Author's Note:

I'm so sorry for the wait, but I have returned! This chapter is a little shorter, but will hopefully satisfy those who actually like this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, begin!

Vendolius Abbatia, 1776, "The snow is stained with blood…"

I felt content having just sliced the throat of a renegade servant in King George's house, and then dumping the bloody corpse far from the palace so that his highness may never know of her betrayal. It was quite rare that one of us would ever need to sneak into the home of our King to complete a mission, though there were times when traitors did linger in the halls – caught by Vendeuil eyes when least expected. Another rarity was that my cloak and greaves were white to blend in with the last of winter's leavings. Snow still remained fairly heavy on the ground, and in the trees, although small blossoms managed to peak through here and there. The softer side of me loved to stop and gaze at the in wonder until my daemon forced me onward to my next victim.

It was presently the middle of Mârtius, and although I felt a bead of sweat graze my cheek underneath the wool of my cloak, I refused to remove it. It was easier to wear than to drag by hand through the snow and weeds that had managed to sprout past the walls of their icy prison. I sighed in relief and slight exhaustion as I saw Onyx approach, the coat for which she was named loudly contrasting against the winter wonderland around her. She approached me steadily and I leaned onto her for support, stroking her muzzle affectionately as her own breath showed in short white puffs.

"Quam pulchra es," I soothed her, reaching over to hook my bow to her saddle, then returning to her muzzle again. Onyx was a good companion. I dared say she was the best of our horses, always loyal and there when I needed her. I had purchased her from a village market when she was only a colt, and from there we had a special bond that no other assassin had with their steed. It was a good purchase, to say the least. "Yes, you are quite beautiful and graceful as well." She nudged at my shoulder and puffed again. I laughed and took that as a sign of impatience. "I suppose we must be heading back, mustn't we?" I mounted her and gently kicked at her sides before she took off at a fierce gallop down the snowy slopes. She received no direction from me as we left the maze of the forest, and though it didn't capture my attention like it would have had I been on foot, I distinctly remember a black wolf revealing itself as Onyx continued on, and it looked familiar. Lupe was definitely blessing me.

Vendolius Abbatia come into view only moments later, the towers glazed in snow like a fresh-baked pastry. Tall and proud, I smiled at the sight of my home and marveled at how we had managed to pull together as fierce assassins through the tragedies that had struck only months prior. We had lost our prisoner, a Rouen, and many valuable assassins whom we had found dead in various halls and rooms. The main murder weapon had been a blade, though there were two men out front who had been knocked off via bullet. I had known then that Alfred was responsible, if only partly responsible. I didn't understand why I had longed for confirmation, as Alfred was a Rouen assassin and my enemy. He had been there that night, the night I was partly drunk and unable to defend myself. It was a night that would settle infamously in my blackened heart for all eternity, for more reasons than one. I was ashamed that I had been too far in stupor to properly defend my clan. However, I was also mystified that I had no real desire to fight the moment Alfred had entered the picture.

His eyes – they pissed me off. Damn them for being so blue and gorgeous, burning into my soul like azure fire. They blazed in a way that Toris' eyes did not, and possessed a similar amount of warmth to Kiku's. His hesitation to kill me…confused me, really. It didn't necessarily piss me off – it confused me. No, what pissed me off was that I had gone down. The fact that he had refused to end my humiliation when he had the upper-hand sent me through so many mental debates on why he had acted so foolishly. I told myself that if we met again, and we would, he would not do the same twice. He would kill me like he was supposed to, or I would kill him. I promised myself that I would show no weakness and end the job. I would send an arrow to pierce an eye and leave him partly blinded, and then I would take out the other eye. He would crawl around in desperation and I would cackle in triumph and entertainment before sending one last arrow to pierce his heart. That is how it would happen.

I scared myself when I realized I wasn't so sure. I didn't think I could destroy orbs such as his. Honestly, there were times when I would accidentally fall too deep into my thoughts and briefly consider the possibility that I wouldn't be able to end him at all. He spared my life, wasn't it only fair to spare his? But then again, he was a member of the Rotomagense. Why was I so worked up over this bloody assassin? What made him so important that he tormented the thoughts of Arthur Kirkland?

I felt foolish.

"Onyx," I sighed as I led her to the stables. "I swear he must be practicing witchcraft. He's evil, I can tell. No wanker, no Rouen, should have me feeling this conflicted." Then I filled her feedbag with grain and fell to the ground in front of her stall, tossing and tearing pieces of hay in a bored fashion. As if I wasn't bothered enough, Feliks picked that time to stride in like he always did and leaned on the rustic gate, tapping the wall to bend my attention to him.

"Talking to yourself again?"

"Wishing to have our throat sliced are we?" I snapped back.

He smirked and plopped himself down next to me, picking at the hay similarly. Letting one cheek rest on his palm, he made a prosy attempt at conversing with me. "Toris says you're getting better," his other hand swept lilac bangs aside in a feminine motion that never ceased to amuse me. "But then again, what does Toris know? I think you're the same brooding, boorish, cut-throat scoundrel you've always been!"

"If I gave a fuck what you thought I would have thrown myself into the fire pit at this point."

"Then you won't mind if I guess why you've been so emotionally drained for almost a year now?"

My head snapped in his direction, my eyes surely challenging him to say what I assumed he was implying. I briefly considered sticking my blade into his throat before he could utter the first word. "Go on, I dare you," I hissed. He glanced at me and grinned that mischievous grin of his, then shrugged and went back to tossing hay.

"Nah, not worth it. I'll just wait and see."

I didn't have time to consider his words before Gilbert rushed in completely out of breath and cherry-faced. His white hands seemed even whiter as he gripped the hinges of the stable door, gasping for air and sputtering incoherently.

"Bloody hell man, spit it out!" I chided impatiently, ignoring the fact that the man before me had the power to end my being.

"E-Elizabeth…she's gone into l-labor…"

I froze. It had only been about eight months since Roderich announced that his daughter was pregnant with the newest addition to our group of assassins. I blinked to regain focus and shrugged, picking at more hay while I assumed Gilbert glared. The process of cleaning our sanctuary after the attack had consumed the majority of our focus, and so I assumed that most of us had indeed forgotten about the child. Though, it was still a month or so early. I cringed as Gilbert literally fell to his knees in the doorway, remembering the tale of my own birth and how I had taken my mother's life – a gifted assassin as I knew Elizabeth to be. Would she suffer the same fate at the hand of her child?

"I-I d-don't know what t-to do…" he sobbed hopelessly. I watched in cloaked shock, having never seen Gilbert cry for anyone or anything.

"First of all," I barked, standing immediately and striding over to where Gilbert lay nearly collapsed with what I assumed to be prepared grief, "Get yourself together, man." I pulled him to his feet and practically shoved both of us out the stable door. "You need to be there for the birth, and I will be standing with you just in case you become too sick to stand." He flashed a look to me that I mistook for appreciation, but it was certainly not that. Gilbert did not appreciate anything.

Elizabeth's screams of pain rang clear throughout the halls of Vendolius Abbatia that evening. Nurses ran in and out at a frequent pace with towelettes and wash basins of fresh water, and eventually Gilbert was allowed in. At one point I had considered leaving, as I was sitting there alone and it was apparent Gilbert wasn't coming back out, when suddenly the man slipped out from behind the door and vomited. I awkwardly rubbed his back as he purged again, then he looked at me with swollen red eyes. The man looked positively sickly. "So much blood," he muttered quietly. "There's so much blood…" I was fearful at first that the birth had gone wrong and that Elizabeth was in fact paying the price for it, but then a nurse eased her way out of the room, creaking the door only slightly, and whispered to Gilbert, "We have it cleaned up, now. You should be fine." Her old, steady eyes then turned to me and she spoke a little louder, "Fetch Roderich, please."

I muttered indignantly at being treated like a servant, yet I continued down to our leader's chambers. Roderich was seated at his desk smoking a pipe, his feet propped up comfortably, a chalice of wine in his hand. He noticed me as soon as I stepped in, bowing my head in respect.

"Arthur," he raised his cup to me. I shook a hand gently to decline the offer of alcohol. Now was not the time to drink my thoughts away.

"Sir," I cleared my throat, "Your daughter's child has been delivered. Elizabeth is requesting you."

Roderich chuckled and noted, "Elizabeth would never request me. The nurse sent you?" My throat went dry and I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. Eventually I simply nodded. Our leader sighed and stretched his arms, lowering his feet and standing to attention. He held his wine quite well. "Then, I will be off." I nodded as he passed me, but the clicking of his boots paused when he reached the door. I didn't turn around to analyze his expression, if he had any at all. "Here's hoping you'll know this feeling one day, Arthur," I swallowed at the coy smile in his tone, "Here's hoping you'll make a woman very happy." My fists clenched as he strode out, closing the door behind him.

I was going to murder Feliks.

Rotomagense Abbatia, 1776, "Tainted victories are present…"

We were in chaos. When we had made the attack the previous year, we had thought that doing so successfully had saved our hides – had ensured us a pedestal above the Vendeuils. We had been wrong. Not only had the enemy birthed another assassin, but they had taken the life of one of our eyes. I had known the servant well. The poor girl had only wanted to help, and we had promised her freedom and a good life should she come through. She died by the hand of one of those barbarians. Di meliora. We needed something to bend, something to give us an edge of luck. Too many lives were being lost to this feud, and so something had to give.

Alexander spent most of the days in his office, the door shut and locked as it had been before, no longer open to me or anyone else. Ivan often spent time in there with other higher ranking assassins, but that only lifted my spirits a fair amount. I had been stressed lately, what with Francis poking at me constantly, inquiring about possible love interests for me. Natalia, Ivan's sister, had entered the conversation more than once, and although it was true she liked me – I refused. I could hardly handle Ivan, let alone his bat-shit insane sister. Honestly, I was distracted. I couldn't help but think of the night I had almost been caught, had been held at gunpoint by a very…interesting assassin. Perhaps interesting wasn't the best word. He was beautiful – his golden hair mussed from fighting, his eyes gleaming in the dim cellar, and those eyebrows…so formosus. I remembered him well: Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. We had both been out of our minds that night, talking of meaningless, sentimental things that neither of us really understood. I couldn't remember most of what was said. I only remember that I felt intoxicated every moment of that exchange.

"Are we 'aving trouble, monsieur?" Francis whispered in my ear, making me shiver and squirm as he breathed down a sensitive part of my neck. I smacked him sloppily on the chin, but he only laughed.

"Did I mention that I hate when you do that?"

He shrugged, "Time and time again, but it never gets old. Stop drifting off and drink your wine, or else I will be forced to drink it for you." He eyed my cup eagerly, and so I raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip, smirking as I licked a droplet off the top. He smirked in return and faced his plate of roasted pork once again, yet he still spoke to me. "You 'ave been distracted, mon cher. Thinking about anyone in particular?"

I hadn't told anyone about the incident in the cellar to avoid losing any trace of dignity I had left. And someone would have probably skinned me alive had they known that I had dropped all defenses for the enemy. I clicked my tongue and grinned. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm daydreaming about Natalia." I set my fork down and pushed my plate away. Francis eyed me closely and took the last slice of bread for himself. The man really was a pig for being so beautiful to the ladies of our clan. He flipped his long, lilac hair and tsk'd at me.

"Enough with 'ze jokes, tell me who it is."

"It's no one."

"Liar!"

I rolled my eyes and cursed Francis for being so nosy. "It's none of your concern, Frog." I liked to tease him with the nickname only because it reminded him of a previous battle in which his opponent attempted to use it as an insult. Sometimes I wondered if it was Arthur. For some reason I could imagine him using it.

"L'amour is always my concern. Man or woman?"

Leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes I sighed, "Man." I was happy that the hall was too noisy for anyone else to listen in to the conversation.

"It is me, isn't it?" he laughed loudly, enough so that Ludwig gave us a weird look a table away, though he went back to listening to Feliciano after a moment or two. I snorted and left the table, though Francis didn't try to stop me. In fact, he didn't question me anymore after that.

I lounged about the rest of the day, feeling unbearably full to train or exercise. At one point I visited the nursery where the children of our clan jumped almost immediately at the chance to show me some of their moves. I even let one little girl pin me to the ground as she slashed at me with her tiny knife. I received a few good cuts, but nothing worth crying about. I went to my bunk after that and simply stared up at the ceiling, fingering my cuts and scars, not thinking about anything at that point. I wanted to daydream about Arthur, but shame prevented me from letting my fantasies overwhelm me. My eyes grew heavier and I realized that I was drifting to sleep until the screech of a cat awoke me once again. I sat up immediately and realized that it was actually Natalia calling to me. "Alfred, come down here. Don't test me," she giggled from outside the door, "I'll come in whether you're naked or not." I sighed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, lumbering tiredly to the door and opening it reluctantly.

"What is it, Natalia?" I groaned.

"Father wants every available hand in his office," she blinked up at me. "That means you as well."

If I wasn't already groggy enough, I sure was the second she reported that Alexander needed assassins. That meant there was probably work for me to do, and I would have to suffer another activity with a pain in the ass – more than likely Ivan again. Alexander always did like to partner his son and I up, as if I was a star pupil and came anywhere close to Ivan's skill level. I didn't. I could admit it to myself, but only to myself. "Did he ask for me specifically?"

"No," her expression turned sour.

"Well," I turned around and marched back toward the bed, "I guess I can sleep in a little longer.."

She grabbed me, literally grabbed me and pinned me against the wall. My head hit the stone with a thud and I groaned as a dagger was held up to my throat. It didn't surprise me that the crazy bitch was smiling as I regained my composure and swallowed the will to simply shove her back. "Now," she whispered in my ear, licking it. I shoved her then, though not enough to do any damage rather to get her off of me, and stormed out of the room and down to Alexander's office, huffing and puffing the entire way. This was not going to be fun. I already knew it.

The room was fairly packed, and so I squeezed my way in by stone cold faces and found Francis and Ludwig, surprised when I realized that Feliciano wasn't anywhere to be found. Although, if this had anything to do with a battle, it would make sense that the boy would either hide or be excused from the meeting altogether after his last mission went completely awry. No one spoke to me; everyone was focused on Alexander presently speaking fiercely at the front, Ivan at his right-hand. He had a new map in front of him it seemed, and I briefly remembered my amazement when Ivan had pulled that map of Vendolius Abbatia out of thin air. This one was not of the Vendeuils, however. Upon closer inspection, which required me to push past quite a few people, I realized that the map was of the secret tunnels in King George's palace. My eyes widened, and I felt Ivan's smirk burn into my skull, though I did not meet his gaze. How in the holy kingdom did they recover such a thing? Only the Vendeuils would have such a map, most likely in their bibliotheque, which begged the question: who retrieved the map? Ivan certainly hadn't when we had invaded, since we were nowhere near the bibliotheque. A sharp rise in Alexander's tone forced my attention back to him.

"No more death will come to our spies if we can help it!" he barked, raising a fist. "I need our best men, our slyest foxes, to infiltrate the castle and take the next step in bringing an end to this madness."

"Pardon me monsieur, but 'ow are we sure 'zat 'is majesty will not be in 'ze palace? We could send a blow right 'zen and 'zere and end it permanently."

"A list of movements of King George and Queen Caroline as well as their dates has been confiscated from our enemies right under their very noses. Sure enough, tonight King George will leave Gandavum as a result of foreign affairs, and Queen Caroline will be left alone."

"So we're going to murder an innocent woman," a random man sarcastically tossed in. I was about to object until Alexander taught the man his place.

"Queen Caroline is neither innocent nor is she a woman," he growled. "She's a fiend! She's watched the chaos and laughed at it. She must die. And by spilling her blood, we will anger the King enough to where he will fight without thought. An angry fight is a quick one; therefore, victory will be easy to claim."

I agreed, and I could tell most of the room did as well. Alexander had this strange way of enflaming the hearts of his assassins in a way I was sure Roderich could not. His plans were nearly always successful, and so we spent the rest of the evening planning secret routes within the castle and where the Queen would be exactly using a schedule the servant had managed to get to us before her untimely demise.

"Be wary," Alexander warned when all men were stationed, "Our enemies are very aware that this schedule is gone, though they are not strong enough to break in and confiscate it themselves. They will be watching for an attack on her highness."

"We will prevail, Father," Ivan stepped forward, scanning the room with confident eyes. "She will squeal like a pig when we have her cornered."

"Suits her well," Alexander nodded, taking his sons hands and kissing them for good luck. He bowed to the rest of us, which we reciprocated immediately, and marched proudly out of the room, patting some of the men on the back as he left. Most of everyone followed his leave, and by most I mean everyone except Ivan and I. Go figure. Natalia skipped inside the room as well, having obviously been listening to her father's plan of attack. She took the arm of her brother as he beckoned me closer.

"Alfred," he spoke almost pleasantly. "I understand you have already been assigned a task, but I need something else of you."

"Of course, Ivan," I forced a confident smile.

"I want you to be by my side as I enter the main tunnel. I want you to fight next to me."

I blinked and stared at him, unsure of what he meant. Something was seriously warped in that sentence. First of all, Ivan fought alone when he could. That was a given. Secondly, how was he certain that there were going to be Vendeuils in the main tunnel to the Queen's chambers? No one was even sure that they were aware an attack was going to take place. Why would they take defense without certainty? "I-I don't understand," I stuttered, confused.

"I know that there will be spies in those tunnels. I know that they know our every move."

"How?" was the only thing I could manage. He smiled a serpent-like smile.

"That man that spoke out against Alexander…he was Vendeuil."

I gaped at him for a few seconds before forcing my mouth closed. My eyebrows furrowed and I thought about that man, though I hadn't seen him I had heard his voice, and it had sounded vaguely familiar.

Ivan continued, "His name is Kiku. He lives in Vendolius Abbatia, though he used to train here. Surely you remember him?" I only remembered him faintly: just a small, quiet child with long black hair that covered large brown eyes. "He 'switched' his alliance long ago, though he still remained loyal to us. He is the reason we have most of the information we do. Unfortunately, it seems he has spent enough time in their abbatia to side with them more than is safe for us."

I considered this. "So you believe he will give us away?"

"There isn't a doubt in my mind he will."

"What will we do about him, then?"

He grinned and chuckled a light, "Nothing. They will take care of him when he confesses. Kiku may think he will be in the clear for sharing our plans, but he has been sharing there's longer, and has been attending our meetings without permission. When Roderich learns of this, punishing Kiku will be out of our hands." I swallowed and almost pitied Kiku, but looking back into Ivan's stone-cold eyes fueled me with rage and drowned out everything else.

"Then I will follow you," I nodded. "I will fight by your side, Ivan." He smiled and nudged Natalia forward.

"If you succeed in helping me Alfred, as promised to you, Natalia, you both will join hands in marriage."

I nearly choked on my own saliva at that notion. It wasn't even an offer so much as it was a demand. If I managed to live through this, if I managed to succeed in my task, then I…was to marry Natalia. I wished I had the power to turn back the clock and choose death when he stood in front of me with those dazzling green eyes of his. It would have been heaven compared to this hell.

I never have much to say here. xD Anyways, I want to apologize for any grammatical mistakes that I may miss, and I will now translate some things to those who need it:

Mârtius: March

Quam pulchra es: "How beautiful you are."

Di meliora: "Heaven send us better times."

Formosus: "Handsome"

Bibliotheque: "Library"

See you next chapter!