Title: A Chance Meeting
Summary: The place is Venice, the year 1700. Alviss meets up with a stranger who knows his name, but he can't remember where he's seen the man before. Possible Nanashi/Alviss.
Warnings: None, as yet
Notes: Just a piece I wrote for a friend. It's the first time I've tried writing MAR fanfiction, so I hope I haven't messed their characters up. . Apologies if I have. This might be continued, or it might end here, I'm not sure. It was originally planned to be a one-shot, though.
Disclaimer: Marchen Awakens Romance, Nanashi, and Alviss all belong to Anzai Nobuyuki. I don't own them, nor would I like to (not enough money to pay for their food). This is a piece of fiction, read at your own risk. Venice belongs to itself, really.

Namenlos - Nameless
The city- the Republic, the German corrected himself mentally- was certainly a place of many cultures. One could just as easily find a Turk as one could find a Russian.

Despite, or perhaps because of that, the blond man stood out with all the ease of an elephant in a field of flamingoes.

Truth be told, Alviss had never actually seen a field of flamingoes, but he knew what the pink birds looked like. The previous day, on the urgings of his friend, he had paid a visit to the city menagerie. It had been quite impressive, to say the least.

But the man. There was just something about him-

The way he stood was unassuming enough, but the shock of blond hair (loose, unstyled) among the common blacks and browns of the Venetians caught one's eye- his- quickly enough.

That and his clothes. The citizens of Venice did not take offence at excessive colour. Indeed, their own clothes formed a riot of colours across the markets, ranging from the earthy browns to rich purples. But bright red, white, and purple, and particularly the odd fashion that the man wore them in...

It was only when the man turned to face him that Alviss realized he had been staring.

He blinked, looking away. It was hardly polite, and he made to walk away quickly. It was about then that he realized that someone was holding onto his arm, that someone being the man he had been looking at.

"Alviss," the man asked, "You're here too?"

The accent in his voice was unplacable- he was not a native German, but he was spoke the language with an ease only born from years of practice. Alviss took a step back as he pulled his arm free of the man's grasp, his eyes narrowing.

This stranger knew his name? Few in the city knew of him, fewer still cared for the presence of a single German. But this man- something about him was familiar, almost tantalizingly so. "I don't know you," he replied, in turn. "You... you are?"

Appearing confused for a second, the man blinked, before smiling disarmingly. "What, you don't remember me?"

"No, I don't know you."

For the first time, a shade of worry crossed the man's face- it was then that Alviss realized that he couldn't see his eyes, covered as they were by the man's headgear, a scarf of some sort. But the subtle clenching of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed, just slightly- somehow Alviss knew that he had seen that, before.

The smile on the man's face tightened. "What, Alviss, am I really that easy to forget- after all that happened in Marchen?"

Marchen- fairytale?

Alviss shook his head, unable to get rid of the feeling of increasing unease coming over him. "I've never seen you before," he repeated. "Never. I don't even know your name."

For some reason, he felt like he'd just lied.

The man's smile turned grim. "I don't have a name," he replied. "I guess that makes me Namenlos."

"Namenlos," Alviss repeated. "Na-" He paused, looking up at the man. The way he stood, the clothes he wore, the way that he spoke; everything about him carried a haunting familiarity. And yet in all his life Alviss could swear that he had never met such a man. "You're insane," he said sharply, moving away from him. "I've never heard of anyone like you."

The man didn't reply immediately, the smile fading from his face. Then: "I see," he murmured, almost to himself. "Humour me, Alviss. Where do you come from?"

"Germany." Why was he still talking to him?

"Germany. And this place is?"

"Venice- The city state of Venice. You-"

"-Didn't know that," the man cut him off, a hint of his earlier cheerfulness making its way into his voice. "Thank you for the information," he said. "Looks like it's started all over again, but you wouldn't know about that, of course." His smile was back, as obviously happy as it had been before. Reaching over before Alviss could move away, he patted the teenager on the shoulder.

"Second time now," the man said, so quietly that Alviss wasn't sure if he'd heard him correctly. "Ach, well."

Straightening, he gave Alviss a final wave. "I should be seeing you again," he nodded to the German, raising one hand in a mock salute. Lowering it, he started walking away, leaving the teenager behind.

Alviss stood where he was, eyes fixed on the man's retreating back. "Wait," he called, a second later, "I don't even know your name."

"Namenlos will do," the man replied over his shoulder, his reply almost lost in the noise of the crowd. "I actually like the sound of that."

Alviss opened his mouth to say something else, but the man turned away from him and disappeared into the busy streets. He blinked, trying and failing to shake off the sense that something important had just happened.

It didn't matter, in couldn't matter. Just a chance encounter on the streets-

With someone who knew his name, who felt so familiar, whom he felt that he should know-

Just a chance encounter, he thought to himself, and closed his eyes, letting out a breath he had not even realised he had been holding. He should be getting back to the inn, it was already late. The sky had taken on a darker cast.

Opening his eyes, Alviss tried to assure himself that that the rapid beating of his heart meant nothing. In any case, Günter would be waiting for him, back at the inn. A faint smile lifted the edges of his lips as he thought of the trouble his blond friend would have caused, by this time.

Turning sharply, Alviss hummed a snatch of an old song to himself as he headed back.

From a hidden doorway, the man called Namenlos watched, and smiled to himself.