Author's note: Thank you all for still following the story; I would have thought that you would have forgotten me during the long months I went on hiatus. I am so glad that you still find my writing adequate. Thank you, Ale-chan and Aynslesa for your continued support, and the anonymous guest who cheered me on. I told you I would not abandon this story before its completion :D. This chapter took a little longer for me to write, but I hope it can live up to your expectations. I know I suck at timing and plots, but I want to make this good for all of us. Please do forgive me if it takes a little more time to write (which applies to the following chapters as well). Enjoy the chapter.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chapter 12: Bonkers

'Explain.' Manigoldo's voice was cold, yet the obvious restraint betrayed the anger lying underneath his calm façade. His jaw set and moved, mimicking the twitching of his hands. He stood leaning against the ruined door, a dark expression upon his face. The perpetual mischievous grin was missing, and the rare serious air about him lent an even eerier feeling of terror to the tense silence between them.

'Yes, of course.' In contrast, Kardia was quiet as resignation shone in his eyes. The whole time they were staring at each other, there was something resembling despair about the man in the way he rested his elbows on his knees and the way he slumped forward. And then, in what sounded almost like a sigh, 'Will you at least do me a favour, then?'

'It depends on what you ask. I am not in fact the idiot you may think me, brother.' The cold in his voice persisted even as his eye ticked in a sign of alarm before his brother's strange behaviour. His hands clenched and unclenched unbeknownst even to himself.

'Of course, of course.' It was no more than a whisper that hung delicately onto nothing. The man paused, his eyes no longer on the person before him but glazed over, as though he was staring into something so far away he had forgotten it, lost in a sea of memories, or delusions, or perhaps, wishes. He sat as a statue, letting waves upon lapping waves of moonlight wash over him, gilding his head in silver that shone a soft blue, and for a brief moment, it was beautiful, the man, the room, and the snow.

The man at the door, too, stood as though time had stopped for him. With what seemed like infinite patience, he looked on with detachment and concern all at once. What went through his head, no one knew. He stood for what seemed like hours, with all his signs of unrest gone, vanished like a thin wisp of smoke in the air. Almost without blinking, his eyes trained upon his brother with a keenness resembling shards of broken glass reflecting the light, waiting and waiting like he already knew everything that was about to unfurl and as if it was not he who was seeking answers.

At long last, when the moonlight started to wane, giving way to darkness once more as the North wind roared, Kardia made to move. He seemed almost startled, and when he raised his head, there was a bewildered look in his eyes, as though he was confused upon waking from a long dream. His gaze once again fell upon the man at the door; it focused before a sense of wonderment entered, Kardia humming softly to himself distractedly.

'Where would you like me to start? The brawl? Dégel? Or my plan for the future?' A wry smile stole its way across his countenance, 'But let us start from the beginning; perhaps then it will make more sense to you. Once upon an afternoon, there was a beautiful, beautiful man. Every day, like clockwork, he came to sit at the café across from our flower stand. What possessed him to do as he did I have no idea, but it was so soft, so sad, so pure and so beautiful, that I couldn't resist myself. God knows I tried, but all he did was sit there and my resolve throughout the years crumbled like a castle built upon sand. We talked, we wooed, and we fell in love. Perhaps you are disgusted at the very idea of this folly; well, perhaps I too would have been so had it not happened to me myself. Alas, what is done is done; the command of Fate is absolute – what use is it for us mortals to resist? But I digress. You see, the Leblanc Barony has two sons, Dégel Leblanc, the eldest, and Unity Leblanc, the younger. From what I know it is a close family, especially between the brothers, and the younger is fiercely protective of the elder; that is to say, I made an enemy of myself when associating with Dégel. M. Unity Leblanc is a man of superior intellect, of that I must admit, so our heated exchanges invariably took place without Dégel's knowledge. This state of conflict at last culminated in the incident yesterday; this much he admitted to me this very morning. I was drinking at the bar when a bastard that had a goat for a mother poured bourbon on my head. Naturally we took it outside to settle, when the other rascals appeared from their ambush. As to the rest, I am certain you have known already; you were there after all.'

'That was Unity Leblanc's attempt at murdering you? Is that why you refused to let me inform the police? To preserve the dignity of your lover's family?' Manigoldo appeared to be greatly enraged by the story, 'Well, if that's how it is, I shall challenge him to a duel, the rat! And you, Monsieur, you will cut all ties with the nobles if you know what is good for you!'

There was an odd silence in which they stared at each other, Manigoldo with venom in his gaze whereas Kardia's was still as the water. Perhaps too still for one such as he was. Finally, in a voice much like the calm before the storm, he spoke:

'Pray think before speaking, you fool. Dégel is nothing like his brother. What care do I have for that villain? Will I ever join the barony? Nay, what I am afraid of is not the jealous brother who could but plot and plot more for the rest of his life. Imagine, if you can, how you will live if the world about you suddenly is robbed of colour and sound, and your chest of your very heart. That should provide an accurate enough estimation of how I will live were I to cut all ties with the nobles, as you have so kindly suggested. I know the experience first-hand, those long years spent with dead men who knew nothing but the faith, and I should say that I don't care to repeat it again.' There was a defiant gleam in his eyes, accompanied by a mirthless smirk, 'As to the duel, "the rat" beat you to it, dear brother. He is to have satisfaction from me on the morning of Christmas Eve.'

Manigoldo seemed stunned by the words, before his eyes narrowed into almost malignant slits. Outside, the wind continued its cacophony, and at some point, dark clouds parted for but a brief instant, revealing the jewel-like moon. There was a long shadow casted upon the ground, which grew ever longer into the poignant mist that seemed to have snaked around them in loving embrace. Then, as swiftly as it appeared, moonlight receded again, and the shadow slinked into endless darkness, leaving only a man leaning against a ruined door with a devastated expression upon his countenance.

'And you are determined to give him it, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'All this without M.Dégel Leblanc's knowledge.'

'Yes.'

The man seemed to stagger from his stand. He lifted a hand to cover his face, and peals of dark chuckles rang like bells. 'I see what you mean by Unity Leblanc's being of superior intellect.' He stopped abruptly, and all went still, before he sprang like a striking cobra and a fist crashed into Kardia's face.

The man reeled back on the bed, before he kicked out of reflex, which was blocked easily with practised grace. He sat up, spit blood onto the floor with spite, and half-heartedly swat at his assailant as if he was swatting at an irritating, insignificant bug.

The grin Manigoldo fashioned was pure malice. He growled low in his throat like a feral animal, and with feline grace, went to sit at the foot of the bed before kicking his legs out and onto the chair nearby.

'You are suffering. Desperate, I'd say.'

'And what put the idea into your head, pray tell?' The flat reply hardly stirred the man. If anything, his grin widened until it showed his fang-like canines. Slowly, with deliberate taunt in too-obviously veiled sarcasm, the man revealed his morbid fascination with and talent for sadism, even, or perhaps especially, when it was someone dear at the receiving end.

'You take me for the fool, dear Kardia, and have been doing it ever since we first met. So tell me, who is it that understands you, your grim thoughts hidden deep behind your façade of a common buffoon, and your obstinacy, which rivals that of a charging bull? Pray do not pretend naivety. When do you ever explain yourself to any of us? Do you explain yourself to him, your beloved? I wager you do not. It has always been he who was doing the wooing, is it not? I saw it in his little speech the other day, that you wounded him with withheld reasons.' His tone was casual, but the man's eyes flashed in satisfaction at the nearly unnoticeable flinch that escaped Kardia. 'Why do you explain all this to me, pray tell? Here, let me tell you what I think. You are desperate. You never break a word but for that miserable pull of instinct to confide and obtain help. You are going to let that insufferable scoundrel kill you in the duel because you cannot bear killing someone loved by M. Dégel; that, or be despised by him as you fear. You poor wretch; yes, you are, do not look at me like I am spouting nonsense – you know I speak but the truth. You have thought about this long and hard, have you not? Selfish bastard that you are, I wager you are enlightening me only because you have a favour to ask. Well, speak; have I spoken the truth? What is it that you would have me do?'

There was a pregnant pause during which Kardia simply stared at the other man like an estranged animal. He appeared ready to pounce from the coil in his posture, but after a minute that felt like an eternity, he only wound tighter into himself by pulling a knee to his chest. There was something incredibly dark about him as his murderous intent matched that of Manigoldo. A strand of hair fell from its perch on his shoulder, and he latched onto it, pulling, threading his fingers through it, and then pulling it again. There was great agitation in the gesture, as though he did not know how to broach the subject, and very probably he did not, but even then his face remained impassive but for the hatred burning within his eyes.

'You infuriate me to no end; that's what you do best.' In a tone flatter than when he started, Kardia ground out at last, 'But yes, it was the truth you spoke, one that I never dreamt of discovering or having articulated so well myself. And yes, I need a favour from you, as I have said.' The man faltered, and pulled on his hair some more, before resolutely pushing the stray lock back as his eyes hardened. 'I need you to check in on Dégel and see whether he is well. His outbreak this afternoon greatly alarmed me, yet he would not tell me anything – he acted as though he was fine and it was I who had lost my mind; as you can guess he has never raised his voice before that. I recall he has been tired since this morning, and I suspect this has affected his lucidity. He was behaving… rather peculiarly this evening, to put it politely; it was as though he was entering hysteric fits.'

'You mean he is going mental.' The sneer was downright vicious, and the man laughed at his own words as though they were a great joke appreciated only by him. 'Isn't this capital, the eldest Leblanc in a stroke-induced coma, the middle deranged, and the last a villain? I pray to the Lord that they be struck from this damnable world.'

He laughed some more like a madman – he laughed so hard that there were tears gathering at the corner at his eyes and that at length his laughter turned into something that eerily resembled a beast's howling to the lone moon.

'And what does that make you, I wonder. You resign to be killed by Unity Leblanc and yet you ask me to care for his brother, for whom you shall give your life, knowing all the while that I resent him. You are a cretin, that's what, a wretched fool who is beyond salvation.'

The statement was spoken in jest at first, but the man's voice dropped as he went on, until it was little more than a bizarrely sad sigh at the end. The suddenness of it all made the situation almost surreal, but bathed in flickering candlelight, the man gave the most genuine impression of weariness. It was in the way the lines of his face abruptly drooped into soundless mourning, accentuated by unprecedented sincerity from someone who was stronger than most, and the way his shoulder shook in the tiniest of trembles. His piercing gaze, too, for a moment lost its fierceness as his eyes misted over in a sheen so fine it almost went unnoticed; to all the world the man was shaken, miserable and lost. But as abruptly as it happened, the emotions vanished into the night, killed by a violent full-body shudder. Coldness returned, and once again the man's gaze became unreadable. He drew himself up, and staring straight back at the unwavering Kardia, curled his upper lip into a snarl.

'And I suppose murdering Unity Leblanc before the battle would pit your lover against you, for you shall never hide the truth from him?'

'Indeed, and I'd rather die than hurt him by having me or you kill his brother.'

'Wretched fool, that's what you are. Think you Montague and the noble Capulet!' Spat Manigoldo in cold fury. 'But very well, I shall see to it that Dégel Leblanc is in good health, and if you do die, that he shall not attempt to follow.'

Kardia appeared taken aback at the acquiescence; it was as if he never expected to have his request accepted in the first place. Something akin to suspicion passed within his eyes, but the instant was gone before either could realise it for what it was. He stared at his brother some more in wonderment, inclining his head like he was straining to hear voices no one else could. Outside, the wind had ceased its rampage; the sky opened up and snow the size of fists was pouring down in silent weeping. Not a sound was to be heard, but it was all exceedingly beautiful. Kardia broke the stare to observe the snow, his eyes unseeing and his gait betraying deep thought. Manigoldo, too, turned to watch the spectacular show mother nature deemed fit to bestow upon deserving mortals. The night lit up a pale shade that somehow recalled Kardia's very image of his lover – there was something incredibly pure and sorrowful about the whole thing that one could not resist but to look on in awe and adoration. They gazed on and on, each lost in his own labyrinth of thought, mindless of the cold caressing their chilled skin. Yonder, nigh wistfully, the snow continued its quiet waltz, mindless of the turbulence disturbing the mortal world. And so it went on, and on, till the first sliver of light kissed away darkness at daybreak.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The next few days flew by in a blur. Dégel sat before his desk and wrote letter upon letter to be delivered. There were people scurrying about the house like ants moving at work; at times there were hushed whisperings; at other there were shouting and the sounds of furniture breaking.

'He's rumoured to be out of town! Some say he's even abroad!'

'I absolutely will not come at your beck and call, you arrogant noble! What, am I your lapdog now?!'

'Young master, if you don't rest then your health will be affected. Pray, do think of the master as well and how much he will worry for your sake.'

'A change in management of the company is most difficult to carry out, yet I shall endeavour it at your request.'

Fragments of conversations and gossip took free flight and buzzed like a hummingbird, but the house shuddered with an anxiety that almost made it alive. Everyone was moving about, and the house itself was rumbling. Yet, before his desk, only the young master sat still, a cloud of terribly dark thoughts circling him like an impregnable cage. His countenance was calm, unmoved like that of a statue; there was something almost serene about his expression that resembled that of a saint, or perhaps an angel, but that seemed to make no sense because in the shadow that whirled about him it made him that much more inhuman in his awful beauty. From dusk to dawn, and dawn to dusk again, the man remained nailed to his seat, hardly taking food and without a wink of sleep for some endless stretch of time.

'Young master, the master's conditions are stable, but he is not waking up.'

'You have acquired two-thirds of the requested enterprises; more than this it is impossible to accomplish.'

'I told you I'm not going to tell you anything till the time is right, idiot! You are going to ruin it all, my effort, and yours, and everyone else's! What part of 'be patient' do you find so difficult to comprehend?!'

'We still could not trace his current whereabouts, young master; it is as if he has disappeared from this world. However, since all of his properties have been locked in, he should not have much by way of present cash.'

Everything seemed to blend into a great mess of nothing, because events happened and time whizzed by without anything making the littlest morsel of sense. There were too loud noises, and lapses of time when he could remember nothing, and everything was blurry and moving too fast in disembodied blobs of colours, dull and too bright all at once. Dégel felt nauseous. He felt like a spirit rejected from its body, floating about observing events from afar, while managing to stay both detached and anxious to the point it hurt. There was a pounding on the side of his skull; sometimes it moved to behind his eyes, but most of the time it was as though there was a chisel chipping away his brain from the inside.

'Your property in York has been prepared, young master. The master is fit for travelling at a slow pace in a well-cushioned carriage. Arrangements have been made for your trip.'

Dégel felt faint. There had been a fever wracking his body ever since that night, which he ignored with an ease he himself found appalling. However, after only one day, the matter had made itself an annoyance that could no longer be turned away from, because he was sweating profusely; the handkerchief he used to wipe his forehead was soaked with sweat. Even more bothersome than that was the fact that for the duration of his work at the desk, Dégel had been suffering from bouts of hot and cold alternatively. He shivered from the cold such that the maid had to fetch him a blanket, which he shrugged off but a moment later when the heat started to torment him again. At times, his mind played tricks on him, and he imagined he heard Kardia's voice drifting back and forth, before a deafening silence blanketed him from head to toe. There would be tingling sensations running along his arms and his legs as well, as though there were thousands of insects trying to dig their way into his skin, yet when he lifted his sleeve, all that greeted his eyes were blue veins crisscrossing translucent skin like a spider web holding him together. At last, when his consciousness was reduced to little more than a vague light bobbing in the middle of nowhere, Dégel fell from his seat. He tried to draw himself upright, yet somehow his arms refused to move. His body was heavy as lead, as were his eyelids. 'Just a little more, please God just a little more,' he begged, but then even his voice failed him. He tried to cling onto rational thoughts like a drowning man to a lifebuoy, but his hands grasped at nothingness, and he fell.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dégel was floating in and out of consciousness. There were disembodied noises and images that he could not identify, for they were moving too quickly; it was as though his own time had slowed compared to the rest of the world, and it left him feeling oddly left out. In his delirious state, he still had enough presence of mind to jest silently at the absurdity of the whole situation; how or why it was absurd, he had absolutely no idea, but only that nothing made sense anymore, at least not to him. He vaguely recalled how the light hurt his eyes like someone was trying to gouge them out with a dull spoon, before darkness soon closed in and he was trapped in his own sleep. Did he sleep? Dégel was uncertain; time was a relative concept after all – if it all meant but an instant to him, while on the outside it had been days, well, what of it? It could have stretched for a minute and an eternity at once, for that was how he felt. Perhaps at some point he had smiled a drunken smile at whoever it was that was hovering above his head – the 'whoever' could be an angel or a devil for all he cared, for he cared not who it was, nor did he have the strength to mind anything besides the constant pounding within his brain – and if the smile reflected how far gone he was from the world, well, that was fine too, because he fancied any second now someone would come to take him away from all the madness and everything that was wrong on Earth. Darkness was a regular companion, one that was sweet yet bitter, and even if he could not taste it, the incessant prickling behind his eyelids would be evidence enough of its love for him. Sometimes, he was aware of a pungent stench of what they called perfumed candles; it drove him sick. Dégel wanted to come to a place where there was nothing bothering him or his senses anymore. In all likelihood he may have transported himself there already, because eventually there were trees and the green soothed him like water down a parched throat. Spots of light were dancing something merry on the forest floor, so he followed them, slowly at first, before running to catch a whiff of that joy. When he looked up, through the thick canopy peeked out the sky, and it was so very blue, it was as though he was drowning in them. Dégel flew through the forest; there were songs of birds and insects accompanying him, and everything was behind a veil that would not lift, but all was fine because it smelled like fresh flowers, like sunlight on a white pavement, like a cup of warm coffee, like musk, like fire, like rain, and somehow, like a bright smile on a honeyed afternoon. It was getting brighter, yet it had already stopped hurting when he was unaware. So Dégel made to move towards the light, and as he opened his eyes wide to look, he was happy.

That was how he remained when he woke at long last. It was night already, and though blurry, his eyes could make out the swaying candlelight. Dégel blinked once, twice, before his vision cleared. He was in his room, tucked to the chin in his blankets. He could feel a cool breeze caressing his face, despite the fire burning high in the fireplace. His mind was still foggy with confusion, yet his senses were quick, and with sharp realisation he noticed the still figure sitting at the open window.

'You are awake.' It was a statement. The man turned around, and under the silver moonlight he looked as unreal as the vision Dégel just had of the forest, yet he knew that what was before him was everything that had ever been real in his life. He smiled contentedly.

'You are here.'

'Indeed. I was worried.' The man inclined his head, before moving away from the window. He glided across the room as silently as a feline, before stopping beside the bed. 'You had brain fever, my dear Dégel, and you have been unconscious for a whole day. It is most probable that you have not completely recovered from it.'

'I understand.' Dégel did not understand, for the words flew right by his head, yet he had neither the strength nor will to care, because Kardia was in his room, and his world accordingly narrowed down to that one man standing before him like a god in the Greek myths. He lifted a hand to touch him, wondering whether he was indeed still dreaming, but his fingers felt coarse fabric that chaffed against his skin, and the scent of summer that he had dreamt of carried over, and there was warmth lingering at the tips of his fingers, and so Dégel knew that his reality was contained in that man. It was a sort of awkward moment between them, for neither said a word. For Dégel, it was more out of terror that should he remove his hand his reality would shatter into a nightmare he was unwilling to go back to, but Kardia did not need to know that, so he casually hid his fright away from his expression. His hand was on Kardia's, now, and there was a steady thumping of his pulse. Dégel wanted to comment on how safe it felt to just hear Kardia's heartbeat, but he thought better of it and kept his mouth close, because what could reasonably be said between them, now, after all that had transpired? He could recall very little of the night he had left Kardia in a hurry, or everything that he had done the following days. It was as though all that suffering had been a lifetime ago, and if he could continue to be happy like this, here, now, with his hand on Kardia's, then he was willing to forget it all. Dégel thought a little more, his eyes never leaving those of his lover, and eventually he wanted to laugh. He would have been an imbecile to forget what had been attempted on Kardia, and from whom it came. In the end, it was almost exhilarating how tragic it all was, and since he could not cry, Dégel could but find it sickeningly hilarious.

'Pray, look not at me like that; I am here; I am real. You are not hallucinating.' With a flick of his wrist, Kardia's impossibly big hand had wrapped around his withdrawing fingers. The heat radiating from his skin threatened to burn Dégel into a crisp, because how could the human warmth be so scorching? Dégel trembled at the suddenness of it all.

'And yet I fear it so. I have failed to distinguish reality from a fragment of fiction my mind concocted in the throes of despair and anguish before; see, my dreams were truer than truth, and I fear that I am dreaming still.' He attempted to draw up a corner of his mouth, but his facial muscles refused to move, and in the end he guessed his cold mask had become him even when all he wanted was to smile. Yet it mattered not now, for he was warm again, and what could matter more than the fire that blazed through all the haze caging his thoughts. 'I was half afraid of the prospect of waking up, were this a dream, for this now, what we have, what we are, where we are, is my reality, and everything else a dreaded nightmare. I don't want to return to that nightmare; I detest it there. Yet at the same time, were this a dream, I would have to wake myself up – otherwise I'd have to stay awake now that I'm no longer dreaming. I have plans, Kardia, and when they are carried out, all will be well again, I promise.'

Dégel carefully observed Kardia's deliberate lack of reaction, because there was none discernible from his countenance. The man merely paused, tightened his grip on his fingers, and then slid onto the bed in a fluid movement as if he had had a lifetime to acquaint himself with Dégel's delirious rambling. Perhaps he, too, was going mad. Dégel was uncertain, for Kardia's eyes were still shining with that quiet wisdom that was too close to insanity for his comfort, and which bore into Dégel as though the man already knew what it was he was plotting. Perhaps he did.

'And, pray tell, what are these plans?' The neutral tone in which it was phrased made it more of a statement than a question, maybe a warning against follies he knew Dégel would throw himself headlong into for his sake.

'We elope. I keep my family, and we bring my father with us; that way, no one can talk.'

'And what of my family? The old man, Manigoldo, my sister?'

'That is why I shall disclose no detail to you. I will kidnap you from them if I have to, because you probably will refuse me this request. Or, I could steal them away with us, too, if you do not wish to part from them; I know you love your family, and I will not deny you this. I will make sure Unity neither has the physical nor financial ability to hurt any of us anymore. England is the sleeping hermit of Europe; we shall be left to our own devices there.'

'You are insane.' The utterance was soft, gentle, and certain, it was like a doctor's diagnosis for a bona fide idiot. The man lifted a hand to hold his face, and Dégel leaned into the sure touch like an addict. 'Bonkers.'

'I am.' He confirmed with the peace that had been absent for so long he had nearly forgotten what it was like. 'I am insane, and psychotic, wicked, even. Yet if that is the price to pay for your being here with me, I would have gladly paid it all over again. You know it.'

'But I am not glad, Dégel. What is with this sentimentality? It is as though you have been possessed.' The hand on his face tightened just that bit, but Dégel did not mind it now. It did not even hurt. He would have even been willing to get hurt if it meant that Kardia would be brought to his side by either love or charity; it made no difference to him, for he was going to bind Kardia to him for life notwithstanding what anyone might think. It was selfish, but the very notion of selfishness had abandoned Dégel some time ago, which could very well have been another lifetime, along with what was left of faith or hope. Dégel wanted to fall.

'Then I am possessed.'

The nonchalance with which he had replied almost frightened Dégel himself. He felt removed from and indifferent to his very own being, yet it made him oddly happy at the same time. Perhaps there was a sense of well-being that had been missing ever since Unity had taken it upon himself to act, and now that he had clawed it back, the morbid manner in which he appreciated it no longer bothered him. He had his great fall, and his desire satisfied. The silence between them was a matter of course, Dégel mused, for Kardia had no way to comprehend his thoughts or his plans. He knew that the man would not, he who was naively straightforward and good-willed to the point of self-deprecation. Nor did Dégel need him to understand; so long as Kardia was willing to trust him, Dégel would stand against the world for them both.

The silence lasted just a little longer, before eventually splintering away with a weary sigh. Kardia dropped himself against the headboard with as much grace as a defeated soldier even as his eyes remained unwavering, and Dégel realised it should have unsettled him, yet it did not. Later on, when he would return to ponder the issue in great distress, he still could not fathom why he had allowed the strange signs to evade him. He would berate himself over and over again for not taking account of enough contingencies, but it would have been too late then, and he would have regretted it, blaming it on the remnants of the brain fever that had ailed him. Now, though, Dégel managed to retain his blissful oblivion without so much as a hitch, and it was thus that he was even happier as Kardia scooted up to sit alongside him, their legs touching and their shoulders pressing together. It was perfect, truly, or if it were not, then still he would not change a thing for the world, because Kardia was right there, and everything was bound to be right and beautiful.

'You are not going to tell me when you shall kidnap me.'

'No, for you would have avoided me.'

'Is it tomorrow? Or the day after, or the day after that?'

'Perhaps, perhaps not.' A lopsided smile not unlike that which Kardia usually fashioned crept upon his lips, and Dégel felt triumphant, like he had conquered the greatest hero there ever was and more. Playfully, he turned to plant a feather-light kiss upon his lover's jaw, before leaning in deeper for a kiss on the lips. It was languorous, and slow, and chaste, as though he had all the time in the world to himself. Dégel liked it, how he could taste the sun and bask in its warmth while locking everything else away. The simple gesture made him happier than all the kings in the world; there was a certain light-headedness that kept invading his mind, blurring away his vision until all that he could sense was the man underneath him. It was a study in love. Dégel rolled the words on the tip of his tongue without giving them voice, and purred like a cat in contentment no man had contained.

'Are you seducing me?' Dégel heard the smile rather than saw it in Kardia's tone and immediately knew that he had won the battle. There was a hand holding the back of his head in place, kneading through his hair and pressing against spots that used to hurt so much it sent him into unconsciousness; now, though, Kardia's fingers were lulling him into a satisfaction that seeped into his bones, rendering him mellow and pliant under his touch. If only there were a dish of cream, Dégel thought bemusedly. Maybe he truly had been a cat some time in his previous life, or lives. But somehow his thoughts were deserting him. He was overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion, and as he slid bonelessly back to his lover's side, head on his shoulder, all he wanted to do was sleep. It was all so abrupt that he should have realised there was something wrong. There were many things that he should have realised that night, Dégel later thought, but since he did not, could not do the impossible, he regretted it dearly. Right then, though, callused fingers were still massaging his scalp, trailing ever so slowly downward towards the nape of his neck where fine hairs were raising in anticipation despite himself, and Dégel was just too tired. He blinked a few times, but Kardia was still smiling, something akin to pain flitting across his gaze, and then there was the scent of that one forest bathed in sunlight again, one that used to drown him in a sea of bliss. No, I do not want to go back to that nightmare, he screamed through the haze that his mind had been put through again, yet that touch on his head remained so good, the pressure just so right, that his whole body rebelled against him. Warmth blanketed him as Kardia rolled onto his side so that his other hand could pull Dégel against himself. Yes, it was so very good, Dégel's heart spoke for him, and for once his mind agreed. The last fragment of his consciousness that told him anywhere without Kardia was a nightmare was finally snuffed out when a tender kiss was laid upon his temple. Then there was a clamp on the back of his neck, and it stung for the briefest of moments, before everything shut away into darkness once more.

It was Kardia's victory.