Wow, this has been a long time coming. Basically thirteen months since I've been here and attempted to update/add anything... I'm sorry, to those who bothered to read and even subscribe to this. Thank you for doing so, as well. I'm making an effort to be more frequent now, as I've found my groove thing again. (: This is still Master Twii, apologies for the abrupt name change. But it's all shiny and new and ooohhh~

Anyway, I hope I can somehow redeem myself. This chapter is mediocre, but... hopefully it's a step in the right direction. En... joy?

When people thought of Bryan, the term 'chef' was never used in the same sentence, and with good reason. It was no secret that he had little to no culinary skills, something that both miffed and pleased him. It was good, because no one ever asked him to prepare meals or help around the kitchen, everyone preferring to keep him well away from the stove and the dangerous, sharp, cutlery. The last time he tried to help, he had nearly given Kai an interesting new haircut, and almost set Ian on fire.

From that day onwards, he was banished from stepping within three feet of the kitchen.

Fortunately, none of the other boys were here to witness him breach those boundaries. Granted if they were, Kai would probably faint with shock and the other boys would errupt into a fit of rauceous laughter at the sight of him weilding a kitchen utensil other than a fork or spoon.

The first droplets of rain fell from the overcast sky, landing silently on the small kitchen window, trickling paths down the sleek glass. Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning streaked the horizon, or what was visible of it. The sky itself was black; whether from the hue of the clouds or nightfall, it was hard to tell. It was probably a bit of both.

Bryan found it difficult to tear his eyes away, but he had a task to complete, so he reluctantly looked away and hobbled over to another cupboard. So far, the cupboards had proved to be depressingly barren. A couple tins of tomato paste, a can of corn and something so old the label had peeled away were all he had come across.

He came to a stop before one of the upper cupboards, careful not to apply any pressure on his right foot. He had accidentally knocked the steel kettle off the kitchen counter, and it rather inconveniently came crashing down on his foot. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been filled to the brim with water at the time.

Curling his hand around the small handle, he pulled it open slowly, cautiously, not exactly prepared for what might be lurking behind it. To his relief, there was nothing but a box of malicious crackers and a layer of dust that would put a library to shame.

"Hmmm…" Bryan murmured, reaching for the box. They had not yet expired, so they were legally edible. And, compared to everything else he had found, they were looking to be the most appetizing as well. "I bet his majesty would have a royal fit if this was all there was to eat…"

Grinning, he decided that was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He stopped inside the doorway, just in time to see something topple off the bed, landing with a loud thud. He had to blink twice before he realized exactly what had just happened. Snorting indignantly, he burst into a small fit of laughter.

"Oh, oh man…" Bryan struggled to get his laughter under control. "What were you trying to accomplish? A heroic escape?"

Clearly unhappy that someone had witnessed his ungraceful fall, Robert grumbled and looked away stubbornly, refusing to meet the eye of his captor. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the wall, as if it was somehow its fault.

"For your information, no, I was not. You've probably got the whole place sealed so my attempts would be pointless even if that was my intention," he muttered. "I just lost my balance."

"Lost your balance, now there's a good one," Bryan snickered, walking further into the room. "Looks like your highborn etiquette failed to assist you this time. You should take ballet classes; I bet that would fix your balance problem."

"When you're done being a comedian," Robert snapped, finally averting his gaze from the wall to look up at the slate haired blader. "Could you get over here and help me up?"

"Oh, so now you want my help?"

Bryan reached back towards the door, trying to locate the light switch. When he had, he flicked it absently. After a seconds pause, the artificial light flooded the room, the sheer brightness from the globe more than enough to burn his eyes, even if he had just ventured in from a well lit room. After his eyes adjusted, he walked around the bed, coming to a standstill before his victim.

"Here," He said, after a moment of pause. The noble made no move to indicate he had heard anything, continuing to stare hollowly at the floor. "Robert!"

This time the man in question looked up, their eyes connecting. Robert's face was expressionless, and his eyes belied little to no emotion. They were a nice shade of red though and, for a moment, Bryan had nearly been absorbed into the crimson hue. He shook his head clear, and gestured to his outstretched hand, urging the other to take it.

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Bryan murmured, when the nobleman made no move to accept his generous offer. "Okay, how about this. Don't take my hand and I'll drag you down to the basement. You might have a dungeon and fancy guillotines, but I have rats the size of a dinner plate dwelling down there," He paused, smirking at the horrid expression that appeared on Robert's face. "Would you rather take your chances with me, or the critters? I bet they're hungry, too…"

"I bet they are also a lot more tolerable." Robert muttered quietly, staring at the bedside table as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Shaking his head warily, Robert turned back to eye his outstretched hand and, with a resigned sigh, slipped his own hand into Bryan's. The Russian smile triumphantly, placing his free hand over Robert's to get a better a grip, and pulled him to his feet. The nobleman staggered to keep balance, causing Bryan to automatically place his hands on either of the other's shoulders, steadying him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Bryan smiled, a sickly sweet smile that instantly made Robert suspicious. "Now… sit."

And with a not-so-gentle push, the nobleman fell back against the bed with a loud 'oof!'. He turned his sharp-eyed glare on the Russian, who was laughing at him. Miffed at the thought the other had taken advantage of him, he looked around for a projectile, preferably something big, sharp and heavy, but with no luck. As a last resort, he reached for the pillow behind him, promptly tossing it across the room, hitting the snickering boy square in the face. It probably didn't hurt, but it certainly made Robert feel a lot better.

"Bastard…" Bryan muttered, scooping the pillow from the floor. He was about to throw it back, when a bright flash of lightning and a loud rumble of thunder caught his attention. Forgetting about the pillow and the outright war he was about to start, he walked over to the window to observe, admire, the spectacle outside.

The rain began to fall harder, spattering the window and blurring his view of the wonderful storm. No matter. He could still hear the joyous sound of thunder, could still feel the electric tension present in the air, could taste the fear on his tongue… Storms always had this effect on the slate haired Russian. They shocked and awed and amazed him.

"You really do find them beautiful, don't you?"

Temporarily forgetting he had a guest, he turned his head slightly, surprised to find the other man observing him. Shrugging, he reluctantly moved away from the window and back over beside the bed.

"You're sharp. Nothing gets past you."

"What do you see in them? Besides the obvious."

"Well… I could tell you," Bryan mused, seating himself on the bed. "But you probably wouldn't understand."

"That's a given. You're probably the most confusing person I know," Robert agreed, folding his arms. "And that's saying something, considering I've had the pleasure of knowing you for less than a day."

"You flatter me, your majesty," Bryan said dryly, narrowing his eyes, flicking a few annoying strands of hair from his eyes. "Remember; Dark, dank basement full of rats."

"Your threats don't scare me."

"Really? Huh, that's a first. They should," Bryan shook his head in mock astonishment. Then, leaning a little closer to the nobleman, he added lowly, "Haven't you heard the rumors? Apparently I take extreme joy in disemboweling and hanging innocent people by their toenails. I am the resident homicidal tyrant, so I have to keep up appearances.

Despite himself, Robert smiled. "I can't imagine how you keep up with their demands."

"Such is the life of an evil maniac," He sighed dramatically, shaking his head wistfully. "It can be trying at times, though. Do you know what it's like waking up knowing you're the most feared man in the entire country? I scare myself sometimes."

Thunder crackled noisily, a deafening, roaring noise that startled Robert visibly before he could reply. He drew his arms around himself, averting his eyes to the burgundy coloured covers, clearly unnerved. Bryan had watched him, at first confused, and then slowly, surely, realization dawned on him.

"You're afraid of thunder." It wasn't a question, more a simple statement, a well-known fact.

"No, I… That's absurd." The German scoffed.

His face was defiant, but the uneasiness, the fear, was evident in his eyes, something that Bryan easily recognized. He felt a slight trace of pity for his victim and his predicament, and so said the one thing that seemed logical at the time.

"Want to play Go Fish?"

Caught unawares by the question, Robert simply stared at him, dumbstruck.

"You know, the card game. Little thought, maximum fun. It's especially great when you're drunk," Bryan grinned, seemingly at a distant memory. Then he frowned, shock-horror replacing his glee. "Please tell me you know what Go Fish is?"

"No, Bryan, I have absolutely no idea what this foreign card game is. But please, don't keep me in the dark. What is this wondrous game you speak of?"

"Seriously? How in the world do you highborn keep yourselves amused…? On second thought, don't answer that. Okay, well…"

"Bryan, are you familiar with the word 'sarcasm'?"

"…Oh. Oh," Bryan stammered, amazed that even he didn't pick up on that. "Those aspirin tablets must have done a lot more than just relieve the pain. Are you feeling all right?"

"About as fine as a person can feel being kept under captivity while being watched like a hawk twenty-four seven."

"I'll just take that as a yes," Bryan shrugged, dismissing the impatience that had crept into the other's voice.

Leaning towards the bedside table, he pulled on the small wooden handle, opening the drawer. It took him a short while to locate what he was looking for, absently fishing it out of the drawer and then closing it, resuming his position on the bed. He tipped the small cardboard packaging upside down, a deck of cards falling out and landing gracefully in his hands, and began to shuffle the cards.

"I never said I wanted to play."

Bryan simply shrugged, not particularly caring if he wanted to play or not. He shuffled the cards around for a few more seconds, placing seven cards next to him, and seven more closer to Robert, situating the remainder of the deck between them. He scooped up the cards he laid out for himself, studying them with false interest.

Scowling at the cards, Robert eventually did the same. He figured it better to amuse the Russian and play one game with him, instead of risk having the slate haired man sit here all night just waiting for him to pick up the dastardly cards. It seemed like something Bryan would do.

"I knew you would see things my way," Bryan grinned victoriously. His grin soon faded, morphing into a look of utter concentration, his eyes dancing along the cards he held firmly in his hands. "Seven of hearts?"

Muttering something incoherent under his breath, Robert reluctantly removed the card in question from his hand, offering it to his opponent. "Sheer luck. Two of spades."

"No offense, your highness, but go fish." Bryan smiled gleefully, setting his newly rewarded seven of hearts beside the seven of diamonds.

Frustrated, the German tossed his cards onto the bed, stubbornly folding his arms. His glare shifted towards the window, just in time to catch a bolt of lightning raining down from the sky. Shuddering, he mentally prepared himself for the loud, ungodly sound that would inevitably follow. He forced himself to look elsewhere, anywhere, except at the glass window and his captor.

"I don't see the…" The thunder crackled, causing him to flinch. He quickly resumed so as not to raise suspicion. "… fun in all this. This game is pointless. There is nothing intelligent about it and what's worse, there's nothing in it for the winner."

Bryan nodded, acknowledging that Robert had a valid point. The game would be much more interesting if they were playing for stakes. The only problem was he didn't exactly have anything to bet. And the nobleman probably owned everything in the whole damned country, so…

"Aha!" Bryan hadn't realized he had exclaimed out loud until he was rewarded with a puzzled glance from the man opposite him. Clearing his throat, he elaborated his sudden burst of enthusiasm, "Fine then. Let's make a wager."

"And… what is it you wish to wager?"

"Russia."

"Uh…Forgive me if I'm wrong, which I'm sure I am not… But you do not actually own Russia."

"Mere detail," Bryan shrugged, pretending to examine his nails.

"Very well," Robert nodded after a time, deciding to humour the other boy. It was a just a little bit of harmless fun. "I accept your bet. I suppose I'll have to wager something as well… How about my most faithful and trusted servant?"

"A chamberlain, eh? All right, accepted," Bryan grinned. "I've always wanted my own personal servant. Do you think he'll be upset if I tell him I want a eunuch for the job?"

"I suggest you actually win first before you go around making appointments," Robert murmured, effectively hiding his amusement. For the second time since awaking in the forsaken room, he actually felt relaxed.

"Don't worry, my little lordling, I plan to," Bryan said, rather gallantly. Absently he tapped at the two cards situated on the bed. "And the last time I checked, I was already winning."

As the storm rumbled and raged in the background, the two of them became increasingly engrossed in the child-like card game. Neither of them were aware of how much time had passed, but it can't have been that long as the deck of cards slowly dwindled down to the last few, each of them having a substantial number of pairs. The winner was still unclear as both were evenly matched throughout the entirety of the game, however the victor would soon be determined.

Bryan smiled reufully to himself, half wishing the game could be extended. He hadn't expected much to come from the game, but he was genuinely amused by it. And if all went well and he played his next few turns right, he would have his own chamberlain by the end of the week. A bet was a bet, whether it was intended to be serious or not.

Robert was staring intently at the cards held loosely in his hands, as if calculating the ones he had left and comparing them to the ones left in the deck, and the ones that occupied Bryan's hands. It was a futile attempt, causing him to sigh. The Russian boy was still looking much too smug. "This isn't fair. You should let me win."

Bryan looked confused as he looked up from his own cards, eyeing him with suspicion. "And… why would I do that? I thought you were all about 'honor'." he ventured carefully, unsure of whether or not it was a trap. Then again, Robert was never one to play dirty. Ah, now there was a thought.

"I'd like to say because you're a good person, but that would be stretching it," for once the German said it with a faint trace of enjoyment rather than outright malevolence. "The playing grounds are clearly uneven. I'm drugged up on pain medication. Oh, and you hit me with a car. That should qualify for some sort of handicap."

"No, it just means I've got an unfair advantage," Bryan shrugged with indifference. "You really are a little drama queen. You're going to remind me of this every chance you get, aren't you?"

"Every second I'm held captive."

"Hah!" He laughed aloud, setting his cards onto the bed face-down. Folding his arms across his chest, Bryan leaned his back on the bed-post and considered Robert briefly. "You know… I'm not even sure I did hit you. There was no visible dents on the car, and you're obviously not as injured as you think you are… the details are sketchy, but the facts are there. You probably just fainted against the car as it came to a halt. Would account for a few things…"

"You decide to play detective now of all times?" Robert scoffed, dropping his own cards onto the burgundy covers. "Then explain…"

"Why you're in so much pain?" the other boy asked, smiling almost sheepishly. "Uh, yeah… that probably has something to do with the journey from the backseat to the bedroom."

Robert's eyes began to narrow, the crimson hue practically smouldering, demanding an explanation. Despite having been glared at the entire time, Bryan did not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of the piercing gaze. There were few things that intimidated him and one of those things should definitely not have been an uptight, sharp-eyed German blader. It irked him considerably.

"Hey, man, don't look at me," Bryan said defensively, scowling slightly. "It was my, er… friend… who decided to take it upon themself to move you… and then drop you… numerous times. Never was the strong type, or the reliable kind… but the point is, you're directing that death glare at the wrong person."

Why was he glaring, anyway? Robert had looked about ready to have a fit when he found out about the whole 'I-hit-you-with-a-car' incident which, in some cases, was understandable. The nobleman had pouted like a little girl and bitched an aweful lot, but not once did he appear grateful to still be breathing. His anger now was different. It was focused, much more potent, directed at a singular point.

The Russian must have missed this point, completely blindsighted by blazing eyes and the scrutinizing gaze that accompanied them. Bryan sat there, an air of calm around him, his exterior belying any emotion as he contemplated his unlikely companion's sudden shift in demeanor. The occasional crack of thunder was all that disrupted the silence, preventing the room from falling into a state of eerie calm. The storm was beginning to subside, however the lights began to flicker dangerously once more.

The drawn-out staring match came to an abrupt halt as Bryan pulled himself from the bed, forfeiting the challenge, a smile accompanying him as he made for the door. He paused inside the entrance, tilting his head to consider his bedridden guest for a moment. Robert's gaze appeared to be more suspicious than angry now, much to Bryan's relief. And so he grinned deviously, like he always did, and lifted a hand, pointing towards the bed.

"Game over."

Confused, Robert watched as Bryan pointed to where the game of cards had taken place. The remainder of the deck had mysteriously disappeared, as well as the cards Robert had been holding. Upon closer inspection, he found they were organized in pairs, located on his opponent's side. Bryan laughed cheerfully, almost mockingly, as Robert awarded him yet another scowl.

"You can rule Russia some other time."

Lightning split the sky in two once more and as Bryan made his exit, the lights flashed once, twice… and finally died.