All Toasters Toast Toast: Thank you so much for the review, it helped remind me that I needed to get off my butt and write. I'm glad you're enjoying the story :)

Chapter 11

Matthew blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the midday light flooding in through the high windows. There was a pounding in his head and he groaned, turning over.

Except he couldn't.

His eyes flew opened, no longer sleepy. He was completely frozen, couldn't move a muscle. Panic started to fill his being and he would be flailing about, except he couldn't. He settled for panting heavily.

Think, think, what happened? The banquet, Alfred, Ivan, Gilbert…. Lars. Shit. Now was not the time to be panicking, not dealing with him. He could and would take any opening. In and out. In and out.

Chest heaving, Matthew brought himself back from the brink of a mental breakdown. Time to focus on the things he could do. Testing it out, he found he could talk... talk, see, make noise, think… scream.

He took in his surroundings. There was a four post bed, deep red and golden drapes, silk sheets (side note: He guessed he could feel too). He was obviously in a richly furnished room, where ever he was it was probably big. So big that it probably had servants. It was worth a try.

Mustering all the strength the little Canadian had, he took a deep breath. And then the door opened and it all rushed out in surprise. Given his circumstances Matthew didn't have to think hard about who it was.

He closed his eyes and breathed out dejectedly. This was going to be soooo much fun.

"Lars."

"Ah, my little tulip, you're awake!" Matthew felt his blood go cold at the little pet name. "And you knew it was me, how smart you are."

"Obviously not smart enough to not be frozen here on this bed," Matthew spat out, all the anger and resentment that had been festering for years coming through.

Lars just laughed, Matthew's anger rolling right off his shoulders. The bed next to Matthew dipped down and he bit his lip, scared of the maniac that had him completely helpless. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as soon as he saw the hand headed towards him. He wished he could flinch as that same hand gently pushed his hair away from his forehead. He wanted nothing more than to burn the man to a crisp. Sadly, he couldn't use his powers, he silently cursed himself for not checking that first. He was an idiot. He opened his eyes and stared pensively at the other man.

"Lars, why can't I use my magic?" Lars chuckled and trailed the back of his hand down the pale cheek of the long haired Canadian man until he reached his neck. His fingers found a necklace Matthew wasn't aware he was wearing. Lars lifted it off his neck, his thumb still trailing small circles on his neck.

"Ah… that's courtesy of his fine necklace you're wearing. Nifty little tricket isn't it."

"Darn it," Matthew muttered under his breath, eyes rolling to the side of the room.

"I see you still can't swear. You're so cute, my little angel." Lars leaned down and kissed his forehead. A chill ran down his body and if he could, Matthew would have shuddered.

"I'm not your little angel, Lars," Matthew started quietly. "I have never been your's or anybody else's."

The side of Lars's mouth lifted into a half smile. He whispered into Matthew's ear.

"Ah, but you seem to forget, you were mine, for one night."

Matthew lost it.

"Even for that night, I was NEVER yours!" Matthew growled out. "I will never BE yours, and if you don't let me go-"

Lars's hand curled around his throat and cut him off, leaving Matthew stunned; mouth gaping and unable to breathe. Lars lifted him up by his neck, sitting up and bringing them face to face.

"You know, that might have frightened earlier, but you can't use your powers now. You're in NO position to threaten me," Lars said, eyes wide and grinning ear to ear. He dropped the smaller man, leaving Matthew motionless, gasping for air.

"I will find a way to get free of your enchantment and then I. Will. Kill. You." Matthew glared at his past lover. Lars just chuckled, running his hand through Matthew's hair.

"Silly Matthew, you will never be free or me or my spell. In fact you will be mine, forever," Lars said with a smile, innocently still running his hand through Matthew's hair.

"You sicko," Matthew felt tears beginning to well up in frustration, desperately trying to call for that little flame of power deep inside his being to make its way to the surface. It wouldn't respond, just stayed there, at bay, taunting him. Suddenly the magical fire that had always kept him warm felt a little colder. A tear slid down the side of his face.

"Why me?" Matthew asked in a whisper, barely audible. But Lars always did have good ears didn't he?

Afterall, Matthew thought. He managed to date me.

"You're special, tulip," Lars cooed with a smile, gently wiping the tear away. "You were my first, my only love. I've only ever felt anything with you."

Lars looked down at the blond expectantly, as if waiting for him to praise him, tell him it all was justified.

But it wasn't. It would never be.

"But what about Arthur? Why would you feel the need to hurt him as well?" Matthew's voice was breaking. Lars's smile seemed to falter slightly.

"I was just so frustrated. Thinking about you, and your tears, and your rejection…" Lars trailed off with a distant look before focusing on a corner of the room, a crazy glint in his eyes. "I mean, I could have anyone, couldn't I? Arthur just proved the fact. I could have anyone I wanted, but I chose you." His eyes focused back on Matthew. "And you rejected me."

"B-but-"

"Didn't Arthur just show you, Matthew? Didn't it show you how special you are?" Matthew felt a familiar fear well up within him. His fight or flight instinct kicked in as he struggled against the invisible bonds keeping him motionless.

Lars leaned over him, pinning down both shoulders. He made a move to kiss him, and Matthew knew well what would come next. He just closed his eyes, willing anything to stop the encroaching danger..

"You're insane," he whispered, resigning himself to his fate.

With Lars's lips only a hair away from his own, a miracle seemed to happen. Matthew could hardly believe as the little flame he held within him roared out, uncontrolled, if only for a second. But it was all that was needed to explode in Lars's face, throwing him back. Matthew couldn't help the small smile that graced his face.

It was quickly wiped away when Lars arose again, eyes glazed over in anger. Matthew saw red as his vision blurred slightly with the first smack across his face.

"You bitch!" He scream, bringing down another punch down on Matthew's abdomen.

Standing at the end of the bed, Lars dragged him up by his hair. He smiled at the tears that ran down Matthew's face as he got ready to hit him again. Then Matthew let out a sob and was suddenly dropped.

The change that came over Lars was instantaneous.

He placed a hand over his mouth in horror, backing away from the crying blond in a crumpled mess on the bed.

"N-no, Matthew, what… what did I do to you."

And there is was, the old Lars. Not the one that was sickeningly sweet with a side of crazy. Not the one burning over with rage. No, this was the one that would hold his hand as they lay cloud watching in the central courtyard. The one that he thought he would never see again.

He slowly approached the bed again and sat down. He lightly straightened out the blonde again, cradling his upper torso to his chest. His own tears started to fall as his body shook with silent sobs.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Matthew."

Back at the werewolf palace, Gilbert and Francis were in the middle of panicking, neither knowing the correct course of action.

"I- um, I'll grab Arthur," Gilbert finally announced and Francis nodded, still staring at the empty bed. Gilbert knew that both of them had one job, and they had both royally fucked up. (Pun intended, yes the Prussian could joke at a time like this.)

Running down the hallway, Gilbert started screaming the Brit's name.

"God!" Gilbert yelled at himself as he turned a corner. "How could I have forgotten him, if only for a moment!"

He then proceeded to hit a very soft wall and fall backwards. He rubbed the back of his head and started to get back up when he heard the Russian accent above him.

"Forget who?"

Gilbert froze and looked up slowly to see Ivan standing there with his eerie childish smile that had started to border on scary.

"Um… Matthew…" Gilbert trailed off and laughed nervously. A dark aura began to grow around the Russian and Gilbert turned to run in the other direction. Surely he could find his way to Arthur all the same.

A strong grip on the back of his tunic held him in place.

"What happened to Matthew?" Ivan asked and Gilbert shrunk, looking around nervously.

"He, uh. You see, he vanished."

Ivan dropped him as the last few pigments of color drained from his already pale face. His eyes snapped quickly to Gilbert's face.

"Quick, take me to where he vanished," Ivan demanded, and Gilbert was never one to deny a friendly request.

Ivan burst into Matthew's room, scaring the Frenchman who had seemed to calm down a little bit. He looked down at the blonde before surveying the room.

"Quick." He looked down to Francis. "Get out the room, we have to preserve the integrity of the room the way it was when Matthew was taken. You'll only mess things up or confuse the magic trail."

Francis looked taken aback and narrowed his eyes at the Russian, recognition filling his face.

"Weren't you the one that caused Matthew to cry in the first place," Francis accused and Ivan looked at him, stunned. He shifted uncomfortably and reached down to drag Francis out of the room.

In the hall Francis snatched his arm back and smirked, knowing he's found a weak spot.

"You are! You know he was curled up in a ball sobbing because of you!"

Ivan looked down at him angrily.

"Look, I never meant for him to get hurt. I was only trying to… confess my feelings." Francis rose an eyebrow. Oh? "He just jumped to conclusions and ran away."

Francis snorted and tilted his head up, nose in the air.

"I guess you should be more careful with your words then if a confession causes someone to run away."

"All I said was 'I love you!'. Then Natalia had to barge in and interrupt me, that crazy bitch ruined everything!" Ivan spit back.

"How dare you insult and blame a member of my kingdom! I'll have you know-"

A clearing of a throat cut them off. Both turned to see that while they had been arguing Gilbert had run off and found Arthur like he had originally planned to. Arthur was still red and puffy eyed, but demanded attention all the same as if everything were normal. Francis quickly rushed to his side and put an arm around his shoulder. Arthur quickly threw it off.

"I heard you incompentant fools let my noble be snatched away," Arthur directed at Francis and Gilbert before turning and nodding to Ivan. "Thank you for clearing out the room, I think there's still a chance for me to track him. Out of the way, now."

Ivan and Francis stepped out of the doorway. Leaning against the wall Ivan ran a hand down his face.

"Thank god," he whispered.

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