Bind to Thee

by Sugahlei

*(new name/reloaded)* A year or so has passed, and Sora's search for Riku comes to a conclusion. A collar unable to be removed, secret identities, and above all...a love. *yaoi-riku/sora*

2. two

**Warning/Disclaimer**

Kingdom Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  XD

Anyhoo—AU fic, alternate ending, whatever.  It's my take on what should happen, and how Riku and Sora should get together, get over the whole thing etc.—since this is a YAOI fic—two guys getting it on—there will be mention of sex—but sadly, it will be edited.  ^^  (music's by Evanescence…XD they rule…)

Strictly R-rated…XD  Enjoy your stay!

Bind to Thee

:two:

::without a soul::

::my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold::

::until you find it there and lead it back::

::—home::

::wake me up inside::

::save me::

::now that I know what I'm without::

::you can't just leave me::

::breathe into me and make me real::

::bring me to life::

::call my name and save me from the dark::

::save me from the nothing I've become::

His chest ached with the breathless burning of too much exertion.  Sweat cooled under the low half-hearted breeze, itchy on his over-warm skin.  Sand grated under his bare heels, muscles burned, threatening to cramp as he stood there, sword raised against the other fighter's body.  The tip was shaking with the harsh breathing—he could tell the other was just as winded as he was.

~Did I…win?~

Under his own gasping he heard a muffled sound of despair, so clear in the expectant silence.  A painful, wounded wordless murmur...  Sora wondered with brief alarm if he had inadvertently wounded the other.  The next sound he heard, in his natural concern, was the muted and unmistakable clang of the sword landing in the dirty skittering sand.

Sora stepped back cautiously, waiting just in case—

—and the crowd, in shock or excitement—it was hard to tell which—with what they witnessed, exploded into a deafening cacophony of screaming excitement.

~I won.~ Sora thought, somewhat dazed.  ~They're really loud.~  After a second, his Keyblade wavering downwards in his relaxing hand, he reached up with his free hand and yanked the blindfold from his eyes, exhaling in relief as he did so.  He blinked, as the low-laying sun gleamed brilliantly through the spokes of the pillared arena and looked around, squinting.  The crowds were packed with standing people—something he hadn't expected—most of them were screaming out indecipherable words, waving arms and brightly colored scarves. 

Sora grinned shyly, exhausted and relieved now that he had won, and thought ~I'll have enough money to repair the ship, now.~  He swiped his forearm across his brow, took a deep breath.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.  As he turned, he realized his opponent was rising to his feet—it was another boy, he noticed.  A flat golden-tanned chest, muscular arms and glistening with sweat.  Sora flushed and pushed his eyes away from the sight, uncomfortable with the way he seemed to enjoy that all to much.  Instead he focused on the oddly shaped head, and realized it was a helmet of sorts.

Light gleamed in sharp coruscation off the silver helm hiding the face from view—a raptor's visage with tooled feathers and everything. A barely visible lower-face, a mouth and chin, appeared beneath the curved protective front.  He watched as the boy turned away, his shoulders stiff and the pace slow and halting.

~Is he upset because he lost? ~ Sora frowned.  Thinking on it, Sora wondered if the boy, Iceheart, had been fighting for his freedom—Gold glinted about the neck from under sweat-darkened hair.  ~He is a slave...that's a collar on his neck...~ 
He hadn't seen one that looked like a necklace before.  But…a slave?  ~I'll never get used to that idea...slaves...~ he shook his head.  ~It's just…not right...~

~*~

~A slave...~ he mused, minutes later, in the dark of his rented lodging.  He was carefully toweling his body free of sweat and irritating sand, his hair freshly washed and dripping cool water onto his neck.  He had struggled his way free of thousands of people congratulating him, giving him odd knowing looks and narrow grins.  What a weird city.  Some had even looked angry, but that was probably more because he had won, and he was a stranger. 

His mind slipped to the muscled half-naked fighter from before, wondered what the face was like under the mask.  ~I didn't know they allowed the slaves to fight…I didn't see anyone else with a collar on…this place is weird.~

~Not that I know everything about this place...gods...I think I've gotten into more trouble here than in my entire life...~

It was more or less true—the desert city he was in was very strict, very orderly. So different, so strange from the casual freedom of the islands.  The whole slave thing—well, blame the honor-code of the people, where honor was a thing treasured most in a desert world that survived on the dependence of someone's ability to hold true.

~Really weird,~ Sora thought, thinking about it.

The society itself was run upon the word and honor of a person—if someone couldn't hold to it, or owed someone a large sum of money, theft and similar crimes, then a collar was placed around the neck until the debt was paid.  There were different types of collars, depending on the form of punishment, debt or price.  Thin leather straps with silver buckles and a small lock of the same metal were more common.  The higher the crime, or the greater the debt, the fancier the collar. 

~A gold collar…I guess that means Ithian has his top slave fight...but for what?~

Ithian…he didn't seem the type to generously allow a blatant chance at repayment.  The man was conniving and thoroughly decrepit, a master at smoothly worming promises or agreements out of unsuspecting people.  That much Sora had learned in his careful inquiries.  It was best to know everything about this Ithian, if this was the man who had to hand over the money owed—

And Sora had to know everything possible.  It wasn't hard to find out, either.  In the darker seedier bars, anyone was willing to talk if you had enough money—and Sora had enough.  Well, enough for the right questions…He guessed it was a good thing that he had also gotten quite good at asking the right questions without seeming to pry.

And the honor of a person, Sora had learned, was very important.  Honesty, honor…all these people depended on it to survive, and over the years it had developed into a strange society that placed those values above all.  ~Which is why,~ Sora mused, ~they all like watching the fighting.  No one fights with other people unless they are slaves, already accused of crimes or the like.  They're bound by too many rules.~

But he had heard other disturbing things besides the presence of slavery and fighting in the arena.

Ithian, from what he had heard, was a sadistic bastard, one of a few to master an un-breakable collar.  Rumors had it that Ithian kept a sorcerer locked up to do his dirty work, instead of relying on the honor of another man, his word and trust.  A collar and a key—but the collar was just a piece of magic-worked gold.  The collars had no visible lock, no way to remove them—Rumors had it that the collars unlocked only after the debt had been paid.

—Ithian, as clever as he was, was the sort of person to make sure that his slaves never got free.

~If that's true...then...the one I fought…Iceheart...~

Rumors had it that Iceheart, virgin and cold and unbeatable in the arena, had found himself taken in by Ithian's empty promises and found himself collared.  Rumors had it that Ithian wanted Iceheart for more than his fighting skills—he wanted the boy for a bedslave.  Not uncommon—

—but Iceheart had refused.

In this place, no one refused Ithian.  The man was powerful, frightening and brilliantly cold-hearted.

Rumors stated that Iceheart had agreed to fight in the arena to pay off his debt, and that if he ever lost...his body would be forfeit.  Virgins were rare, it seemed.  Rare and pricey.

Sora shuddered, and felt a pang of guilt.  ~That means I had a hand in destroying his dream of getting out of here...jeez. That he's gotta...~

~Whoa, hold on—I can't afford to worry about some nameless slave! I have more important things to do!!~ He sighed, and crushed the towel in his hands, larger hands that were nicked with small scars from countless battles. 

~Better things…I really can't wait to get out of here...I can't wait...~

Sora sighed, and let the towel drop.  ~Riku...~

~*~

When he opened the door, dressed and intent on finding Donald and Goofy, a slave—young, shy and undeniably male—was waiting outside of his room. He stopped short, wary.  "Yes?"

The slave bounced up from his seated position and bowed deep with fluid grace of long practice.  "Master Ithian requests your presence," the young male said softly.  He didn't raise his eyes.

"Uh…" Sora glanced down the hall where his companions waited, and shrugged.  "Can you give me a moment?"

 "Of course, m'Lord," the boy murmured and sank back into a seated position.

Sora gave the slave-boy a confused glance, and slipped around him to jog towards the two teammates.  "Um…guys, he wants me to go with him and meet that Ithian guy," he said before Donald could ask.  Judging by the irritated look, Sora had just beat him to speaking.

"He's probably just going to give your prize," Donald rasped, huffing.  "It shouldn't be a problem if you go and see him.  We've got plenty of time."

Sora grimaced, and scratched the back of his head.  "I don't know—I've heard some bad things about this guy…"

Donald snorted and eyed him derisively.  "Idiot.  What threat could this guy possibly be?"

"Well…" Sora drawled.  He wasn't sure why he felt so uneasy about it, and couldn't explain it to the diminutive fowl.  "I just don't want to, you know, underestimate him or anything…"

Donald rolled his eyes and muttered, "Whatever.  Come on, Goofy.  I wanna visit the bazaar in the lower city.  Sora," the duck turned his head with strict command.  "Go and find out what Ithian wants.  We'll catch up to you later."

"But—"

"Aw, it'll be okay, Sora.  We won't be very far…" Goofy murmured and smiled at him.

Sighing, Sora shrugged and waved them off.  "Yeah, okay.  I'll see you guys in a while…or send someone to find you, or something…"  He turned back to face the room and the boy still kneeling against the wall and drew his brows together in a small pout of frustration.

"Hey," he said, as he got closer.  "What exactly does Ithian want? Can you tell me?"

The boy looked up with wide lavender eyes.  "There will be a banquet tonight, in your honor.  Ithian requests your presence, since you are the first to defeat Iceheart—" the low and shy voice broke off, and the boy looked down.

"Really?  He's never been defeated?"  Sora replied, even though he had already guessed at this.  It paid to have confirmation.

"No," the boy said slowly.  "Not once."  Then he rose lithely, smaller than Sora, his short and somewhat spiky black hair drifting gently.  "Shall we proceed?"

Sora shrugged.  "Sure, why not?"

They walked for nearly fifteen minutes, down the dark halls of simple wooden paneling, and out into the wide and sun-bright street.  Merchants and vendors lined the sides, yelling out their wares and competing through voice alone.  Smells and sounds were a blur of impression, while people dressed in brightly colored clothing, red and blues and purples, wandered slowly amongst them.  Many of the females wore golden jewelry, bracelets and rings and elaborate headdresses that sparkled with gems—but no where did Sora see a golden collar about the neck of anyone.  In fact, the only people to wear anything about their neck at all were the slaves—

And they were remarkably easy to point out.  Most wore as little clothing as possible, or less.  All wore a collar of some sort, leather, dull thin-beaten copper, heavy iron…but no gold.  ~I wonder just how many slaves are qualified to wear gold…~

Then he thought, ~Iceheart must have been one hell of a fighter to get a gold-collar status.  He must be really good, or really valuable.  Probably both.~  He eyed the slim boy with the dark hair and lavender eyes, noting the simple leather collar with its gold bar sealing the ends, and wondered. 

They passed a stall with noisy animals—a cross between horses and camels, with long shaggy fur and ugly faces, broad legs and short stubby tails—and Sora grimaced from the smell.  The boy ahead of him didn't seem to notice the noise or the acrid smell, adroitly sidestepping whatever piles of dung that littered the ground.

"Hey…" Sora called.  "Hey—"

The boy turned his head, pausing slightly as Sora caught up.  They were standing in the shadow of the taller stall nearby —an apparent reservoir of birds, all shapes and sizes, and it was relatively quiet. 

"Yes, m'Lord?"

"Ah," Sora smiled sheepishly.  "I'm not a lord, or anything like that.  You can call me So—" he looked away, eyes dark.  "Er—Key.  You can say my name, you know…"

"Alright…Key…" the boy bowed his head in acceptance.  "Was there something you needed?"

"I have a question…" Sora shrugged half-heartedly.  "Umm…first off, what's your name?"

A slim black brow rose, and a shadow of a hesitant smile flitted across the face of the boy.  "I am called Miruki."

"Okay, Miruki—" Sora grinned.  "Second question!  What's up with using gold for collars?  What's the deal?"

Miruki looked uncomfortable.  "It is…not something we are allowed to speak of."

"Oh," Sora looked crestfallen.  "Not anything?"

"I am sorry…Key."

"No, it's okay," Sora assured him.  "I pretty much assumed that you wouldn't…but I needed to ask."

Miruki nodded as they began to walk again.  "Is there anything else I can assist you with?" he asked politely.  His gaze was slightly troubled, and Sora noticed that his hands were shaking slightly.

"…did I do something wrong by winning the tournament?" Sora asked distantly, after a long pause.  "I get the feeling that I wasn't supposed to win."

Miruki looked away, his hands twisting slightly.  "I…I don't know what you mean," he whispered. 

Sora caught his arm and turned the boy to face him.  "I'm serious," he warned just as quietly.  "Is something going to happen to the other fighter, now?  Did I do something—something that I shouldn't have?!"

Lavender eyes peered at him, wide and alarmed.  "M'Lord Key—" he gasped.  "Please—I'm not allowed to speak of it!"

Sora inhaled slowly to keep his temper, and shook his head.  "Miruki, don't play the fool with me...If there's something I need to know, tell me…" 

The boy quivered slightly, hunching.  "The p-prize of the tournament," the boy stuttered in a rushed and nearly silent voice.  "Ice is yours by right—it was part of his debt—but Ithian won't let him repay it and he's going to get hurt—he's my friend and Ithian will—he will—" Miruki drew in a shaky breath, nearly sobbing.  "You don't know what Ithian's like—he's cold and heartless and evil and he's—he's going to—"

Sora felt his hand tighten to frightening strength. "Stop," he whispered.  "What do you mean, part of Ice's debt?"

Miruki looked up, face drawn and pale.  "It was only a few months ago that Ithian changed the prize to include Ice as well—the winner would get a chance to take him to bed but Ice never lost any of those battles—and you've won, Key—"

~Take him…to bed?~ Sora thought, mind flashing into a decidedly lewd twist.  ~As in actually sleep with him?~

The boy's voice dropped to a pained whisper, and a hand came up to grip at his with surprising intensity, catching his attention.  "But Ithian would rather kill him than allow another to take what he deems his..."

"Why are you telling me this?" he said.

A gleam of hope entered those lavender eyes.  "He has the chance to be free…because of you…"

~*~

"Master Ithian—your guest is here," a nameless female servant whispered to him.  Ithian didn't respond as he heard and stored it in his head.  He waved his hand after a second of thought, and stood.  His dark hair was twisted into a sleek braid, accenting his narrow tanned face and dark eyes.  Clothing rustled in the whispery way of fine-weaving, settling into folds of dark gray and subtle green.

He smiled, as the girl scuttled backwards in her automatic fear.  He went to the window, looking out upon the harsh lands of the desert, and idly adjusted his clothing around his shoulders. 

~Soon,~ he thought, half-aroused by the lust in his mind over his impertinent slave, and the long-awaited prize.  ~I will have you in my bed, where I want you, and I will take you for what you are…Mine.~

The door opened behind him.  Footsteps, light and unhesitant.  Ithian turned to see the boy from the arena, cleaned and dressed in simple clothes.  Eyes of brilliant sapphire peered unafraid at him, and a slight smile was on his face. 

 "Hello," Ithian greeted him with a smooth smile.  "Master Key?" he asked, and smiled wider when the boy nodded.  "I trust that the boy explained the purpose of this visit?"

A slim brow rose, and the boy, Key, replied, "A banquet, right?"

Ithian nodded, watching him closely.  "Yes, indeed.  Many of the important figures of this city will be attending.  I took the liberty of holding a place for you, since you are the guest of honor.  I trust this is fine?"

"Yeah," the boy shrugged.  "He mentioned something about getting my prize then, too, so I figured I'd better go."

"Ah, yes.  That.  It will be handed out near the end of the meal, have no worries."  He paused, lacing his hands together, and nodded down upon the slight figure.  "If you would like, I can provide a change of clothing and a room for you, here, for the night?"

Something flickered through those dark-blue eyes, gone in an instant, and the boy was nodding before Ithian could decipher what exactly he had seen. 

"I'd like that," he said.  "Miruki said that the banquet would start within the hour, right?"

"Miruki? Oh, the slave.  I take it he likes you—would you like him as a personal attendant for the evening?" He smiled as he thought, ~Perhaps you'll take a liking to him in more ways than one…~

"Sure," the boy drawled.  "That'd be great!"

~*~

Sora had to fight to keep his expression neutral as Ithian led the way to banquet.  The place was huge, with sweeping hallways of pale marble and carpeted floors.  The windows stretched to nearly the ceiling, and every time he looked, Sora saw the bowing slave or the flash of skin as someone darted out of view.  Inside he marveled at the sheer wealth the home portrayed, the size and richness of the paintings, the spotlessness.

~I would love to explore this place.~

~Yeah, like I'm gonna get the chance,~ he thought next, and pushed his gaze back to where Ithian was striding.  The man had personally led him to his temporary room, waiting outside while he 'freshened up' and now escorted him to the banquet hall.  He got the distinct feeling that the man was keeping him from seeing something—but he had no clue what.

Sora frowned faintly and noted that they had taken a third left.  ~Circles, eh?  What are we stalling for, Ithian?~  He glanced to Miruki on the left, and then to where a second slave, younger than the dark-haired Miruki, walked quietly.  Neither slave dared to raise their eyes any further than knee-level.  Sora wondered if it was something Ithian enforced, this meekness.

~They're afraid of the guy….I guess the rumors were true, then.  He's sadistic and cruel…~ Sora narrowed his eyes at the elegantly dressed figure.  ~Now the question is…am I supposed to do something about it?~

Ithian spoke casually.  "So tell me, Master Key.  Why did you choose this city to take your leave?"

Sora smiled cheerfully and laced his hands behind his head.  "Oh, nothing really.  I needed the money, and it was pure chance, I guess," he paused, thinking desperately of a way to sound more harmless.  "Besides, I heard that this was the place to be if you wanted excitement."

Ithian smiled at him, turning down an intersection.  "This way," he murmured with an out-flung hand.  "And this is the place to be," he continued. 

The doors leading into the banquet hall stood open before them, spilling sound and the bright flash of color into the passage.  Sora caught his breath in surprise, eyes darting to one impressive sight after the other.  "…nice," he managed after a second.  "I…I can't describe it…"

Ithian looked pleased, folding his hands together as he flashed a sharp smile.  "Truly?  You enjoy my display?"

He couldn't help being impressed as they walked through the tall open archway, into the sound and splendor of wealth and blatant luxuries.  Things he had never had, things he hadn't seen before, only heard and thought of.  Looking up to see candles in delicate sconces, then over to the expensive-laid tables, he couldn't help but stop entirely to gaze upon the sight.

People milled in bright color, skin and glints of jewelry, weaving around the tall fluted pillars.  Slaves dressed in simple silver collar and revealing silk darted around in similar outfits of pale green.  Here and there a few were personal attendants to guests upon lush velvet divans, while others served drinks and small treats.  The guests, nobles and wealthy people, didn't seem to notice their presence unless offered something, drink, food or sex.  Sora barely noticed himself, staring past the people to pale marble walls that gleamed in the light, warm now that the sun was set behind the earth. Windows were open to receive the cooling desert air.  Curtains of the light silken gauze fluttered, controlled with ribbons to arch in accent to the casements that stretched from floor to ceiling.

~God…I don't think I'll ever see anything as incredible as this,~ Sora thought.

Ithian bowed fluidly from the waist, watching his face with a sly smile. "I am happy you are impressed, Master Key.  Please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the evening to your fullest.  If you will excuse me, I have introductions to make—I will join you later, if that is alright?"

The brunette blinked and looked over.  "Sure, no problem."

~So many people…~

Minutes passed, as Sora wandered further into the hall, past the tables and the people that gave him veiled looks of suspicion, past the slaves who didn't raise their eyes to anyone, and frowned.  ~Half of them are slaves,~ he realized, looking closer.  ~Or criminals, or whatever a collared person is to them—~

~It's still not right…I can't argue with the idea of making it obvious you committed a crime…but…~

~There should be another way.~

A slender woman smiled faintly as she floated in front of him, eyes averted, and offered a glass of wine upon a silver tray.  "My lord?"

"Thank you," Sora murmured, and cradled the goblet..  He continued walked, avoiding any other contact, and observing, filing details away in his mind without a second thought.  After a while, glass mostly full, Miruki appeared at his side.  He was dressed in the same gauzy robes as the others, his lesser-rank collar a painful mark of thievery.  A strong scent of flowers drifted from him.

Sora smiled and assumed the boy had just arrived from the bath.  "Hey," he said.  "It's quite a show.  Are you sure it's all because of me?  Seems like Ithian would take any chance to show off all of this," Sora waved his hand.  "It's…very big."

Miruki nodded. "It is," he said softly.  "Is there anything I can get you, M'Lord Key?"

"No," Sora shrugged, and smiled cheerfully.  "I'm good for now."

The dark-haired boy nodded again, smiling faintly in response. "Allow me to show you to your seat, then?"

~*~

A man caught his sleeve, as the women around him smiled, flirting and giggling.  "Sir," came the voice.

Ithian turned his head.  "Yes?" he murmured.  "What is it?"

"It is time."

~*~

"Miruki," Sora said after a moment.  "I don't know what you want me to do."

Well, he had a clue—

~Oh, please—you know very well what the 'prize' is.  You get to take Ice upstairs and—~

Sora squeezed his eyes shut out of frustration and scowled faintly.  ~Not now, dammit!  I can worry about that later!~

Better to play the simple innocent boy, play the game and see what the stakes were.  Yeah.  Right.  He glanced down.  Kneeling upon a flat cushion to his left, the slave looked up at him questioningly, watching him without speaking.

"Look," Sora began.  "I have no intention of doing anything right now.  I'm here because…because I..." he paused, searching.  "Because someone needs help.  Not because I want that from him."  A flush shimmered over his cheeks as he continued, "Do you understand?"

"I—" Miruki looked suddenly alarmed.  "Forgive me—I didn't mean to imply—"

"No, no, it's okay!" Sora reassured him hastily.

The dark boy bowed his head.  Sighing, the older boy took a generous sip of his wine and swallowed.  ~I just want outta here,~ he thought pleadingly.  Minutes passed with the timeless pace of anticipation and uneasiness.  He could see the other people, the nobles, slowly gathering into their spots—well, gathering into a group so far.  He could tell more and more of them knew who he was, what he had done earlier.  They were looking, mild speculation and amusement on their faces.

Sora only smiled innocently at them.

It must have been getting to the unspecified time of dinner—slaves and workers began to carry out steaming platters of delicate food, sliced meat garnished with slices of greenery—a plant called le'uc, Miruki explained after a questioning look.

~Food,~ was what his stomach would say.  "It's about time," he said to himself, and grinned. 

Ithian left his group of admirers and began to make his way towards Sora's place.  He looked quite regal, walking sedately in his flowing gray-green silks.  His face was smooth, arrogant and cold—

Sora shuddered slightly.  Change the hair and skin, and he'd be watching Ansem walk towards him all over again.  God—the man must have cloned himself.

"Rise!" Miruki urged, bowing as Ithian drew near.

Goblet in hand, Sora stood, nodding his head tightly, and struggling to smile.

A flicker of movement, heads turning and whispers of surprise, just as Ithian crested the table and looked down at him.  The man, too, turned his head to see what had caught the attention. 

Blinking, Sora raised his eyes to the figure of a boy stepping down the stairs.  He was dressed in translucent blue threaded with silver, his arms and midriff bare beneath a gauzy embroidered vest.  One hand trailed gently along the rail as he descended.  Muted whispers filled the hall, shock and disbelief and a subtle sense of victory.

~Iceheart,~ rang in Sora's mind.  His eyes passed quickly over the muscled form, unable to place the niggling sense in his mind as the slave reached the last step, the crowd parting before him.  His eyes slid to the golden collar, confirming it, and then went further.  To the face, heart thumping oddly.

To the face framed with wisps of silver-gilt hair, the face in his dreams and nightmares, as Riku began to walk forward.

~Oh god,~ Sora thought.  To Miruki's horror, the goblet of wine fell from his hand to shatter upon the floor, sharp in the near-silence.  ~Oh god,~ he thought again.  ~…Riku?~

Cerulean eyes met his for an instant, and he knew.

~No way…he's not here, it can't be him…no fucking way…~ he sucked in a shallow disbelieving breath as Miruki, in slow motion, grabbed for the folded napkins and began gathering the shards of crystal, looking up in confusion at Sora's frozen face.  Other people glanced at him, curiosity sharpened, eyes needling into him.

~Riku…Riku…~

Then: ~What the hell is he wearing!?~ as the eyes widened slightly.

Then the contact was gone, a figure in gray-green silks strode forward.  Time snapped back with a rush of sound, people murmuring to themselves.  Sora didn't care—even if it had only been a moment, he knew Riku had seen him.

He wanted to leap over the tables, screaming, and grab the other boy in a hug so tight he'd crack ribs.  He wanted to laugh, to cry, and smile so big his face would freeze that way—he wanted—

~Wait,~ a little voice whispered.

He took a step forward as Ithian reached the still figure of Riku, and reached out a hand.

~Something's wrong.~

Almost imperceptibly, Riku stiffened.  If Sora hadn't known him, hadn't grown up with his variety of moods and body language, he wouldn't have seen it.  As it was, he couldn't have missed the way his eyes darkened to a shade of slate, the way his hands twitched.  The slash of a mouth, and the pale color under the tan.  The angry look.

Then it hit him.  ~Riku's…Iceheart? ~ Again, his eyes went to the collar, the exultant air around Ithian as the man grazed fingers through the silver hair.  Eyes of the surrounding spectators flickered to him expectantly, waiting for something that Sora couldn't name.

If he would have had another glass of wine, he would have dropped that too.

~Damnit, Riku—what have you done?!~

Thousands of questions muttered into his mind as he stood there, frozen and reeling.  He had the mild thought that he should be thankful that his face was still smooth, still passive, and wondered just what the hell was going on.

~Why Iceheart for a name,~ came a second.  ~Why not his own…~

//Rumors had it that Ithian wanted Iceheart for more than his fighting skills—he wanted the boy for a bedslave.// 

//Rumors had it that Iceheart, virgin and cold and unbeatable in the arena, had found himself taken in by Ithian's empty promises and found himself collared.//

~…no…~

//"But Ithian would rather kill him than allow another to take what he deems his..."//

~No!  Riku wouldn't—~  He drew in a shallow breath, realizing that only moments had passed since his missing friend had appeared.  ~He was tricked.  He was tricked into that collar, and he knew it…and he's…~

 "I almost left," Sora whispered in horrified realization.  "I almost left this damn place…"

 "M'Lord?" Miruki hissed, his eyes wide, and reached up to tug on his sleeve.  "Is something wrong?"

 "No," the brunette whispered after a moment.  "No, I'm fine. Sorry—I got distracted," he murmured lamely.  His eyes flickered to where Ithian was leading Riku towards the table, the guests filing away to their own seats and he pushed away the scowl.

 "Ah, Pet," Ithian was murmuring.  "How exquisite you look—I'm so glad you could join us…" His gaze was possessive as his raked his eyes down the body.  Riku had his eyes lowered away from the gaze of everyone.  Sora felt a skittering of ice touch him, the sensation of Riku's hidden anger scouring away at his senses.  

 "I didn't come because you wanted me to," the low achingly familiar voice murmured. 

Ithian smiled wider, laughing gently.  "No, of course not," he said as fingers brushed against the neck just above the collar.  "I hardly expected you to.  It's a pleasant…change.  One I hope to have…repeated?"

Riku glanced up as they neared the table, a fleeting quick glance that pierced Sora through.  A challenge wrapped in anger, molten and seething.  A flicker of pleading.  "Is this Master Key?" he questioned coolly, face impassive while eyes gave his secret desperation.

~…he didn't use my name…?~ Sora thought, confused.

 "Ah, yes," Ithian murmured, his voice a touch colder.  "This is the one who defeated you."

 "You're right—he's very cute."

 "Uh—" Sora blinked in a sudden sense of off-balance, knowing that Riku had a very good reason for saying what he had said—but—~I'm cute?~

Riku swayed forward then to greet him with an embrace, arms heavy with bracelets reaching up to clasp him gently, leaning into him.  A mouth brushed his ear in the pretense of touching his cheek—

—for some inane reason Sora noticed that he was nearly the same height, now, and grinned inwardly—

—Then Riku whispered in barely audible tones, "You don't know me," and was away in the space of a heartbeat.  Sora inhaled the faint clean smell, a Riku scent, and swallowed. 

~Right, got that. I don't know him—shit, what do I do?  Gotta stall!~

 "This," he began, grabbing the first instinct that emerged, and sent his eyes raking down the body, "must be Iceheart."  ~Think!~

Riku bowed from the waist.

~Crap!  What do I do?!~

~Wait—the prize!  Riku is part of my prize!~ 

Then: ~I did not just think that…~  Face smoothed into a mask of amusement, Sora smiled a slow smile, eyes narrow in challenge—the act seemed to work— and said, "How about we skip the meal and get to…my prize?"

~tbc