was with a smile.

"Let me serve you, masters," he would say. "You work hard in the mines and need to rest when you come home."

And these weren't just words. He had begun enjoying the looks of contentment on their faces as they relaxed in the comfort of their home after a long day's work. He could see how much they appreciated his efforts. Sometime over the last year, they had taken to bathing before dinner. And Snix had even begun complementing the boy on his work in the house. Even Flix, who typically found something to be critical of, would grudgingly admit that the house was much more like a home and that Nivean was to be credited for that. He would follow such statements up with a list of things that could be improved, but Nivean could feel the underlying affection behind his words.

It had been a year, and Nivean had turned fourteen. He'd always been small and now he had grown to five feet tall, putting him two feet above the dvergar. And his hair had not been cut in a year. Now it hung down to his shoulders. He had also begun to grow hair on his genitals. One night when he was scheduled to service Quix, the alchemist called him into his laboratory.

"Nivean, you are old enough now that your body had begun to show certain changes," he said.

The dvergar had begun to call him Nivean instead of "boy" or "thrall", and he was happy with that because it was a sign of how much they had come to appreciate him. He noticed their small kindness and he worked hard to make sure that they didn't change their minds. However, he was uncomfortable having this conversation with the dvergar alchemist. He wished he had a human adult he could ask about his changing body.

Knowing that Quix was expecting some acknowledgement to his statement, Nivean replied, "Yes master, I had noticed myself. I think it's normal for boys my age."

"Humph," the dvergr said. "It may be normal, but I have spoken to my brothers and four of us have convinced the whole that we have grown accustomed to the way you looked when we met you. We have decided that we do not want this change in hairiness to continue. As for myself, I have decided that I would prefer you not have any hair on your body."

He pulled out a small jar and said, "This unguent will remove the hair and keep it from growing back."

He pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves and then continued, "So I am going to put the unguent on those parts of your body that we do not want to grow hair. It's going to hurt, and I will punish you if you resist me. Do you understand?"

Nivean did not want the dvergr to remove his body hair. He knew that it was a sign of manliness among his own people, and he hoped one day to be able to return to them. But the dvergar seldom punished him these days, and he remembered how painful it could be. He also knew that resistance was futile. They probably wouldn't really beat him if he resisted, but Quix would call Snix in to hold him so that he could restrain him.

"I understand, master," he replied sullenly.

"I said that this will hurt," Quix said, "so I am going to chain you so that you can't move too much. It may seem cruel, but I am only ensuring that we can get through this experience quickly and won't have to repeat it."

Then he pulled Nivean over to a pair of chains that were suspended from the rafters. When he touched the magic cuffs the boy wore to the chains, they fastened tightly, as if welded together. The Quix did the same with the chains that attached to the floor. With a word, the chains drew taut, holding the boy's arms and legs outstretched.

Without further conversation, he began smearing the unguent on Nivean's body. He made sure not to get any on the boy's eyebrows or in his luxurious hair, but he covered every other inch of his body with the white paste. And the alchemist hadn't been lying when he said that it was going to hurt. Shortly after it was applied, a burning sensation began everywhere the unguent touched. Quix left it on for what felt like an hour but was only a few minutes. It was however long enough for the unguent to dry into a thick paste. Nivean started crying. He begged Quix to remove the paste. Then he began sobbing, and still Quix stood and watched his horologium. Even when the boy began screaming, he continued to watch until he was sure enough time had passed, then he used a strigil to scrape the paste off his body.

After pouring warm water over Nivean's body and cleaning him with a floral scented soap, he released him from the chains. The boy fell to the floor, still crying. He'd been lulled into a sense of false security by the signs of kindness the dvergar had shown him over the year, but he remembered that they considered him their property and that they felt free to do with him whatever they wanted.

"It's over, Nivean," Quix said. "There's no point in crying. Dry your body and follow me to my room. I've lost enough time and I expect the same level of service you've been giving. If you fail to perform to expectations I will have to beat you."

The thing was that Quix was always quick to say that he was going to beat him, but he didn't really do it, and over time Nivean had come to realize that in a strange way, the dvergr was attempting to joke with him.

Nivean used the towel he's been given and dried his body. Then he followed Quix down the hall and up the stairs to his room. The alchemist had the teen lay down on the bed and he took out a small jar of a different, more lightly scented, unguent and he rubbed it into Nivean's skin. And wherever the unguent touched, the pain went away.

"I'm sorry that it hurt when I removed the hair from your body, Nivean," he said. "I didn't want to hurt you. I don't like hurting you."

Quix then removed his clothing and lay down on the bed. His cock was erect and leaking. Nivean turned and knelt over the dvergr on the bed and took hold of his cock. He kissed it gently, then said, "Oh master, your cock is so mighty and powerful, please let me worship it for you."

Quix raised his eyebrows and said, "If you truly wish to worship my cock, human boy, I will not stop you. Go ahead and show me how much you desire to taste me."

Over time, the dvergar' demands had grown more elaborate, and this was a game they played. They enjoyed seeing the human boy debase himself and beg to service them. And he had begun to enjoy the sense of power he felt when he sucked their cocks. They could masturbate, but he knew that they craved the pleasure he brought them and that he had control over whether they got it.

Nivean swallowed Quix's cock. With a year's practice he had learned to take it into his throat without too much discomfort, but he'd also learned that the dvergar liked it when he choked and gagged and pretended that they were too large for him. And so, he did. He'd also learned exactly how much strength to use when fondling each of their hairy scrotums. Quix liked firm pressure and gentle stroking.

Soon the dvergar alchemist began shooting down his throat. Nivean waited until Quix was done and then he pulled his mouth back to suck the last of the cum out of his cock. He breathed deeply, sighed, and then licked his lips.

"Your seed tastes better than any food I've ever had, master," Nivean said. "I'm not worthy to taste anything so fine. Thank you for honoring me."

"You were adequate this evening, Nivean," Quix said sarcastically. "Since you did your job, you can sleep beside me."

Nivean did want to sleep with the dvergr. The bed was much more comfortable than the blanket by the hearth, and he would sleep better, even though he knew that the alchemist would wake up and demand that he suck his cock at least one time during the night. And as he was falling asleep, Nivean felt the dvergr's hand stroking his smooth body and murmuring, "so smooth, so beautiful". He had to admit to himself that the sensation of the dvergr's hand moving across his hairless skin felt good.

In the morning, Nivean was made to serve breakfast while nude. The dvergar wanted to see his smooth and hairless body. They ran their hands over him while he served their porridge and sausage.

"It's smooth, like soft leather," Blix announced.

"No, it's smooth like fine marble," Whix countered.

Each dvergr had a different opinion as to the feel of Nivean's skin, but they all agreed that it was smooth. When they went to work, the boy pulled his old tunic over his head and set about cleaning. As he worked, he dreamed that he was back in the castle. His mother had believed him about her husband's plots, and she had put the man to death. And now there was a dance to celebrate his return. All the ladies of the court wanted to dance with him, but his eyes caught that of a handsome young knight across the dance floor. They approached each other and began to dance. While they danced, they kissed. The other dancers drew back and watched them. The two of them soon found a dark spot in one of the hallways, and Nivean sank to his knees and removed the knight's codpiece, releasing a massively erect cock. And then the prince swallowed it to the root and didn't let go until he had earned the knight's sweet seed.

He sighed and wished it could be, but his life was now dominated by his duty to service the seven dvergar, and he didn't see that changing. It wasn't safe for him outside their house. If his stepfather ever knew that he was still alive, he would send an assassin.

Over the next month, Nivean came to love his hairless body. He decided that he liked the smooth feeling of his skin, and he suspected that he would like it even more if he could rub it against a sexy young man. The dvergar were too small, too hairy, their muscles too much like stone and their cocks far too knobby. Mostly, he thought they were too old for him. He wanted someone younger.

Soon it was market day. This was the day three-times a year when the merchants came to visit, once in the spring, once in the summer and once in the fall. Each time they brought valuable goods and traded them for gold and silver objects. The dvergar were master craftsmen and everything they made was a work of art and the merchants knew that they could resell it for much more than they paid.

Nivean used to hate market day. The merchants would be at the house all day and he would be locked in a room, but after he'd been seen a few times and the merchants seemed unfazed by his presence and his servitude, the dvergar had allowed him to come out and look at the wares they'd brought. On the last trip, they'd purchased two new tunics for him. They were short and they were somewhat plain, but they were better than the rags he'd been wearing, and since a tunic was the only item of clothing he was allowed to wear, he treasured the gift.

Today there were only two merchants. The one who brought spices and fancy foodstuffs hadn't shown. The other merchants said that he hadn't been there when they'd set out for the trail to the dvergar's house. They were worried about him, but they couldn't wait. They had a tight schedule and they had to travel from the duergar's house to the caverns of the cave trolls to trade for valuable furs before dusk.

They'd brought the usual stuff, mostly grain, wine, and mead, along with smoked meats and various cheeses. The dvergar took Nivean's advice on some of the foodstuffs because he'd become proficient in seeing what was good and what wasn't. But the stuff he was most looking forward to seeing wasn't there, the spices, the most expensive cheeses, the fruit jellies, and the candy. The dvergar were disappointed as well.

It was later in the afternoon, an hour or so after the other two traders had left, that the third trader finally arrived. He wasn't the man they'd seen on the last trip, and he claimed to be the nephew of the older merchant. Still, he brought two donkeys laden with luxuries.

Unbeknownst to the dvergar, or to Nivean, this man wasn't the trader. The real trader was dead, his body left in the woods so that the assassin could take his trade goods. He'd followed the trail of the other traders carefully. It wasn't easy. There were illusions and other tricks, but he was an expert tracker and unlike last time, there was no one laying new illusions when he found his way past those that had been laid ahead of time. In the end he had found the house he was looking for.

The dvergar seemed suspicious at first, but eventually they were satisfied. It was the trade goods that won them over. The dvergar were overly fond of candy, ripened cheeses, smoked and preserved fish, and certain rare alchemical ingredients.

When the assassin saw the thrall, he immediately recognized the prince, but he had long practice in deception. If anything, the prince looked even handsomer now that he was a year older. With his long hair and smooth skin, he could almost be taken for a girl.

"Your thrall is quite pretty," he said, once the dealing had been done. "I'd heard that dvergar valued things of beauty. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, especially since it was our first time and you treated me fairly."

They had been all too willing to take advantage of him and drive an unfair deal if the truth be known, but he'd allowed them to think they'd gotten the better of him unaware. It wasn't his merchandise anyway. Some of it came from the king and the rest from the real merchant he had killed. And it would set them up to believe that he was naïve enough to make an extravagant gesture.

"My uncle wanted to make sure that you were happy with me taking over the run, so he sent something as a gift. He knows that you are serious men who have little use for finery, but he also knows that you value beautiful things, so ..."

He drew out the cherry wood box and opened it. Then he drew out the fine tunic inside. "This is not a tunic for a serious man, but it is just the thing to decorate your pretty thrall and make him even more of an ornament for your home."

The dvergar examined the tunic and pronounced it to be fine. The assassin said, "Can I put it on him to ensure the fit so that my uncle will know what's needed for future gifts?"

The false trader could see the light in the dvergar's eyes at the sight of the beautiful garment, and he smiled inside. When the dvergar agreed, the assassin pulled the simple tunic off the boy and fitted the fancy tunic around him. It was even shorter than his other tunics, but it was attractive, and it made Nivean's pale skin seem even more fair.

"It seems that the gift fits, so I should take my leave and see if I can catch up with the others," he said with a smile.

He knew that he had only a few minutes and he didn't know what the dvergar were capable of doing to him once they found what he had done. He wanted to head back the way he came, but he would have to go further along the trail and circle back to allay suspicion. He was just up the road, out of sight of the house when he heard the screams.

Nivean was modeling the tunic. The dvergar asked him to spin around and when he did the tunic rose high enough to reveal his penis and his buttocks. He knew that he would be exposing himself every time he bent over or stretched, but the dvergar seemed to like it for that very reason. He was becoming resigned to being even more on display for them than he already was. With their reaction, this was going to become the new expectation.

Suddenly he felt fire run across his chest, his back, his buttocks, and his arms, everywhere the tunic touched. He screamed in pain and tried to pull the tunic off his body. It was Plix the Illusionist who finally managed to get it off him. "There's something smeared on the fabric!" he yelled. "There's no damage to the flesh so it must be a poison.

Quix ran to his lab and grabbed his alchemy bag. He tested the thin layer of viscous gel that coated the interior of the tunic and quickly concluded, "It is a deadly poison made from the venom of a hydra."

"Can you cure it?" asked Snix. Of all the dvergar, he was the kindest to Nivean, and seemed the most affectionate.

"There is no time to craft a cure," he said sadly. "I have the ingredients, but I don't have the time."

Glix, the spellweaver, the most magically powerful of the dvergar said, "I can do it, if we can find a leech in the pond."

The dvergar ran out to look for a leech in the small pond that sat at one end of the garden. They were reaching into the muck to no avail when Timroth overheard them. He knew where to find what was needed. He flew to the great morass that lay a mile behind the dvergar's own house. He was small, but in need a sprite can fly faster than an eagle and it took him only a few moments to get there. And he spoke to the naiads who dwelt in the swamp and begged their help. Soon he was speeding back to the garden. Since he was invisible, the dvergar didn't see him drop the three-inch worm onto Snix's arm.

"I have it!" Snix said. "I have the leech we need to save Nivean."

"Curse that lone trader!" Blix murmured. "He poisoned our thrall, and it was my night to have him service me!"

Timroth was filled with anger. If his lord's only son died, he would fail in his mission. Besides, he had come to love the boy, often watching him when he worked in the garden. He knew that dvergar were misusing him, taking as their right that which the boy should freely give only to a lover. His anger over the boy's treatment by his masters combined with his anger with the human who had done this deed to speed down the trail to find the merchant.

Meanwhile Glix took the leech and placed it over Nivean's heart and used his magic to draw the poison from the boy's body into it. The parasitic worm sickened and died, but the boy was saved. They were cheering so loudly, they barely heard Plix when he began to scream. He'd gotten only the tiniest amount of the poison on his finger, and that's why it took so long to take effect.

While Nivean slept, his body drained of energy by his experience, Plix screamed and yelled as the poison burned through his body. The dvergar tried in vain to find another leech, but there were none to be found. And Timroth didn't hear the commotion because he was on the trail of the false merchant.

When Plix breathed his last, his face grew peaceful and calm. Then, in the manner of dvergar, his body turned to stone. In the morning, they carried him across the trail from their house and they laid their brother's body on the ground to rest among the trees until nature should reclaim it.

It took Nivean a month to recover from his ordeal, and during that time Snix kept him in his bed and tended him carefully. The dvergar now knew that Nivean's enemies had tried to kill him and that those enemies had killed their brother Plix. They took council and determined that they were going to keep Nivean safe and that his enemies were now theirs as well.

The dvergar wouldn't admit it to one another, but each of them had come to love Nivean, but few of them knew how to show it. It was during this time that their thinking had changed. They weren't just protecting Nivean because he belonged to them. They were protecting him because they didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

************

Back in the castle, the Warlock King Damian Darkheart fumed. His oldest retainer had not returned from his mission. Finally, he had summoned the shade of his servant and asked him the questions he needed to know.

"Did you succeed in killing the prince?" was his first question.

And the shade of the dead man answered, "Yes, may lord. I put the tunic on him, and I heard the screaming and dvergar crying out in confusion."

"And who killed you?" the warlock asked the shade.

"A small man with wings," the shade answered. "I couldn't reach him, but he struck me with arrows, and my muscles went limp everywhere the arrows struck. Soon I was lying on the ground. He left only to return riding on the back of a badger. And the badger ate me while I was still alive."

Fairies thought the warlock. It only made sense. The boy's father was one of the seelie folk himself.

"And where can I find the dvergar?" the king asked.

If the dvergar had somehow managed to cure the poison then he would need to know where to find them. But that was a question the shade couldn't answer. There had been illusions to mislead unwary travelers and he had been following the fresh trail left by the merchants who knew the way. But he learned the general location. If it became necessary, the warlock knew that he would have somewhere to start looking.

************

When Nivean finally recovered, the house was a mess and so was the barn. The dvergar had done minimal work while they were in mourning. And of course, Nivean was the thrall, and the dvergar left the cleanup to him. They decided that they'd been in mourning long enough. They hadn't been to the mines since they'd lost Plix. It was time to get back to work, but they changed the schedule. From now on, they would work six days a week instead of seven and one dvergr would always remain in the home to protect Nivean. It would be the same dvergr who's turn it was to use the thrall.

When the dvergar had told Nivean that Plix had died from the same poison that had nearly killed him, he'd spent hours crying. Plix had been the most vocal of the dvergar opposing Nivean's presence among them. He'd said many times that no good would come from interacting with humans. But Nivean missed him now that he was gone. The dvergar gave him Plix's old room and the bed as his own. It was good to have a place of his own, but he preferred sleeping with the dvergar. Often he would crawl into bed with Snix when it came time to sleep.

Snix remembered the tunic that had killed Plix, but it wasn't the poison that he was thinking about. It was the way that tunic had pulled up and exposed Nivean's buttocks. He'd been thinking about the boy's butt since that time, and he'd determined that he wanted to see it again, that he wanted to do more than see it. It was his turn to stay home to guard the thrall, and his turn to use him. Instead of working at home, he followed the boy around and watched him work. Once all the housework was done, he took the boy aside and showed him a special tool for shooting water up his butt.

"Take a bath and then clean your butt inside and out, Nivean," he instructed. "Before my brothers come home, I'm going to stick my cock in your bottom and take my pleasure. When I'm done, you're going to suck it clean, so you'd better do a job washing it."

Then he took both of Nivean's tunics while the boy was preparing, and he hemmed them so that they were a few inches shorter. He wanted to see the boy's butt whenever he wasn't standing still. He was becoming obsessed with Nivean's body. He liked everything about him, from his lustrous hair to his fair skin to his eyes like molten silver. When the boy smiled at him, Snix felt a warmth in his heart.

Meanwhile in the bathroom, Nivean was cleaning himself as thoroughly was he could. He was resigned to this next phase of his servitude. He'd wondered why it had taken the dvergar so long, especially Snix always seemed fascinated with his butt. He liked Snix better than the other dvergar. It wasn't that he ever let him forget that he was their thrall. He took his pleasure with greater frequency than the others, and he always insisted on Nivean being completely subservient, but he was gentle when it came to the act itself. And when they were done, he would always sleep wrapped around the boy when they were done.

As he was cleaning himself, Nivean thought about what was about to happen. It was true that he didn't really have a choice, but he had to consider whether that mattered. He liked Snix and he had to admit that there was a part of him that wanted to feel the dvergr's six inches inside him. He'd thought about it sometimes when he was alone, and his fingers were stroking his own butt.

It will almost be like I'm going from being housekeeper to six dvergar to having six dvergar husbands, he mused, and the thought made him feel a little naughty.

Once he was clean, Nivean walked naked into the sitting room where Snix was putting the final stitches in the hem of his tunic. He put it on and noticed that it came only an inch below his buttocks. He would be flashing the dvergar with every move. He turned and stretched, and he saw a glint in Snix's eye.

The dvergr put his hands on Nivean's hips and held him. "Kneel down and here and let me get you ready, Nivean," he said. "Your bottom is like a work of art, you know. In architecture, there is a curve that is widely held by the experts to be perfect. Without measuring the exact curve of your buttocks, I would guess that they are as close to this perfect curve as can be."

Nivean laughed. Coming from a dvergr this was high praise indeed, and it may even have been intended as sexy talk. Then he knelt and Snix begin rubbing oil onto Nivean's hole. It did feel good when the boy's master touched him there, and he felt himself begin to stiffen. The dvergr chuckled and said, "I'm glad that you enjoy this because it will be better for you if you do. Once my brothers find out about this service, it will become the new expectation."

"Yes master, I know," Nivean replied.

He liked Snix better than the other five dvergar. His mind had come around to the point of looking forward to doing this with him, but he wasn't sure about the other brothers. They would demand it, and he would comply, but ... he would deal with that situation later.

He tried to relax, but his excitement and fear over what was coming next combined to prevent him from becoming calm. Snix took his time. He wanted to fuck the thrall, and he was going to do it, no matter what. (And this was the biggest problem with the dvergar. Even as they grew more affectionate, they still considered it their right to make use of their thrall however they wished.)

But the dvergr had time to make it pleasurable for Nivean. He worked more oil inside the boy's hole, slowly teasing him with his finger until his anus began to relax. Then he was able to slip a finger inside, followed by two. And then the boy relaxed completely. His bottom opened in welcome for Snix and the dvergr wasted no time. He slid inside him and began fucking.

There were few dvergar women and it was difficult to find one who was unattached. The truth was that he and his brothers were probably rich enough to attract wives now after many years of working the mine. In the meantime, they had the thrall, and the thrall had an ass that was fine.

Nivean's penis had become hard as well. His body was enjoying this act, and his mind was enjoying it as well, at least it was enjoying it with his favorite of the dvergar. Snix was getting close himself. The boy's bottom was warm, soft, and tight. It was more than he'd hoped for. He reached down and grasped the boy's erection and held it in his hand. It was still small, although it had grown somewhat in the last year. He stroked it gently as he thrust inside the boy. And then the boy began to cum. He was crying and writhing around while he spilled his load on the floor. His ring clamped hard on the dvergr's cock, and Snix exploded, shooting his load inside the boy.

When the dvergr pulled out, his cock was covered in cum and oil, but nothing else. It made him happy because the boy was going to suck it either way. When Nivean turned around, he has a wary smile on his face. It had felt good to be fucked. Even if this wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of, he'd enjoyed it and he knew that he would want to do it again. He was still smiling as he sucked the dvergr's cock clean.

"You made a mess on the floor, Nivean, clean it up," Snix commanded, and Nivean stuck out his tongue and licked it up.

Once their lovemaking was done, Snix had become his old gruff self. He was embarrassed to be too soft with his thrall. But he watched Nivean as he made dinner, seeing his butt cheeks peeking at him with every movement. He couldn't resist taking him twice more before his brothers returned. During dinner he told the others how fine the boy's ass was and now all of them began taking him this way on their assigned days.

During the year, there was one more major change for Nivean. Quix called the boy into his lab on the seventh day, the day formerly assigned to their dead brother Plix, and he handed Nivean a bubbling potion in a glass mug.

"You've grown to the towering height of five foot two inches," he said. "My brothers and I have decided that we don't want you to become a hulking behemoth like most humans. Drink this and you will stop growing."

Nivean protested, "But Master Quix, I am still just a boy. I don't want to stay this height forever."

The alchemist explained, "We are your masters and we have decided that you will grow no taller. Drink the potion now or I will have my brothers hold you while I make you drink it anyway."

Tears came to Nivean's eyes, but he knew that he had no choice but to comply with the command. He choked down the bitter brew. It felt like fire running through his body. It was almost as painful as the poison had been. The agony lasted for an unknown time and when he awoke he was lying in the bed that had once belonged to Plix. The dvergr Snix was lying in bed with him and was stroking his naked form, his hand playing with the boy's penis, which was now hard.

Nivean felt weak in every joint, but his penis felt good. None of the dvergar had ever pleasured him until Snix had stroked him while fucking him. Since that time, Snix had stroked him to orgasm every time he fucked him, but the other dvergar did not. But now Snix was stroking him when there was nothing in it for him. Nivean lay there and enjoyed it.

He felt the pleasure begin in his penis and he started to moan. Then Snix put his other finger in Nivean's mouth, and the boy immediately began sucking on it. When it was wet enough, he pulled it out and slipped inside the boy's pretty ring. As soon as something had entered his butt, Nivean cried out and his penis tightened in Snix's firm grip and then spewed seed all over his belly.

"Now you have to clean up the mess," Snix said, scooping the cum from the boy's belly with a gnarled finger and putting it the boy's mouth.

His words were chastising but his tone was kind and there was a smile on his face. He gave the boy a look of affection, and he was smiling at him. As he scooped the last of the cum up and started to move it to Nivean's mouth, he suddenly stuck it in his own mouth instead. He smiled and nodded his head. From that point on, Snix always tasted the boy's seed when he came, but none of the other dvergar ever did. Nivean knew without being told that this was one experience Snix had not shared with his brothers. It was something just between the two of them.

Over the course of the year, each of the dvergar developed their own way of using the thrall. Snix was always loving and affectionate, and Nivean preferred his days assigned to the strongest of the dvergar to any of the others. He had even come to prefer those days to the seventh day when he was allowed to rest.

Blix was the harshest of the dvergar. Snix had told his brothers that fucking the boy's ass was better when Nivean himself reached orgasm, but Blix had discovered that he could make the boy cum by squeezing his nuts hard and then releasing them. As for his part, Nivean feared this brother, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the painful feeling of his nuts being abused. It wasn't just the dvergr he feared, but also the part of himself that enjoyed the pain.

Flix was the most efficient of the brothers. He followed the same procedure each time with exacting detail. He would finger the boy's ass, first with one finger, then a second, then a third. Then he would enter him and thrust until he came. Nivean had counted and he discovered that the dvergr would cum after tens strokes and it never took more than fifteen. When he'd cum, Nivean would suck him clean and then Flix sent him to his own bed to sleep. The boy had taken it upon himself to try and seduce the oldest of the dvergar, but to no avail. It was always the same with him.

Glix the spellweaver would use his magic to take control of the boy making him more than a thrall; he became a puppet trapped inside himself while his body performed at Glix's command. The spell weaver never pleasured the boy, but when he got close to orgasm himself, he would use a spell to make Nivean's ass clamp down on him to bring himself off. Nivean never came from Glix using him. On those few occasions when he came close, Glix would use a spell to prevent it. Sometimes he hung on the edge for a long time until the feeling eventually went away. Afterwards, the dvergar mage would also send Nivean to his own bed.

Whix was the greatest artificer among the dvergar. He made devices of great cunning and subtle power. He tried many of his devices on Nivean. One was a metal rod that he slid inside the boy. It would vibrate and send a small shock to a specific spot inside his rectum, and the shock would grow in intensity until the boy clamped down with muscles he didn't even know he had on the rod. The rod had a dozen bands and Nivean soon learned to squeeze only the band that had delivered the shock. In time, he could match the rod note by note as it shocked his rectum in a pattern like a complex piece of music.

The most insidious of these devices, however, was a metal sleeve of rings that he fit around the boy's cock. On command, the rings would contract and expand, or even move along his shaft like cold hard fingers encircling his cock, stroking it painfully until he came. On the day's Nivean was assigned to him, Whix would insert a plug in the boy's ass that would vibrate and keep the thrall stimulated all day, but a ring that he'd placed around the boy's shaft prevented him from cumming. He'd discovered that the boy performed most enthusiastically when he was excited, so he always kept him excited on his day.

Quix the alchemist was the most demanding, often requiring the boy to suck his toes or to lick his hairy ass. He was also the one who first had the boy drink his piss so that he wouldn't have to walk to the bathroom. He would give Nivean a potion on each of his nights that would make his skin, genitals, and anus more sensitive. But he trained the boy not to cum without permission. Whenever Nivean failed to hold back his orgasm, Quix would punish him and start over. Eventually Nivean found himself conditioned. He couldn't cum unless a man ordered him to do it. A side effect was that he would also become erect upon command. And repeated exposure to Quix's potion had the effect of making Nivean more sensitive even when the potion was no longer in his system. The slightest touch on his skin or especially on his anal ring would send shivers through his body.

As the year passed Nivean's hair grew longer, but his body grew no taller or thicker and his penis remained the size it had been when Quix had given him to the potion that arrested his growth. He was and would remain five foot two inches tall and one hundred and ten pounds, with a penis that was barely four inches long.

And in their own way, all six of the remaining dvergar came to love him, even if some of them showed their love through domination. Nivean became accustomed to their treatment of him; he even came to enjoy most of it. He always enjoyed his time with Snix, but on some level he enjoyed being at the mercy of the other dvergar, even being the puppet of the spellweaver.

************

The Warlock King Damian Darkheart lay on the floor of his study writhing in pain. His body was present, but he'd cast his mind deep into the umbral realm where he groveled before his arcane patron the Dread King of Shadows.

"I don't know why the ritual failed, Master!" he cried in pain. "I performed all the steps as written. The power of the land should have been mine and through me it should have been yours."

The shadows grew deeper until only the cold lambent glow of the powerful being's eyes remained. And those eyes cut right into the warlock's soul promising to consign him to oblivion at any moment. "Do not tell me how the ritual should have worked," he demanded. "Even you should have been able to follow the ritual as written. If it failed, it is because you were wrong in your assumptions. You must not be the rightful heir to the throne and the power of the land. The prince must still be alive."

"That's impossible, Dread King," the warlock began, but he was cut off by waves of freezing pain.

"It is possible. It is the only explanation," the Umbral Lord said. "You will prepare the ritual again, and you will perform it immediately upon the death of the prince. Poison did not work last time, so use the spell of deepest slumber. When the prince lies without possibility of waking, you will be the rightful heir."

Then the king awoke and considered the words of his magical patron. It had seemed such a small thing all those years ago to sell his service to a powerful being from the shadow realm in exchange for power in the mundane world, power to take the crown and the throne. But now his patron was demanding a foothold in the mundane world by placing his servant on the throne and seizing the power of the land. There was no way to break the contract except upon his death, and Damian Darkheart wasn't prepared to make that sacrifice.

He sent for his son Bruno. Now nineteen years of age, he had become the heir upon the death of his brother Armand. He had no talent for magic, but he was skilled with a sword, even if he was most skilled when striking from behind.

"Bruno my son, I have just discovered that there is a threat to my crown, and therefor to your position as heir," he said. "Two years ago, I thought that your dead brother had removed the last obstacle when he killed your cousin, the rightful heir to the throne. But I have now discerned that the heir still lives. He has been taken as a thrall by a family of dvergar who live near the Great Morass in a valley near the mountains."

Bruno smiled. He was going to get a chance to kill a man, and he enjoyed killing. "I hear you father," he said, "I will go to these dvergar, and I will kill the heir. If the dvergar get in my way, I will kill them as well."

"No son," the king said. "The spirits of the land will know if you kill your own blood, and they will reject you as my heir. I will give you a magic hair comb that you will place in your cousin's hair. It will put him under the spell of deepest slumber from which he will never awaken."

Bruno seemed perplexed. "How do I put a comb in the boy's hair?"

The king maintained a stoic expression, but inside he seethed that this fool was now his heir apparent. Bruno was a beast, not a skilled knight and charismatic leader like his older brother had been, nor a thoughtful and intelligent scholar like his younger brother Caspian. He'd always intended to find some way to make Caspian the heir, since he was the most intelligent. That's why he'd kept his youngest son ignorant of his machinations.

"Seduce him, Bruno," the king said. "Surely you can seduce a fifteen-year-old boy, especially a boy who has already been used by dvergar. With all your flaws, an ugly face isn't among them. You're particularly well-favored in your appearance. From what I understand, there is hardly a boy or a girl in the castle, the town, or the surrounding farms you haven't had. Your cousin will be just one more."

Bruno smiled a handsome but cruel smile. As he remembered, his cousin was a cute little thing unless the intervening years had been unkind to him.

"Yes father, I will do it," he swore.

************

It was Flix, the eldest dvergr brother, who was at home with Nivean on the day that the stranger arrived. He was a taskmaster, and he took it upon himself to make sure that the thrall caught up on all the work he may have missed over the last week. He kept the boy moving in his scandalously short tunic. Once Nivean had completed all the regular cleaning, Flix set him to scrubbing all the baseboards in the house.

Bruno had come upon the house without too much trouble. He didn't know that the now deceased Plix had been the illusionist who had protected the approaches with glamors and misdirection, so he assumed that he was merely smarter than those who had tried before. After watching the house for hours, he was convinced that the only one dvergr was at home with the long-haired boy in the extremely revealing tunic whom he assumed was his cousin. He crept into the garden through the gate, believing himself to be unobserved.

Timroth the sprite saw the man in the black garb sneaking into the garden. Over the last two years, he'd gathered a half dozen other sprites who owed fealty to Sir Lucan of Silverthorn. The seven of them used glamor to appear as songbirds and flew into the garden to observe him. They saw the short sword he wore at his hip, and they spotted the dagger that was thrust into his boot.

Bruno Darkheart hid by the side of the house. He'd seen the old dvergr come out carrying a ladder, which he'd leaned against the hazelnut tree, then he's gone back into the shed. When he returned he was carrying a bushel basket which he placed on a blanket he spread near the tree. Then the dvergr nodded to himself and called out, "Nivean! Come out here."

When no one came out of the house, the dvergr began stomping his way toward the door. And that was when Bruno struck. He ran toward Flix and grabbed him by his long beard and pulled him into the air. The dvergr was armed only with a walking stick, and he struck the larger human several times to no avail. Bruno replied by pulling his dagger from his boot and stabbing the old dvergr several times in rapid succession. Dvergar are tough and even this violent treatment may not have killed an old dvergr like Flix, but during the fight, his heavy scarves had been dislodged. When the sun struck the skin of his face, he turned to stone. Bruno hid the petrified body behind the shed and then attempted to enter the house, but he couldn't open the door.

When Nivean finished the last of the downstairs baseboards, he went to find Flix. If it were Snix who was at home today the boy would have taken a much-needed break, but Flix didn't believe in rest periods for his thrall. (To be fair, Flix seldom took rest breaks himself.) When he couldn't find the old dvergr in the house, he went into the garden. He didn't see him, but he did see that he had set up the ladder to harvest the hazelnuts. He decided to go ahead and get started so that Flix would have no reason to be angry with him. He climbed partway up the ladder.

Bruno watched as the boy who must be his cousin climbed on the ladder. The boy was stretched so that his tunic was hiked up like a shirt, exposing his smooth round butt. Bruno crept forward until he could have reached out and touched his cousin.

"It's a delightful garden with many beautiful things to see," he said.

Nivean looked down and blushed; a handsome stranger was staring directly at his exposed bottom. The man reached up, brushing his hand against the boy's round butt as he did so, and said, "Let me help you down so that we can talk."

Nivean tried to adjust his tunic when the man set him down, but his small penis had grown hard, and it was poking out the front. The man took hold of it and stroked it. He leaned forward and kissed the boy's lips.

"My master is around here somewhere, and he doesn't approve of visitors, sir," Nivean said. "I don't want you to draw his displeasure."

Bruno pulled the younger teen close to him and kissed him passionately. Then he rubbed his well-trimmed beard on his neck. Nivean felt that there was something familiar about this man, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Two years had passed, and Bruno had gone from being a handsome and slender youth to a powerfully built young man who stood over six feet tall and carried 180 pounds of solid muscle. His features had matured and were now obscured partially by the beard.

Nivean was terrified of Flix's anger because the elder dvergr was not afraid to punish his thrall for any infraction, but at the same time he was excited by the stranger's touch. For the last two years he had fantasized about sex with a tall, handsome human. And this seemed like a dream to him.

"This tunic doesn't cover much," the man said, running his hands along the teen's smooth hips, "yet it covers too much."

He untied the belt and lifted the tunic over Nivean's head, revealing his slender and hairless body. The sight of his naked cousin inflamed Bruno's passions like no other had. The boy was hairless and smooth, looking younger than his 15 years. His long hair, slight stature and delicate features gave him a hint of the effeminate, but his small muscles were firm, giving him the feel of a boy. In Bruno's mind, this made him perfect. For a moment, he considered ignoring his father's instructions and bringing the boy back to the castle. But then what would happen to his own future? There was no way he could hide him away to use him in private. He would no longer be heir to the throne, and he would lose everything.

He pulled the boy down onto the blanket and kissed him passionately. He moved his hand between his buttocks and stroked his soft anus. The boy shivered and cried out in pleasure. His ready response sent a pulse of pure pleasure flowing though Bruno's cock. Before cursing him with eternal slumber, he had to have him.

"I'm going to fuck you boy," he said. "Would you like that?"

Nivean couldn't hold back. "Yes sir!" he cried. "Please take me now before my master returns."

Bruno pulled his cousin's legs up and held them with his left hand. With his right, he probed the boy's little sphincter. Despite heavy use, the boy was still well-shaped and tight due to repeated exposure to Quix's potions. But his rosebud was well-trained to respond to a forceful man. It opened like a flower opening to taste the morning sun.

He moaned and his head rolled back, then he let out a primal yell. "That's it, sir! You've touched me in the right way and my body wants you!"

"Get hard for me, sweet boy," Bruno growled. "I'm going inside you now."

And then he pushed inside that silky smooth bottom. Nivean's muscles clamped down and he used all the skills he'd learned over the last year to satisfy his demanding dvergar masters. Bruno thought this boy's ass more talented than the most experienced whore boys in town. It was like his butt was gripping his shaft and stroking it from within. He was going to cum. Only one thing was left to push him over the edge.

"Cum now boy! Spill your seed and take my own!" he yelled.

The boy came on command, as he'd been taught by the dvergar. And sure enough, the convulsions of his ass sucked the cum right out of Bruno's shaft. And Bruno didn't even need to ask. Once his cock had deflated, the boy pulled off him and sucked it down to the root, licking it like it was a candy cane.

After their coupling, the two lay on the blanket and Bruno played with Nivean's hair, drawing it back into a loose tangle. Then he placed the hair comb in the tangle. He held the boy in his arms as he succumbed to the curse and fell into a deep sleep. When he stood up and got dressed, he had tears running down his cheeks. His hard heart had been moved by his destruction of this beautiful boy.

He moved so that the sun was behind him, and he spoke to his lengthening shadow. "Tell my father that it is done," he said.

Something darker detached itself from his shadow and flew off toward the castle, something his father had placed there for just this purpose. Then Bruno left the garden. Timroth had seen the entire thing from his perch on the branch. He knew that the comb would need to be removed before it was too late, but he was unable to touch it. It must have been warded against the powers of faerie, which made him realize that Damian Darkheart must know that the faerie had been watching over the boy. He sent Aerinoth, the swiftest flyer among the sprites to warn the dvergar to come quickly.

Then he led the remainder off to follow Bruno down the trail. They didn't bother to conceal themselves. They flew around him, just out of reach, striking him with arrows that brought pain even though they caused little damage. They skillfully herded him toward the caverns of the trolls until he fell into their clutches. They watched as the trolls stripped him and put a leather collar around his throat. If Nivean had suffered pain and indignity as the thrall of the dvergar, it was nothing compared to the degradation and suffering that Bruno would suffer for the rest of his life servicing the trolls.

************

The shadow messenger brought the news that the prince had succumbed to the spell. Damian Darkheart decided to act quickly. He performed the ritual, but he didn't notice that someone had altered the scroll. The power of the land had lain dormant since the reign of Queen Amalthea's great-grandfather. He'd killed all the mages or driven them out of the kingdom, using the power of the land to aid him in finding them. And then when he'd died, there was no one to use the ritual of empowerment to pass the power to his son. But The Dread Lord of Shadows had the ritual and he had gifted it to his pet warlock.

Where once the ritual would have delivered the power of the land specifically to Damian Darkheart (provided he was the rightful heir), now it specified that the power be delivered to whoever was the rightful heir. Not knowing that the ritual has been changed, the king was happy that the spell had been completed, and he expected that the power of the land would grow within him over the next year.

************

The young scholar watched the king leave his study, then he crept in. Although the door was magically warded, he passed easily within. He went through the room past the hidden door to the secret chamber and looked into the mirror. The image of Sir Lucan appeared.

"It has been done," the scholar said.

"You've done well, young man," the knight in the mirror replied. "There is only one thing more you'll need to do if you want to remove the curse that is afflicting the kingdom. I know it will be difficult, but you're doing the right thing. You know how this will end if you don't."

"I do, your highness," the young scholar said. "And I will do it. I must ... even though it will cost me."

The knight in the mirror nodded at the young man. "You will have to train your sword arm in secret," he said. "The king cannot know, or he will find some way to ruin you or seduce you to his side."

The young man nodded his head in affirmation. "Yes, your highness," he said. "I begin my training this evening with the Knight of Morning Blossoms."

************

The dvergar had been surprised when Aerinoth the sprite had appeared before them and told them to hurry home, that their brother had been slain and that Nivean lay under a curse that must be lifted within the hour or he would never awaken again. Snix and Blix took off, leaving the other dvergar to lead the donkeys. Snix was the strongest and could run faster, but Blix was quick and determined not to be left behind. When they arrived in the garden, Snix ran over and stroked Nivean's soft hair. He found the cursed hair comb, and he removed it. If he hadn't known it held the curse affecting Nivane, he would have assumed it was a trinket given to him by one of his brothers. He was holding Nivean's head and kissing his brow when the boy awoke.

Blix was pulling his brother's petrified body out to lie next to Nivean. The three of them, two dvergar and their human thrall stood around the body and wept openly. And they were still weeping when the other dvergar arrived. Where once they were seven, now they were five. They carried his body across the trail and laid him to rest next to the petrified body of Plix. At the last moment, Whix had remembered that the magic thrall cuffs Nivean wore kept him from leaving the property, so he released them. They fell to the ground, and the teen ran over to join the dvergar the in mourning.

When they had cried their last tears, they went back into the garden and were surprised to see the branches of the trees full of songbirds, singing their own song. Then the birds changed into sprites who flew to the ground and bowed their heads towards Nivean.

"Your highness," they said. "We are the loyal remnant of your father's forces, and we are at your service until such time as your father can be freed."

The dvergar looked around nervously at the two dozen sprites in the garden. They were small, but everyone knew that they were not to be disregarded. Their aim with their three-inch arrows was precise and they could do more than prick the skin.

"My father is still alive?" Nivean asked. "Where is he?"

Timroth rose and hovered in the air, surrounded by a nimbus of silver light. "He is trapped in a magic mirror, your highness," he said, "imprisoned by the warlock Damian Darkheart and forced to do his bidding."

"We have to rescue him," Nivean said, "although I don't know how to fight, and I don't know my way to the castle."

"Not yet," Snix said. "We must have time to prepare. This warlock has killed two of our brothers and he's tried to kill you three times. We must be sure we can beat him. We won't get another chance."

Timroth bobbed up and down in a sprite's version of a nod. "Snix is not wrong. Given time, the dvergar can provide an arsenal of magical weapons, and there is one more hero who must be trained if we are to avoid civil war when this is done. But we must have your word, your highness. You have the blood of humanity and of faerie running through your veins and that makes you our best hope.

"Your maternal great-grandfather made war on the magical folk of this land. Many were killed and many were driven into hiding. When you have been crowned, will you promise to rule for all the people, mundane and magical alike?"

"I will," Nivean promised.

"You will be safer staying with the dvergar for now," Timroth said reluctantly. "Their home is protected better than you know."

Snix nodded and said, "That's true, but the protections will be stronger if you remain part of the household instead of just becoming a guest, so you will be safer if you remain our thrall until we are prepared."

"Yes master," Nivean said.

He held out his wrists and Whix put the metal cuffs back on them. This time he had chosen to be the thrall of the dvergar.

"I will forgo the ankle cuffs, if you promise not to run away, thrall," Whix said.

"I promise, master," the boy replied.

************

If Nivean thought his masters would treat him differently now that were allies, he was wrong. They did, however, become more affectionate with him, and sometimes they would tell him things that must have been meant to win his favor.

One-time Whix said, "Snix and I were the ones who voted not to shrink your penis to an inch. My brothers don't like to see it when they use you. I offered to infibulate you instead, but Snix vetoed it. All decisions had to be unanimous."

Another time, Blix said, "I almost cut your penis off after Plix was killed, but I didn't."

It was like he expected to be recognized for not mutilating the boy. And their demands did not dimmish. The remaining five dvergar took one night each week to use him sexually, and he still did all the housework and the cooking. And he found out the hard way that any failure still resulted in punishment.

"You cannot fool a magical warding with clever trickery, Nivean," Glix explained. "If you aren't truly our thrall then the wards will begin to unravel. They won't remain strong if we have a guest dwelling under our roof for a great length of time."

Snix and Whix had begun to stroke his butt sometimes even when they didn't want sex. And Snix began sucking Nivean's cock after using him, and occasionally even on the two nights he had off. And all the dvergar began giving him gifts. Glix used his magic to craft several beautiful tunics for him, all of which were scandalously short on him. They made jewelry for him, including several gold chains for his neck. Snix insisted on piercing his ears and placing black sapphire stud earrings in them. Blix crafted nipple rings of gold with tiny topaz captive beads. Whix insisted on giving him handsome rings for his penis, including a ring through the head, six rings down his shaft and one on his taint just behind his scrotum. And Quix gave him many different potions to drink that he promised would be beneficial in the future.

And all the dvergar now complemented him on how pretty he was. He sat for a painting for Blix, although he didn't know what the dvergr had done with it or the miniature portrait he had fashioned from it.

The next year passed, and now Nivean's hair hung down his back to the bottom of his shoulder blades. He began to wonder if he would ever be freed, if the dvergar and the sprites would ever be ready to free his father and to overthrow his uncle. In the meantime, he had grown from a pretty boy into a very handsome youth.

The one change he didn't notice because it came upon him slowly was the awareness of the land around him. He'd begun to feel the trees, the rivers, the hills, and the mountains. It was the power of the land flowing into him. In time, he would learn to master it and he would be a better ruler for it, sensing what areas of the kingdom were in distress and what help they needed.

************

Meanwhile back in the castle, the warlock king was fuming. The power of the land had not come to him as he'd planned. He didn't want to explain his failure to his master again. Where had the power of the land gone. He'd spent the last year finding the most distant relatives of the prince he could find and having them quietly killed. But the simple fact was that he himself was the rightful heir after the prince. If the power had not come to him, then the prince must still be alive. Bruno had not only been captured by trolls and turned into their catamite, but he had failed to complete the only task he'd ever been given that mattered.

This time, the warlock was going to do the job himself. He couldn't rely on his sons. He only had the youngest left, and Caspian was a scholar with no magic and no skill with a blade. And Darkheart wanted to keep his youngest son's hands clean so that there would be no ritual impurity to prevent the power from flowing to him if for some reason he himself were unacceptable to the spirits of the land.

Every man he'd sent to spy on the dvergar had failed to return. Someone or something was killing them in the forest. But he was more dangerous than any mere warrior. He crept out of the castle and set out for the house of the dvergar.

************

The young scholar had seen him leave and was anxious to go, but first he had to perform one task. He slipped into the secret room. He focused on the mirror, cleared his mind, and became one with it, making himself its master. Then he called forth its prisoner. "Sir Lucan of Silverthorn, be free from the mirror that holds your image."

And then the former prince-consort of the kingdom stood in the room. "It is time, now, young hero," he said. "You are saving the kingdom. Replace the king's boots with the dvergr made pair and then go to meet with the Knight of Morning Blossoms. He will show you a secret faerie trod that will take you near to the dvergar home, but you are the only one who can undo the warlock's evil curse."

"What evil curse?" the young man asked.

"You will know when you see it," Sir Lucan replied. "Now I must find the rebellion and convince them to gather quickly enough to destroy the warlock's partisans. He can still win through mundane means even if his magic fails."

The young scholar smashed the mirror before going to his room and pulling on his mail coat made of finest dvergar true silver, so lightly spun that it hung like silk but protected better than heavy brigandine. Then he retrieved the thin sword that looked like silver but had been magically forged from moonlight. And finally, he took up his dancing shield and silver helm with its arcane sigils that would allow him to see invisible things and even to see in pitch blackness. He took one last look in the locket at the miniature image of the prince he was going to rescue. He'd spent hours over the last year, gazing at the picture of the beautiful young man before him. He'd always loved him, but he didn't realize how deeply he'd fallen in love with him, his prince, the one man who could lift the curse the warlock had brought to the land.

He went to meet his guide, the agent of his patron. Unbeknownst to the warlock king, this scholar-knight had also taken a powerful patron. He served the Queen of Air and Fire, Mistress of Summer. He was as prepared as he could be.

*************

Damian Darkheart had chosen to use stealth instead of blunt force. In shadow form he had flitted through the darkness unseen by the sprites who patrolled the forest. It was they who had killed so many of the king's agents and left their bodies lying for the forest animals to consume. He approached the dvergar home and felt the protections upon it. He drew strands of shadow and spun them into the form of a large umbral hound that clawed the garden door.

It didn't take long for the dvergr within to open the shutters of one of the second story windows and to shout down at the hound, "Begone, umbral beast, you cannot pass into this house, and I will destroy you if you don't depart at once."

The problem with wards was that they worked only when the house was sealed. Seeing the open shutter, the warlock stepped into the shadow of a nearby tree and then stepped out of the shadowy corners of the room. There was resistance, but King Damian was a mage of considerable power.

Glix spun around sensing the warlock king's presence and lifted his metal wand. "I see you've come out of the shadows to play, warlock."

He slashed with his wand and blades of spinning metal flew toward the warlock, but the warlock lifted his ebon rod and an umbral shield appeared in front of him. The blades sliced through the shield but were consumed in the process. The warlock seemed to darken for a moment, as if trying to hide behind shadows. Then the darkness split and formed three identical versions of the warlock making four in total. The dvergar spell weaver sent a shower of fiery sparks to fill the space where his enemy stood, but again the shield appeared and absorbed most of the damage, but some got through to burn the warlock.

Then the warlock waved his rod and strands of shadow burst out of the corners of the room and reached for the dvergr, wrapping him in their icy embrace. Glix was cutting through the shadow tendrils with his wand, but more were reaching for him as the warlock kept calling them forth. At that moment, he realized that he was outmatched. Like most dvergar mages his magic was mostly practical in nature. The warlock was a master of battle magic. In a minute or so, the dvergr was wrapped from head to toe in tendrils of shadow. Then they withdrew, taking him with them. And so Glix the spell weaver was drawn into the darkest umbra and never seen in the light again.

Then the warlock assumed the form of a poor bedraggled traveler, an old man with a stooped back. He left the house and walked around to the front door and knocked frantically. In a minute Nivean opened the door.

"Please young man," the warlock said, the lips of his assumed form quivering. "I've been separated from my guards and the woods are full of umbral beasts. Please let me come in and rest my feet and have a drink of water."

Nivean was distressed. He had a kind heart and he wanted to help the old man, but the dvergar had given orders that no one was allowed to come into the house.

"Please sir," he said, "come around to the garden gate and you can sit in the shade, and I'll fetch you a cool drink."

Once he was seated in the garden, he watched the young man fetch him a cool beverage. He had to admit that his young cousin was quite attractive. For a moment he considered changing plans and taking him to his bed as consort. The boy could wear the crown and he himself would rule the kingdom, but he dismissed that thought as mere fancy. The boy had to be put out of the way. It was the only way that the power of the land would pass to him.

"If you don't like ale, sir, I can fetch you some water," he said extending the mug, with a kind smile playing across his lips.

The glamored warlock took a sip of the cool refreshing beverage and smacked his lips. Then he pulled an apple out of his pocket. It had been treated with a magical elixir that would put the boy into a sleep that could only be relieved by the tears of the warlock or his descendant. And since Damian Darkheart had no intention of spilling tears over his nephew and his only son Caspian was safely back at the castle, the prince would never awaken this time.

The warlock thanked him and took another sip. "That's very kind of you, young man," he said. "Now let me share my apple with you."

He cut the apple in half and extended part of it to Nivean. "Take it, boy," he said. "You don't want to be rude, do you?"

The warlock took a bite from his half and inclined his head towards his rightful prince. Nivean took a bite from his half. He smiled at the guise of the old man, then grew still and fell out of his chair. The warlock pulled the bezoar stone from his own pocket. He had exposed himself to the spell as well as the prince, and this spell was so powerful that it had cracked the magical stone and made it useless. He'd been afraid of that. He would be vulnerable to curses until he could replace it.

Now that he'd found the dvergar home he could shadow walk back to the castle in haste. And that was a good thing. He'd placed legions of shadow guardians between this home and the civilized part of the kingdom. Someone had been working against him. They'd changed his ritual and he was sure they'd been in his private quarters. Now they wouldn't be able to get here and save the prince, even if they had some obscure method of breaking the curse he was unaware of. He stepped into shadow and then strode into the castle.

************

The dvergar arrived home to find the doors open and Nivean lying apparently dead in the garden, for the curse had quieted all his bodily functions so that he appeared to all perception as if he were dead. They looked for their brother Glix. He was the only one they knew of who could find a way to reverse this curse, even if it were possible. But he was nowhere to be found. It was like he had never been here. But the shutters of an upstairs window were open and there were signs of a fight.

In sadness, the dvergar removed the thrall manacles from Prince Nivean's wrists. They removed his tunic and dressed him in a special long sleeved undertunic of dark gray. Over it they placed a tunic of pale blue silk with silver trim. They put tight leggings of dark gray on his legs, followed by a belt of silver links and a pair of black leather boots. On his wrists they placed gold bracelets, and they adorned him in the gold chains they'd made for him. Finally, they placed a golden diadem on his head. Now they thought he looked like the prince he was.

They carried his body across the trail and laid him down next to their two brothers, but they placed him in a glass casket with a lid so that the animals wouldn't mar his remains.

"Tonight, I will make some stone unguent so that we can anoint his body tomorrow allowing him to turn to stone and be honored as if he were a dvergr," Quix said. And the remaining three brothers nodded their agreement.

Meanwhile, in the forest, the young scholar was sweating. He'd been beset with umbral beasts and shadows from the moment he'd entered the deeper parts of the woods. Their incorporeal touch had been unable to penetrate his mail and his shield kept many of them at bay; still one had touched his left arm and now it hung limp, tingling and unable to move. The umbral creatures feared his sword which cut through them like light through shadow. Around him nearly half the sprites lay dead, but there remained only a few of the shadows.

"Go," Timroth said. "We can handle those that remain. Only you can save the prince."

Reluctantly, the scholar, now a mage-knight of the Seelie Court, ran toward the dvergar home. He knocked on the door until it was answered by Snix who held a spear and wore mail. It was strange to see dvergar accoutered for war, and it was disturbing to the young man. He hadn't heard Blix come up behind him, but he felt him poke him with a poignard he had lifted beneath the mail and pressed against his inner thigh.

"Please!" he said. "I've been sent by Sir Lucan of Silverthorn to save his son, Prince Nivean."

Snix lowered his spear. "You're too late, boy, whoever you are. The warlock king has already come and Nivean is dead."

"That ... can't be," the scholar said. "I was told by Sir Lucan that I can save him."

"I'll show you, lad," Snix said. "We all loved NIvean in our own way."

Snix and Blix led him across the trail to where Nivean lay in his glass coffin. The scholar touched a moonstone on the handle of his sword and the area was illuminated with soft moonlight. He looked at the face of the young man lying beneath the glass. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same boy as the one in the locket.

"No!" he yelled. "I've been training for a year for this task, and it can't end with this way."

He flipped the lid of the coffin and it fell onto the soft grass. He dropped to his knees and used his one good arm to lift the still warm body and hold him to his chest. He bent down and kissed those lips, and single tear gathered at the corner of his eye and dropped onto Nivean's face.

With a gasp, Nivean drew a breath. The dvergar stepped forward and the scholar pressed Nivean's face to his chest.

"What's happening?" the prince mumbled, reaching up and putting his arms around this strong young man's neck. "Help me up, please."

The scholar was strong enough to lift a slight young man like Nivean, so he pulled him out of the coffin and stood next to him. The scholar was a couple inches under six feet tall, but he towered over Nivean, who was eight inches shorter than him.

The scholar dropped to one knee and said, "Your highness, I have been sent by your father, Sir Lucan of Silverthorn to bring you back to the castle. There is a rebellion underway against ... the usurper."

"I don't understand," Nivean said. "My father is trapped in a mirror."

"No, your highness, I freed him before coming to retrieve you," he said. "Your father is now leading the rebels against my ... against the warlock king's partisans."

"Who are you, sir," Nivean asked.

The scholar knight looked up at his rightful king and said, "I am your cousin Caspian, your highness, the son of the man who usurped your throne and tried to kill you four times, but I have been working to undo his deeds from the moment I learned of them."

Before Nivean could say anything, Snix took up his spear and Blix tumbled behind Caspian, pressing his poignard to the young man's throat. "And why shouldn't we kill you where you kneel?" Blix demanded. "Your father killed three of our brothers."

"That is for his highness to say," Caspian responded. "Although I have not had the chance to swear the oath, I am his man and if he wants my life, he can have it. But as for myself, I would add that had I not come here, you would stand no chance against my father, and he would hold the power of the land to amplify his own. I am the one who altered his ritual so that the power passed to the true heir, the uncrowned but undoubtably legitimate king."

"Wait, masters," Nivean said. "We need to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now."

Snix shook his head and said, "Master no more, your highness. You are the legitimate king, and we are ... your allies for now."

The four went back to the dvergar home and Nivean led his cousin Caspian back to the baths. The dvergar had cleaned him well when they'd thought his dead, but Caspian was in dire need of a bath. While he was soaking in the tub, Nivean went to change into a simple tunic for bed. When Caspian came out of the bath, Quix handed hime a potion that restored to him the use of his arm.

His face broke into a smile when Nivean came in and sat with him on the couch. The prince was so pretty, with his long black hair, fair skin, and silvery eyes that it made Caspian's heart ache. His short tunic exposed the entirety of his smooth, hairless legs. The boy was soft and effeminate by nature. When he sat on the couch, he tucked his legs underneath him and canted his head sideways in a way that was as guileless as it was sensual.

"Can you tell me why you turned against your father, Caspian?" Nivean asked, placing one hand on Caspian's arm, sending a thrill running through him. The sound of his name on the prince's lips was like honey in his ears.

"There are a lot of reasons, your highness," he replied. "My father has been a terrible king. The people hate him. He uses force of arms to get his way instead of talking to those who have complaints. Those are the obvious reason.

"But I also know that he's a warlock who's made a pact with a powerful being of shadow, and we can't have a king who's the servant of darkness. It could endanger the nation.

"And then there's what he did to you. He tried to kill you, and I ... I couldn't let him get away with it because I ... I've always liked you Nivean, and it ... when you disappeared and I thought you were dead, I was sad, sadder than my dad and my brothers. I didn't know why at the time, but when I found out that my father was behind it, then I knew."

Nivean moved his hand to Caspian's shoulder and said, "It's okay. I understand. I don't blame you for any of your father's crimes."

Caspian put his hand on top of Nivean's. Then he leaned over and kissed him. When his lips brushes against the prince's he blushed and sat up quickly facing forward.

"I hope ...," he began, but Nivean cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him on the lips.

The boys kept kissing, both sitting in just their tunics. Caspian's came down to his knees, but Nivean's barely covered his groin. Their lips were locked, and their arms were wrapped around one another. Caspian pulled Nivean onto his lap, facing him. Their lips never parted.

"You are beautiful, Nivean," Caspian said. "You were always beautiful, but the last three years have made you even more stunning."

He pulled Nivean's fine tunic over his head and set it on the couch next to them, exposing his slender, smooth, and hairless body. He was fascinated by the feel of his skin under his hands, like softest silk, but warm and inviting.

"I think I may have fallen in love with you when I first saw you," Caspian whispered. "I didn't know that's what it was at the time. We were just children, but I knew that I loved you before you disappeared. That's why I was so sad when you went away, and that's why I was so angry with dad when I found out what he had done. And when Bruno disappeared, I knew that he'd gone after you and I could only hope that you would survive. I shouldn't admit that I was happy when he didn't come back. It gave me hope that you still survived.

"That's the moment I decided to train myself in arms and magic. I knew that I needed to be ready to find you and to protect you. That was even more important to me than helping you regain your throne. You became my obsession."

He kissed Nivean's lips again and asked, "Did you ever like me the way I liked you?"

The smaller teen laughed. "I liked Bruno," he said. "Everyone liked Bruno."

It was true. Nivean had the biggest crush on his cousin when he was younger. He'd been handsome and strong. It was still hard for him to believe that his cousin had been the traveler who'd tried to kill him but looking back he realized how similar they were in appearance.

Caspian laughed. "Yeah, I like Bruno, too, even though he was my own brother."

They kissed some more, then Caspian's hands ran down Nivean's back and cupped his buttocks. "I want you Nivean," he said. "I want to take you to bed tonight, but I don't want to force you to do anything."

Nivean untied the laces at the top of Caspian's tunic and pulled it open. The vee neck opened down to his solar plexus. Nivean thrust his hands inside his cousin's tunic and ran his hand over his lightly hairy chest, so different from his own smooth skin.

Then he kissed Caspian's strong pecs and murmured, "You couldn't force me to do anything in this house with four dvergar in it; they're tougher than they look. But if you want to take me to bed with you tonight, I will go with you willingly."

And it was true. He didn't want to tell Caspian that he hadn't been attracted to him three years ago. Back then, Caspian had been the fat kid, and Nivean's eyes were glued to Bruno, the tall and muscular seventeen-year-old, but now Caspian was tall, although not as tall as Bruno had been, and he had worked hard to transform his fat into solid muscle. And he'd done it so he would be fit to rescue his cousin. And Nivean found the idea that his cousin had become a heroic knight just to save him made him feel like a princess in a faerie tale.

Caspian picked Nivean up and carried him up the stairs to his room. Blix noticed them and smiled. He was happy for his former thrall, and judging from Nivean's small but hard erection, the boy was happy as well. Caspian carried his younger cousin into his room and laid him down on the bed. He crawled in next to him and kissed his lips. This time he thrust his tongue into Nivean's mouth. The smaller teen had never been kissed this way before, and he was clearly enjoying it. He was holding Caspian's shoulders and moaning.

Caspian took charge of their lovemaking and Nivean was happy to allow it. Each young man was finding his own place in their budding relationship. Caspian preferred to be in charge and Nivean was most happy when he was submitting to his lover. This wasn't something he'd learned from the dvergar; it was something deep inside him.

Caspian's fingers moved down and stroked his lover's small cock. He loved how it fit in his hand and he could hold it tight. He also loved the beautiful golden rings the dvergar had used to decorate it. When he held the pretty little penis, he could feel the rings lying hard next to the soft skin. Then he moved his fingers down and stroked Nivean's crack. He touched his small anus and Nivean moaned and moved his hips. Seeing Nivean's response convinced Caspian that he was more than ready to go further.

"Do you have any oil in here?" Caspian asked.

Nivean reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. He pulled out a jar of scented oil and handed it to Caspian.

"I'm sorry that I'm not a virgin, Caspian, but I've done this before, a lot of times," he said with a sigh and blush. "You won't hurt me."

Caspian kissed him while he rubbed oil into his hole, then he pressed gently but firmly inwards, sliding his finger inside the tight little boy hole. After all he'd been through over the last three years serving the dvergar and surviving assassins, Nivean was embarrassed that he wasn't a virgin. Like any of that was his fault, or like Caspian cared in the slightest.

"I'm glad you're not a virgin, your highness," Caspian said. "It always hurts the first time, and I'm glad that I won't be the one hurting you."

He worked oil inside Nivean and was amazed at how the boy's rectum had been trained to grip tight and squeeze. He couldn't wait to feel that gripping sensation on his cock. He'd fucked boys before. Even back before he's lost fat and put on muscle, he'd fucked boys. But this was the first time that he felt love for the boy he was about to fuck. He knew Nivean was sixteen years old, although he didn't look it. He was only two years older than his cousin, but the boy was eight inches shorter and so thin that he felt frail and delicate in his arms.

"I need you to know what I am," Nivean said, tears coming to his eyes. "I've been the thrall of a family of dvergar for three years. Each of them has used me dozens of times. There were seven when I first came here and ... it's not just that I'm not a virgin; it's that I'm a well-used whore!"

Caspian kissed his lover to silence the boy's verbal self-abuse. "And I'm the son of a murderous, usurper and evil warlock," he said. "If you can forgive me for that, then I can forgive you for your past. None of it was your fault and I wouldn't care if it were. I don't care what you were. I just care what we are now, and what we may be."

Nivean sobbed, "Thank you, Caspian. Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"Shh," Caspian said as he pressed past his lover's strong ring. "I have seven inches to get inside you, and I want your attention while I do it."

Nivean stopped talking and tried to push further onto his lover's cock. Soon they were fully joined, and he was using his ass to milk Caspian's rod, while Caspian licked his hard little nipples, flicking the gold rings with his tongue. Caspian began thrusting in and pulling out in a rhythm.

"Your ass is so warm and silky, I wish I could sheath my cock in it and leave it there," he said between love bites.

"Oh!" Nivean called out as his lover hit his special spot and made his cock twitch. "That's it. That's the place, Caspian. Keep doing that."

Caspian was an attentive lover, so he pressed slowly a few times until he was sure that he was touching the exact spot and then he made sure to hit it with every subsequent thrust. Nivean felt like he was in heaven. Of the dvergar, only Snix had tried to make him feel pleasure when using him, and he hadn't been successful very often.

Caspian gently stroked Nivean's hairless cock. He was excited by the soft and smooth skin. Despite its small size, it wasn't a boy's penis; it was the fully functional penis of a teen on the cusp of young adulthood. When he knew he was about to cum, he stroked it more forcefully.

Niviean grabbed Caspian's waist with his legs and pulled him tight against him, and then he cried out, "I'm cumming! Oh gods, that's it."

Caspian had barely been touching his lover's rod, but it jumped in his hand and spilled warm seed all over him, and Nivean's ass clenched quickly with sharp spasms. Caspian felt his cock contract and then he shot his seed into that tight warm bottom. The teen lovers lay there, Caspian holding his smaller cousin in his arms until their breathing returned to normal. Then they each cleaned the other's cock before snuggling down to sleep together. The bed was small, so Caspian pulled Nivean on top of him and drew the blankets up over them both.

In the morning, they made preparation to leave. The dvergar locked their house and for the first time in decades, they traveled the road toward the capital. It took them three days to get there. Caspian had means to send messages through small animals he summoned from faerie, and Nivean was beginning to learn how to use the power of the land to find people, animals, and plants within the kingdom. He was able to feel the location of the warlock's men, and Caspian was able to inform Sir Lucan.

Meanwhile the warlock king was fuming. He'd returned from the dvergar home quite satisfied with himself. He'd felt the power of the land begin to transfer to him, but within a few hours it receded, and he could no longer feel it. He'd stormed into his study to use the slave in the mirror find out why, but the mirror had been cracked and the slave had been released. Then he found his son gone and a note left in his place, and it was signed by Sir Lucan of Silverthorn.

We have your son with us. Be careful that your do not cause him harm through your actions.

He cursed aloud, "First he took the woman who would have brought me the crown, and now he's taken my son!"

In his mind he was convinced that Sir Lucan had kidnapped his son and was threatening his life. It never occurred to him that Caspian had willingly joined forces against him, and he could harm him by accident while fighting the rebels.

Then he sent a message to call for his partisans, the men loyal to him personally rather than to the kingdom. They gathered in secret and moved toward the castle, but they were intercepted by the rebels whose forces were supplemented by faerie knights, including the remaining sprites who followed Sir Lucan. Organizing the defense took most of the warlock's attention for the next few days.

************

Getting into the castle should have been harder than it was, but they had magic to ease their journey. Quix had a bottle of fog, some powerful acid and powders that could be thrown into a man's face to put him to sleep. Whix had brought a few clever devices, including a magical golden bee that could spy around corners and inject people with sleeping toxin. Snix was small, but strong, and Blix could hide and was fast and deadly with a knife. Nivean knew nothing about fighting, but Caspian was a master swordman and he had a few magic tricks of his own.

Caspian led them by secret ways through the castle and they found themselves in the throne room while the false king was in discussion with his council. Everyone was taken aback when they burst into the room. The guards grabbed their swords and moved to attack, but Caspian released his shield and it danced in front of him. Then he ripped his helm from his head, revealing his face.

"Kneel!" Caspian yelled. "Kneel before your rightful king, Nivean, heir to Queen Amalthea!"

The room fell into confusion, with the councilors talking over one another and the guards unsure what to do. Because of the potion that had arrested his growth, Nivean still looked very much like he had when younger, although his face had matured.

"That's not the prince!" the warlock countered. "The prince is dead."

Caspian shook his head and said, "No father. Prince Nivean survived all four attempts on his life. That's right, loyal councilors, my father tried to kill our prince four times and failed."

The guards lowered their weapons, and the councilors were beginning to glare in the warlock's direction. Seeing the change in the atmosphere of the room, the warlock's face darkened and he came to a fateful decision. He raised his rod and pointed it around the room.

"But Nivean won't survive this attempt," he said. "And neither will any of you. There will be no witnesses."

The warlock began weaving the shadows in the room, but Caspian's shield moved in front of Prince Nivean, and then so did the guards. They were protecting him with their bodies, while Caspian approached him with his sword.

Whix spoke up and said, "Nice boots you're wearing, warlock. I spent a lot of time making them look just like your old ones. Now dance for us!"

Against his will, the warlock began dancing a wild dance, dragged around the room by the cursed boots. His arms were forced to move with the dance, and he couldn't focus long enough to weave his spells.

"How long will he dance?" asked the Senior Councilor.

Whix stroked his beard and said, "Until the grand finale I would think."

They followed the warlock as he danced out of the throne room and up the stairs. Then he danced along the parapet and into the tallest tower. He danced up the stairs and then danced himself off the top of the tall tower, plummeting 200 feet to his doom on the pavement below.

************

The council hailed Prince Nivean as king, and then three days later he was crowned. The partisans were defeated when the army switched sides and began to round them up and Sir Lucan was welcomed back to the castle where he was made commander of the armies of the kingdom. Nivean surprised everyone when he took his cousin Caspian as his Prince-Consort. There were some rumblings from the older members of the court, focused primarily on the question of where the new king would get an heir, but Caspian assured them that there was magic that would allow them to produce as many children as they wanted. The graybeards still grumbled, but the younger people thought it was wonderful.

And King Nivean lifted all the restrictions his great-grandfather had placed on magical beings. Soon the kingdom had dvergar, elves and goblins traveling to market and the Queens of Faerie sent legates so that they could avoid conflict in the future.

And they all lived happily ever after.