Chapter 3

Red faded into black and black slowly melted apart to reveal the grey sky that opened up before his eyes. He flinched instinctively as a fat raindrop plopped heavily on a spot above his eye. As it rolled off his face, it slowly turned red before dripping off his earlobe to land on the ground. He reached up to run a hand through tousled silver hair but wasn't able to, instead dropping his hand and curling into a foetal position as fresh blood ran out of his side, staining the ground a carmine red.

"Gilbert?" Worried violet eyes met his and widened with relief. "Gilbert! Ah, you're awake! I was worried you wouldn't wake up…"

Gilbert quickly uncurled himself as Matthew's voice trailed off, momentarily ignoring the pain in his side and flashing a broad grin as he forced himself upright. "Oh my god, I didn't notice it was that bad, how could I not notice it- Gilbert!" Matthew firmly pushed Gilbert back down. "You will stay right there until I bandage that."

"But Birdie~" Gilbert protested, struggling weakly. "I'm awesome, and awesome people don't get injured! Neither do we bleed!"

" And what would that blood I spy on the floor me then?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at him, trying to appear stern but the corner of his mouth quirked up in the hints of a smile as he heard the old nickname.

Gilbert's crimson eyes darted from side to side as he searched for an excuse. "Uh, I'm on my period! Yes, yes, it's just my period!" He laughed at this, waving a hand dismissively in front of him.

"Oh really." Matthew's expression remained unreadable.

Gilbert nodded frantically, then winced and clutched his side as a now-familiar jolt of pain temporarily paralysed him. He forced a high laugh as he grimaced. "Cramps, cramps! It's just cramps!" He flapped the other arm at Matthew, comically resembling a chicken for a moment.

Matthew reached out, brow creased with concern as more blood dripped onto the floor. "DON'T TOUCH ME THERE THAT'S WHERE THE CRAMPS ARE!" Gilbert exclaimed, now flapping his arm with increased vigour at Matthew. Matthew tilted his head to a side, gesturing at the blood on the floor.

"It's uhh…uhh. My period! I told you! I'm bleeding from my vagina!" Gilbert now laughed hysterically while Matthew frowned disapprovingly.

"I know you well enough to know that you don't have a vagina," Matthew seemed unamused by Gilbert's façade, inching closer, ripping a piece of cloth from a torn jacket as he did so.

"Oh MATTIE HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? YOU BREAK MY POOR MAIDEN HEART," Gilbert gasped dramatically, throwing up his previously-flapping and uninjured arm up the air and sighed theatrically. Said arm was gently but firmly pushed aside by Matthew as he proceeded to bandage the slowly-healing wound.

Gilbert wiggled in weak protest. "I'm awesome and I don't bleed! I told you it was my period! Stop touching me where my cramps are!"

Matthew stared back down at Gilbert. "Awesome people don't tell lies." He wind the bandage once around the wound. "They don't act like a hero when dying." Twice. "They are not stupid." Thrice. "And, lastly, awesome people are not so goddamn cocky." He finished the cloth bandage with a neat knot and stood, scanning Gilbert's body for more injuries.

Gilbert stretched gingerly before slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. He turned slowly, surveying his surroundings. They were partially sheltered by thin hanging boughs and a slanted tree that had wedged itself between two others, creating a narrow space in which Matthew now retreated under.

"Hey Birdie, what happened exactly? I can't remember anything apart from running in no particular direction," Gilbert attempted to stand and failed, his legs giving way under him. He shrugged it off, resorting to crawling shamelessly towards Matthew.

The blond moved to the side, creating space for Gilbert to plop down next to him. "I'm not too sure, but we got separated from Arthur after a while, and we ran till we got to a river. You passed out from blood loss there and I had to drag you around until I found this place. It's been around an hour since that happened." Matthew lifted a hand to gesture vaguely at the ground. It was then Gilbert noticed that despite their earlier energetic bickering, neither of them was in good shape.

He himself sported various cuts and nicks along with the obvious head and side wounds and the sole of his boot was partially torn off. Yet he didn't actually feel that bad. The pain was there, but it remained a dull ache in the background, not at all the still rather fresh wound that gaped in his side.

Matthew had sustained less severe wounds, but his body was literally trembling with exhaustion. His hands were wrapped in a previously-white cloth that was slowly becoming stiff with patches of dried blood. A smear of dirt ran across his cheek and the tell-tale sign of crusting blood was visible on his nose and upper lip. Similar to Gilbert, he appeared unaware of the pain, instead only muttering occasional complains about how tired he was.

Gilbert's eyes finally landed on the fluffy yellow creature that perched on a hanging twig above their heads. He pursed his lips, emitting a soft whistle, smiling as the bird left its perch to nestle comfortably in his hair.

"Gilbird!" Gilbert reached up to caress the small bird that leant into his touch, chirping happily. The small avian seemed unperturbed by the stench of blood, which of course made Gilbert extremely happy at the amount of trust it placed in him. Gilbird let out another chirp before hopping around the mess of silver hair, finally finding a spot to rest at a safe distance away from the wound on his head.

Gilbird, who was obviously named after Gilbert by the man himself, was found by Matthew and Gilbert when they were on one of their first scouting missions for Herne. The bird had fallen from its nest and was peeping rather angrily when Matthew had almost stepped on him. When attempting to return the bird to its nest, they found the nest now housing several broken eggshells and a rather fat snake. That ruled the nest out of the options and soon Gilbert had decided to take Gilbird. After all, the small creature had taken quite a liking to the soldier.

Both unconsciously huddled closer, seeking warmth under the downpour. Raindrops drummed above their heads as they shifted into a more comfortable position and thought of what to do next. After a while, Gilbert shifted slightly, tilting to face Matthew.

"Why do you think we don't hurt as much as we should?" He poked Matthew's bandaged hands, who in return offered a thoughtful frown.

Curiously, Matthew unwrapped the bandages. As the stained strips of cloth unravelled and fell to the ground, he examined his wounds. They were slowly scabbing over in irregular patches that marred the otherwise flawless skin. Gingerly, he ran a finger his knuckles, making a sound of slight amazement as he felt no pain.

"I'm guessing we've either become immune to pain, or it's Arthur's work." Seeing Gilbert's confused look, Matthew attempted to explain. "Remember those flying tiny people earlier? My guess is that they're somehow casting a spell on us until we get help." He cringed a little inside as he said this. All they could do right now was wait for the storm to pass, going out there in the current state they were in whether or not they felt the pain was too dangerous, especially with the rain obscuring most of their vision.

And so they waited. Gilbert ended up drifting off into a restless sleep, his head slowly lowering itself until it settled onto Matthew's lap. Matthew simply let one hand rest on the worn handle of his sword before slipping into a light sleep himself. Gradually, the rain eased to a little drizzle and the pair stirred, gazing up at the now crimson sky as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon.

Gilbert eased himself into a sitting position, glancing outwards at the sky the reflected his own eyes. He wasn't surprised that it was already dusk, but he was a little worried. Both he and Matthew reeked of blood and if they encountered another pack of Durandal wolves they surely wouldn't stand a very good chance.

In the end, they decided that the stream would help. Matthew crawled out first, sword at ready lest any hungry wolf pounce on them whilst they emerged from beneath the tree that had done well to shelter them through the storm. Gilbert followed quickly after, rolling his shoulders before stumbling to the stream and slipping in with an obnoxious shout. He peeled off his shirt, shivering as the cool air hit his pale skin. The shirt was folded neatly and set aside on a flat stone by the river before Gilbert waded into a calmer part of the stream, leaning back against a smooth rock and lifting his legs, marvelling at how weightless he felt when in the water.

Matthew had taken watch on a short, stout tree that slanted haphazardly over the water, yet its branches barely shook as he manoeuvred himself into a comfortable position where he could scan most of the surroundings. From there, he bent down to hang by his legs, dipping a hand into the cool water and rinsing the dry blood off.

The crack of a twig breaking caused the pair to be on guard immediately. Matthew flipped back up, crouching on the tree branch in a battle-ready posture and Gilbert had sank below the water surface, sword resting on a rock, only the upper part of his face visible as he too readied himself for an assault.

From his vantage point, Matthew twisted and scanned the forested area across the stream. What he saw was rather unexpected and caused him to relax his stance momentarily in surprise. Sensing the change in his partner, Gilbert had glided closer to the tree, craning his neck above the water to see what had disturbed Matthew.

An auburn head popped up behind some bushes, followed by warm brown eyes. The rest of the man's slim body followed and soon a thin figure emerged from behind the trees, one hand scratching his head as he looked down almost guiltily and a sheepish smile graced his features.

"Wah, I was trying to be all quiet like Ludwig but it seems I failed…" The young man lifted his gaze, his grin broadening as he recognized Matthew.

"Feliciano!" Matthew slipped off the branch and approached the newcomer, his eyes softening with relief at the sight of an ally. Gilbert had swam across, reaching Feliciano before Matthew and embracing the younger with a loud laugh, ignoring the small squeak of protest at the wet form that pressed against him.

The trio had met once, not too long ago when the kings of the three allied kingdoms of Perchta, Herne and Durandal had called for a gathering in one of the main cities. They had struck a close friendship there and were bound by the terms of the alliance to help whenever one was in need. They made a strange group of friends, a quiet advisor who was often overlooked, the obnoxious soldier who seemed to know everyone and the cheerful queen who was more than often accompanied by his overprotective king.

Now, Feliciano looked them over, gasping as he took in their torn and tattered appearance. A hand covered his mouth in shock and he took an involuntary step backwards. He quickly recovered, gently taking their hands in his and leading them firmly away from the stream.

"You're coming with me to see Ludwig. He will help you," Feliciano explained as he led them onto what seemed like an animal track overgrown with abundant greenery. "You can stay for the night, since you look lost too!" Feliciano seemed quite happy at the fact that there would be extra company that night. "It's okay, I always get lost, so Ludwig won't be angry." The young man continued chattering happily to his two companions as they slowly drew closer to what seemed like a blazing campfire in the distance.

oOoOoOoOo

It wasn't long before they reached a cosy campfire. Well, it would probably seem more welcoming if not for the three armoured guards that stood stiffly at attention surrounding the perimeter and the exceptionally muscular blond that crouched by the flickering fire.

"Feli?" A large man stood, expression guarded as Feliciano skipped cheerfully around the campfire towards him, new companions in tow. Feliciano's smile only widened as he let go of Gilbert and Matthew, embracing the taller man with undisguised affection.

He returned Feliciano's hug, albeit rather awkwardly in the presence of their guests. He released Feli gently, striding purposefully towards Gilbert and Matthew. Narrowed blue eyes cast over lowered purple ones and met a challenging crimson gaze before softening a tad.

"You're welcome to stay the night. I am Ludwig, king of Perchta. I believe you already met my queen," Ludwig's unflinching gaze moved over each of them, as if daring them to disagree. Seeing that no one did so, Ludwig continued, "We did not expect that camping out at night was necessary and we are certainly not equipped to serve guests. However, do make use of what's available." Luwig's eyes softened slightly and a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "It seems like you've been through quite a lot."

Gilbert flashed him a quick smile of thanks, though his expression remained somewhat puzzled as he examined the other man. This king, Ludwig, seemed oddly familiar and that particular shade of blue in his eyes brought back fuzzy memories that he couldn't quite place. Ludwig didn't seem to notice, only turning away to listen to Feliciano's constant stream of words.

Matthew's quiet "thank you" went unnoticed. Sighing, he turned to Gilbert, frowning slightly as he caught the other looking like he'd seen a ghost. Gently, he took Gilbert's hand, leading him to a quiet place on the opposite end of the makeshift camp. The guards eyed them suspiciously, but did not make a move.

Out of the blue, a wave of pain swept over the pair, causing them to trip and stumble. Matthew went down first, falling first to his knees and then flat on his face before rolling over with a groan, eyelids fluttering as the blond writhed in pain. Fresh blood trickled down his face and when he lifted his hands to his face, Matthew was taken aback to see them dark with the same substance, the previous scabs disappearing and replaced with open wounds.

Gilbert seemed to be worse off, lying prone on the ground with his eyes rolled back in his head, and his teeth grinding in pain as blood pooled under him. His arms made as if to raise himself, but they failed and folded under him. His muscles tightened and he shook his head violently, eyes squeezed shut tight as he muttered, delirious. "The wolves…run…no…" His speech faded into incoherent babbling and his body was wracked with pain, spasming in agony before he grew still, his breath slowly steadying.

What both men saw and heard before they went unconscious was similar. There was other-worldly pale green light, apologetic silvery voices and delicate figures that danced before their eyes. From afar, worried, disembodied voices that asked repeatedly if they were okay. The thumping of heavy boots approaching them and along with that, loud, excited barking that drove both men into a mindless panic before they drifted from consciousness.

oOoOoOoOo

Matthew woke to the familiar rocking motion of a cantering horse. He blinked blearily, slightly startled at the notion of waking up on a horse. However, a quick scan told him the idea was right. He also noticed that he was in fact leaning on someone. He quickly straightened up, muttering an apology as he did so.

The sudden movement made his head spin and instinctively he clutched the slim shoulders of the person in front of him. A soft yelp made him release his hands, once again repeatedly apologizing. It was then he saw the telltale curl on the auburn head as the man in front turned to smile reassuringly at him.

"Good morning, Matthew! Are you feeling alright?" Feliciano slowed the horse a tad as he turned his attention to his passenger. "You collapsed last night and there was blood everywhere!" He raised one hand to gesture dramatically in the air, his eyebrows now slightly furrowed in concern.

"I'm alright Feli, thank you," Matthew replied softly. It was true, he now felt a lot better. His body no longer felt like lead and his mind had cleared. The only things that bothered him were the occasional flashes of pain when he stretched a particular muscle, he flexed his fingers or something rubbed against the slowly healing scar on his neck. Gingerly, he lifted a hand to tap the scar, flinching as they brushed against the raw wound. There was another thing that bothered him to….

"Feli, what were the barks? Were there wolves?" Matthew failed to keep the fear out of his voice as he asked. He hated that slight tremor and cursed inwardly.

"Barks?" Feliciano seemed confused for a moment before his expression cleared. "Oh, no wolves, those were just Ludwig's dogs. Berlitz," He smiled, his hand travelling downwards to gesture at the three dogs that gambolled around said man, pointing each one out.

Matthew peered closer at the dogs. Berlitz was a stocky golden coated male that seemed exceptionally playful, darting in between Ludwig's unfortunate mount's legs occasionally with a playful bark. Aster seemed more serious and bore a rich tan with a black mask and "saddle" across a sloping and muscular back. The last dog, Blackie, loped comfortably ahead, its lanky frame covered in a fine coat of black and rust fur. Blackie's ears were perked up as the dog scanned the trail ahead for any danger.

His gaze travelled upwards to gaze upon the limp figure of Gilbert Beilschmidt. His friend's pale hair was unusually messy, covering closed eyes as he swayed, with only muscle memory keeping him on the back of the horse as he leaned against Ludwig's broad back.

As he watched, Gilbert stirred, eyelids twitching before slowly opening, revealing eyes that were glazed over in pain. Ludwig remained unaware until they hit a bumpy part in the road and his mount slowed to a bouncy trot and picked his way across the uneven surface.

At this point, Gilbert jolted awake. Of course, his first reaction would come across as rather comical if not for the fact that he was recovering from several serious injuries. He bolted upright in the saddle, knocking against the back of Ludwig's head as he did so and causing the larger man to frown. His eyebrows seemed to disappear into his hairline as he twisted around, absorbing the situation before his body registered the fact that he was indeed awake.

They came to a slope and Ludwig's horse gave a half-hearted leap forward, snorting as it carried the two men forward. Gilbert groaned as the jolt jarred his body, causing pain to shoot up his side again. His muscles contracted involuntarily as the wound stretched, sending a small trickle of fresh blood down his stomach.

"Fuck... Goddamnit, where the hell are we going?" Gilbert grinded his teeth together in an effort to stop himself from screaming in pain.

Ludwig cast a sympathetic glance over his shoulder before explaining. "We're on the way to Durandal," he replied shortly. He paused for a moment before asking, "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts like shit."

Ludwig's face resumed its default stony expression and he fell silent, concentrating on the road ahead and on not tripping over his dogs. Meanwhile, Gilbert pressed his forehead against Ludwig's back in a desperate attempt to cope with the pain.

Matthew watched his friend's struggle with a sinking feeling of helplessness. Sensing the situation, Feliciano gently nudged his horse closer to Ludwig's, calling out reassuringly as he did so. "Breathe, Gilbert. Just remember to breathe," Feliciano's light voice rang out.

The man tilted his head towards Feliciano, his expression more of a pained grimace as compared to the grateful smile he was attempting to make. "You make it sounds like I'm a woman in labour," Gilbert looked as if he was about to say more, but he snapped his mouth shut and a pained expression came over his face.

"Bear with it, remember to breathe," Matthew found himself echoing Feliciano's words as he tried to comfort his friend. It had more of an effect on Gilbert and he caught a grin from Gilbert before said man turned away and hunched his shoulders, letting out a strangled yelp when the horse moved into a canter.

As they crested the hill, the pale walls of Durandal rose before them and large wood and steel gates of the eastern entrance slowly creaked apart, admitting the company inside.

oOoOoOoOo

This wasn't his bed. Neither was it his kingdom. With a groan, Arthur woke, blinking eyes bleary with sleep. He nuzzled into the soft pillow, relishing the warmth while leaving one gleaming green eyes open as he scanned the room. The ceiling was high and domed, the walls were whitewashed and the floor was a wooden, a neutral brown that was easy on his eyes. He snuggled deeper into the blanket as he noted these, until there little more could be seen apart from the hint of green eyes and sandy blond hair that seemed to be stuck in a perpetual mess.

He then did a quick inventory check. The thin silk fabric against his pale skin told him that he was no longer in his own garments. He moved his fingers tentatively under the sheets, noting with relief that his hands were working properly. He continued testing his limbs, working slowly down until he reached his toes. Apart from a couple of spots here and there, his body did seem to be healing relatively well.

One thing he did notice out of place though, was that the bad seemed unnaturally warm. He fidgeted a little, before throwing back the covers and sitting up. He did not expect the searing pain that quickly followed his movements and he doubled over, stifling a pained screech as he did so.

Arthur remained frozen for a few more seconds before cautiously straightening his back. Tentatively, he twisted an arm behind his back, moving painfully slow before his fingers met skin. It stung. He withdrew his hand, startled at the amount of blood he saw. His pale fingers were coated in a thick red liquid that slowly trickled down as he watched.

With as little movement as possible, he then somehow angled his head to examine the bed. The crisp white sheets were crumpled, its previous colour now dotted with red, and in the middle where he lay, the sheets were already drying, a huge splotch of blood darkening and hardening.

He cringed at the sight and made a mental note to apologize to the owner of the residence he was staying currently at. Arthur stood shakily, his back ramrod straight, making sure not to bend lest the wound open even more that it did. He merely stood there, unsure about what he was going to next. Being the curious fellow that Arthur was, he approached the wardrobe, poking his head inside to see what he could find.

A bundle lay in a corner, under a row of neat garments hung from a steel rod that extended from one end of the wardrobe to another. With one hand on the wall for support, he tugged the bag out with a bare foot. At one point, the bundle tipped over, revealing what seemed to be his clothes. They were torn and tattered and blood stained the majority of the hunter green fabric. He prodded the cloth with his foot, turning it over to reveal a pair of boots.

The door slammed open and a blond head popped through. A pair of concerned blue-violet eyes met his and Arthur involuntarily took a step back, tripping on the boots and falling backwards, arms flailing as he unsuccessfully tried to halt his descent.

A moment later, Arthur was held by strong arms that wrapped around his shoulders, gently helping him up. With some effort, he managed to get to the bed, easing onto the mattress, every nerve in his body on end, afraid of stretching the wound and having that minor heart attack due to the pain.

That done, Arthur now looked up at Francis with a questioning glare, one thick eyebrow arched in question. Francis, meanwhile, was darting around the smaller man, peering closely at every scrape and gash on his body, muttering anxiously under his breath in a language Arthur could not begin to fathom.

Knowing the man would not answer him anytime soon, Arthur settled for fixing a slight scowl on his face and glaring daggers at the innocent wardrobe. He disliked attention in general, and the man flitting about him did not do much to help. He tried to focus on something else, but only childhood memories came back to him, brought back to the surface by the man nearby, who had also appeared in a great deal of his adolescence.

Days of carefree play, where Arthur had not a care in the world. He remembered the tall boy who visited regularly, led by the hand by a kindly woman whose soft laughter carried in the wind, light and elegant. Her son took after her in looks, though behaviour loosely resembled that of his father.

Arthur and Francis, barely teens, would often saddle up their horses and go for a ride in the forests, playing in the gurgling streams that duck and wove through the kingdom, climb the gnarled, tall trees that twisted above their heads, leaping with ease through leafy boughs that barely trembled under the weight of two preteen boys having a game of tag through the trees. Arthur was always more agile, nimbler and faster than Francis, yet the other boy found ways to outwit him. The two were evenly matched and that led to a strong friendly rivalry between the two boys, who were the princes of a powerful kingdom.

As the boys grew, so did the gap between them. Francis's visits were cut shorter and shorter as both were drawn apart to learn and bear the duties of their standings. Gradually, they grew apart, appearing no more than strangers with a past the last time they met.

"Arthur?" Francis straightened up, satisfied after his scrutiny of the wounds. He noticed the faraway look in Arthur's eyes and sighed dramatically, knowing he would get no response from the man. Instead, Francis bent down, retrieving a first aid kit from the bedside drawer and getting ready to bandage the particularly bad laceration on Arthur's back.

"Hey Francis, do you-" Arthur's voice broke off suddenly and the shorter man let out a hiss of pain as Francis wrapped the gauze firmly around his torso.

Francis hummed thoughtfully as he secured the knot. "Do I what, Arthur?" Francis asked, reaching out to adjust the bandage a little more before he backed away.

Arthur shook his head in response, biting his lip. "It was a stupid question."

Francis moved towards the door, holding it open as he met Arthur's eyes. "If you refer to whether I remember my childhood, then yes, I do remember." He held the gaze evenly as Arthur's eyes lit up momentarily. "Now, I'm sure you're hungry, yes?" Francis beamed at Arthur. "I persuaded the cooks to let me use the kitchen, so have some delicious breakfast cooked by me!"

Arthur stood, eying Francis suspiciously before striding towards him. He gave a curt nod of thanks as he stepped out, sniffing at the fragrant smells that wafted towards him.

"At any rate, its way better than what you cook, Artur." Francis murmured under his breath as Arthur moved past him.

If Arthur had heard it, he didn't give any indication that he did. He stepped back, allowing Francis to lead the way towards the dining hall.

oOoOoOoOo

"My companions? Were they found?"

Francis turned, startled by the sudden question. He raised one eyebrow as he answered calmly. "After you collapsed like that, you can hardly expect me to merely dash out to find your companions when there is someone in need of desperate help lying in front of me."

Arthur seemed somewhat subdued as he took a seat and began to eat. The sun shone into his eyes and the man winced slightly before bowing his head and beginning to eat. Francis watched for a moment before gliding over to the high windows, occupying his customary position as he surveyed the lands. He snuck a furtive glance at his guest, who was now picking at his food with a distracted expression.

Francis turned his attention back to the environment outside the window, scanning the roads with a faint hope. Perhaps Arthur's companions had found Durandal safely. Francis leaned forward, scanning the well-trodden and familiar paths. To his dismay, the roads were empty.

Perhaps they were already inside the walls and heading towards them right this instant? The faint flame of hope within Francis's chest rekindled and he searched with renewed vigour. Of course, this was Francis Bonnefoy, and his frantic searching appeared an idle gaze to many passersby.

Arthur's mind was in turmoil. Worry wracked his brains as he envisioned the accidents and dangers that might have befallen Gilbert and Matthew. He remembered Gilbert was in rather bad shape when he left them. Hopefully Matthew was fit enough to care for both. Or maybe the fay had helped them. Arthur speared the egg on his plate with more force than necessary.

And if they hadn't? If they hadn't been helped and they were still out there? He spun the knife in his hand, thick brows furrowed in thought. He stopped abruptly and stopped slouching over his plate as he saw a flash of green light. He opened his mouth to call out to the fay, but the small faerie merely turned and smiled before gesturing towards the window.

"What-" Arthur started. Ignoring the screaming protests of his back, he darted to the window, pressing his forehead against cold glass and searching the roads. Francis, who was rudely pushed out of the way, made an annoyed grumble before stepping back to give Arthur some space.

Arthur, if he had noticed the other, paid no heed. His eyes had landed on a mounted group that had entered the city. As he watched, the horses slowed to a trot and he recognized the burly blond at the front. Ludwig, king of Perchta. There was something off though. He fumbled with the latch on the window before throwing it open and leaning forward to get a better look.

Ludwig's horse was carrying two riders. Behind the brawny blond sat another man, his pale hair standing out amongst the blonds and browns of the company. As said man raised his head, Arthur caught a glimpse of red.

His gaze travelled down the group quickly, before finding another figure behind the slim queen. Wavy, two-toned blond hair that framed soft violet eyes. Arthur felt his face breaking into a rare smile and he gave a low shout of victory, startling Francis.

They were alive! A part of him felt like jumping up and cheering, yet his pride and dignity kept a firm hold on him, leaving him to slam the windows shut and dash into the corridor. Francis followed at a run, shouting directions to the exit as Arthur ran ahead, occasionally pausing to stop and look back when he came to a bend.

For a moment, Arthur was reminded of their childhood together. The castle momentarily melted away, replaced by an overgrown forest trail where he used to frequent as a youth. The vision faded just as he slipped through a door that had been left ajar. Sunlight hit his face as he burst forth, continuing his mad dash now that he ran into the streets.

oOoOoOoOo

Francis slowed down, letting Arthur draw ahead. At least he was happy. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around, blinking in surprise. Michelle was looking worriedly up at him, her eyebrows drawn together as she bit her lower lip. "There's someone who wants to speak to you," she began, her voice lacking its usual energy. Instead, if anything, it sounded rather timid and frightened. Not at all like Michelle.

"His name..."Michelle trailed off hesitantly. "His name is Ivan Braginsky."

A/N:

Whoop~ Another update! Thanks for reviews, you made my day ^^ Hope my writing hasn't died since the first part with Ivan's POV.

And now for more trivia for this chapter. Yay for Gilbird! Sorry for awkwardly adding him in, but I couldn't resist.

Matthew and Gilbert don't feel the wounds cause it is indeed the fay who are keeping the pain at bay. Oh, that rhymed! The reason why they finally collapsed is cause the fay though they already found help and thus removed the spell so that it wouldn't drain Arthur. Nope, the fays don't use their own magic cause they won't risk it for the sake of another. They're rather reclusive after all.

Aster is the German Shepherd, Blackie is the Doberman and the golden retriever is Berlitz. Again, I'm not using dog breeds 'cause for some reason, it feels weird. If you do want me to include them, it'd probably be in conversation or something like that.

Arthur isn't as explosive as he would normally be when faced with the possibly death of his companions. Yes, because he's led a pretty solitary life where any sign of weakness would threaten his position. Remember, he was competing with his much stronger elder brothers. So for the sake of that he's pretty used to supressing emotions and only expresses himself freely in the presence of a close friend or when he's feeling either very happy or angry. Connections between him, Alfred, Matthew and Francis will be further explained somewhere in the future.

Yes, there's an extremely slow build-up. And the fact that I'm taking a hiatus to complete schoolwork and have a 2-week long vacation with my family isn't helping. I'll write in my free time, I'm just not too sure how long it'll take to update. I won't be dropping the story, so there will be an update somewhere in the far future.