Max is a quiet man. Despite his cute appearance he has a distinctly cold air about him, literally and figuratively. He is slow to humor but quick to love. The darkling is more dedicated to his city than others in his freehold are likely to know.

Durance

It is hard to say what Max's life was before he was taken. When and where he was from. Who missed him. Who searched for him. Those secrets were lost to time or maybe willfully buried by the changeling. Whatever the case that life is long over. What is known is that one night he was walking home through the woods and was stolen away. Lost in a whirlwind of papery leaves and never to be heard from again. Leaves swirled and pressed and tore him. Lashed his arms and pulled at his hair. His eyes were squeezed shut and wind stole the scream from his lips but in an instant the pain was gone and all Max could utter was a little squeak. Realizing slowly that his form had been twisted into that of a tiny pure white bat-like creature. An impossibly large person was sitting at an equally large desk and it was then that Max realized he was sprawled out on on a large book. A wingtip just brushing an inkwell. As he tried to sit up the giant noticed the little bat finally and cupped a hand down over him to keep him from escaping. While covered another voice approached and a conversation took place. Odd talk of favors and debts and the need for a new contract. It was then that the hand lifted and Max was held firmly to the book. Without acknowledging the squeaking bat the giant took a quill and began to carve the terms of the contract into the membrane of Max's wing. Ignoring the distress and pain this process entailed. It was over soon enough and Max curled into a little ball while he cried. Nursing his wing, too new to be hurt so soon. After the other giant left Max was carried over to a gilded cage and released into it. He sat at the bottom, looking up at the dollhouse suspended overhead. Wiping tears from his eyes he noticed other bats staring down at him, chittering amongst themselves before one made the brave move to open the front door. Taking the hint Max climbed the wall of the cage slowly, not trusting his new wings to carry him in flight just yet. Once inside he was greeted and rushed along towards a bathroom where an older bat set to work washing the blood from his wing before pulling him along to dinner. He fell into the daily monotony soon enough. What else could he do but survive?

His keeper was a mystery to Max. An enigmatic figure that never bothered to speak to the little bats in any meaningful way. In fact he did not visit them often beyond approaching the cage to watch the fluttering bats from time to time and cooing over them and of course when it was time to once again collect a new contract. That was the only time the cage door unlocked, as the keeper would reach in and pull one of the little bats out. The dollhouse walls providing no safety from the keeper's grasping hands. Time moved in odd ways there. Max does not know if he was there for a week, a month, years. Wisdom says that it was too long, no matter the physical time spent in the cage. There is no meaningful life to live in a place like that. As a human being reduced to a pet, to a book. Eventually though even the docile little bats grew tired of their containment and together they devised a plan. Simple yet so hard for the scared beings. It was risky but they each knew they would only have one chance to escape like this. And so they waited for the next time that the cage was opened and en masse began to swarm. Each little body rushing the hand and the door, clawing and biting their way to freedom. Surprised by the sudden ferocity the keeper panicked, pulling away for a moment to try to collect the quickly scattering bats but as each disappeared between cracks in the wall and books on the shelve a peculiar thing began to happen. The keeper grew weaker and weaker. And he was scared. Max was not there to see the what happened to the keeper but he dimly remembers knowing deep down that it was dying. Somehow they were sustaining it and by leaving they were stealing away its power. They did not need him. He needed them. But then he flew through a crack in the window and was tumbling through thorns.

The Past Is The Past

Thorns and glass and light ripped him to pieces but his goal helped him survive. His heart kept him true on his path and he knew where he needed to go. He broke through the fog and remembered earth. Remembered what he had been stolen away from. And suddenly he was growing and tumbling and his little squeaks turned into a human shout. Then he was engulfed in a puff of snow that had broken his fall. He sat there for a moment, squinting in the light. The memories of what had happened in the cage fading. All just a bad dream. And yet here he was. Wings heavy on his back and tail flicking in the snow. His skin blending in with the white surrounding him. As blind as he was he was not getting anywhere fast and so he called out for help. For a long while he received no response and so he stood, shivering in the cold and started to try to feel his way through what he realized was a forest.

Continuing to call for help he eventually gained the attention of someone else. Faucher, the king of winter in a little city on Earth had heard the shouting and silently made his way to investigate, knowing full well that not many creatures dared alert others to their presence in the hedge. When he saw Max, cold and calling out, he knew that was a fellow changeling. Max heard the whisper of breath over the silence and shouted out that he knew someone else was there. It was then that Faucher revealed himself and asked him if he needed help getting back to earth. Max agreed and followed along at a distance, unable to trust the person he could barely see. When finally back on earth it was like coming home, despite that he had no idea where he was. Meeting the freehold did not go well as he was quickly rejected for being a notary and 'high risk' but the winter king vauched for him and he was reluctantly allowed to stay. Of course learning about what he was was hard on the young man but Faucher was there for him every step of the way. The king becoming a rock in the young man's life. Faucher took him into his home, taught him and cared for him as a father would and Max quickly fell into the role of a son.

The Current Day

Nowadays Max is a loyal winter courtier and works as a book keeper and contract specialist. He works directly for his father and is quietly being trained to become the next winter king. He has begun a relationship with Kees, an autumn courtier and while the future is always uncertain for changelings things are looking up.

• As a darkling Max is predisposed to living at night. His powers are dampened by the sun and the extreme light blinds him.
• Max needs blood to survive. He eats normal food but is unable to digest it without the help of blood. He does not need much per day to survive but he often takes more than necessary out of desire.
• The contracts written onto his wings are invisible until someone runs their hands over them. At which time they glow a deep red.
• A small amount of snow falls around his head at all times though it disappears almost as soon as it forms.
• He is covered in little scars from where necessity has pushed him into feeding on himself from time to time.