I should never be allowed to write fanfiction after two in the morning. Ever. :D feel free to shoot me, or throw bread crumbs, if you want. But please enjoy~

Simple, pure… undisturbed.

For the first time in as many nights as he could remember, Robert's sleep was not plagued by ghostly apparitions and haunting whispers. When he woke the next morning, it was to a clear head. The feeling was refreshing. The only thing that felt off was the stiffness in his neck. However, he was convinced the pillows were made of granite, so was unsurprised by this.

As he pushed the covers aside and pulled his legs over the edge, a yawn escaped him. The clock on the bedside dresser read just before noon. He really had been tired. He wouldn't be caught dead waking up at such an unearthly hour on a normal day.

Dragging himself from the comfort of the bed, he walked stiffly towards the bedroom door, making sure the lock was unlocked. The maid would no doubt come by for house keeping any minute now and he didn't want to be disturbed. His mind was refreshed, but he still felt… unclean. Nothing a hot shower wouldn't fix.

As he made for the bathroom, he paused just before entering, a troubling thought crossing his mind.

Does this place even have maid service?

It was nothing of particular importance. Yet he couldn't help but wonder that, if they couldn't afford to fix broken locks, they wouldn't have the income to hire maids. Shrugging to himself, he disappeared into the bathroom, making sure that this particular door locked in place.

It wasn't until some time later that he re-emerged, sporting cleaner and more suited attire. Steam escaped from the enclosed room, vanishing into the air upon entering the bedroom. Robert let the towel hang lazily atop his head, a half-hearted attempt at drying his hair. Inspecting the room more closely, he noticed that the sheets had been changed and the bed made. The curtains had also been drawn, allowing the stark white light to pour in.

The noble wasn't sure what surprised him more; the fact that this poor excuse for a hotel could employ maids, or that the weather was still a drab, bland canvas.

The latter had been a poor attempt at sarcasm, something he had picked up rather quickly whilst in the presence of a certain, silver-haired Russian. Robert smiled ruthlessly to himself. He hated that he had not gone a single waking moment without sparing Bryan a thought, whether it was in bitter taste or not.

He put it down to simple companionship, and even that was stretching it. For Robert, it wasn't everyday he spoke with someone who challenged him verbally, or used a condescending tone with him. Johnny didn't count. He spoke like he was king of the hill more often than not, and was more often than not ignored. He was non-threatening, a minor nuisance at best.

Used to all the 'milords' and 'my liege' the chamberlains and attendants always greeted him with, it was almost like a slap in the face to be treated with misconduct. Bryan had mocked him at every given opportunity, making fun of his status rather than acknowledging it. He had treated him like a low-life scoundrel, a commoner.

He had treated him like a person.

Holding the clothes that his captor may or may not have changed him into, he walked over to stand by the beside. He set the articles of clothing aside and, after a moment of nothing but blank thoughts, seated himself on the edge of the bed. Resting his elbow on his knee, his head falling into his palm, he stared lazily across the room.

The problem was still present, teetering on the brink of existence.

Even with a clear head, he was still nowhere near to finding a solution, or an artful way of slipping around it. Determination soon turned to exasperation, as it always did. His thoughts soon became another tangled mess, a head-ache surfacing among the chaos. Sighing dismally, he leaned back onto the freshly made bed, crimson eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Nothing. There was just… nothing. He was beginning to think that there really was no way around this, that all attempts at trying to re-write the pathetic fairy tale his life was turning into was pointless.

Darkness had slowly crept into the room, washing the walls with mischievous shadows. When Robert finally tore his eyes away from the roof, he was shocked at how much time had passed. According to the clock, it was just after six.

Shaking his head clear, Robert turned to the unshielded windows. Dark clouds were beginning to roll in off the horizon. Whether they would bring another torrential storm with them remained to be seen. Biting down on the inside of his lip, he shifted his attention back to the articles of clothing lying dejectedly on the bed.

Well, he began, trying to reason with himself. The cool, crisp air and exercise would certainly be beneficial.

Without a chance to reconsider, he retrieved the clothing and made for the door, pulling on his boots before slipping out. The desk clerk barely looked up from his newspaper as his guest exited the building through the large doors.

The air outside was, more or less, bitingly cold. Robert mentally hit himself for not grabbing a coat on the way out, but decided not to worry about it. If he turned around now, he would more than likely find cause to abandon this expedition. And, now that he had set out, he was determined to see this through to the bitter end.

The streets of the rural town had a particular eerieness about them. They were abandoned, empty, and deathly quiet. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath. The streetlights were only just beginning to flicker on, doing little in the way of providing a safe atmosphere. The town was just as lacking in lifeforms during the night as it was the day, something that did little dissuade the uneasiness that crept up on him.

For most of the journey, the only company Robert had was his own footsteps and shadow trailing behind, mingling with those on the sidewalk. As he was walking past a darkened alley wedged between two apartment buildings, the rattling of a trash can captured his attention. He paused mid-step, not exactly knowing what to expect.

Two beady eyes had peered back at him from the narrow passage, a glint of mischief lurking in them. Upon closer inspection (and after allowing his eyes to adjust) Robert noticed the floppy ears, the jutted chin and the small horn-like protrusions on its head… as if in confirmation, the creature-like thing let out a hoarse laugh. A laugh.

He stood there for all of about ten seconds before resuming pace. It was probably safer not to ask. Although he couldn't help but feel he really needed to get of this town. And fast.

The buildings that loomed on either side of the complex where Bryan had currently taken up residence towered like giants, casting darker shadows along the walls. Robert felt slightly uneased as he walked towards the front door, clothes hanging loosely in his arms.

It really shouldn't have, but the door had decided to swing open at that moment.

Robert ceased walking as mister smug extraordinaire emerged in the doorway. The front light flicked on, flooding a small portion of the area with a golden hue. In all fairness, Bryan had looked considerably surprised to see him. That look of surprise was soon placed with a deep scowl, however.

"Hey," he growled, voice colder than ice. "Get off my property or I will shoot you."

Robert should have expected the less than pleasant welcome. As a matter of fact, he did. An amused smile tweaked the corners of his mouth, something he was sure the other had noticed. Walking up to the front doorstep, he pushed the articles of clothing into Bryan's arms.

"Technically it's not your property if you don't pay for it," Robert replied, voice level. Upon turning around to leave, he mumbled an added, "… goodbye."

Nothing had been accomplished by returning here. Robert wasn't even sure why he returned, but now that it was effectively over with, there was nothing left to do but return to the hotel and mope around some more. He had taken three steps before Bryan had called out.

"Not a good idea to turn your back on me, you know," he said, a slight trace of annoyance present in his voice. "I didn't say I was finished with you."

Despite his better judgement, Robert had craned his neck around to stare at him. "Oh? And… what did you have in mind?"

The mischievous grin that spread across his face should have been enough to set alarm bells off. "You're coming with me."

He should have known better than to reply. Really, he should have. "And where are we going?"

With the ever-present grin, Bryan had pushed his hands into his grey-ish coat pockets and walked the short journey to Robert's side, leaving the front door wide open. "The wharf," was all Bryan had said, giving him a none-too-gentle push.

Crimson eyes narrowing, he took that as a signal to get moving. Without waiting for a second reminder, he pushed off, the silver-haired blader in tow. It should have been the other way around as Robert didn't have the slightest idea where the wharf was. He had not even been aware that a wharf existed in this desolate town.

"Don't stay out late, you two!" A voice had called out in a mocking sing-song manner. Turning his head again, Robert caught sight of reddish-coloured tendrils disappearing into the dismal home, the door snapping shut soon after. He frowned slighty.

"Was that…?"

A swift smack to the back of the head silenced him.

"Yeah, yeah, just shut up and keep walking. Eyes forward."

Glaring and not entirely sure he deserved that, Robert complied. The pair walked around aimlessly for awhile until Bryan deemed it time to take over the role of tracking dog, leading them towards this elusive 'wharf'. The silence that accompanied them was, quite simply, disheartening.

Robert relied on the sound of his captor's footsteps to lead him in the right direction, his focus and thoughts elsewhere at the time. What was he doing? Traipsing around after dark to lord-only-knows-where, when he should be back at the hotel doing… well, something other than what he currently was. And why did he, rather silently, agree to accompany the Russian anyway?

Ever since arriving in the forsaken town, his better judgement had gone straight down the drain.

"And here we are!"

Bryan's loud declaration snapped Robert back to reality. He had expected to see boats of large and small stature docked by the sea-side, rocking gently in the calm waves. He had expected the tangy taste of sea-salt to linger in the air. He had expected to feel the crisp, ocean breeze roll in from the sea.

Instead he was faced with the dark-paneled windows of… a pub?

"Please… tell me this is some kind of off-coloured joke…?"

The large wooden letters hanging above the bar's entrance and the look of supremacy on Bryan's face was enough of an answer. Instinctively, Robert's hand flew to his face, shielding his eyes in exasperation. He could feel the head-ache springing back to life every passing second.

"You don't expect me to actually go in there… do you?"

"Suit yourself," Bryan shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. "But if you don't get off the streets, and soon, rest assured the packrats will carry you off to their lair."

"You have such a colourful way of explaining things…" Robert grumbled, sighing depressingly. There really was no point arguing in the matter. Begrudgingly, Robert followed as Bryan pushed his way through the large wooden doors.

The atmosphere smelled distinctly of stale smoke. Whether it was an acquired scent or something the patrons brought with them was a mystery. For the most part, the customers were all jovial, boisterous, their laughter resonating throughout the room. It was a typical bar full of typical waitresses and typical drunks.

He had noticed the odd glare here and there that was being tossed their way, a wave of intimidation creeping up on him. The glint in their eyes weren't full of distaste, they were more… sinister. Robert tried his best to ignore them, opting to keeping his eyes forward.

Kuznetsov, however, had walked in practically gloating. Probably at all the unwanted attention they were receiving, Robert guessed. He had pulled up a stool at the bar, ushering for his accomplice to take the seat beside him.

"All right," Bryan began, turning his sharp-eyed stare on the bartender. "The usual."

"Sorry, Bryan," the bartender murmured, replacing a bottle of oddly coloured liquor back on the shelf. "We don't serve alcohol to minors. Show some identification."

This caused the silver-haired blader to abruptly burst into laughter, his head falling against the polished timber of the bar. Robert could only stare in a confused manner, unsure on what it was exactly that was so funny. From what he could tell, there was nothing comical about the situation.

"Ever the comedian, eh, Miles?" Bryan snickered, finally gathering his laughter under control. "That small, insignificant detail has never bothered you before. And since when have you ever declined a paying customer?"

"Oh, so you're actually paying this time?"

Robert watched the exchange with diminishing interest. It sounded like a conversation Bryan and Miles the bartender had had more than once. He instead shifted his attention to the variety of occupants that had gathered at The Wharf tonight.

"Special consequence…" he heard Bryan mutter. The clean-shaven bartender offered a reply, something Robert didn't quite catch. He was busy eyeing a particular pair of grunts in one of the corners of the bar, who would look in their direction every few seconds. The look on their faces wasn't one of… fondness.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Miles had asked, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

"My good pal here," Bryan began to elaborate, clamping a hand swiftly onto Robert's shoulder. The gesture was so sudden that Robert nearly fell off the bar stool. Annoyed, he turned his questioning glare on the pair. "It's his last shred of freedom. Surely you won't turn the poor fool away?"

Last shred of freedom? Wait… what?

The scowl on his face hardened. Bryan made a point of looking forward, innocently ignoring everything else around him. Somewhere among the glare and the increasing urge to throttle the Russian, he found a sense of reasoning. If the need to strangle something was still there, he would wait until after they left.

That was the logical thing to do.

For now, he would settle for burning holes in the polished surface of the bar. Still, he could not believe Bryan knew. He knew. The mere thought was almost insufferable.

"You never did strike me as one to run away."

Robert lifted his head, not entirely sure he heard right. Bryan had this arms folded across the bar in front of him, a thoughtful expression on his face. As two small glasses of bitter smelling liquid was placed in front of them (Miles must have caved), the noble soon found himself on the receiving end of Bryan's sharp-eyed stare.

"I never thought of myself as one to run away," Robert ventured carefully. Was this some form of trap? It had to be. "But surprises will be had."

"Mmm," the Russian murmured, raising the glass to his lips. "Our noble, gallant lord is really a spineless, common coward. Now there's a twist in the tale."

"Don't sit there and assume things," he couldn't keep the growl out of his voice, try as he might. Yet the other had no right to sit there and dictate things he knew nothing about.

"Assume what? That you're a selfish, good-for-nothing who's too afraid to live up to expectation, too afraid that no-one will catch him when he falls off his horse?"

Ouch. Hit the nail right on the head. Robert felt his anger diminish slightly.

"You know… You have more chance of coming out of a battle unscathed if you walk into the fray blindly, than if you stay behind frontlines trying to anticipate your enemies movements."

The way Bryan had said it, it almost sounded philosophical.

Yet it made absolutely no sense.

It certainly gave Robert something to think about, though.

He had descended into silence after Bryan had dropped that questionable pearl of wisdom, his mind traveling elsewhere. The Russian, too, seemed more pre-occupied with the contents of his glass.

The night dragged on as predicted. It got noisy, a few people grew aggravated and started to throw choice words across the room. The air was choked with a thin haze of smoke as it traveled to each corner of the room, letting no-one escape the hazardous smog. There was also a bitter smell lingering in the air.

When Bryan had accidentally slipped from his stool and landed gracelessly on the floor, that was about the time Miles decided it was time for them to leave. The bartender asked Robert politely if he could escort him home to make sure he didn't find trouble on the way, to which Robert agreed. He would take any excuse to leave dinghy abode.

Slipping the slightly inebriated Russian's arm around his neck for support, he spared a final glance towards his untouched glass of liquor, noticing as there were two empty glasses beside it.

Two. Kuznetsov certainly was an… interesting drunk.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be so bad!" He was exclaiming as they exited The Wharf. "Think about it, think about it… you could be king."

Something about the idea delighted the drunken blader as he tightened his grip around Robert's neck, poking him in the shoulder with his free hand.

"You could rule the world."

Robert grimaced. Bryan certainly didn't smell drunk, but he acted and sounded it. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the pub messing with his head? Either way, the Russian was more boisterous than was considered safe.

"What d'you say, huh? Let's team up and rule the world," a cheerful grin passed his face. "You already have three little subordinates. We can get Tala to do our taxes. Ruling the world is probably expensive… 'course, he's hopeless with numbers, but that's okay…"

Much to his relief, Robert felt the arm of steel around his neck loosen.

"And we'll have to invite Ian along too, because he can be such a bossy little thing…"

The sound of thunder rumbling in the distance broke the still, night air. The dark clouds had rolled in, covering the night sky and looking positively sinister. It looked like it was going to rain again, the air still noticeably cold.

"What makes you think I want to rule the world?" Robert sighed, keeping his eyes ahead. At least one of them had to look where they were going to save walking into a wall. They must have already looked ridiculous enough.

"Because…" the silver-haired blader had begun.

Without even realizing it, Robert found himself suddenly pressed against the nearby wall, his wrists clamped between two strong hands. The noble was too stunned to move, to react. Bryan had leaned in close, much too close, a sly smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

The glint in his eyes was intense, unwavering… paralyzing. Robert found himself helpless under the hawk-like eyes.

As if he wasn't already close enough, the Russian had moved inches forward. Robert could feel his breath on his lips, taste the bitter tang of alcohol. Bryan was obviously gaining some sort of sick pleasure as the nobleman froze under his hold. Smug, arrogant, so self-assured...

His mouth curling into a sly grin, Bryan breathed, lightly,

"You might just enjoy it."

And he released his grip.

Pulling back a few feet, Bryan let out a mirthful laugh, digging his hands into his coat pockets. He spared the noble a fleeting glance before deciding to venture off on his own, clearly pleased with himself. There was an air about him, as if he had just... won.

Robert's legs betrayed him, turning to butter as he sank involuntarily against the wall. His mind became a frazzled mess, an unknown sensation leaving him nauseous. All he could see was the intense, piercing eyes, sharper than daggers. All he could smell was the aweful sting of alcohol as it burned his senses. All he could feel was the warm, breathy whisper against his mouth...

And suddenly, it wasn't so cold anymore.