astle of Desire

Story

It was now the fortieth day Rhys was in the Dalwich castle.

The ancient castle was as huge as a small city, with endless rooms and corridors. He drew a map of the parts he explored and marked the corridors for better navigation, but the layout of the castle was still largely much beyond his knowledge.

Following the dimly lit corridor, he found a blue door not on his map. After drawing marks on the wall and his map, he entered the room.

The water falling from above startled him. When he looked up, he saw a painted ceiling depicting a raining sky decorated with gold leaves and blue gemstones.

Was there a leak? Rhys thought.

When the water stopped, the painted ceiling now showed a sunny sky with a rainbow. Gentle breezes stirred the now white clouds. 

"Thanks for showing me," Rhys said. The castle seemed to be somewhat sentient and friendly, as he would find fresh water and food out of nowhere when he needed them, which allowed him to survive to this day.

"Have I told you about the time I went to the seaside several years ago? The sky and the sea were both crystal blue that day. I could hear faint singing from the sea. The locals told me that it was the mermaids' song. I wish I could let you hear them. They had a lovely voice."

The castle never responded to him, but Rhys still regularly told the castle about his thoughts and experiences. There were no other sentient beings other than them. Rhys needed this companionship to keep himself sane.

When the rainbow faded, Rhys continued his journey.

After coming across more rooms and corridors, Rhys found it hard to concentrate and move forward. He needed a place to sleep.

He was grateful when there was a comfortable bed in the next room. He sank into the soft mattress and fell asleep.

A fell blanket moved gently on its own to cover his body. The room turned entirely dark so as not to disturb its guest's sleep.

At first, the castle watched its new visitor with indifference. It didn't matter who he was or the reason he was here. He would perish like the others. 

It watched him searching the room he found himself in, probably looking for anything useful. 

It watched him wandering along its corridors, marking the corner with ashes. 

It watched him sighing and returning to the room, drawing lines on his handkerchief. 

It could hear his rapid heartbeat, but he didn't yell nor break anything. Instead he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. 

It left some food and water by his side. A few more days wouldn't make much difference. At least he entertained it enough. 

The mortal soon discovered its existence. Instead of making threats or begging, the mortal was clever enough to pique its interest by talking about places that it had never seen before.  

Perhaps he could live longer. 

The more Rhys explored the castle, the more amazed he was by its structure and design.

He has just walked out of an opulent party room fit for a king. It was filled with furniture clad with gold. Soft fabric with intricate flower patterns decorated the walls. When he walked by  the oversized mirrors, he could see his reflection dancing with invisible partners. 

In the next room, he was almost cut into half by the huge jagged metal intrusions that occupied the whole wall. It looked like a behemoth's metallic jaws, which Rhys spotted dried brown spots.

He could hear falling water at the beginning of a corridor, but could never reach it despite the sound getting louder. A white feather  fell from the ceiling and melted into snow water when he caught it with his hands.

Who created the castle? How did its magic work? What kind of principles was behind its arrangements of vastly different styles and architecture? 

Rhys wrote notes with ashes on the walls. The next day he found additional scribbling in a language he couldn't read. What did the castle want to tell him?

Rhys suspected that he would need years to achieve a basic understanding of the castle. This didn't daunt him as much as he should.

The mortal reminded the castle of a cat. 

He was young and playful, always gently touching and knocking the room furniture and walls before scribbling marks. When he was tired, he would lounge about on the beds he found. The castle could sense his warm skin through the bedsheets.

His eyes lit up when he found something new. He would follow any sudden sounds until reaching dead ends.

The castle listened to his stories and extracted elements to enrich its interior, because he would laugh and caress anything familiar to him. It listened to his breath and heartbeat to arrange resting places for him when he was tired. It conjured food he said he missed, pulling him out of danger when he didn't pay enough attention to the surroundings.

There were many visitors before him, but so far it found him the shiniest among them.

Sometimes it thought of devouring him to make him an intimate part of itself, but then his mind would be lost forever. At least even the air in his lungs came from the castle. The longer he stayed, the more they merged.

"I miss being outside. I miss soaking in the sunlight," The mortal said while looking at a painted lancet window. 

The castle changed the window to let more light in. 

He stared at the window and said softly, "Thank you." He seemed lost in his thoughts.

"Do you really hear me, or understand what I am talking about?"

"Do you think anyone misses me?"

"Will you talk with me?" The mortal's shoulders slumped when speaking in a monotonous voice, "Do you find me too annoying?"

The castle remained silent. It could speak into the mortal's mind, but its power could overwhelm the mortal and hurt him. The mortal also couldn't understand its writing.  

Then the mortal suddenly laughed and moved to the castle's best attempt at a chessboard based on his description of the game.

He moved a piece. "I think you can somewhat understand me. Would you mind taking it away if I am right?"

The castle lifted it to another table.

"Then it's my fault we can't communicate well. What if we devise a code for ourselves?"

They experimented with what they had available. The mortal arranged cups while telling it the first time he was lost in a city. The castle changed the colour of the wallpaper and the brightness of the room in response. Sometimes the mortal was silent, communicating himself in complicated gestures. The castle was content to guess what he tried to say.

One night the mortal was coughing and breathing rapidly.

He was flushing,  and the castle could taste his sweat through the bedsheets.

The castle put him in a warm spring and fed him water. Mortals were fragile, but it didn't want this one to pass so soon.

The mortal said to him," My name is Rhys. Will you remember my name after I pass away?"

The castle put a wet cloth on his forehead.

While mortals were like mayflies, it would remember him, but now it would keep him alive.

The castle installed an infirmary manned by automatic mannequins, which fascinated Rhys. His lingering touch radiated warmth to the castle, so it led him to a room of statues. To its regret, Rhys kept his hands off.

Rhys once said he longed for books, so it copied and combined several libraries into itself. Rhys couldn't take his hands off the books for days.

It rationed out new rooms based on his favourite anecdotes, hiding them behind secret stairways and doors and lying out trails of clues, because Rhys glowed at the new opportunities for exploration. His light gait knocked on its heart.

However, sometimes Rhys was quiet and looked distant. He would draw people and places and erase them afterwards. He spoke with longing about home and friends. Then he quickly switched subjects.

The castle was confident that it could care for him well enough that he would never want to leave, but its best efforts might not be enough.

Following a ray of light, Rhys arrived at a yellow door. He wondered what kind of surprise the castle arranged for him. Last time he opened the door to a waterfall flowing inside of a beach. The air was particularly hot that time, and the wave nearly carried him away.

He stiffened when he opened the door.

A wave of homesickness and disbelief overwhelmed him. The old bookshelf stacked with books was more polished. The glass vase on the round table had a sunset colour instead of green. His bed definitely wasn't so soft. However, it resembled his home. 

The purple aster flower he put in the vase must have wilt by now. Several days ago swan gooses flew by an arched window. How long had he stayed here? Months, or a year? 

"Did you plan this?" Rhys asked. The castle must have gathered the details from their numerous conversations. 

An ornate mirror appeared out of nowhere. Instead of his own reflection, it showed crowded streets and tall buildings. 

Rhys stared at the mirror. Some passersby looked familiar, but they walked too quickly for him to identify them. "Do you want me to leave?"

He forgot that everything would end some day. Perhaps he overstayed his welcome.

The mirror disappeared. Rhys's favourite song started playing. A band of clockwork toys danced around him and led him to the table, where now spotted bacon, eggs and potato bake, pumpkin pie, glazed salmon and pasta. 

Rhys took a bite of the bacon, which was cooked just the way he liked. He threw himself into the meal to delay the inevitable. 

After finishing the meal, Rhys asked again, "Would you allow me to remember after leaving? You can trust me to keep a secret."

The castle deserved its peace, but Rhys would want to savour the memory of their probably one-side connection. 

Swirls of glowing red, purple and golden pattern and images rushed into his mind, radiating warmth and energy.

Rhys's head hurt, but he calmed down when he realised that the message came from the castle. The castle wouldn't hurt him. 

Images of him flashed across his vision. He saw himself exploring a corridor, sleeping deeply on the bed, thinking while looking distantly, or sleeping deeply, all while glowing softly. 

"You want me to stay," Rhys said. Then he added carefully. "You like me"

The surroundings around him changed rapidly. The draping silky curtains rose and pulled him into a jewelled throne. Then they tied him loosely to the chair arms. 

Rhys looked down and was almost blinded by the large diamonds and gemstones. “Did you crown me?”

The colours flowed quicker and turned lighter inside him, infused with images of opulence and decadence beyond Rhy's imagination. “You really want me, so what’s the deal with my old room and the mirror?”

This time he saw himself again, with slumped shoulders and distant eyes. He never expected the castle to notice, not to mention caring so much about him.

“You will let me go to make me happy,” Rhys said. Then he laughed. “I miss my home and my friends, but I will miss you most. No one is like you.”

Golden and silver bands wrapped around all his fingers, his wrists and ankles.

“Are you proposing to me?” Rhys asked. “I would like a kiss first.”

A light soft handkerchief caressed his lips and played with his tongue tip while a long silky satin cloth tangled around his fingers. A rougher cloth rubbed against his underarms while a piece of lace explored his naked skin on his stomach and moved up along his chest. When he arched his body, he felt his trousers pulling down. 

He sweated and moaned when fabric of different texture pressed and pulled against his organ and his inner thighs. How did the castle learn to be good at stimulating human bodies? Did it have other human lovers?

He lost his thoughts as rough linen rolled around his nipples and soft cloth teased the head of his organ. He did want to know how he looked now.

As if the castle could read his mind, he saw a vision of his current self with his legs stretching out over the chair. His face was reddened with desire, and the blush spread along his body glistening with sweat. He looked like an offering of sex.

It was getting hotter, and his vision started to blur, but a golden thread wrapped around his mind radiating softness and safety. He leaned into the thread, knowing that the castle was taking care of him.

His orgasm felt like a fire that burned across his body.

He woke up to be in a warm bath with gentle water jets massaging his tired and sore body. He noticed a towel nearby and blushed. It would take a very long time before he could look at a cloth normally.

“How did you get so good?” he asked.

The water jets that massaged him strengthened and started to target his sensitive spots.

“I need a break. I’m just a human unlike you.”

A flurry of images filled his mind again. He saw pieces of castles flowing inside his his body. Golden threads bounded him to the castle.

It took some time for Rhys to decipher the meaning. “You have fed me with parts of yourself so we have merged in a sense”

“Will it hurt you?” He asked. 

A sense of overwhelming hugeness infiltrated him. He was an ant compared to this, but it was cradling him carefully and gently.

“I think I love you,” he said and laughed as pink rose petals rained on him

Rhys didn’t expect this when he heard the rumour about the mystical castle and decided to explore it, but he was glad about his decision.