Raven, Abducted

Warning: abuse including implied rape of a minor, OOC, AU, tons of angst and fluff

A/N: It's been a while. If you follow my tumblr, you'll know why, ah~. I moved - across the country to boot - and my life is currently a mess. I expect to write more in the near future though. This chapter's a bit of a lead-in.

Chapter VIII: Bonds

Gilbert took a moment to will the flush from his cheeks and walked out front.

"Oh, hey, Master, uh..." the blonde scratched the back of his head. He was nervous...? "I think I overpaid the innkeeper last night and... I was kind of in a hurry to run after you. Um..."

What was he getting at? Why did he have to care so much? It made him feel awkward and he didn't know how to act; Master Nightray would have simply told him no and dragged him from the store. Of course, Master Nightray wouldn't bring him to a store in the first place. All his clothes were hand-me-downs from his master's nephews. And that was okay, it was what he was accustomed to.

The way Oz fidgeted made himself feel decidedly nervous. He didn't want the noble to fret over him, to worry about hurting him; the thought made him feel on edge, as if a wrong move would make it worse.

"You don't have enough, right? It's okay, I don't need anything," he reassured and began slipping off the coat.

"No, wait, I had enough for the coat, but the hat..." he glanced guiltily over to the hat, "I'm sorry, I know you liked it."

Liking it wasn't a good enough reason for Oz to buy it for him...

"I don't need it. The coat is more than enough."

That regretful face made him feel irrationally guilty. The hat was originally for disguising purposes, not necessarily for his benefit. And the coat... well, that was so the blonde wouldn't need to (not that he really needed to) keep lending him his.

The blonde still didn't look convinced when they left the store a few minutes later. With the coat on, the cold barely bothered him. His hair was still back though, so the wind tickled his cheeks and neck. The weight of it felt nice, and the collar made him feel more secure, somehow. Maybe it was because he didn't feel so exposed. He felt the need to say something, especially since the blonde seemed to be favoring silence rather than his usual enthusiasm.

"H-hey, Master Oz?"

He didn't say anything, but the raven knew he was listening anyway.

"Thank you." For everything.

"Mm."

The rest of the walk back to the Vessalius mansion was mostly uneventful. The stalls were closing up, so the crowds had dispersed. Billows of smoke were visible from the residential districts; obviously people were now inside preparing dinner. They followed the road out of town in silence, and Gilbert admired the sunset behind the trees which lined either side of the road. Oz reminded him he could let his hair down now, and he gratefully did so. It took about a half hour walk to get to the front door of the mansion.

It was strange; he'd left this place because he wasn't welcome, but suddenly it was his home. He'd be here with Oz every day now. It was still a surreal notion.

"Are you hungry?" the blonde asked, hanging his coat and motioning for him to do the same. Surely the servants didn't normally hang their coat where their master did. But he didn't ask, it seemed like a question that would only irritate the other.

"I... I guess..." he said reluctantly. It wouldn't do to lie. If he was going to live here, he'd need to eat. "But if it's too much trouble... I mean... shouldn't I be getting food myself?"

After all, he was a servant.

Oz crossed his arms across his chest smugly.

"You're ridiculous. You don't even know where the kitchen is."

His mouth opened and closed a couple times, and the noble snorted. He was right, he didn't even know where the room he'd stayed in was anymore. It was dark when he arrived and dark when he left – in fact, both times he was forced to sneak and he was more concerned with not being discovered than mapping out the mansion. And as such, he didn't think he'd even ever be returning.

"Young master? Is that you?"

They both turned at the sound of a voice, still standing in the entrance-way, and Oz made a face. He remembered what he'd said before about being on the phone with Mrs. Kate, and wondered if it was her calling.

"Yes, Mrs. Kate," he said deadpan, but then his tone turned mischievous and he smirked at him as he called out, "I've brought a new recruit!"

Gilbert shot him a look that clearly said "That wasn't necessary!" just as Mrs. Kate turned the corner. He bowed immediately. They met before, but now it was business. If he was going to serve Oz, he'd need to learn the basics under this woman.

She stepped in front of him and held out her hand. He took it and stood, "I'm Gilbert," he said.

She seemed to be a stern, strict woman, but had a distinctly mother-like quality that was comforting and made her less than intimidating, "And I am Mrs. Kate. Nice to meet you, Gilbert."

Mrs. Kate turned to address Oz, "Young master, are you implying that he intends to serve you?"

She said it a bit skeptically and Gilbert couldn't help but frown inwardly at her tone. It seemed that Oz picked up on it as well, because when he spoke it was declarative and slightly resentful.

"Yes, that's what he intends. Starting tomorrow, he will require your training. But for now..." he trailed off. Gilbert squeaked when he was yanked to his side, "...a grand tour," he finished.

"Let's go, Gilbert," he said, and not giving him a choice, led him down the hallway. Gilbert looked back apologetically, but she ignored him.

"Young master," she called again and they both stopped and looked back, "Where will he be staying? Surely not..."

"Mm, the room he's already acquainted with? Yes, that works for me~."

She looked unimpressed, but obviously the noble didn't care because he started forward again. Once out of earshot of her, Gilbert asked, slightly worried, "Um... what's wrong with the room I was in?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just the room next to mine."

"W-wait, what?! Master Oz, isn't that your personal servant's room?"

The blonde hummed and turned to regard him, pausing their walk, "Do you remember what I said when I explained why I'd brought you to that room in particular?"

The raven wracked his memory.

"This room is actually a servant's room. It's never been used before; when we arrived it was early in the morning and I needed to put you somewhere that no one would think to look."

"You said... it's never been used before and that no one would think to look there," he recalled, and the blonde nodded for him to continue his thought, "So... you've never had a personal servant?"

They started walking again. "Mm, no, I've never had a need for one. Or maybe no one is qualified, or fun enough."

Gilbert was starting to understand that he should be concerned with the blonde's idea of "fun."

"Um... may I ask you another question, Master Oz?" It was rude to ask a lot of questions, wasn't it?

"Ask away."

"Why... do you insist that I not call you master? And if I'm not your personal servant, then why should I stay in that room?"

Oz smirked sideways at him, slowing down their pace, "That was two questions."

"Oh, s-sorry, I just-" He was definitely being rude!

"It's fine. For the first, I've decided not to answer that. And as for the second... well, I've already answered that."

Gilbert's expression drooped. That was helpful. Although, he did recall when the blonde might've answered the second question.

"You said... that if I could call you um, not master, that I could... become..."

"...my personal servant. Mhm."

"But why...?" he asked, exasperated and more than a little thrown off. First Mrs. Kate begrudges him, then Oz tells him he'll be staying in his personal servant's room, and he won't even tell him why but he all of a sudden has the chance to earn the title. Him, the useless boy he's only known for a few days. He sighed, "I don't get it."

Oz's smirk turned into that small smile that always made his stomach flip, and he realized he'd said that last inappropriate bit out loud. Turning red, he quickly covered his mouth, physically holding in any other rude comments that might manage to slip out of his obviously defective mouth. But the blonde looked the opposite of displeased, which made decidedly no sense. They stopped in the hallway again. That smile was wiped clean as quickly as it had appeared. "I've also decided not to answer that question."

He must enjoy watching me squirm, the raven thought.

Suddenly he noticed his arm felt cold and light; looking down he realized Oz let go at some point. Why can't I ever keep up?

He hurried through the open doorway after the blonde. "This is the parlor room..."

And so began the "grand tour."

That night, Gilbert lay spaced out staring out the window at the black silhouette of the forest against the backdrop of stars. His new bed was just as comfortable as the other night, if not even more so now. He didn't feel like he was simply taking up space anymore; he was here because he belonged here. That resolve he'd found still swirled in his gut. He didn't want to be useless. He wasn't simply enduring anymore. He could be something more than he always thought he was, was always told he was. Because to Oz, what he said wasn't insignificant. He closed his eyes with a distant smile. Dark blue is nice, he thought, thinking of the night sky, but bright green is even nicer...

He'd just barely fallen asleep before he heard a soft knock. Furrowing his brow, he tried to localize it. It wasn't coming from the hallway... Again, a knock. The other door...?

"Master Oz?" he said, and almost tangled himself in his blankets scurrying out of bed. Opening the door, he was met with his new master and...

Oz stepped in and made himself comfortable in the middle of his bed, setting up the chessboard he'd brought.

"I couldn't sleep, so..." he blinked over at the raven, who stared at him from the still open doorway. "Ah, were you sleeping?"

He quickly shook his head. He almost had been, but...

The reason he was so taken aback by the sight of the blonde with a chess set was because... well, with his old master being woken up in the middle of the night didn't mean chess, it meant...

He banished the thought from his head. His old master wasn't here, would never be here. It was Oz.

"Are you alright?" Don't ask me that.

"I'm fine," he said too quickly, but Oz wasn't the type to meddle into his thoughts. Whether that was good or bad was up for debate.

"Do you want to play chess?"

The board took up the middle of his bed and all the pieces were already set up. It didn't look like the blonde expected him to decline. Not that he would.

"S-sure."

Chess... all those nights he spent under the threat of... well... (his thoughts danced around every euphemism of the forceful act but came up with nothing). If he had known he'd be at peace like this at one point in his life, maybe he wouldn't have had to shiver himself to sleep out of fear most nights.

He flicked open a matchbox and lit the oil lamp on the nightstand. Smoothing the covers upward, he scooted up against the pillows.

He didn't know which was more mesmerizing, the peaceful game of chess that ebbed away his old but not forgotten nighttime fears, or the light from the oil lamp dancing on Oz's perfect porcelain skin and in his eyes as he concentrated.

Green... bright green...