"Bondevik?" Mathias opened a door and peered inside. He frowned. It was the same result he had been getting for the past half an hour: nothing. The Dane mumbled profanities under his breath as he closed the door to what seemed to be the twenty fourth door he checked.

He walked to the next room and griped onto the door handle. Please be here. Please be here. Please be here. After roughly opening the door, he entered and scanned the room. "Bondevik?" He called out. Much to his bad luck, there was still no sight of his butler.

Irritated and exhausted, Mathias approached the bed in the middle of the room and collapsed with a 'thud'. A sigh passed his lips and he flipped his body so that he was facing the ceiling. He closed his eyes and rested as to regain his strength. Twenty five rooms - entered and left. Half the palace - inspected. Three floors - roamed and checked.

"No... Please..."

Mathias' eyes bolted open. His heartbeat instantly quickened at the familiarity of the voice. "Bondevik?" He got up and ran out of the room. "Bondevik?!"

"Ah! Stop..."

He bursted into the adjacent room and yelled, "Bondevik, where are you?!"

He entered and left each passing room, the sounds replaying in his mind like a distant memory, and with each passing room he searched with more force and urgency. And as he opened each door with more force and urgency, his calls grew more desperate; and as his calls grew more desperate, the burning sensation which stinged the inner walls of his sore, parched throat had intensified.

"Stop!"

Entering another room, his head dropped and he called out faintly, "Bondevik..." After raising his head, it had struck him that he was inside his bedroom. Suddenly, a small, frail figure shuffled on his bed. This caused Mathias to take a few steps forward and peer at the animate lump on his bed.

"Bondevik?"

"If your butler is caught doing any of the following: performs their job poorly, disrespects your possessions and relations, disobeys your orders, then, report to me - they would be terminated from their position immediately. Do you understand?"

This whole time, his butler was in his room. On his bed. Curled up. Unmoving. Was I imagining those words? It took one look: one look at his butler's calm countenance and the words of his father vanished from his mind. He didn't care about the rules. As long as his butler was safe, to Mathias, the rule was invalid.

Mathias sat on a free space beside his butler. The man looked so different when he was asleep. The usual dull expression he wore was replaced by a much softer, more gentle and child-like expression. His low and sad eyes were no longer visible, but hidden under thin eyelids and long dark eyelashes. Cheeks that were once as pale as fresh snow were now stained a rosy pink. And hair like melted butter transformed into fine stands of gold, carefully spun and sprawled on the prince's pillows.

He stretched out a hand and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from his butler's face. His hand trailed lower and it landed on the man's cheeks. It was intensely hot, like touching the centre of a candle aflame, or even the feeling when he swallowed thickly in an attempt to hydrate his throat; but unlike his throat, the skin was smooth.

His fingers trailed lower until it reached the corner of the man's lips. How can it be that a man, whose face carried a canvas of despondency wherever he walked, was able to paint anew, and give it features that even a man can find attractive?

At the thought, his heartbeat raced, faster than before, and at the same time his own cheeks flushed at this unknown emotion. Mathias pulled his hand away from his butler's face and involuntarily got up. As he stared at his hand, the warmth that touched his skin faded all too quickly.

Observing the man's peaceful form one last time, he smiled, and left the room to make his way back to the main hall.

BAM! The large doors swung open in a rapid motion.

A large man entered the palace hall. He was well-dressed: his formal attire consisted of a simple white shirt, a three piece suit in the colour of rough iron, and, standing proudly at the centre of his outfit, a purple silk tie, which not only complemented his suit, but also perfectly accentuated the iris surrounding his stony, dark pupils.

Mathias turned to the man that grabbed the attention of his guests. In an instant, his countenance filled with ardour and surprise, and he lifted his arms wide in the air. "Ivan! How late you are!"

The said man approached the prince and bowed. "Sorry for my late arrival, but I no longer have a cousin that bothers me constantly."

"Good riddance! Anyway, I am glad my best man can attend my engagement - ah!" Mathias introduced the princess beside him. "This is Princess Erika - my fiancée."

"I am Ivan Braginski - Best Man." The man bowed curtly before the princess.

"Best man..." Suddenly, Erika's chest rose, and her eyes grew wider. She turned to her financé. "Is this true?"

"Yes," Mathias replied. His eyes dropped with concern at Erika's actions. "Is there a problem?"

Erika shifted her gaze towards the Russian; purple meeting purple; silver hair shining at silver hair. When the prince looked at her with his expression, her chest lowered and her eyes returned to their normal state. She shook her head. "No. I was just wondering. How did you two meet?"

Pumped up with energy, Mathias beemed and he rambled on with his story. His was so concentrated in his story, he didn't notice Erika's eyes drift away from him and again focus on Ivan, which in turn, was quickly reciprocated. Erika completely blanked out; she could no longer hear her fiancé's voice. Neither could Ivan. They stared long and deep into each other's glistening eyes, those which were filled with total understanding of one another.

"My dear cousin, are you well?"

Half way through his story, Mathias noticed their seemingly odd connection. With a hint of anger, he broke the connection by asking:

"Do you know each other?"

"Yes, very well."

Erika was the one to turn away from Ivan's gaze. She held up Mathias' hand with both of her hands and directed it to her chest. "My prince, do not be mistaken. I did not notice earlier, but as I look carefully into the eyes of Ivan Braginski I noticed... that is my cousin," Purple clashed with purple again as Erika turned to Ivan. "whom I have not met for over five years."

Mathias' jaw dropped. The jealousy that was slowly boiling in Mathias began to simmer upon hearing their relationship. "Ivan, is this true?' His expressioned changed from shock to delight when he recieved a nod in confirmation, and he held out a friendly hand to Ivan, who gladly a shook it with as much vigor the other. "I say, we were already family before even knowing it!"

"Quite right! This is a great coincidence considering that you, my friend, is engaged to my cousin - my cousin who bothers me constantly!"

"Erika is the cousin you speak of? Oh, Ivan, then why did you introduce yourself to your own cousin?!" Mathias asked with as much exclamation.

Ivan turned to Erika. "Because... I was starting to get worried when my dear Erika did not notice her own cousin upon his arrival. Maybe if she informed me regarding her engagement, she would not have looked so surprised."

Mathias rolled his head back and let out a merry laugh. A waiter passed by with a plate of Scandanavian delicacies and Mathias reached over the plate to grab a portion. "Ivan, you must immediately accompany me to the garden! There are many things I need to tell you-"

When he turned back around, Ivan and Erika had vanished, and it was not long before Mathias' buoyant demeanor vanished too. His body stood still, like an unstirred, towering mountain, his vision fixed ahead. He paid no attention to the guests that approached him, nor did he give his empty wine glass to the waiters that repeatedly passed by. Time had never passed by quicker in his entire life because when he snapped back to reality, the party had ended, the guests had left, and he was the only remaining person in the room.