A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Life has been biting at my heels and forced me to delay this oneshot. Ever since hearing Kanons' pun directed at Millay (I am Prince Schneizel's aid, publicly and privately) I've been itching to take a shot at a different, more private look at their relationship. Hope you all enjoy it!

What it Means
By: Ryocha

The sun was low on the horizon by the time Kanon Maltini finished preparing his Princes' bedroom. The bay windows, opened wide to let in the salty sea air, gave a glorious view of the lapping ocean below. To the far right, a tiny pasture full of cows and bulls were grazing peacefully on a jagged cliffside, letting the people who stayed at the luxurious Dover Towers know that they were still on land. The view, which expanded over the glistening ocean, made it seem as though they were drifting away into a presteen nothingness, never to be heard of again.

The Ring of Fire around the distant sun, barely gracing the edges of the sparkling clear ocean, jutted out into the sky dramatically and set everything aglow. The sky directly above the Dover Towers however remained a stark blue, and everything in between was a soft blend of the two radical colours that reflected themselves in the sparse, fluffy clouds above.

The view was perfect, but not perfect enough for Prince Schneizel, Kanon mused as he leaned over the stone balcony.

He walked back inside the hotel room and double checked everything to make sure it was where it should be. Small candles were lit and placed on top of the dresser, the night table, and a few larger, sturdier ones were placed on the oak floors. The bed was made with rich reds and a deep golden embroidery covering it. Kanon smiled at his work, tucking both his flimsy strands of hair that lay before his ears behind the curve, and sat down in one of the leather chairs, waiting for his Prince.

It was a long ten minutes before Schneizel, being escorted by two female attendants, entered the room. While passing time, the affectionate aid curled his hair around his finger slowly and watched it unravel. It left a permanent wave in the flimsy strand before falling back into place.

The door opened with a sudden jerk, making the royal aid jump in his seat as a tired and frazzled Schneizel strode into the room with an air of importance around him. Kanon stood up, brushed off his pants in the process and waved the two attendants away. His emerald eyes narrowed slightly at them.

"Kanon," Schneizel commanded. His voice was soft and tired, which confused the man being addressed for a long second. His senses came back to him, and he walked over, took his Prince's heavy coat and layed it over a wooden chair.

"Water, please." He did as he was told. The water was drained in one gulp, and Kanon took the glass from Schneizel's hands accordingly.

It was always like this. Every single night. Upon realizing his infatuation with the Britannian Prince, Kanon realized just as quickly how futile his feelings were in comparison to the responsibilities the blond man carried on his shoulders. Those feelings - dashed many years ago - had a habit of springing up again at times when their intimacy peaked; and as an aid and a Prince, would lead to many unspoken things. Kanon prided himself in keeping such thoughts low key while working, even as he helped Schneizel remove his blouse and gloves slowly.

The night rode on, the sky once beautifully lit up with coarse reds and pinks had faded into a dark abyss only distinguishable by the crescent moon, which hung low in the sky as if undecided as where it should be – high up with the sun or as low as the gurgling ocean. Far off in the distance, birds called out to one another. It made the low-key setting inside the dimly lit hotel room calm and composed.

Schneizel layed on his bed like a king and Kanon sat on an adjacent chair, waiting and anticipating. The two were not looking at each other. Abruptly, the blond prince spoke. "Kanon," the rumble in his voice triggered something deep within the aid's mind. He stayed silent; "Do you know what it means to be an aid?"

Seconds passed as Kanon rolled the question over in his head. "It is to help the ones that need helping, to give them assistance." He thought the question was well answered; however Schneizel quickly made a tight fist with the comforter in his grasp, but released it just as quickly. Kanon felt his body become stiff.

"If that is true," Schneizel spoke slowly, as if talking to a child, "Then why are you aiding me?" He turned over on the comforter, and his eyes locked with an emerald pair that glimmered with anticipation. Kanon shifted nervously, his heartbeat quickening the longer the Britannian prince looked at him.

"I don't expect you to answer, for all you were told was to help me with menial things." An ache formed within the aid's cavity, "What about the people that need help? What of them? They send you to aid me, but then they don't bother with the ones that truly need it. Disgusting."

Each word hurt more than the last. Kanon stood up abruptly, for even the Prince gave him a questioning stare at his action, "Forgive me, my Prince." It was all he could muster without showing any emotion.

"It is not your fault."

"Then whose?"

"The ones who told you it was a worthwhile occupation." Schneizel sat up, his body supported on one arm while the other toyed with his bottom lip. He prodded it as he spoke; "You would do wonders on the front lines. You would be able to make a difference, yet they placed you here with me." He met eyes once again with the emerald pair, which now was on level with his. They smiled at him, showing raw emotions not masked by a front lacking any preference.

"I do not mind." Kanon spoke softly, his breath rustling golden threads that covered calm, cool blue eyes. As cool as the midnight ocean. "I enjoy my work with you, Prince Schneizel. It gives me a reason to wake up in the morning." Kanon raised a pale hand and layed it over an angular jawline, tracing the flawless skin with his index and middle finger. He leaned over and kissed his Prince's chin, quickly, and leaned back to observe his expression.

It had not changed. Not a single muscle had moved, but yet now he felt a new, more dangerous stare being directed at him. In the low light, the shadows on his face made his cheeks sink in, his face aging dramatically.

"A reason to wake up in the morning? That's not like you, Kanon." The words were cold, but the sudden hand on his thigh was scorching. "Are you implying something?"

"Not at all." Kanon smiled; it was small and shy. He shifted closer to his prince and laid his head in the dip of his collarbone, taking in the strong scent of lavender. "I was merely stating what I believed to be a fact, sir." Their closeness was what the aid cherished. He could feel a heartbeat thump rhythmically on his cheek, and it soothed his worries. He began kissing the exposed neck, and he felt the grip on his thigh tighten the longer he went on. When he stopped, the grip loosened.

"Your fact is my fiction. Whether or not you stand on any ground, I always have the right to oppose it. Or in this case," The well-placed hand began kneading the thigh beneath it, "I can also have a right to agree."

Kanon wasn't sure of the context of the words, but it didn't matter. Words did not matter at the moment. Only demanding hands and soft butterfly kisses were wanted – no – needed now. He would think about those mysterious words tomorrow.

Another time, another place, another life.