Review! :D

The Austrian left the party content, and more than a little drunk. He couldn't wait to go up to Elizaveta's chambers and lie with his wife, proving their marriage. His mind full of lovely thoughts of her and him and them together all slurred together and he smiled. Soon, my love.

Even better, that annoying man Gilbert would know for sure that she was far out of his reach. He wasn't sure if the other was being sincere when he'd offered hsi congratulations, and had retaliated as he normally would. The thought of the pain in the other's red eyes during the ceremony almost made him laugh. Yes, he was twisted, but the albino just rubbed him the wrong way.

The hallway ahead was dark, but Roderich knew just beyond the patch of inky blackness lay Elizaveta's room.

The first the Austrian knew of his plight was the barely audible rush of displaced air in the dark hallway. He started to turn around, a weight threw him forwards, and then suddenly he was on his hands and knees, his glasses lost to the Stygian surroundings. He sucked in a breath as a hand encased in a smooth glove yanked his head backwards, baring his throat.

Using a well of strength he didn't know he had, Roderich threw off his assailant, backing into a wall and feeling the person give behind him with a soft oomph. Ignoring the fact that his vision was irrevocably blurred by both drink and lack of glasses, he sprinted for the patch of gold light that indicated the party. He would never lead any potential murderer to Elizaveta.

His legs straining, he pushed himself towards the doors. Why oh why did I choose the time the palace was the emptiest to go? Why didn't I walk with Lord and Lady Zwingli? Better to put up with Vash's disapproving looks than this...

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a black specter racing towards him, and he suddenly came to the realization that he wasn't going to make it. The light was too far away, he wasn't fast enough...

The shadow knocked into him, and the fist collided with his ribs, feeling like a sucker punch. For the second time, the Austrian was flattened to the ground. His ribs twanged in the rhythm of his racing heart, and he struggled feebly with the force that pinned his arms and legs to the cold black marble. Out of the corner of his eye, he could glimpse the gloves holding his arm down. Black, with a thin silver pattern in scratchy thread. They looked familiar, but his head was ringing too much to place them.

He was dimly aware of rope being tied around his arms, and he was hauled unsteadily to his feet, head hanging in defeat. Why would anyone kidnap me? he wondered. I'm not the richest, nor the one with the most influence in the court...Not once did the Austrian consider it was for personal reasons. The court of King Arthur didn't work that way.

He stumbled over his own feet as he was led down a dark hallway. Whenever he tried to turn around to see his kidnapper, he was shoved brutally forwards. His ribs were screaming in pain, and his head was throbbing right above his eyebrow. He felt weaker with each step. He was a sorry sight.

Finally, he was abandoned in the darkness. Someone lit a candle in front of him, and feeling no leading tug from the rope, he dared to look up, which took almost all his energy.

It was Gilbert, head inclined so the mask that he'd worn to the masquerade the other night shadowed those piercing red eyes. Roderich was shocked. "G-Gilbert? Why?" His voice was faint and had a strange, wheezing gurgle to it. He wondered if it had to do with his ribs.

Gilbert said nothing, just pointed at his ribs. Roderich slowly looked down, to where the the albino's gloved finger pointed, and was shocked to find a dark red stain blooming across his violet suit. There was a short silver knife buried up to the hilt in his chest. For a moment, he didn't comprehend the sight, but realization slowly dawned on him.The punch to the ribs...was not a punch after all.

"I see you've managed to impale yourself on my toothpick!" said Gilbert in a tone that reminded the Austrian of Lord Braginski, a man who was known for his terrifyingly cheerful manner. "It's a shame," continued the albino conversationally, "that you so brutally killed yourself on your wedding day. You must not have loved her very much after all..."

"Wha-I didn't-don't-"

Gilbert shook his head disapprovingly. "You were supposed to be the smart one, Roddy."

The violet-eyed man tensed at the mention of his hated childhood nickname. "What do you want?"

The albino continued as if he hadn't heard. " When the sun rises, your darling, precious wife will notice your absence from her chambers. She'll go a bit down the hallway to your room, and find the door locked. Then she will begin to worry."

"You want her. My Elizaveta." The Austrian was surprised at how calm his voice was.

"Once the door has been battered down, she'll rush in, looking for her husband. After a short search, you will be discovered bare-chested on your bed, the word 'NEVER' carved into your chest with my handy dandy toothpick, and that expensive emerald ring of yours will be lying on the shores of the lake, two floors down."

"Y-you can't do this to me! There will be an investigation! A-"

"No, there won't be," the albino retorted icily. "King Arthur does not have the men to spare for such a simple thing as a man hating the idea of being married to his wife."

With a cold shock, Roderich realized he was right. Nobody would suspect foul play. Nobody.

"Lastly, I'm going to have to kill you. You'd scream too much otherwise."

The Austrian began to protest, but Gilbert was quicker. He twisted the short knife in the other man's chest and then pulled it back, blood gushing from the wound. Careful not to stain his black jacket, he peeled the shirt and jacket and the stupid cravat off his enemy, who still sputtered weakly, with no energy to scream. He fished the cracked glasses from his pocket and placed them on the pale face.

"Careful now," cooed the albino. "You wouldn't want to make me err in my carving, would you?"