A/N: Well look what the metaphorical cat dragged in! I know, I know - I took my sweet time writing this. There are various excuses I could say - but I'd doubt you want to here them. I've gotten older since I last wrote - I'm 15 now! Yay me. But a HUGE thank you to everyone whos reviewed, or even just added this to a list of theres. And to my wonderful beta reader .L - thank you, I could not have done this without you. I'm up to 70 reviews - yeah! ^________^ Thank you once again - this seriously means a lot.

In this chapter Lorlen and Akkarin sit down for a nice little PT, and our mystery guest confronts Regin - who is a slimy little bastard. Ehehehe...R&R chums. On with the story!

The room was pleasantly silent that afternoon. But its occupant wasn't paying attention. He wasn't really paying attention to anything.

Lorlen was slightly hunched forward in his chair, his elbows supporting his chin which rested on top of his interlocked fingers. He wasn't really looking at anything in particular either. It wasn't like the Administrator to daydream, in fact, if anyone had asked, he wasn't sure he would classify what he was doing now as daydreaming.

He was just kinda…staring at a random spot on the carpet on the other side of the desk. He didn't give a shit about the carpet – he never had. The room had already come furnished when he first got his job 5 years ago.

5 years ago…

That rang a bell somewhere in the back of his mind. But he found himself not caring about that either. Everything had been put on hold for the moment.

It occurred to him that it was perhaps unnatural to be so stoic not long after he had just been told that there was a very real possibility of him being exiled for something he didn't even do.

That was another thing. Had the circumstances been different, Lorlen would have found this all quite amusing. He didn't understand why everyone was being so difficult about this. Surely the simplest thing to do would be to truth-read Regin, discover what had actually happened and to punish him for it instead.

There was a quiet but firm knock on the door. The Administrator sighed wearily.

'Come in.'

The blue-robed magician watched as the handle went down and the door began to open. As his visitor closed the door behind them, Lorlen was left in a state of shock. This day just kept getting weirder.

He smiled ruefully.

'Since when do you knock?'

The newcomer smirked.

'Would you rather I didn't?' he retorted.

Lorlen snorted softly.

Since when did my opinion count to you, was the automatic question that sprung to mind, but Lorlen held his tongue.

He registered by the sound of the carpet that his visitor was moving towards him.

So, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to today, he sneered – still slightly bitter from yesterday's argument.

The man in question moved towards the chair in front of his desk.

The High Lord or Akkarin?

He flopped into the large chair with a great sigh, letting his head fall to the side. His head sunk into the corner headrest as wisps of his long black hair concealed part of his face.

For a few seconds there was complete silence.

'How are you today, Lorlen?'

Said magician did not reply instantly.

On the random occasions when 'the High Lord' would somehow appear in his room for a 'chat', i.e: to make sure Lorlen was behaving himself, that question (it was nearly always the same question) would never fail to send cold little shivers down his spine.

The very way in which it was delivered, that eerie little half-smile, the cold penetrating look – the face he wore in general whenever he came to visit – it was horrible. It was like a mask. Everything about it was false.

No, not false. Dead.

Yes, that was it exactly.

'The High Lord' was no more than an empty shell, a mask – cold, hard and plastic. Very little emotions, no matter he may deny it. His eyes were the worst thing though. There was something dark, hostile even lurking in his gaze whenever they talked. It was always there, quite well hidden but still there.

Sometimes, it felt as if his superior would like nothing more than to slit his throat open with that disturbingly sharp sword he kept with him sometimes. It was unnerving. He was unnerving.

The Administrator was deathly afraid of 'The High Lord'.

And Lorlen hated it. He hated him.

And then there had been Akkarin – his one true friend, his best friend, the one person in the world he would have trust with anything. He would have died for Akkarin. Because he hadn't just been a friend, he had meant more to him than most of his family did (admittedly he never kept in much contact with his family, but that was besides the point).

Akkarin had been funny, slightly eccentric and not too mention incredibly competitive.

He had possessed a natural charm and grace that just drew people to him like a magnet. Everyone loved Akkarin.

Lorlen had loved Akkarin.

And perhaps that was why it was just so hard to accept that he was gone. Because he didn't want to.

Lorlen regarded the man before him.

Perhaps the only reason, he allowed this man anywhere near him was because a part of him hoped real Akkarin would come back.

But no, he was not coming back – and that was a fact Lorlen had accepted the day his 'friend' had interrogated him in the High Lord's Residence that day over three months ago.

There were sometimes little glimpses of how it was before, like now for example, he sprawled across the chair in a very un-High-Lord like way with his hair in his face – looking pretty relaxed.

But it was never the same, Akkarin had never the same.

He looked relaxed, but he wasn't.

Lorlen knew he wasn't.

Akkarin knew Lorlen knew he wasn't.

But no-one said anything about it.

So it was that Lorlen concluded, that the fact that this man had come here today and had actually tried to make things seem how they were before – proved to Lorlen that this was Akkarin and not the 'High Lord'.

Or as close to Akkarin as was possible now after…whatever it was that happened 5 years ago.

It seemed that Akkarin truly did want things to go back to the way they were before…

Unexpectedly, that thought warmed the Administrator's heart to the core.

He smiled softly.

You came…

The taller man started, the surprise poorly hidden in his eyes. But then, a genuine smile appeared on his lips, his dark eyes twinkled slightly with subtle understanding.

He knew exactly what Lorlen had meant by that statement.

As the following hours past, the sun began its wary descent across the sky, staining it with blazing trails on orange, yellow and pink. The atmosphere was somewhat more relaxed and light-hearted as the heat began to melt away, the mild breeze signalling the approach of the nightfall.

Through a group of windows slotted together on the first floor, two magicians could be seen sitting in a grand looking office, the walls almost completely lined with bookshelves.

A near empty bottle of red wine stood proudly in the centre of the desk surrounded by papers that seemed to have been pushed to one side.

An empty bottle protruded out of a bin hidden in the desk's shadow.

The owner of said office himself was currently slouching slightly in his seat behind a sturdy wooden desk.

His features were hidden in darkness because the chair was facing away from the window, but it was obvious from the tell-tale bruises beginning to form under his dulled blue eyes, that this man was not in great shape. This was especially obvious to his black-robed companion sat in the chair opposite.

It was only in rare moments like this when Akkarin got the chance to actually look at his close friend openly without fear of it being interpreted as a hostile action or something like that.

It was obvious by the way Lorlen was acting and what he had said to him, not the night before but in the years gone past – that Lorlen had thought Akkarin changed beyond all recognition.

But Akkarin himself was increasingly under the opinion that perhaps that theory worked both ways.

Lorlen had changed of course, that was only to be expected – people changed all the time. But this was different. His friend had gotten a lot more…cynical.

He had much less patience for people than he once did.

He worried more and seemed to prefer to keep everyone, including himself and probably Osen, and arm's distance. Akkarin knew full well that he was at least part of the reason – he had betrayed Lorlen's trust that day 3 months ago and his friend had never fully recovered.

The familiar ache of knowing he was causing Lorlen's anguish clawed at Akkarin's heart; his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

He had had this conversation with himself so many times. It was wrong for him to physically force information out of Lorlen against his will, they both knew that beyond any doubt – but there was no other way.

Akkarin had to know.

If he had let Lorlen, Rothen and Sonea carry on with life knowing about his dark little secret – chances are he'd have been executed by now.

And Akkarin couldn't die.

He had to stay alive no matter what.

If he was executed, the Ichani would invade. Everyone would die. Kyralia and the Allied Lands would fall and everything and everyone he had sacrificed in those crucial 5 years in Sachaka would count for nothing.

And that was out of the question. He owed far too many people too much to chicken out because he didn't want a couple of people to be mad at him.

It's just…

Akkarin refocused on Lorlen, who was currently frowning softly down at his desk as if thinking something over, as he took another sip of wine.

…I wish he could understand I was doing this to help. I just want to protect everyone. But he doesn't understand. Why doesn't he understand?!

Akkarin took a deep breath, smothering the sudden cry of desperation.

Because you never told him, a quiet voice murmured in his head.

A frown graced his face as he considered.

Could it be…that if he told Lorlen everything, he would understand? Could he accept the reasons why he did what he did? More importantly, could Lorlen actually in believe in him and support his cause?

Surely that was far too much to hope for…

'Would you believe me, if I said I didn't do it?'

Lorlen's quiet, sombre tone bought Akkarin back to the present.

Confusion briefly flickered across his eyes before he remembered. The reason he was here. The Hearing.

Oh.

There was a long pause while black-clad magician considered. Did he still think it was him?

Well, Lorlen was with Sonea that night and they had gone into his office. This office…

Akkarin fought back a shudder.

…and Sonea's buckle was found outside his door. He hasn't denied it, she hasn't denied it…neither of them have said anything…

But yet…now Akkarin thought about – some things really didn't add up.

Like, the fact Sonea was already upset by the time she found Lorlen.

The fact that Lorlen seemed to know as little as he did about what had happened to her when they had talked through the blood ring.

The fact that Lorlen had seemed genuinely offended and hurt when Akkarin had hinted he didn't believe him last night…

Something was definitely not right. But was that enough to clear his friend of all suspicion? Could he take the risk and disregard the somewhat flimsy evidence and stand beside Lorlen as his friend once more?

The High Lord probably wouldn't have risked it.

The old Akkarin would have stood by Lorlen no matter what.

What about this Akkarin – one who had seen the world in all its horrifying coldness, darkness and cruelty? Was there still room left in his heart for trust?

Could things really go back to the way they were before?

Akkarin met Lorlen's somewhat hesitant gaze easily.

'…yes.'

A lone figure wandered silently through the cloisters, a late evening breeze filtering through her hair. Her pale face was serious, auburn eyebrows knitted together, her head filled by an overall emptiness. One think did stand out in her mind though.

She knew she had to do this.

Again, on instinct it seemed, she was hit by the same question everytime she told what she was about to do.

Why?

That one word summed up everything that had happened in the last two or so days.

That night, everything had been turned upside down.

All because of him.

And her.

She wasn't quite sure who she hated most at the moment – the slumgirl or…

A joyous sound erupted not far ahead of her. She looked up and scowled at the sight she saw.

…him.

Regin was, just as she thought, sat on top of the fountain in the middle of the Gardens – his groupies scattered around him laughing along with him.

The way these people cling to this guy, she seethed.

It's actually pathetic.

She felt a pang of some distant emotion – she couldn't really talk, after all, she'd been head-groupie until a couple of days ago. Though…seeing it all from the outside…

She snarled and looked away.

It made her feel even more pathetic.

One girl, what was her name, Brianna? - she laughed louder than the others and not-so-subtly moved closer to Regin, despite the fact she was practically sitting on his lap as it was.

Regin made no sign of discomfort nor made any attempt to push her away. If anything, he pulled her closer. She giggled, a horrible high pitched noise that made her shudder. She began to trace little patterns slowly on his thigh, grinning up at him. He smiled back and ran his fingers along her jawline making her openly swoon in front of everyone.

Honestly, had this girl no self-respect whatsoever?

Quickly becoming very pissed off, she hid behind the cloister nearest to the fountain and closed her eyes.

Why was this all suddenly affecting her so much?

Things had always been this way, hadn't they?

Only…

Regin's band of merry men began to chant as the two of them looked into eachother's eyes, their faces very close and getting closer.

Their lips finally met, the crowd cheered and wolf-whistled.

…that had been her a couple of days ago.

Her face didn't change, but something sharp and painful flickered in his eyes as she watched.

Even she was vaguely surprised to find that it only him 2 days to conveniently forget he had a girlfriend and find someone else.

Little fucking bastard.

She waited for some part of her to dispute the fact that that statement was true.

Nothing happened. She sighed.

Then why the hell I am doing this?

She peered around the side of the cloister, her hair shining bright orange in the fading sunlight.

Because…

Regin looked up from his conversation, his gaze snapping straight to hers.

…you love him.

As a look of recognition flittered across his gaze, he excused himself from the crowd, leaving Brianna staring longingly at his back, a sad little pout on her face.

And you know you'd never forgive yourself if you let this carry on without telling him.

Regin calmly sauntered over, a soft little smile melting onto his face as he approached her. Her resolve faltered ever so slightly, her legs finding it harder to stay upright.

That smile, it was a smile he saved especially for her, or so she thought at least.

It would be so easy, dangerously easy to just slip back into the routine. Pretend nothing had ever happened…

'Hey…' he said softly as he stood in front of her.

She looked up, then looked away quickly, determined not to be mesmerized by the little twinkle in his eyes.

Regin smiled his heart-breaking smile again.

'I missed you.' He whispered, gently brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her eyes flickered shut, her heart-rate sped up.

NO.

They snapped back open, cold blue eyes glaring icily at Regin. She slapped his hand away.

'You have to end this.' She said firmly.

Regin tilted his head to one side in confusion, she used to think he looked so cute when he did that…

'End what?' His voice remained quiet.

'You know what, Regin.' She huffed and turned away from him.

He sighed.

'Issle…'

'Do you have any idea what you've done?' she seethed, determination fuelling her anger.

'The Administrator has been threatened with exile because of your little stunt. They're going to hold a Hearing tomorrow – you have to save yourself while you still can!'

A brief flicker concern ghosted across his face, but yet the smile still remained.

'You do still care after all…'

Issle scowled angrily.

'I'm not joking! You're underestimating them. All they have to do is truth-read you, her or the Administrator and it's all over.'

Regin smiled again, but it was a different smile this time.

It was darker, malicious even and devious.

Issle felt herself shiver and turned away from his gaze.

'You're underestimating me, my dear. I don't think this Hearing is going to go as smoothly as they had hoped.'

A/N: Ooh, the plot thickens! Stay with me here, people, the end is in sight! *bows gracefully and walks off into the night* ^___^