AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, darlings, for your reviews. Sorry it took me so long to get this up, I've been a bit spacey. And if the style is slightly different than the last chapter, whoops. I don't notice a lot of changes in my own writing, but I do know that I wrote this at four AM last night when I couldn't sleep, so there you go.

anonnymous-by-choice -- yummy fishies! I've read the book, but it was a while ago, so this is based on the movie. Also, I can't find my copy of the book, so that made it rather difficult. I've always been rather annoyed by the heroes--the villains tend to get my vote.

glassneko -- thank you! I loved your BMW story, by the way, and can't remember if I've reviewed or not. I'm rather ditzy like that.

Mandy of the Amoeba -- I tend to prefer slash, but can't come up with a reason for it when asked. Oh my goodness! 10th Kingdom! I love 10th Kingdom! I taped it when it aired, but my tapes got destroyed by my cat, and now I can't find the full version anywhere.

DRUNKEN LANDLORD -- Oh my! Go me with the attaining of your love! SSHP is also one of my favorite HP pairings, though I never seem to be able to write it. Go figure. shrug

UnseenCharacters -- I do live for the unusual pairings. I tend to find them much more interesting than the usual ones, as most of those stories have already been told.

One last note before we continue with our story: I don't know what happens when a person is stabbed in the stomach. I know it has something to do with the acids and waste eating away and general unpleasantness, and I know that it's quite an ugly death, but I don't know whether the coughing up of blood occurs. So we're going to assume that it does, since at four AM, that's what I decided. And now, back to your regularly scheduled program.

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His sharp penetrating eyes miss nothing—he's renowned for it, actually. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, according to most—including himself, of course. So how he had missed Rugen's subtle change in demeanor while they were alone together remains quite a mystery to him.

He's not entirely sure of when his own attraction to the bewildering and bewitching Count began. He can remember being rather disgusted by the sixth finger at first—believing it to be a sure sign of witchcraft. Only after considerable time—and, quite possibly, a few visits to the Castle Counselor—did he begin to see the man behind the extra finger. Well, not so much "behind" as "attached to," actually. But see he did. And before he knew it, Humperdinck's grudging respect for the man's torture methods had changed into something of an obsession with the man himself.

When he had come up with the Start A War With Guilder Plan—as he had so…creatively, not to mention stealthily named it—there had been one aspect he hadn't shared with the Count. Humperdinck had hoped to make Rugen jealous. He could have found someone more well-liked by the people than that silly blonde girl was, certainly—someone about whose murder people might have been genuinely upset by. But Rugen wouldn't get jealous over someone nice—the very idea of it was preposterous! No, Humperdinck knew he had to play upon the Count's vanities and insecurities. After all, Rugen considered himself a fairly attractive man, excepting his right hand. So the Prince had found the prettiest girl he could—the prettiest girl with the daintiest, most normal right hand in all of Florin.

But did the oblivious man even care that his lord had found such a normal right hand to marry/kill? Of course not! He was far too busy messing with that damn Machine! Probably wouldn't care if the Apocalypse itself were upon them, the Prince mused, as long as he could help with the torture a bit before he was killed….Stupid Count.

And before Humperdinck knew it, the Start A War With Guilder Plan had been absolutely ruined. All because some old lover of Buttercup's didn't want to see her dead. Stupid pirate.

Finally, though, it seemed the Prince had a chance. The boy was dead, Buttercup soon would be, and Tyrone cared! Yes, at the moment, he was being a bit difficult—spouting nonsense about themselves as the villains—but he wouldn't be himself if he had just given in. No, he had to put up some show of resistance first, to make sure that Humperdinck's feelings were true. He'd see they were soon enough. And then they would have their own Happily Ever After to live. Because really, what kind of hero dresses in black and wears a mask?

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It takes them awhile before finding him tied to a chair in his own bedroom. He had waited a good five minutes after everyone had leapt out the window before starting to tell for help. What on earth is he employing these so-called guards for if they can't guard a huge building against just three men? Honestly, some people are just hopeless…

Humperdinck shakes his head in annoyed amusement as he strides through the hallways, rubbing his wrists where the rope had been pulled tight. He had been worried for a moment there that the farmboy would actually carry out his ominous sentence of "to the pain." But then, the pretty ones never are very good at going through with their more ugly threats. They prefer to make a man sweat and fear for his feet than to actually put the feet in any danger—far too messy, you know.

He's been wandering for ten minutes now, calling for Rugen, and he's beginning to find the whole situation rather bothersome. "Come now, Tyrone!" he yells, stepping over the bodies of several guards. "They're gone, you fool! It really has been an awful day, don't go making it worse with your ill-timed cowardice!" Still, no answer.

He sighs with no small amount of impatience, starting down a short, windy staircase leading into a small room. Suddenly, he catches a whiff of a very familiar scent—the tangy, pungent smell of blood. He sees a trail of the sticky red substance now cool on the hard stone floor, and he's almost afraid to look where it leads.

He takes a shaky breath—meant to steady him, but not doing much good—as he steps completely into the room. He knows what he's about to find, but this unwanted knowledge can't stifle the horrified gasp that escapes from the Prince's mouth. Rugen's corpse. His usually pristine clothes are bloodied, and his chest is rising and falling far too raggedly to be healthy. Except…corpses aren't supposed to breathe, right?

Humperdinck rushes over to his fallen friend, "Tyrone, I—you're not dead! What happened? It was that Spaniard, wasn't it? Well, we'll get him back, love, don't you worry. We'll start a war with Spain, though we really should finish the one with Guilder first, especially since it hasn't begun ye—"

"Stop talking, for once in your life," Rugen gasps out, "Can't you see that I'm dying?"

Humperdinck blinks, "No you're not."

"Yes, I am," the Count sighs, "I've been stabbed in the stomach, dear—and believe me, intestinal wounds tend to be fatal. Now listen, because I haven't much time left." He pauses for a long moment, breathing through gritted teeth as he tries to control the pain. "You have been the one person in my life who has ever wanted me to live, and you are the one person I have lived for. I won't waste time on anymore silly sentiments—just know that I care deeply for you and always have. Whether it's love or not, I can't judge, but if it's not, this is they closest I'll ever come to it."

"No, you—you can't die…you're not supposed to. I shall be very put out if you do, you know."

Rugen attempts to smile at the weak joke, but can't manage more than a slight baring of his teeth. "I know you will be. But it's like I told you before—this is exactly what's supposed to happen."

"It's not!" Humperdinck cries out, "There's supposed to be a Happily Ever After for us! Death isn't Happily Ever After!"

"It is," Rugen explains patiently, "because the heroes have been reunited, and some justice has been served unto the wicked."

"Justice!" Humperdinck sputters with tears in his eyes, "There is no justice in your death, Tyrone! And pirates aren't heroes! They rape, pillage, and kill! They're notorious for it! How does that make us the wicked?" He breaks off from his tirade as Rugen begins to cough up blood. "It isn't fair," he whispers.

"Not to us, anyway," Rugen says, baring his teeth again in a pseudo-smile. Humperdinck watches helplessly on as his Tyrone's breath gets shallower and he coughs up more blood. "Go on now," he manages to gasp out, "I don't want you to watch me die."

"I won't leave you, love, I can't." He lifts Rugen's head into his lap and smoothes his hair down gently, weeping silently.

The Count's last breath leaves him soon, but still Humperdinck sits there. Yellin finds him there the next morning.

"Your Highness?" he says approaching his two superiors with caution.

The Prince smiles—an empty haunted smile—his hands are smeared with Rugen's congealed blood. "The farmboy should've carried out his threat. It would surely be a happier existence than this."

----End----