Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal
Title: The Worst Poison: Chapter 1: Infection
Characters: Durbe, Vector, Mach, Nasch
Word Count: chapter: 4,145||story: 4,145
Genre: Drama, Friendship||Rated: PG-13
Notes: This series takes place in their past life.
Challenges: Written for the 2014 Advent Calendar, Day #19; Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section I, #6, a threeshot
Summary: [1/3 chapters, Advent Challenge Day #19; Diversity Writing Challenge; Durbe, Vector, Mach, Nasch; a little Tomoshipping, not-quite-Leadshipping] During the war against Vector, Durbe finds himself in a very bad situation, involving the mad prince and a truth he does not want to hear.

Durbe didn't know which hurt more at the moment, the way his head throbbed or the way his ribs ached from the repeated kickings to them. He didn't want to open his eyes; he knew where he would be when he did, and he wanted to avoid being there at least for a few more moments. The fact he was there wouldn't change, but he could spare himself a few seconds.

"Don't keep your eyes closed, good knight." Vector's mocking voice rang in his ears, and Durbe held back a sigh. What measure of peace he'd found ended with that voice. He'd known it would come, sooner or later. Unfortunately, like he did with everything else, Vector ruined peace.

He could feel the rope that bound him snug against his wrists and ankles. He didn't know where his armor or weapons were, but suspected Vector's men were likely to be gambling over them. He'd seen them do that with other spoils of war.

No. He wasn't a spoil of war, nor was anything else that belonged to him. His gear had been stolen and he was a temporary prisoner, nothing else. He would escape and return to Nasch.

A solid thump landed in his ribs again and this time he gasped, head jerking upward and eyes flying open. Vector stood in front of him, his usual cruel smile on his lips.

"So glad you could join us, sir knight," the Mad Prince declared. "We've been waiting so long."

Durbe had no idea of how long he'd been unconscious. From the way his body ached, he'd either not moved for days or had been subjected to all manner of pummels and kicks. He wouldn't have been surprised if both were the case. He knew well how Vector took care of special prisoners and he could be considered nothing else, given how close he and Nasch were.

"My apologies." The knight shifted himself carefully, trying to take note of where he was and who else was there. So far all he could see was Vector, but he suspected there would be guards elsewhere. The prince wouldn't want him to escape.

Durbe didn't really care that much what Vector wanted, and would go out of his way to make certain that the prince didn't get it. Which meant he would find a way to escape and take as much information back with him as he possibly could.

"I don't think you really mean that." Vector shook his head, giving a small insane laugh. Though to be fair, Durbe thought, any and all laughs that Vector made were insane. Rumor had it that he hadn't always been like this, that once he'd been a fair and wise young prince, perhaps even fit to be an ally to the United Lands of Poseidon or Durbe's own kingdom one day.

No one knew what changed him. No one dared ask. Rumor also had it that anyone who brought up the past died in the most horrible ways that Vector could imagine.

Durbe believed those rumors with all of his heart.

For now, however, he shrugged. "Does what I mean matter to you?" There was no need to be polite. They both knew that Durbe would fight against Vector until the last drop of blood in his body, and likely try to find a way to fight on after that. They also knew that Vector would torment Durbe until that last drop came or until Durbe wasn't there to be tormented anymore.

"No, not really." Vector circled him, and Durbe took the chance to look around his prison a little more. The last he'd heard, Vector's army hadn't holed up in any towns or villages, but here he was in a stone room anyway. So either their information hadn't been accurate or he'd been out of it long enough for that information to be out of date.

"You've already enraged Nasch to the point of war. All keeping me here will do is make it worse," Durbe pointed out, straining at the ropes that bound him to a long pole in the center of the room. The room itself was little more than a dozen paces across and had only one door, and no windows that Durbe could see. An actual prison, then. They had ended up somewhere with real walls.

He would've preferred being in a tent. It would make being rescued or escaping that much easier. He had no doubts that Nasch would arrange for a rescue if he couldn't get out on his own. The good king was likely making plans for it even now. If he could assist in his own rescue in any way he would. It would help if he knew where Mach was…

Sudden memory seized him. He and Mach had flown over Nasch's army, keeping an eye on where Vector's headed and if they had any divisions trying to sneak up on them. They'd dodged a few arrows from archers who didn't realize how used they were to this. Riding a flying horse meant that people would try to shoot at them; Durbe and Mach had grown used to that over the years. Avoiding arrows came almost naturally by now.

Being Nasch's eyes in the sky made him a prime target, every bit as much as being his closest friend. Durbe had grown used to that as well, and counted it a small cost to pay for the gift of being friends with the young king.

Vector's voice interrupted his memories. Vector would've enjoyed knowing he'd done so, if Durbe said anything on the matter.

"What makes you think I don't want him to get any angrier? I love him being so furious at me he can't even think!" Vector laughed, the sound echoing off the walls around them. "It's all the more fun for me when he gives in to his anger!"

Durbe hissed between his teeth, straining harder at the bonds, but to no use. At least they were rope and not something stronger. He could break them, in due time. He refused to give up hope. All he needed was time, and Vector would give him that time, whether he knew it or not. Vector liked to brag too much not to.

"Where's Mach?" Vector wouldn't have passed up the chance to take them both. He'd probably threaten Nasch with unspecified horrors to them, or knowing him, very specified horrors that he may or may not carry out, depending on whatever suited his mad mood the best, in order to get the king to do whatever he had in mind. Which would likely not be surrender, not if what he'd just said meant anything. One could never tell with Vector. He wasn't called the Mad Prince because they'd run out of nicknames.

"Oh, your little bird-horsey?" Vector laughed again, and Durbe wished he'd stop. His head rang harshly enough without the added bonus of Vector's laughter. "We left him in the woods where we scooped you up."

Sudden dread tightened around Durbe's heart. That made no sense, not unless…

"What did you do to him?"

Vector's pacings had brought him back in front of the captured knight now. He took a long moment to stare directly into Durbe's blue eyes, clearly savoring every moment of the knight's fear and pain. "Don't you remember?"

The images flickered sharply through Durbe's mind at Vector's words. It had been one of the quieter days of the war, as Nasch marched in his enemy's wake, trying to succor the few survivors they found in the shattered villages and towns Vector left behind, scavenging food and supplies, occasionally stopping to put out fires or do battle with whatever parts of Vector's army dared or were ordered to face them.

He and Mach remained above, darting here and there, scouting as they were wont to do. They'd managed to get a little ahead of Nasch's army, which couldn't move nearly as fast as they could. Dodging arrows remained a simple task, and for the most part, Durbe hadn't thought anything unusual was even close to happening.

Until some bright soul below in Vector's army gave an order, and they released a near shower of arrows, all aimed for him. This wasn't impossible, even for them, to avoid, but it was that much harder, and Durbe ordered Mach to rise up, over the incoming arch.

Someone in that mass of archers had been watching for that very move. More arrows came, filling the air to the point that Durbe could hear them clatter off his armor. At this height he was lucky; they'd spent most of their force just getting this high and didn't have the strength to penetrate his armor. On the ground, it might've been a different tale.

Then, without any warning, Mach lurched underneath him, and began to fall from the air, his wings flailing uselessly as he tried to catch hold of the wind.

"Mach? Mach, what's wrong?" Durbe did everything within his power to find what was going on, but with his stallion falling to the ground, he had all he could do just to hold on.

He caught sight of an arrow buried in Mach's shoulder, a trail of bright red around it. A thousand thoughts skittered through his mind, but none of them paused long enough for him to think them. Instead, he put all of his concern toward getting Mach down safely near Nasch's army. His healers could fix this; they'd worked cures that were nothing short of miracles before. He needed to get them there before it was too late, and before more arrows struck home.

There was no chance for him to get Mach safely downward, however, as a silver cloud of something knocked into him even as he started to guide his beloved mount. Durbe clawed and struck at whatever it was, but to no effect whatsoever, and it bore him off Mach's back to crash land in the trees. He'd seen people moving toward him and let himself relax, firm in the belief that he'd encountered a group of Nasch's roving scouts.

A net, he realized now, that was what it had been. He'd lost consciousness almost as soon as he'd crashed, not even realizing that the forms that moved closer to him weren't those from Nasch's kingdom, but Vector's.

This had all been a plan of Vector's. Take the flying knight captive, remove one of Nasch's strongest assets, and cause him even more pain as well. Hurting Durbe wouldn't be on quite the same lines as what happened to Merag, but it would be enough to push Nasch farther into hate and rage. Durbe had seen him growing closer every day since her death, and did what he could to keep his friend back from that edge.

If he died, or worse, then what would hold Nasch back then? Iris's sweet smile could do much, but the little girl shouldn't have to do something like this. Nasch could well convince himself that finishing off Vector in the worst ways would be the best way to ensure she lived her life in peace, unlike the rest of them.

All of that came back to what he'd decided before: he would find a way to escape and foil Vector's plans.

Vector poked him in the ribs again. At least this time it wasn't a kick. He saw enough of Vector as it was; seeing his legs wasn't on Durbe's list of ways to pass the time until he could get out of here.

"Well? Do you remember what happened to your pretty horse-bird?" Vector sneered at him. "Nothing more than rotting meat now, that's what he is. You've been my guest for almost a week."

Well, that explained why he hurt so much, and the roaring hunger and thirst as well. He hadn't even noticed how dry his throat was until Vector mentioned how long it had been.

"Now, down to business." Vector circled Durbe once more. "You must be hungry. And thirsty."

Even though Durbe himself had just considered that, he didn't want to know how this was 'business' to Vector. He said nothing at all, only watched cautiously as the prince stood before him. A snap of the insane royal's fingers brought in a servant, who carried a tray on which rested a carafe of water, an earthenware cup, and a small bowl of something that smelled far more delicious than it had any right to.

"You're going to need to eat. I know you don't want to share my hospitality, but do you really want to starve to death just to spite me?" Vector smirked.

"I'll get back to you on that," Durbe replied as calmly as he could. His stomach yearned toward the food, but he tried to hold back, as much as he could anyway. What was even harder to resist was the call of the water. But he would refuse that as well. Vector didn't give anything away for free, and the price for all of this could be too high. Would be too high.

Vector picked up the cup of water and tilted it toward Durbe, letting him hear it slosh around. His throat ached even more for it, but the knight shook his head.

"Tell me what you want for it." Durbe knew better than to pay it, but Vector would want to torment him with it nevertheless.

Vector laughed again, swirling the water just within Durbe's reach. "It's very simple. It's something you've done before, in fact, so it shouldn't be any problem for you to do it again. You aren't the perfect loyal knight that you wish people to think you are. You're a traitor. You turned on your pledged king to march beside King Nasch against me. Your king has no stake in this war. Your actions could bring me to take his kingdom as well."

Vector smiled for a moment, a look that his face didn't wear well. "Not that I wasn't anyway, but it could be laid at your feet, Sir Durbe." His tone made a mockery of Durbe's title and the knight strained harder at his restraints. "What I want is this: pledge yourself to me. Bow down to me as your new master and serve me with true loyalty, and I will set you free, feed, water, and clothe you as my own knight."

If Durbe had had a single bite of food in his stomach, he would've rejected it at Vector's words. He shook his head as violently as he could. "Never. I've never broken my vows to my kingdom and I wouldn't swear to you even if I had."

Durbe truly hated the sound of Vector laughing. The prince set the cup back on the tray and gestured for the servant to leave them on the floor, well within Durbe's sight, if not reach. "You'll change your mind when you've rested here a while. Once someone has turned their coat once, they'll do it again and again." He smirked at Durbe as he took a step toward the door. "Of course, I know I don't have quite the incentive to offer you that Nasch did, but I'm sure I could arrange something."

The look he directed Durbe was nothing more nor less than a salacious leer. In all of his life, no matter how heated the battle, Durbe had never wanted to take a bath quite so much as he did now. He held his tongue, though. It wasn't Vector's concern what form his relationship to Nasch took, and regardless, he would never find himself in Vector's bed. He would rather have shared quarters with a scorpion.

At least then he felt assured he would've emerged without being poisoned.

Wherever this cell was, the light outside didn't change, which could've meant any number of things. Durbe concentrated on what he knew: that he was Vector's prisoner, Vector wanted him to turn traitor, and …Mach.

He tried not to think about the last. Of them all, Mach being gone was the most distasteful, the one that made him far sicker to his stomach than anything else.

He didn't know how often Vector returned to the cell to taunt him, to exhort him to join his side, and more. The more didn't bear thinking about, as it sprang from Vector's initial insinuation that he didn't have the 'same coin' to offer that Nasch did, and evolved into Vector offering to 'do his best' to take Nasch's place in Durbe's life.

Part of the reason Durbe continued to refuse food and water was because he didn't want to throw it back up the next time Vector made his offer.

He thought he was being given water anyway, since he didn't feel quite as dry as he had. It was always when he was unconscious or asleep. He didn't know which to call it, only that there were times when he dazed out, and woke feeling a little refreshed. He suspected that Vector had dark mages among his people who assisted in that.

But there wasn't any darkness outside, which meant the sun hadn't set. Maybe. If those mages did exist, they could conceal the rising and setting of the sun from him if they desired. He didn't know the extent of their powers, and refused to ask. Any scrap of information that he could glean that Vector wasn't aware that he knew could help. Somehow. Eventually.

Without being able to see the sun or stars, there wasn't any way for him to gauge how long he'd been there. Vector's visits weren't anything regular enough to judge by, since they came with no regularity whatsoever. Sometimes he came, spoke to Durbe for a few minutes, walked out, then came back in and did it all over again. Sometimes two or three of those times of unawareness passed between his 'visits'. Durbe couldn't even be certain of calling them 'nights'.

Part of him suspected Vector of doing this on purpose, to make him lose his sense of time. Already he'd found his thoughts tending just a trifle toward lying to Vector, pretending to accept his terms, and getting something to eat out of it. Always the thought of Nasch and Merag and the look of utter betrayal on Nasch's face, the tears in Iris's eyes, pulled him back from that precipice.

But every time it was a little more difficult, and every time Vector spoke to him, he thought he could see a gleam of rising triumph in the mad prince's eyes. Only a matter of time, that gleam seemed to say, and you will be mine.

Durbe did not want to think this was true. And the closer he came to realizing that it might well be, the harder he put himself to work at working himself free of his bonds.

That was what he did when Vector wasn't there; he wriggled and strained at them until he had no more strength to do so. He thought he could feel them getting a little weaker at times, and strengthening at others. Without any way to look at them, he had no idea of how much progress he was making, if any at all. He wouldn't have put it past Vector to have him bound in some way that only made him think he could get out.

Durbe wasn't the type to give up, however. Nothing short of losing all of his limbs would make him stop straining at the ropes that bound him.

He wondered at times if his lack of progress could also have something to do with how Vector circled him on every visit, so if he did get closer to releasing himself, Vector knew about it. Durbe hated not having all the information he needed.

But he tried nevertheless, and if it amused Vector to tease him that much more, then he didn't care. Let the mad prince think he would succeed. It kept him from other, less savory amusements.

"You've been my guest for nearly a moon now, dear Durbe," Vector said, moving around him as he always did. "Did you notice that your precious Nasch hasn't come for you? That he doesn't seem to care one bit that you've taken so much pleasure in my hospitality?"

Durbe kept his head held up high. He wouldn't give in to these taunts. "Speak what lies you choose, Vector. The truth is always stronger."

Vector chuckled, stopping directly in front of him. "So it is. And the truth is that Nasch isn't nearly as interested in you as he is in stopping me."

"So?" Durbe shook his head. "Stopping you is more important than anything else." Not that being left here didn't hurt… a little. Just a little. He trusted Nasch with all of his heart. Nasch would not let him down, no matter how long it took.

He trusted Nasch. He didn't trust Vector. If Vector said it had been a month, then it could've been a month. Or a week. Or less than a handful of days. Or anything in between. He'd trust only Nasch when he got out of here. And he would.

Vector's insane violet eyes met Durbe's. "I've told you of my offer. Why do you keep refusing it? What does Nasch offer that I cannot?"

"If I have to explain it to you, then you wouldn't understand it." Durbe doubted Vector knew anything of freedom or peace or self-respect, especially as they applied to other people. If he ever had before, he'd abandoned such knowledge these days.

"If that's what you think." Vector stepped closer, far closer than he had in all the time Durbe had been his prisoner. "But let me offer you a sample of what you can expect."

Durbe didn't like the sound of that. He had no room to get away or time to object before Vector seized the back of his head and pulled it closer to him, crushing their lips together. It was a mockery of affection, a parody of a kiss, and even the ghost of memories of others surpassed this one.

Without his armor, all Durbe had on was a simple tunic, courtesy of Vector. He wasn't sure where his underpadding had gone, but suspected it was with whoever had his armor with them. That was second on his list of what he wanted to do once he got out of here: get his possessions back. First was just to get out of here at all.

Vector's other hand pressed against Durbe's chest, hot and slender and callused and wrong and Durbe thought of hot baths and cool streams and swimming in the ocean with Nasch and anything except Vector's hand on him.

If Vector had more in mind for his 'sample', Durbe never found out, for at that moment, a soldier slammed the cell door open.

"My king! King Nasch's army has invaded the city! We're fighting them off, but taking heavy losses!" He hesitated for a moment. "Nasch himself is heading here."

Nasch. Durbe pulled his head back as best that he could and breathed out the quickest breath of relief that he could. He'd known Nasch would come. He hoped Nasch had something that he could wash his mouth out with. Perhaps some of the famous wine of Kuragari; tales had it that it could wash away any bad memory.

Vector pulled away and growled out a few comments on Nasch's parentage that Durbe could've corrected him on, if given the time. "Coming for his knight, I see. I didn't think it would take him this long."

He stalked out the door, giving orders as he did, and Durbe let himself sink back against the pole in gratitude. If that gratitude was for his rescue finally happening or for Vector leaving, he didn't know and didn't care. It was all the same to him.

In all of his time here, Durbe hadn't heard more than a few noises coming from outside of the room. He suspected that was due to Vector's orders, trying to keep him isolated. But now, cries of battle, the jingle and jangle of horse-gear, the clash and clang of swords against swords, grew louder and louder. He could hear neighs and whinnies, and one of them, one that sounded stronger and clearer with each moment, was so familiar…

He hadn't thought much about Mach. He would mourn, he'd told him, once he was out of here. He'd not let Mach's memories be sullied by Vector and his taunts and offers.

But now, with that sound ringing so strongly, he could not help but wonder and think that perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps Vector had been wrong.

For the first time since waking up in this place, Durbe truly let himself hope.

To Be Continued