A/N: Wow... this took forever. I'm sorry... I get distracted easily.
I'll try to keep this one alive. I've been very busy lately.

I hope you enjoy and what not.
There's not much in this chapter. Just introductions of who is cast as the furniture and what not and Arthur's first appearance.


The slightly elderly man bounced along in his stout wagon, eyes fixed forcefully on a tattered map that he held in his possession. His round, rough fingers brought it close to his chocolate colored eyes. His lantern was clutched in the other hand, holding it above his head as Romulus turned his head up and examined the scene before him., and to his disbelief, it looked nothing like he had thought. He turned his eyes to the map again, quirking a brow in confusion as he studied the path.

"Did I take a wrong turn… ?" he murmured, voice soft and a roll of soft fog coming off his lips as the cold air caught his warm breath, turning it to white, fading smoke. A shudder ran down his spine, hands lowering and taking hold of the thick, black leather reigns and the old man hunched over to keep the cold air away from his body.

The great, Belgian horse trotted on warily in front of him, and he glanced at the yellow tinted paper then with an affirmative nod, he jerked the reigns to the right and the horse gave a rumbling snort. A huff followed from the animal and he urged it on, slowly, very slowly, the horse went on and it's head began to slide lower. It's long, tan colored ears fell flat, hooves clapping low against the ground as the trees turned to long, darkened branches that screwed up toward the grey sky. It was intimidating, to say the least. The cold air grew tense, a soft fog slowly creeping around the man and the cautious horse as the ventured on. The trees became cursed, thin black branches that tightened and stretches in pointed directions, the leaves long gone from their dead bases. The great, large horse was uneasy and unsure, a soft whiny coming from his mouth but Romulus ignored the soft plea (or was it a warning?) to turn back.

Out of no where, came a sharp howl that pierced the luminous, dirty clouds and made the nervous animal jump and totter back in surprise. The piercing noise was followed by a dark, chaotic chorus of snapping and barks from scrawny, dark furred wolves. They cam leaping from behind the skinny trees, similar to the deceased plants in structure actually, and they prowled around Romulus and the Belgian horse. In a crazed panic, the horse began to hurry back and the savage wolves made their move, leaping forward simultaneously. Each blackened and dark grey starved wolf snapped at the horse, but it took off like a blinded storm and thundered forward. Romulus gave a scream and clung to his wagon, the reigns pulled back tightly in one hand as Philippe stormed onward in animalized panic probed by instinct.

Philippe stormed forward, the starved wolves snapping and yapping their pearled white teeth, stamping their feet against the ground as they chased the large horse. Philippe's large, beady black eyes darted to and fro in panic, meanwhile Romulus was trying his best to simply stay in the seat of the wagon. Everything was a loud clatter of chaos, and the elderly man had not room to act in the storm of chaos. Before he knew it, dirty crumbling clumps of dirt and dust came hurtling from under the horse's feet as they neared the end of a clump of twisted, dark colored trees. As Romulus processed the scene and made sense of the decrease in activity, he tightened his fists around the reigns, but the savage wolves had thundered around the frightened animal once again.

In heightened fear and panic, the horse raged onward and in it's reared position, the cart was jostled so terribly Romulus slipped from it's wooden seat and fell with a hard shock through his body onto the cold, hard soil below him. A great loud grunt escaped his dried lips and a clatter of glass smashing roughly against the ground made the man open his eyes wide in panic and confusion. As he saw the horse collapse downward and shoot forward, he stared in disbelief and he shuffled to get up in a rather clumsy manner. His rough hands scrapped the blistering hot glass, making him yelp in short tinge of pain, and he found himself suddenly alone in the panic of the wilderness with a bleeding palm and confusion etched into his deep, brown eyes. The starving beasts gave him no mercy though, and lingering ones came leering around the dead trunks of the once lush trees, and the old man took no chance. In his youth he had been immensely fit and still retained his stamina and strength in his later years, and he bolted forward with feet pounding against the icey ground. The dogs were not ones to give up easily- And he found himself staring and looking anywhere, everywhere, for an escape as if he were a wild animal as well.

But that was it, he was looking for survival from the beast like captors that would surely ensnare him in death's painful grasp. He made a sharp curve and there was but a few wolves left chasing Romulus. His darkly colored eyes caught a flash of cast iron bars reaching to form tall gates that curved into once elegant designs upon them. Not even thinking twice, he hurtled toward them as he panted harshly, breath wheezing out of his lungs in tight gulps to full his body. His strong, brawny arms stretched out for the bars and his fingers clutched them, shaking them violent as he yelled for help- salvation of some sort. The bars gave way to his force and he stumbled heavily onto the cold cobblestone. Romulus rolled onto his back and he stared at the approaching fangs of the wolves and his feet shoved the gate closed again, resulting in painful yaps of the animals smacking against the metal in surprise.

Rain was pattering down onto the surfaces below and a harsh clap of thunder with it's brother, lightning, shown in the grey sky and Romulus winced at the sounds. In hopes of keeping out of nature's death hold, he ventured on with his shawl tightly clasped around his shoulders, though his straw hat was indeed gone from his thickly curled hair. The raindrops were not kind to him and relentlessly came pouring down on his shoulders. As he came to the large, tall oak doors he looks up at the intricate carving, taking a moment to admire the work that had been put into the wooden structures. With a strained sigh, he took a deep breath and pushed the doors open, peering inside the dark, seemingly empty castle.

Obviously, the structure was once a magnificent gleam and glory to it's walls and architecture- Being a man of science and the arts, Romulus could see that. His chocolate colored orbs, now filled with a timid curious gleam, ventured into the old structure. He kept quiet, peeking all around and studying the towering walls and tattered paintings and tapestries. With curiosity now filling his lost thoughts of fear, ventured to where he heard soft murmuring and his eyebrow cocked up in confusion.

"Hello… is- is anyone there?" he called, stretching his cold, wet neck out and looking around. No one! Absolutely no one… It was so strange. He swore he heard something..

And there it was again, hushed whisperings.

"Don't say anyd'ing." game a low hiss from an old fashioned clock. It appeared to be a normal object, at first. But was anything but. Before the mind could understand or process the fact that the usually inanimate object was actually animate, eyes began to peek open and swerved over to a golden candle bra beside him.

Meanwhile, Romulus, now shivering and the stress from running catching up, rubbed his arms and tottered around in open area. "I don't mean to intrude… " he called openly, to anyone that was listening really, "I j-just need a place to stay for the n-night… "

"Oh come now Ludwig.. " came the low voice of the obvious French accented candle bra.

Immediately the clock's arms of sorts was clamped around the mouth that came from the golden candle bra's mouth, and his eyes showed a somewhat crease in annoyance at the motion. He gave a light roll of his orbs, bringing forth an extension that held a burning candle forth. A fire lit itself ablaze on the would-be hand of Ludwig, and before anything could be done. A series of 'ow!'s came forth from his mouth and pierced the silent air. With an air of confidence and a cocky smirk spreading over his lips, the French candle bra let his voice boom forth with a warm, friendly extension to the roaming stranger.

"Of course! You are welcome 'ere wit' us." came his voice, mildly deep and thickly coated with his accent.

"Who said that?" came the accusing voice of the elderly man, snatching up the blazing candle holder without any other care or notice of what it was. Carefully his looked around, curious and dazed as he searched for the seemingly close sound of a human voice.

"Here!"

Again, Romulus spun around, but nothing! Had he finally gone mad? Then suddenly a harsh clump on the head with metal came and a frown crossed his lips and eyebrows sunk as he looked up to see a smile and a face etched onto the object. His eyes widened in dismay and disbelief as he stared in wonder at the object, for a moment he though it were simply a design. A bizarre one, but a design. But oh he was so terribly wrong.

"Bonjour." the candle bra greeted, a smile flashing up his metal lips and instantly the man tumbled back, releasing the gold piece from his grasp. A gasp came forth from his throat and he found himself toppled down onto the smooth floors below. As he watched the it move and get up- on it's own!- he became amazed with the structure then before he knew it the clock came plopping down onto the floor as well.

"Ach, now you've done it!" he snapped in a cold, German accented voice, his face obviously scrunched up in annoyance.

Without consideration for the disagreement between the clock and candle bra, Romulus plucked the clock from the floor and began turning it in his grasp all around. With his eyes narrowed into concentrated slits, he studied the apparent normal object and he found nothing to indicate how this was done! He began prodding the legs of it, earning sharp snaps of anger from Ludwig he stopped with that little observation. Next, Romulus gave it a series of shakes, listening to the clatter of gears and clanking within. Nothing out of the ordinary… He turned it up again, looking at it's face then began pushing the two, skinny black clock hands and in turn the clock gave a sharp yell and stopped the man from prodding anymore.

"Stop d'at!" he snapped cruelly as he shoved the large, cold fingers away, a formidable glowering glare now on the face of clock.

A laugh of amusement came from his dry throat, moving to put the clock back on the smooth surface of the table he was once on, but a harsh, hitching sneeze burst from Romulus unexpectedly. In disgust, Ludwig grimaced at the disgusting display and quickly managed to escape the human's hold.

"Ah, 'e's z'ick!" exclaimed Francis, and ignoring the many muttered protests of the clock, "Come, you must zi't by z'e fire." he urged on, hopping along as Ludwig gave many protests against the action. It was unheard and ignored, and Francis brought the soaked, sick man to a warm, secluded spot by a gently rolling fire that held a rightly colored flame. It looked lovely, to but it simply. Very welcoming… A yapping was heard that resembled that of a dog, as a footstool came blundering into the happily lit room. A smile crept onto the man's lips as he slipped into a table, velvet red chair that was soft as a cloud, if he had to say so himself. A groan of protest was heard from the clock, and he rolled his eyes as he tottered down the low steps to the fire lit section.

"Nein, nein! Not there." he hissed, trying to usher them out of the "master's" chair.

The protests from Ludwig went ignored as bustle began to come alive for the lot. The dog-like foot stool rooted it's way under the man's feet and he gave a hearty laugh in return, suddenly feeling so welcomed and content within the old castle walls. As life came into the fire lit room, everything seemed so warm and suddenly a rich, green cloth was laid onto Romulus' shoulders, and it was wrapped around his cold body neatly. He gave a bright smile in return, eyes peering up to see a black coat racket letting go of the blanket that warmed his upper body. Just as the German clock was about to snap open his jaw and demand the actions cease at once, a cart came rolling in with a swift speed but not a drop of tea was shed onto the carpets.

Upon the wooden, rolling structure sat a round tea pot with a bright smile on her face. She seemed so very friendly, and her smile slipped from cheek to cheek as she came to the armchair of the older man. Her pot was white, of course, with soft blue lids and a beautifully decorated baby blue base.

"Oh, would you care for some fresh tea? It would be lovely for that cold you have… "

As soon as the words left her lips, a yell came from the roughed up clock. "Katyusha, no tea!" he called to her, but the order went unheard and the blue and white pot let the warm beverage slip into a small cup. Romulus picked up the small cup, a wide grin on his face as he pulled it to his lips only to be met with a giggle coming from the young teacup. The Ukrainian made pot gave a soft scolding to the teacup, whom she called Ivan, and the teacup was set down again on the wooden surface, Romulus chuckling softly to himself as it bounded back to the pot. As soon as the tea cup was let down, the doors to the warm room shot open with a raging force. A wind swept after them and suddenly the blazing, homey feeling fire was silenced in the fireplace and the cold air took over. The fire from Francis' candles died and the clock stood pressed to the wall, while the teapot was silently clamoring on the wood cart. A menacing shadow and rough growl rumbled in the now terror filled room. The man stole a glance at the shadow, and it stoop prowling with thick fur that covered it's body, horns piercing upward and twisting into menacing shapes. Fangs accompanied him, and a long tailed that slid back and forth like a predator hunting down it's prey in the wilderness.

The candle bra went to try and explain to this apparent beast, no monster, something about how Romulus was there. He felt nothing but glued to his seat, not knowing weather to attempt an escape or pray from some sort of relief or help to his now new doom. Only a rage filled roar came from it's fang filled mouth, and the furniture objects immediately silenced. Romulus peeked over his shoulder, only to find breath smacking his face and a monstrous stare in his face. A yell escaped him and he fell back out of the chair, trying to distance himself from the beast.

"What are you doing here? Who are you? Why did you come here?" he snapped in a harsh, thick voice with bright, acidic green eyes glaring daggers into Romulus. The man tried to open his mouth, but the menacing jaws slipped open again with a loud thunder of "You are not welcome here!" and the man could only manage an apology, hidden behind terrified eyes and shuffling feet.

"Oh, have you come to see the beast?" he voice stormed, fury etched into his scrunched up face.

"Please- I beg you! I simply wanted a place to stay!" was his only protest, then large paws scooped him up from the ground without an effort. He held Romulus up like a rag doll, his fangs bared in a horrific glare of anger and he rose to his hind legs, carrying a more terrifying height with him now.

"A place to stay? Fine! I'll give you one!" he snapped, and with that many pleas and prayers of mercy and begging to be let go came vainly from the man's throat, but they touched deaf ears. The doors were slammed shut, the protests drowning out in the now empty room and the castle once again was scarily empty and silent…