Angelina staggered up the steps to the guest room that she was staying in, wondering why the steps were so steep. She'd kicked off her shoes about 12 steps ago, abandoning them to whatever fate the Stair Gods saw fit, and was trying to make it up to the top without spilling her carafe.

She'd gone back to the bar maid for two more refills after her initial carafe, earning looks of ever-increasing quiet awe from the young girl... upon her last visit to the booth the girl's eyes shone with genuine admiration. "When you first approached, I was a little concerned as you must be a Lady of the high courts and our wine is potent, but I see now that the Ladies of the court of Bamint are made of sterner stuff than I could have ever imagined! You could out drink even a Gremenian dock-worker. I must tell father when I return! His famous mulled wine is well appreciated here!" The girl curtseyed after topping off her final jug and waved as Angelia had walked away. Angelina waved back...

Back in the present, Angelina lurched, stumbling on the hem of her increasingly frustrating holiday gown. She steadied herself against the cool stone wall. A few steps further and she saw light. Yay! The hallway, no more stairs. She walked towards her room with a little more spring in her step... She was looking forward to wrestling free of this dress and a nice, long hot bath.

Suddenly something caught her attention. A door closed at the end of the hall and a small furry creature walked out carrying a tray. As it walked past it wished her a good evening and she was able to see the contents of the tray. Bloody bandages, and an empty wine glass. That room must be Fen's. As the creature passed down the steps and out of sight, Angelina made up her mind to pay ol' Fen a visit. Emboldened by her wine, and overall indignation she marched up to his door and pounded on it with her fist three times.

"What is it, Ruu? I said I'm fine, I don't need anything else. I'll see you in the morning." Fen's muffled voice came from within.

Oh. Yep…He's in there. She clutched her half-full jug like a protective amulet and considered turning back remembering his icy glare. Then she remembered his cruel little smile at her discomfort when they danced...

She pounded again.

Fen said nothing this time but she heard him approach the door. It swung open. His hair was mussed, and he seemed to only be wearing an oversized white tunic that hung off one shoulder revealing some angry looking stitches over an area of flesh covered by large ugly purple-black bruise that was yellowed at the edges. His leg was swollen and purpled around the edges of the wide linen wraps, even the fresh bandages were staining pink through the gauze. Breathing hard, he leaned on his cane. As soon as he realized who it was his eyes widened, then just as quickly, narrowed to slits.

"What do YOU want." He said flatly, raking a hand through his hair. Angelina tried hard Not to notice that said little gesture raised the hem of his tunic dangerously high. Christ, she thought, why didn't they seem to believe in underwear in this world?... guess he really wasn't expecting company. Or maybe he was? Well, either way, Too Bad!

"I uh.." She shook herself and reset her gaze upon his face. She cleared her throat. "I want to talk to you." She said, straightening her back. She swayed a little in doing so. Her bravado not immune to the taxing effort of standing tall while shithoused. She struggled to not let it show.

He brought his hand down from his mussed blonde hair to cover half his face in a mask of aggravation. He looked her over, catching her slight swaying, and drunken flush, then his eyes moved to the carafe of wine in her hand. Fen smirked... He stepped back and gestured into the vast room. "Fine." He said, allowing her in. Fen's guest room in Bamint's castle was huge and ornate decorated with the colors of the kingdom. The colors of flame. Red tapestries embroidered in gold and silver showed various Bamintian royal victories over monsters, demons and beasts of all sorts. His massive velvet canopied bed was rumpled and tossed, with a great many crimson pillows cast to the floor (presumably to make room for him to sleep, Bamint was (in?)famous for their love and subsequent overindulgence in decorative pillows. Angelina had experienced this first hand in her own room). She guessed that was where he had been just prior to her visit. She almost felt bad…

Almost.

He hobbled over to the cheery fireplace, and settled onto the plush velvet couch crossing his bare feet upon the adjacent table, with his injured leg resting carfully on top. seemingly either unaware or uncaring of his semi-decent state. His tunic hitched higher as he slouched, affording Angelina an unimpeded view of his long, well-muscled leg as well as the network of scars upon them. He pointed at the carafe with his cane: "but you're sharing That."

Angelina grudgingly poured him a glass, and then sat it in front of him. She sat herself on the far edge of the plush couch, and watching Fen, put her feet up too, crossing them at the ankles. He grinned at this, and slouched, wriggling lower into his seat, seeming intent on "out casual-ing" her in this odd moment. His shirt hitched higher. At this rate his whole bare ass must be seated on the couch... She tried not to think about it and was just thankful that it was a large billowy garment that kept his front measured-ly "modest". He downed his glass in a single gulp and then using the hook of his cane snagged the handle of the jug and brought it to his free hand. He began to sip from it directly.

"Hey!" Angelina complained, "You said Share!"

He gave her a once over, lips still smugly on the rim of the jug. "You look like you've had quite enough already." He said muffled into the jug, and for emphasis took a long swig.

That's IT, she thought wrenching the bottle free from his hands. And taking it back for herself. She took a hearty draught herself before sitting on the couch entirely too close to Fen so hard that it jostled him upright, making him drop his cane as he grabbed the armrest to steady himself. Sober, she'd probably have been appalled at this, but just now? She wasn't. Fen seemed to bring out her less…delicate side. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then handed the jug back to him looking meaningfully into his eyes "we SHARE." She said sternly.

He took the jug slowly, watching her face, mouth hanging open in disbelief, and then a sound that she had not expected erupted from his chest.

Fen laughed. Deep, and real he laughed, his shoulder hitching, he steadied himself... He shook his head, as he dabbed a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "very well then..." He took a pull and handed it back to her with a wide grin. His eyes crinkled with amusement. "So, what did you want to 'talk' about? Hmm?" He rested his cheek on his hand against the armrest and regarded the woman on his couch. No malice, just curiosity, and the rosy flush of booze. The fire light danced in his eyes.

"Why did you save me in the woods?" She passed him back the bottle, and he sipped, returning it in turn.

"Because you were helpless." He said mater-of-factly.

"What?" She sipped and passed the bottle.

"When I caught you, I tied you up. You could neither fight nor escape. When the goblins arrived, I fought them off because they would have killed you."

"But if I'm some monstrous villain they why not just let them kill me?"

He took a long drink before answering, "Because then I wouldn't know."

"Know what"

"Whatever it is that You know," he said almost lazily. "a dead spy is a useless spy." He waved his hand at her vaguely. "A living spy might still serve some purpose."

"I keep telling you, I'm not a spy…" She shook her head, sipping from the bottle when it was passed to her. "I don't know where you get your information."

He looked at her for the briefest of moments. "I've spent many years fighting demons, did you know? Half of my life in fact. You pick a few things up when you spend enough time in their proximity..." His eyes spoke of something more, something still unsaid.

"Like what?" She passed him back the bottle, but rather than take it out right he used it to close the distance between them, his face mere inches from hers. He seemed to stare into her soul. Angelina gasped as he scented along her throat skimming her skin with the tip of his nose. She could smell ozone and sunshine in his hair, and felt the faint scratch of stubble from his cheek. She was entirely too aware that his shirt gaped open at this angle revealing not only an unnerving close up of his ugly still-raw wounds, but a surprisingly well-defined chest beneath them with a light dusting of blonde hair, and the perturbingly tan expanse of the rest of his body beyond it. She tried hard no to look down. She shivered as he brought his face back up to hers.

"I can smell them." He said quietly, his eyes bright and fierce. "I smelled it in the woods so I took you captive as a precaution. When we were brought to Bamint after the goblin attack, I considered perhaps that I may be wrong… That you'd merely had a run-in with one in the woods and its scent lingered on you, and that you really were just some stupid girl, but after our dance tonight I was certain… You really should have escaped when you had the chance, because now that I know it?" He leaned easily back into his seat; eyes still locked on hers "I won't be dropping my guard anymore…" He drank deeply from the jug, finishing it and set it softly on the table. His face was flushed a deep rosy pink, and he seemed to struggle to steady himself upright again. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes humming something haunting and sad softly to himself.

Angelia was stunned. "There must be some mistake."

"MMMmm, no mistake" Fen sang to himself, eyes still closed. "it is faint, but it is very much there, with every beat of your wretched heart…it is there." He opened his eyes and regarded her.

"Why let me in tonight, then? If you think I'm so dangerous? Why talk to me at all?"

"Because I like to keep my enemies close" He lifted his head, opening one eye. He smirked lazily, He lowered his voice to an almost conspiratorial tone "and I can never say no to a woman in a red dress." He closed his eyes again, his words beginning to slur "It's my favorite color, you know. And it is rather quite fetching on You..." He yawned, and stretched returning his legs to the table. "So, tell me demoness, which House do you hail from?"

"I'm not a demon..." She said somewhere between a plea and a snarl.

"Hmm…" He leaned back again closing his eyes, "We shall see... now then, do you plan to kill me in my sleep, Hmm? While I am drunk and injured and without a weapon? I cannot guarantee you will succeed..." he chuckled softly. "but you will never have a better chance…"

"Of course not!" Angelina exclaimed, sitting up straight, her face getting hot with anger.

"Then," He yawned, stretching and taking up more of the couch, forcing Angelia to scootch away, "please show yourself out. I am in too much pain to manage the door, and am no longer in a mood to entertain guests... You understand." And with that, the infuriating, enigmatic man seemed to drift off to sleep.

Angelina shook her head. She dragged a quilted blanket from his bed to the couch and sort of half draped it over the softly snoring Fen. She lingered over him for just a moment. He looked peaceful as he slept, innocent almost. Vulnerable. His words echoed in her head. She sighed heavily, walked to the door and stepped outside. Once it was closed, she groaned and leaned against it. She closed her eyes, rubbing her face hard, ruining her once perfect make-up, what time was it even? She decided she would have that bath now, and then sleep for the next decade. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Ganan walking towards his room. Oh-no…

He grinned at her as he passed Fen's door on the way to his own room, stopping silently to hand her the shoes she'd left on the stairs, giving her a little wink. Then he went on his way. She knew Exactly what he was thinking… and she wanted to just die right then. She scurried off to her room and slammed the door, wrestling free of her fancy dress, and setting the bath's faucet as hot as it would go.