He had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation for his being back in the dungeon under Airyglyph castle, the torture chamber no less.

"Wh-what? How did I... get here?"

His vision was fogged and his head felt heavy, as though it was filled with sand. Lifting it straight up was a challenge; it kept falling to one side, hitting his shoulder.

"So you're awake, Fayt."

Fayt strained to lift his chin, blowing away his disheveled bangs with a quick puff of breath. His wrists were in shackles, chained to the cold stone wall. The links clicked together sounding like a pair of rusted windchimes.

"Who-" He could barely make out the figure standing in the doorway. The hair tickling his eyelids wasn't helping him discern who the faint, silhouette standing in the doorway was. With another quick puff, Fayt guided his hair to the side and out of his vision.

"Who indeed," the voice mocked. "I'm surprised you don't know, fool."

Not knowing from where he had drudged up the power, Fayt snapped his head straight and stared at the shadow lurking in the doorway.

"You put me here, didn't you Albel!"

The shadow took a light step into the torch-lit room, chuckling quietly. "No, you have it all wrong. It were your 'friends' that dumped you here."

Fayt choked on his breath. He had to be dreaming. Cliff and Nel wouldn't have dumped him in enemy territory and left him to die, would they?

"You lie," Fayt said, the accusation grinding at the base of his throat.

"Do I?" Albel asked. Fayt watched Albel's hand dance a moment around the pommel of his sword and the fall back to his side.

This couldn't be happening. How could Nel have abandoned him after all he had done in assisting her with a war that wasn't even his? And Cliff, why would he just leave him after working so hard to obtain him. He was to meet the leader of Quark. Cliff wouldn't have dumped him like excess baggage into Airyglyph's hands. Would he?

"A dream. This has to be a dream"

"You dream not, fool."

Fayt couldn't help but grind his teeth. "Quit calling me that."

Albel smiled wide. "What? A fool? It's what you are, Fayt. A fool to believe that your Aquios girl would remain true to you. You were only a simple means to her grand end. And that blond brute? He didn't need you anymore either. You were only holding him back with your weaknesses."

The room grew colder the longer Albel talked of his friends' betrayal. The sickening part was that it halfway made sense. Why would Nel burden herself with staying true to Fayt after getting all that she and her kingdom wanted? Why would Cliff want him around when he was sometimes a handicap in battle. Maybe he wasn't worthy to meet Quark's leader anymore. It all made Fayt's stomach roll.

"You see?" Albel said as he took a couple languid steps forward. "You're nothing but a weak, pathetic fool. The situation you're in proves it."

Fayt closed his eyes, letting Albel's words echo inside him. Maybe this was real and he was just plain stupid for letting himself get caught. He was probably drugged and dragged all the way to Airyglyph, and now, most likely, he was going to die.

"Will you put up a fight?"

Fayt opened his eyes; Albel was looming over him. Seeing Albel up close for the first time, he noticed the color of his eyes. They were a deep, unforgiving red. All the blood he had shed over the years must have made them that way.

"Well?" Albel asked. The sword at his side whispered out of its sheath. "Will you put up a fight?"

The way Albel asked the question, the way he pushed the words out from behind his teeth in a quiet hush, combined with the sound of steel on steel, made Fayt shiver.

"Why? Would you rather I did?" He found it hard to lock eyes with the figure towering above him.

Again, Albel smiled. "I would, because as I've told you already, easy wins aren't my style."

Before Fayt could retort, Albel jumped back and set the point of his sword against Fayt's throat. He dragged the tip down and across, toward the boy's shoulder, leaving a thin red line in its wake.

Wincing, Fayt clenched his hands into fists. The way Albel dragged the tip of his sword over his flesh was more terrifying than painful. More playful than wicked. It confused him. The last time he was here in Airyglyph's dungeon the masked executioner was brutal. Fayt wasn't sure if he would even survive the beating. But now that he was here with Albel, Fayt was fearing for something other than his life.

Albel chortled, ending with a slight snort. He dropped his sword back into the sheath. "You amuse me." He slammed his hands against the stone wall behind Fayt, one on either side of the boy's head. Glancing at the metal claw, Fayt gulped.

And then, Albel leaned toward him, the bleached tips of his dark hair tickling Fayt's nose as he breathed. Now this was unsettling. The way Albel's eyes shone in the dim torchlight of the torture chamber was pushing Fayt well past the brink of terror. They reflected a kind of hunger, and it wasn't bloodlust.

Closing his eyes, Fayt braced himself for what he though was yet to come. He even went as far as parting his lips and tilting his chin.

"Oh come now! You don't think that I, Albel the Wicked, would want to kiss you?"

He had to look away. There was a feeling of heat creeping across his cheeks.

"Is that what you desire, Fayt? A gentle kiss from a wicked man?"

The man's words were filled with contempt, but Fayt had to wonder if what he said was true. Was that what he wanted? Was that why he was here? To be some kind of void that Albel could fill?

"If that's what you truly desire, I'll give you a kiss."

That wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

"But it will by no means be gentle."

Giddy yet still somewhat afraid, Fayt waited for their lips to make contact, then let his eyelids flutter shut. He wanted to concentrate only on the movement of Albel's mouth and its wanting to devour him. The Airyglyph soldier was rough in his assault, using tongue and teeth to keep Fayt's mouth open to his. A hand traced over the zipper of Fayt's shirt, flicking the metal hoop secured there with his thumb.

More than anything, Fayt wanted to grab hold of Albel's hand and help him drag that zipper all the way down to his waist. But he couldn't. The metal shackles biting hard into his wrists was a reminder of that.

"My god I want him," Fayt thought as Albel took a quick moment to gulp down some air. "I want him. I want him. He has to know what he's doing to me. Albel, touch me. Oh god, please touch me."

Quickly pulling back, Albel regarded Fayt with a cruel, heavy-lidded stare. "Hmph. Not only are you weak on the battlefield, you're weak against your own lust."

Fayt's mouth hung open, still wet with Albel's kiss, not quite sure what he was hearing. "But-"

"But nothing," Albel said.

There was a knock. Both turned to look at the torture chamber door.

"Fayt? Fayt?" came the voice on the other side.

The voice sounded familiar. Feminine with an authoritative edge. Fayt grappled with the familiarity as he watched Albel stalk toward the door.

"Fayt?"

Albel looked back at Fayt and pointed with a hooked claw at his prone, shackled form.

"We are far from being through."

"Fayt!"

The voice. Fayt knew who it was.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, Fayt glanced at the door from across the room with sleepy eyes. So he was dreaming after all.

"Fayt. We need to get going if we're to make it to the Mosel Ruins by nightfall."

"I'll be there in a minute, Nel," Fayt called out. "I need to get dressed."

"And gather my bearings," his mind added.

Why of all people would he dream of Albel? And kissing Albel? What was he thinking? Had he lost his mind, dreaming of wanting a man who had killed many and nearly killed him and his friends as well? Was he insane?

Quite possibly. No. Almost definitely.

Yet, Fayt couldn't deny the fact that insanity had the power to make him feel so good.