The room was stifling when he woke up. He had kicked the blankets off sometime during his slumber, but still he felt the sweat trickle down his face. The fire was built up too high. Alexander always had an unreasonable fear that he would catch chill in the middle of the night and insisted on piling on as much wood as was on hand in the damn thing. Daniel had hated the climate of Algeria and didn't understand why the baron wanted to replicate it in his bed chamber. He tried to get out of bed but was held fast by a pair of arms. That's right. He had asked Alexander to hold him, he remembered with a blush, and the old man had obediently done so through the night.

He went about the delicate task of untangling their limbs not wanting to stir the baron from his much needed slumber. He really didn't sleep as much as he should, even though he claimed otherwise. Daniel felt a stab of shame. Most times the reason Alexander didn't sleep was his fault. Finally free, he slipped out of bed and walked as quiet as he could to the wash basin. He splashed water on his face, relishing the coolness of it on his heated skin. A change of clothes was also wanted. The nightshirt he was wearing was sticking to him most unpleasantly.

Opening and rummaging through the wardrobe ran the risk of awakening Alexander, who would insist that Daniel lay back down with him a few more hours until dawn broke. Daniel didn't want that. He felt restless. He was always restless of late. A walk would do him some good, expend the excess of energy that had his heart racing and his mind swirling. He remembered he had spare clothes in the rooms he had first been assigned when he came to Brennenberg. He would go there first then. Funny that he couldn't remember when he had begun to move his meager belongings into Alexander's rooms. They just seemed to have gradually migrated over. Maybe the servants had brought them in after they were washed? But at whose behest? Not his, for sure, so the baron's then. Again he was struck with the oddness of it, but pushed it away. He had had his fill of oddities of late.

A dressing gown was not readily at hand, so he would have to suffer the cold of the halls the short distance to his old rooms. His rooms. Still his rooms surely, though truthfully he had not set foot in them for over a week. The fire was still smoldering in the main chamber of Alexander's rooms. Daniel fetched the lantern and lit it by sticking a straw upon the coals until it caught light. He watched the flame devour the reed, throwing it into the fire when it had almost reached his fingers. Why was he here again? What was he doing out of bed? Oh, that was right. Changing his clothes. Going for a walk. So forgetful lately, Danny, he chided himself, rising, lantern in hand.

His rooms felt strange when he returned to them. They had an air of disuse and abandonment about them, as if they should have been covered with dust and cobwebs. They were impeccably clean still though, the bed even made up with fresh linen. Daniel wondered if the servants knew he slept in their lord's chamber each night. He wondered if they snickered about it in the pantries and the laundry rooms, as they polished the silverware for the evening meal. He was surprised to find that he didn't care. He found solace in Alexander. The man eased him more than anyone he had ever encountered. Not all the idle gossip and slander in the world would make him cast that aside.

But that wasn't right. He cocked his head to the side, staring out at the woods. There had been someone else that had help him when he had wept, had comforted him in the night. Who? Herbert? No, the man had been as a rock to him, but there had been secrets he would have never dreamed to tell his old mentor. Secrets that he easily whispered to Alexander in the night, when the other's eyes were heavy lidded, and his aged hand was running through Daniel's hair. Not Herbert. Definitely not his father. He shuddered at a memory of pain, belt slapping down on his already too abused back, soft and gentle voice pleading for his forgiveness, who damn it?

The image of a young girl filled his mind. Large brown eyes made all the larger through fear, scraggly hair framing her too pale face, too thin to be pretty, too thin to be healthy. He couldn't place her, but his heart stuttered painfully in his chest. The girl in the dungeon had had the same look about her, fearful and timid. But she had been hale and Daniel felt himself growing irritable over it. How dare she? How dare she be healthy and robust when dear, sweet Hazel had wasted away…

That was it, Hazel! It had been Hazel who would take his head and rest it in her little lap when he was too exhausted after the beatings to move from the floor. It had been his dear sister that had dabbed his fevered forehead with water when he was ill and who had listened to the stories he had spun with wide-eyed enthrallment, knowing that the telling of them was also for his calming as well as hers.

Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, how could he have forgotten his Hazel. Dead now. Dead and gone and forgotten by all but him. Almost by him as well. "What has come over me?" He whispered hiding his face in his hands.

He felt sick. The room was starting to spin around him and the shadows seemed to be lengthening, reaching out clawed hands to seize him. Whimpering he flung himself against the window. Alexander, he needed…But Alexander was asleep and could not sense his alarm. His breath was a tangle in his chest. The wards must be weakening. A ritual was called for. But the deeper parts of the keep had been forbidden to him. He was no longer allowed to enter them without the baron by his side.

He drew in a breath, counted to five, released it, drew in another, counted… Alexander hadn't remembered to forbid the prisons. Not expressly. He had only scolded Daniel for wandering off alone, no mention that he couldn't go there again. And they weren't empty. Yes, the brothers and older sisters may have their new and last homes beyond Daniel's reach, but there were still two souls for him to play with this night. He smiled, relieved.

They hadn't had the perfect family. Madam Zimmermann knew full well that her Mister Zimmermann had only married her because he had had to or else face the wrath of her father and her three brutes of brothers. Sometimes in his cups he'd rail at her for it, how she had entrapped him, seduced him from his one true love. In her younger days it had hurt, but with age she would only roll her eyes and splash water on him if she felt his shouts would rouse the children. Besides, the fights, the arguments and the regrets came less and less frequently these days. With each child he had seemed to grow more content with his lot, more accepting. "It is the ways of men", her mother had told her after she was married and after her first fight with her husband, "to always regret and bemoan the paths not taken."

"And what are we to do about it, Mother?" She had asked, tears in her eyes. She had fully expected a wise saying about love and forgiveness, maybe a quote from the Bible. But her mother's eyes had twinkled, "Take a broom to their damned arses!"

Good advice it had been too, and one she fully intended to hand down to her girls when they came of age. If they came of age. She looked down at little Sascha sleeping in her arms. Her youngest. Her only child now, perhaps. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she rubbed at them angrily. Tears didn't help, tears never helped. Thinking was called for. A miracle… Her eyes fell on the floor, on a small gap between the stones that was showing a chink of light. Thank you my lord of lords.

"Sascha, wake up. You need to help your mother." She had known the moment she had stepped foot in Brennenberg that she was doomed, but she would be damned if she could not spare at least one of her children a similar fate.

Daniel was humming as he walked down the prison halls. He was terrified of the dark and trying not to remember his previous trip down into their depths. He half hoped that the song he hummed, one he had heard Alexander often sing to himself when he thought no one was about, would work as a charm to drive off the demons, those real and those only in his mind. The tools of their particular trade were further underground in the very bowels of Brennenberg and due to his promise to the baron he could not go and retrieve them. He had stopped off in the kitchens and selected some implements that he had thought would do in a pinch. They weren't as sharp as the ones that were beyond hi s reach now, but they should be fine. Hadn't Alexander told him that the more pain, the more fear inspired, the purer and more potent the vitae?

Rounding a bend he saw the only door with a glow of lamplight outlining it. The Frau Zimmermann and Fraulien Sascha were still awake then. Good. He would lure the madam away with a promise of seeing her remaining children deeper in the castle. Hopefully she would come eagerly, leaving her youngest behind. Daniel would take her into another of the cells and start his cathartic work, making sure that he was still within earshot so the young girl could hear her mother's cries and the vitae would be made all the sweeter.

Then, when the mother had breathed her last he would…He would…kill…. He covered his mouth and hunched over, feeling as if he would be sick. She was scarce into her eighth year of life. He couldn't…How could he have contemplated her death by his hand and been perversely looking forward to it? What kind of monster had he turned into, twisted by his fear and his sense of self preservation? He ran shaking hands through his hair.

No, he wasn't a monster yet. Not quite. He could still do the right thing. For Hazel, in her name, he could still do what was right, even if it cost him his life in the end. Even if it cost Alexander his? That thought gave him pause. The baron was an innocent in all this. He had only sullied his hands for the sake of Daniel. He didn't deserve to die for Daniel's moment of weakness. The mother would have to die, but mayhap not the child. He could spare her. Such a small, insignificant spark of life. Surely whatever vitae she held wouldn't be enough to tip the scales in or out of favor of their salvation. She could be let go and live and have the horror that Brennenberg had become fade from her mind like a nightmare upon waking. How Daniel wished he could do the same.

As he drew closer he heard voices speaking. The girl was pleading with her mother and her mother was answering in short, terse sentences. There was a strange overlap in his head, he knew now that the words were in German, but it was almost as if someone were translating it all into English and speaking over them. What they were saying finally penetrated his bemusement. He ran the remainder of the distance, his hand frantically searching in his pocket for the key. He opened the door in time to see little Sascha's scared face and then she was gone, slipped through a small hole in the floor.

Madam Zimmermann straightened up from her crouch and turned to face him. There was no fear in her expression, only a grim sort of satisfaction. She had won a small skirmish and knew it full well. "She will escape this place. She will leave these cursed lands and fetch the outrider and you and your mad lord will burn for what you have done to my family."

Daniel stared at the hole for a moment, stooped down to study it. Too small for him to fit through. He tried to remember the layout of the floor below them.

"Did you hear me you bastard Englishman? You will burn. I hope they torture you before they do it. In my grandfather's days they used to cut out the tongues of those who murdered for sport before hanging them."

"We drew and quartered them in the lands I come from." He muttered. His eyes fell on a steel bar. The woman must have ripped it from the lone bed in the cell, must have used it to pry loose the crumbling stones. His hand closed around it. "You won't leave here alive." His voice was soft as he stood up and faced her.

She held her head up high. "I know. It does not matter."

"Brennenberg isn't the place for a young girl to wander alone."

"Better to face the horrors of a haunted castle then to receive your attentions." Such a smug look in her peasant eyes, such a horrible horrible self-satisfied air. Insufferable. She had won nothing. He lashed out with the bar. Her head struck the corner of bed when she fell. He knew she was dead and regretted it had been so clean. He poked her with the bar and when she didn't stir, he threw it down.

The girl. The outrider. If she left the castle, if she fetched aid…He thought of Alexander. No, he couldn't have the baron die for his sins. He ran out of the room, schooled his features into an expression of concern. "Sascha, where have you gone? The castle isn't safe at night! Don't you know that there are monsters lurking in the shadows here?" And the very worst wore his face.

She had been a cunning prey, slipping from shadow to shadow, winding her way through the castle with an uncanny knack. But all chases must find their ends eventually. He finally cornered her in the storage room following a passage he hadn't known existed and bypassing the need for the elevator.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, little Sascha. You can't hide from me. I can hear you breathing." He turned and tore down a tarp that had been covering some barrels. She squeaked, dashed away. Daniel followed, not rushing. The little fool was running towards a dead end.

"Sascha, Sascha, Sascha." He sang her name.

"Leave me alone!"

"I can't do that, Sascha. You could get hurt here, wandering by yourself. Come here, let me take you to your mother."

"You won't! You'll kill me. You're mad."

"I may be little Sascha, but I'm afraid your time for games is at an end."

She gave a little scream when she rounded the corner and saw the wall barring her way. She beat at it with her small fists, whirled and pressing her back against it when she heard the crunch of Daniel's footsteps.

She bared her teeth at him as if she were an animal when he came closer. He only laughed. "Don't fear. You will be joining your mum soon."

"She's dead isn't she? You killed her."

"I did."

No tears filled her eyes, instead she looked at him with a too wise resignation. "You will go to hell. You will go to hell and you will burn."

"Maybe, but that will be in a long, long time. Time to rest, little Sascha." She attempted to dart around him, but his hand caught the back of her skirt. It ripped and she fell to the ground. Scrabbling at the stones, she tried to gain her feet, but Daniel placed a boot on her back pressing her down. She gasped. He could kill her like this. Crush her with his weight, crush all the breath out of her and not have to lift a finger. "No!" He threw himself off of her, tripping over his own feet and crashing down beside her.

She was crying now. He could hear the slight sobs, her thin shoulders were shaking. Hazel. Hazel had cried like that when she thought no one was looking. And no one had ever noticed. Save for him. "I'm sorry." He whispered, crawling over to the fallen girl. "I'm so so sorry."

She screamed and kicked out at him, foot slamming into face. He fell back, stunned, brought a hand up to cup his nose. "Stay away from me! Murderer!"

"Please, please! Just listen to me. I'm sorry, so terribly sorry!"

"I don't believe you!"

"I will let you go. I will let you leave, but not now. Let me take you somewhere, let us bide our time and when Alexander, the baron, when he says the Shadow is gone, I will-"

She snarled at him, attempted to rise again. Daniel sprang on her, forcing her back to the floor. She bit his hand. He slapped her. Finally she lay still, stunned.

"Please trust me. I know I am a little…scattered at the moment, but I assure you I won't hurt you. Not now. I had a sister you see. A little sister. She looked a little like you. I forget her now and then, but I remember now." He leaned over her, his long brown hair touching her cheeks. "Trust me."

"I will escape. I will find Gabriel and he will parade your head around on a pike. He'll take your damned lord and cut out his heart-"

Daniel seized her by her shoulders and shook her. Her head struck the floor with a resounding crack. "I hate you." She spat at him.

He blinked down at her, spittle running down his face. "Hazel, don't say such things."

"I hate you I hate you I hate you."

He slammed her down again. Again, again, again. Soon she wasn't moving. When he gingerly put a hand behind her head to help her sit up, it came away wet and red.

"Daniel?"

"Here." Alexander rounded the corner, out of breath. He stumbled to a halt at the scene that lay before him.

"What have you done?" He sounded more exasperated than alarmed.

Daniel was sitting on the floor cradling the too still body of a young girl. Blood was smeared across his face and he had a bruise forming across his nose and cheek.

"Are you unhurt?" Alexander crouched down and lifted a strand of Daniel's hair, tucked it behind his ear. "Put that down. The servants will take care of it."

"She got loose. She escaped. She was going for the outrider."

"Well she isn't going anywhere now. Come away."

Daniel pulled away from Alexander's touch, revolted. "Does this not bother you? I am drenched in the blood of a child!"

"As I have been as well. It is an unpleasant thing that cannot be avoided sometimes. No, no, don't cry." Alexander took Daniel into his arms and pulled his shuddering body close. "I can't abide your tears."

"I broke her. I smashed her little head against the stones and then she wasn't moving anymore."

"I know. Hush. It's all over. I think laudanum is called for tonight, though I know we really shouldn't. Come with me now."

Daniel shook his head, trying to dispel the baron's attempts to sooth. "You don't care. I killed a child and all you care about is getting me back to your rooms so we can…" He shook his head again, raised a hand to his temple.

"What's the matter? Did you strike your head? Let me see." Alexander ran his fingers through Daniel's hair, feeling the scalp for bumps or lacerations.

"It's as if I can hear you…" Daniel looked up at him, eyes wide.

Alexander frowned, resisted the urge to shift his weight in unease. "What is it? Why do you stare at me so?"

"It's a mask. Your…" He reached out a trembling hand, fingertips brushed Alexander's cheek, before he jerked them back. "My god, what are you?" He whispered.

"My…" Alexander touched the cheek Daniel had touched in alarm. Had the glamour failed? No, it still held. Then that must mean… "You can see me."

Daniel whimpered.

A slow smile stretched Alexander's lips. "At last. At long last. The rituals are complete." He leaned forward, Daniel too struck by terror to move away. "We can go home." He whispered against those long desired lips. Their first kiss was as sweet as he had dreamed it.

I hope Daniel and Alexander getting psychically linked isn't too much of a stretch. I thought of it as a way to explain how game!Daniel can see and "remember" past events that happened centuries before he was born. ie The wine cellar and Alexander cutting up the doggies. If Alexander and he were linked somehow it would make sense that he'd get the occasional flash from the baron. It would also explain how he "overhears" Alexander bossing the servants around when he's wandering around in the prisons. As always, thanks for the encouragement! Feel free to critique and comment!