Alfred and Ivan eat the hard candy until they get stomach aches and drink the alcohol until their vision spins and inhibitions disappear. By that time, it's nearing late night and they're struggling to keep quiet, struggling to keep from alerting the guards out there. The last thing Alfred wants right now is Toris' sword shoved through him because he kept the king up.

He takes another swig of the burning alcohol and hands it over to Ivan. "Tell me about your father, everyone seems to be keepin' secrets." He slurs his words, and rubs his eyes, trying to fix his vision.

"Papa wasn't a kind man," Ivan says, and takes a sip now. "He had a bad temper." Alfred doesn't say anything. The candy is gone and his stomach aches. They lapse into a heavy silence. "Most won't tell you this and it's never talked about but he's tried killing me."

The admittance hangs in the air.

"Why?" He finally asks, voice cracking. He coughs, to clear his throat. Ivan offers him the half finished bottle and Alfred shakes his head in rejection.

"I don't know. I don't think he ever loved me." Ivan sets the bottle down and pulls off his night shirt again. "The scar closest to where my heart is, is from him." A pause. "I did some of these myself. Toris yelled at me for it before."

"You're fucked up. This is fucked up."

Ivan nods. "Do you hate being alive too, Alfred?"

"Sometimes," Alfred quietly admits. "Lost my parents when I was really young. Arthur took me and my sister in." He hesitates. "Because of the new thing in most countries, he was executed for being a magic user within a few years. Since then, we've been on our own. I'm an assassin for pay. She uh. She works in the church."

"Did she come with you?"

"No."

"Do you miss her?"

Before he had left, they'd gotten into a big argument. It was about this job. She kept suggesting he become a priest or do something else, he could do bigger and better things instead of slaughtering people. That argument had caused her deteriorating health to get even worse, that when he had left, she was bed ridden.

"Yeah."

"What are you thinking about?" Ivan whispers.

"It's nothing." Alfred mumbles. "Just getting tired is all."

"You're full of secrets."

"I could say the same for you,"

"Father had a lot of people killed, which is why they hate me."

"If I'm not mistaken, you also did the same thing."

Ivan goes quiet and he gets up, setting the bottle of alcohol down and grabs his shirt. "I'm going to bed now. Good night, friend Alfred."

–

When Alfred wakes up the next morning, his stomach is hurting worse than before and his head is pounding. Outside, the wind screams and hits the glass roughly. Ivan is nowhere in the bedroom and Alfred is certain he's going to puke. One little movement, and he does.

Anya calls for a bath. And new clothes.

As he sits and soaks, the young maid comes by every so often to check up on him. She brings him much needed water, and can't offer much else in terms of remedies.

"Also, His Majesty will be very busy today."

"Got it."

"An important guest has arrived as well, so please be on your best behavior."

"Right."

"And be down for breakfast. The Lady is disappointed you weren't there yesterday."

"On it."

Anya frowns. "You're not really listening to me, are you?"

"I feel like I'm dying, Anya," Alfred groans. "I don't think breakfast or seeing people are things I wish to do right now."

"Whose fault is that?"

"It was Ivan's idea!" Alfred sinks lower into the warm water, until his chin and mouth disappear beneath it as Anya gives him a disapproving look.

"Don't blame the king for your decisions."

"It was his idea! And it honestly sounded like a good one, too." Alfred whines, sitting back up. "Gods, my head hurts." Anya only sighs and shakes her head. "I know, I know. I shouldn't have drank so much."

"Of course." She smooths out her dress. "You said you knew another woman named Anya?"

Alfred nods. "Yeah. We uh. We had something of a relationship for awhile."

"What happened?"

"Daughter of a rich diplomat didn't like the idea of her spending time with a street rat like me," His voice is quiet and he draws in a deep breath. The wind outside seems to only get worse and one glance towards the window shows that it's a pure white out. "And uh, at some point, the man she was forcibly married to..." He trails off and draws in a deep breath. "He wasn't very nice with his hands."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

When the water turns cold is when Alfred finally forces himself out of the tub, Anya handing him cloth to dry off with and some fresh clothes. After that, she excuses herself and waits outside for him. When he does exit the room, he looks and feels little better than before, but not by much. "Do they fit?"

"They're itchy."

"You'll get used to it."

"I prefer my actual, loose, comfy clothes."

"Suck it up."

"You're a servant. Should you really be talking like that?"

Anya shakes her head. "You're not royalty nor my master, therefore, I don't have to be polite with you."

"I am the kings guest." Anya quickens her pace. "Do you like him?"

"His Majesty?"

"No, the stable-boy."

Anya falls quiet for a moment. "He isn't well liked." She finally answers. "It's because he's a little bit..."

"Not there. I realized that."

"You know of the executions he himself had done, right? With a lot of the opposing political families and judges."

Alfred nods. "I asked around the village when I first arrived. They are either in favor of him or really against him. But I'm asking about you. What do you think of him?"

She eyes the guards and looks at him. "I believe we are here. Please enjoy your breakfast." She gives him a deep bow before walking away. Stunned at this, Alfred stands there for a brief moment and then pushes open the heavy doors. Is opposition illegal?

At the sight of Alfred, Ivan quickly scrambles to get up and stumbles a little as he runs over to the assassin and pulls him into an almost bone-crushing hug. "Good morning!"

"Yeah. Good morning to you, too." Alfred awkwardly pats Ivan on the back, trying so hard to breath and get away before Ivan breaks any of his bones. "I'm surprised you're not hung over."

"Nope! Why? Are you?"

"N...o..." Alfred slowly says, finally managing to break free. "I'm uh. I'm fine."

"Good! I have lots of things to do today, unfortunately. And it's storming out."

"I could hear the wind." Alfred grumbles as Ivan leads him to a chair, that is right next to Ivan's, at the left. It dawns on Alfred that there's some new faces in the large room, and briefly wonders who they are.

"You know, it's proper and respectful to bow to the king." The man next to him, deadpans. He obviously doesn't want to be here.

Ivan giggles a little bit. "Don't worry about it, Stefan! He's my friend!"

"Stefan? As in...the infamous sorcerer?" Alfred asks, almost awed.

"It depends on who's asking."

"So, like, what time did you arrive?"

It's that weird guy from yesterday, Alfred thinks with a scowl.

"Before the storm hit," Stefan replies. "Very early this morning." Alfred peeks at Stefan again, noticing a scar across his cheek and wonders where that's from. The child next to him gently tugs at Stefan's shirt and whispers something in his ear. Whatever the boy had told him, causes his bored expression to turn somber. The other new arrival looks uncomfortable, as though he really doesn't want to be here.

Alfred tries to slowly eat, mostly because he's sure inhaling food would cause them to look at him strangely and because of that hangover is making the food taste not so great. He's sure he's going to throw up at some point.

Eventually, he excuses himself and apologizes to Yekaterina for not staying, but he feels sick. She tells him not to worry and to go rest.

–

Later in the day, and after what felt like gallons of water, Alfred finds himself feeling better and vows not to drink with Ivan ever again. He pulls at the tight clothes again, scowling. He misses his clothes, but unfortunately, he had to throw up.

He figures that Stefan and Ivan are in a meeting about something, if the infamous sorcerer is here. Though, it baffles Alfred as to why Stefan would come by, in the midst of war. As far as he knows, Stefan despises this kingdom and supports the other lands. Why, nobody knows. Stefan had destroyed any documents containing about himself, from what Alfred had learned from rumors that plagued the streets of the other kingdoms. Maybe he's just passing through, or playing peace-maker.

It isn't as if Stefan will care if Alfred offs Ivan, if anything, he'll just roll his eyes and disappear for centuries until he's forced to socialize again.

A hand shoots out from somewhere, interrupting Alfred from his thoughts and he lets out a yell as he's jerked into a room and slammed against the wall, with a knife to his throat.

"E-easy there."

Stefan glares, as he presses the dagger even harder against the skin, drawing blood. "Who hired you to assassinate Ivan?"

"I don't know." Physically, Alfred can tell that he's stronger than Stefan, but the sorcerer has the upper hand as he does have magic. And one call can have Alfred's head rolling by dawn. "S-seriously, I don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"Well, if you remove that knife from my throat and let me go, I'll tell you." Waitaminute. "How the hell did you even know I'm here to kill Ivan?"

"A little birdie told me."

"That kid?"

"You're not as dumb as you look," Stefan huffs, releasing Alfred from his grip. "Now, who hired you to kill the king?"

"Like I said, I don't know. All requests go through someone we consider our 'leader'. Though we're a bit scattered, obviously." A pause. "The request was anonymous, that was all that was explained to me. They wanted the best, and I was chosen to do it." Alfred presses his fingers against the small cut on his neck, feeling the blood cover his fingers. "Damn you're more violent than you come off as."

"Only when I need to be," Stefan crosses his arms over his chest. "To be honest, I wouldn't care if you killed him. Hell, I would be more than happy to help you get away, if you do it, but unfortunately, there will be peace talks when the others arrive."

"With him gone, it wouldn't matter, right? His father started the war. His death would mean peace."

"No. His death would cause things to be worse. Hell, they might think one of the others is trying to usurp the throne or gain an upper hand." Stefan sighs. "You're an assassin. You should know how this works."

"So...what? You want me to wait until peace talks are over, or do you want me to just do it?"

Stefan stands there for a moment, and finally looks at him in the eyes. Despite the guy being a little bit shorter than him, Stefan sure has a way of making Alfred feel small. The little grin doesn't look sincere and it's actually kind of off putting. "Why are you asking me that, dear assassin? This is your second day here, right?"

"Yes..."

"Why haven't you done it yet? In fact, the night you arrived-before you ask, Ion told me-you could have done it then. Why didn't you?"

Alfred isn't sure what to say. "Well, we made a deal. I got caught up in the moment and got caught off guard."

"Even so. You had yesterday. You had last night. Yet, nothing."

"Well, Toris admittedly frightens me."

Stefan's grin disappears and he's glaring again. "No, he doesn't." His tone is sharp. "Ask yourself why you haven't killed a king so despised, but loved at the same time? He's the mad king, isn't he? Unstable, much like the weather here."

"One minute, he's in love with the peasants and wants to be around them, and the next, for no reason, he's calling for spilled blood. I know. I've talked to the villagers." It comes out snappy. "Look, I don't know why I haven't done it yet. I've had my chances, like you said. I just. I don't know. I'm waiting for something."

"You pity him."

"I do not." There's a long silence between them, and Alfred isn't sure what to do or say, and he doesn't want to ask himself why he hasn't killed Ivan yet. It would be so easy, and he could disappear quick enough that Toris wouldn't be able to ram his sword through him. Or maybe, he'd let Toris do it anyways.

"Stefan," A little voice breaks the air and Alfred nearly jumps out of his skin. "King Ivan is asking for you." The little boy from this morning is standing in the doorway, and for whatever reason, is in a fluffy pink dress and hair in pig-tails, held up with pink ribbons. "Also, doesn't my dress look pretty?"

"You look adorable," Stefan replies. "Did Katyusha put you in that dress?" The little boy nods his head, vigorously.

"Also, Feliks helped!"

"Remember to thank them."

"I will!" The little boy finally takes notice to Alfred standing there, a little bit dumbstruck. "Oh. Were you busy?"

Stefan gives him a sidelong glance and returns his attention back to the child, grinning a little (that looks actually pretty sincere), "No, I think we're done. I'll go and see Ivan now. D'you wanna come with or do you want to go do other things?"

"I wanna see Ivan's kitty!"

"Ivan has a cat?"

"We found a stray one yesterday," Alfred replies, voice a little pitched. "I can take the kid to him if you want. I think Ivan had a room set up just for the damn cat."

"Please don't say bad words," The child says, frowning. "The goddess doesn't like that."

"Uh, right."

–

Alfred lays in bed that night, mulling over the days events. He's surprised that he didn't see Toris anywhere, and unsurprisingly, Katyusha had avoided him as much as she could. Next to him, Ivan sleeps. Quietly, Alfred climbs out of the bed and grabs his dagger, hovering over the bed for a brief moment.

Could he actually do it?

He's done this millions of times before. The storm silenced hours ago, he could make his escape through the window. Or Alfred could call it quits and just leave.

And never look back. If asked why he failed the mission, he could just be partly honest. He got caught. Had to make a break for it.

"Are you gonna do it yet?"

"You're a light sleeper."

"It comes with so many assassination attempts." Ivan doesn't move from his position, however. "I won't make noise, I promise."

Alfred glares. "Why are you making this so goddamn difficult?"

"I don't think I'm making it difficult."

The assassin throws the dagger to the ground. "I need air," he finally says. "I'll be back in later."

"It may not be storming, but it is freezing. Put something warm on."

Alfred doesn't listen as he storms out, door slamming behind him.

–

Alfred presses himself against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and trying to retain heat and silently cursing himself for making such a stupid, rash decision. The sky is a dark blue, completely void except for the shimmering of the stars and the moon. The stable isn't that far of a walk from here, he could take a horse and leave as quickly as possible. They wouldn't be none the wiser nor would know where to look. Well, maybe Stefan would, but he probably wouldn't say anything.

A twig snaps, causing him to jump and check himself over for his weapon, that he left in the room. Alfred curses.

"Don't worry, I'm a friend." Toris' voice rings out against the heavy silence. "What are you doing out here?" He asks as he approaches Alfred, red fingers holding the oil lamp. "Especially so late."

"Thinking."

"About running away?"

"Kind of," Alfred admits.

"We all think about doing that," Toris shivers a little bit. "Unfortunately, we can't. Ivan...is very uh," He hesitates. "I don't have a word for him, but he's like a child."

"I'm aware."

"A very cruel one."

"I know." Toris falls silent for a moment. "I need to do it. I know I need to."

"It's just a matter of, if you really want to."

"I-I never want to take a life, Toris. But it's my job."

"If you leave, I won't say a word."

Alfred scowls. "I'm not gonna leave." He looks around. "So, why are you out here?"

"Emperor Yao is due to arrive sometime tonight, I'm just waiting for him." Toris rubs his arms. "Anya is at the stables right now, though I do wonder if he's been delayed due to the storm."

"Maybe," Alfred mumbles. "Sucks that you have to be out here in the cold." Toris shrugs, and Alfred finds himself feeling a little bit better. It's weird, because unlike yesterday, today Toris seems kinder. Maybe Ivan spoke to him? Or maybe he was just in a bad mood and is trying to make it up to Alfred. "Hypothetically, if I do kill Ivan, what would happen, exactly?"

"One of his sisters would get the throne," Toris replies. "And I'll also run you through with my sword."

"Toris!" Anya calls from somewhere. "The Emperor is here!"

"Would you like to help?"

"Sure. I don't want to go back in just yet."

The walk isn't far, thankfully, and a man, smaller than Alfred stands there with his bags as the servant hurries to collect them the best she can. Toris grabs the blanket that hands on the wall adjacent to them, and offers it to the man. Truth be told, if Toris hadn't told Alfred that the person arriving was an emperor, he would have mistaken him for a girl. Delicate hands accept the large blanket and he wraps it around him, hiding his red outfit lined with gold.

"New servant?" He asks, glancing at Alfred.

"Just a friend," Alfred replies.

"Alfred, this is His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Yao Wang."

Awkwardly, Alfred bows. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yes, yes."

Alfred helps Anya with the luggage, following Toris, who seems to be explaining Ivan's absence and other issues. "He seems stuffy," Alfred whispers to Anya.

"He's an Emperor, do you expect him to be all buddy-buddy with a commoner like you?"

"You know, you're kind of a bitch."

She smiles at that.

Yao's room is in another corridor, the furthest away from Ivan, which seemed to be a little strange, but Alfred says nothing as he sets down the luggage wherever Yao dictates.

"You're good to go, Alfred," Toris says. "Go to bed."

"Right," He mumbles. "It was nice meeting you, your majesty."

"Yes, same to you."

When Alfred finds the corridor that Ivan is in, he hesitates for a moment and finally, opens the door. Ivan is deep asleep by now, and Alfred's dagger is where he had thrown it earlier. Quietly, he picks it up and slips it underneath the pillow.

The cat meows at him and he puts his finger over his lips, and pats the cat on the head.

–

When Alfred wakes up the next morning, he feels like he's being crushed beneath Ivan's weight, who had decided to cuddle him sometime during the night. He wriggles out from the tight grip the best he can, and crawls out of bed, and grabs the dagger.

Changing into different clothes that Anya left for him (this time a little more looser and comfortable, less itchy), he exits the room to go check on other things. Servants bustle about more today than they had the past few days and he wonders if it's because others are supposed to arrive today.

He tracks down Toris, who explains to him that Mikkel from the North is supposed to arrive, as well as Vash from the Central Kingdom.

"Are the peace talks today?"

"No," Toris replies. "Feliks, put that away!"

The blond man pouts and sets down the flintlock and Alfred forgot those even existed. They're noisy, and he prefers more silent methods. "Is it so everyone can get adjusted to this hellish cold?"

"Yes."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Perhaps." Alfred finds it hard to keep at Toris' pace and finally gives up. "Please wake Ivan for me. He has to greet Yao still, instead of sleeping all day."

With a sigh, Alfred turns around and heads back to Ivan's room and gently shakes him. "Ivan, wake up. Emperor Yao is here and you need to say hi to him, like a good king." Ivan cracks open a purple eye and mumbles something, turning over. "Dude, it's polite to go say hi, and it shows you're diligent."

"Yes, Alfred." Ivan mumbles. "I'm aware."

"Don't you like Emperor Yao?"

"'s'alright." Ivan mumbles. "His family is very fun, though."

"Unfortunately, it's just him."

Ivan sits up. "I can't wait for King Mikkel, because he's very fun."

It was sometime later afternoon when Mikkel and Vash arrived, one right after the other. Vash turned out to be a grump while Mikkel was actually very outgoing and friendly, while Yao remained wary of Alfred's presence but he was diplomatic at best.

Somewhere between trying to keep up with Ivan, and being dragged off to babysit Ion, Alfred finds himself dressed in heavy clothing and on a brown and white horse. On the black horse next to him is Ivan, while Mikkel, Yao and Vash were somewhere around, along with Toris and Feliks.

Katyusha had decided to stay inside while the others went on their little outing. As did Stefan and Mihai, as Ion was in a lot of trouble for pulling a prank on Stefan earlier (Mikkel and Alfred helped).

"Alfred, I'll race you!"

"You're on."

The others somehow got involved, and as they ran, the cold wind whips in Alfred's face and he momentarily forgets what he's there. He forgets that Ivan is the 'mad king', the monster he's supposed to kill, especially trying to look at him and seeing his face scrunched into a smile. Childish laughter that rings out, and cheeks rosy from the cold.

From this distraction, and the horse catching on ice, Alfred loses both composure and grip, falling off and takes a little tumble. His arm hurts. The race is done and he's being helped back up by Ivan and Mikkel.

When they do get back, Alfred is nursing his arm and Katyusha panics over the blood that's smeared on Alfred's face. Stefan whips up a quick concoction for the cuts on Alfred's face and tries to hide his grin as Alfred cusses and winces every time Feliks dabs the cotton against the injuries. Alfred decides that both Stefan and Feliks are assholes and he hates them.

At least his arm is only sprained and not broken, he's sure he can use it by tomorrow or later tonight.

That night, as Ivan and Alfred get ready for bed, Alfred notices that Ivan is bouncing around more than usual.

"This place is always so quiet," Ivan explains. "that I like it when it's so lively. I wish they would never leave!"

"Well, they have uh, people to run," Alfred says.

"I know."

Alfred climbs into bed. "Well, good night."

"Yes. Good night." Before Alfred can do or say anything, Ivan grabs his face and presses his lips onto Alfred's, it's hard,wet and kind of awkward, and Ivan pulls away just as quickly, a large smile on his face. And just like that, Ivan is out like a light.

His lips tingle.