A/N: I think you guys have every right to complain to me about how "Lotophagi" is supposed to be a Rochu fic, and they are taking so long to meet each other. Well, I hope you guys will stay patient. I personally hate writing and reading stories that seem rushed. Good ones take time to brew! ;)

"When we go in, you two better keep your mouths shut, unless you want your heads cut off!" Ukraine said for the zenith time.

The children nodded silently, and they continued walking down the crowded street, hoping not to run into anyone. The people here seemed to always be in such a rush!

After receiving a letter from their new boss that summoned them to his headquarters in Dadu, Ivan and his family had abandoned their cabin in the woods begun their journey across the continent.

They arrived, eventually, after many nights of roofless slumber and chewing on dry, sinewy game.

Ivan had blisters on his feet from all that walking, and probably blisters in his blisters. Not to mention, his one arm felt sore because Natalia had insisted that they held hands the entire way.

Though Ivan did everything his father had told him, they still lost the war. The Mongols were much stronger, in numbers and in wit. Thus, Kievan Rus had been effortlessly conquered, and Ivan was forced to give up his land. Even though the life of him and his people had not changed much under the new rule, Ivan still felt a dull pain in his heart. He'd let Winter down...

Well, at least he could try harder next time, right?

Ivan swore that if anyone else dared to invade his land again, he would impale their throats, crush their skulls, cut open their bellies and feed their guts to the wolves.

He giggled at the thought. Oh, that would be fun.

But for now, Ivan was going to be a nice boy, keep his mouth shut, and hopefully, not get his sisters in trouble. Standing in front of the palace entrance, he couldn't help but notice how colourful the guards' costumes were. Ivan liked bright colours. Before he had a chance to tell them, the humongous gates opened up to reveal a tall, stern man with funny-looking eyes. Though, of course, Ivan would never say that out loud.

The man spoke their tongue in a barely comprehensible accent, which made Ivan laugh inwardly. He gave them a brief tour of his new boss's home, which was basically just a bunch of houses built really close to each other, and connected by outdoor hallways. They weren't prettier, but they sure looked different from what Ivan had seen back home. Heck, he would have never thought that houses could be built in such a way!

Natalia must have whispered something funny to Yekaterina, because they were both looking at the tour guide and trying to stifle their giggles. He probably didn't notice that they were making fun of him, as he seemed to be too full of himself.

Ivan dared to ask the man where the restroom was, but he said, curtly, that there was none.

The halls were empty of people except for a few maids who were carrying trays of food, reminding Ivan of his beastly hunger. Soon, they arrived at their room. The tour guide bowed and left, grumbling to himself in another language as he walked away. Cautiously, the siblings entered their new temporary home. It had table, a dresser, and a single large bed. After settling down for a bit, Ukraine told them that their new boss had demanded to see them immediately.

Russia sighed. He had been dreading this.

"Which means, you quit slouching like that!" His big sister barked, and Russia's spine shot up reflexively. Frowning and shaking her head, she combed his hair with her fingers, mumbling to herself about how it could never stand straight. Ukraine went over and roughly brushed Belarus' hair too, making her yelp in pain.

She was only making him more nervous.

The newly built palace was nothing more than the love child between cheaply imitated Chinese architecture, and clumsy, impatient engineering.

Yao thought it disgraceful that the Mongols, having invaded their land and slaughtered their people, had also tainted thousands of years of architectural tradition with their slimy fingers. For the men who built this palace, probably nothing mattered more than getting the job done as expeditiously as possible, with no regard to the finesse that could have thrived beneath their fingertips.

They might as well had copied this whole god-forsaken palace from a bunch of stencils.

Well, Yao supposed that it was their style, their way of life, and it had served them well during the conquest. Yao's country fell to their lightning-quick ambitions, and not to mention, a lapse of judgement on his own part. So, who was he to criticize their ways?

Instead, it was times like these when Yao would tell himself to look on the bright side.

He felt that he deserved a vacation, after having worked incessantly for all this time, building his empire from barren soil. So, he decided to let these foreigners rule his land for a few decades, while he got some much-needed beauty sleep. So, instead of fussing over his country's every last petty affair, he could catch up on his reading, and perhaps master a new script in calligraphy. Revenge would be exacted, eventually, when the tedium became too much to cope. His new boss didn't expect too much of him either, which was a relief. So far, all he had been told to do was sit beside his throne and welcome the newly arrived ambassadors.

The guests today were, to put it lightly, rather interesting. No, entertaining. They were three siblings, two girls and one boy, who chose to dress in peasant's clothes despite going to see the Khan. As they walked down the hall, some of the concubines coughed and whispered politely to each other. Even a few of the maids, being Hans, looked at them with disgust.

The oldest sister, who presumably knew better manners than the others, tugged at her siblings' sleeves, urging them to bow. Yao thought that this level of sophistication probably wasn't even mandatory in the culture from which they hailed.

Yao didn't really care for the conversation they shared with the Khan. It didn't concern him, for his sole job was to just sit there and look pretty. So, to amuse himself, his eyes perused the newcomers more closely.

Their skin was paler than marble, but had a healthy tinge to it. Their complexion was due to heritage; they weren't ill. The little girl had ocean-blue eyes, and head of long, canary-yellow hair which flowed to her knees. It was fine, soft, and seemed to be glowing, like an aureole framing her face. The oldest sibling wasn't much to look at, her hair was the colour of dirt and straw. But what piqued Yao's interest was the size of her breasts. He knew it was rude to stare, but how could he not when they were being shoved right in front of his face?

The boy was the last to rise. He had a pair blushing, chubby cheeks, while the rest of his face was hidden beneath the scarf he wore. Poor thing, he must be so scared, standing in a room filled with judgemental eyes. His own purple ones looked around nervously, darting from the unskillfully painted ceiling, to the off-coloured carpets. It seemed as if he was searching for something, someone who could help get him out of this situation, and that was when Yao noticed that his eyes were... violet.

Yao blinked a couple of times, clearing his vision, but it was unmistakable.

He was so sure that he had seen them, seen him before. It felt as if they had known each other, once upon a time, but Yao's old lady memory just couldn't recall when.

No, he told himself, there was no way he could have forgotten a pair of eyes like those.

Instead, Yao agreed with the little voice in his head, and chose to believe that the boy must have been an acquaintance from another life. Yes, he must have known him from before they were even born. He liked the sound of that explanation, thus deemed it logical.

Descending from his thoughts, Yao had finally realized for just how long he had been staring into the violet. The boy had also been gazing into his own eyes in return, mouth agape, with a couple strands of saliva dangling from his chin. Yao looked away quickly and shielded his face with his fan, silently scolding himself for letting his mind slip at such an inappropriate time.

Yao often wondered why he kept a habit of waking up so early in the morning. Usually, there was nothing for him to do at this hour, especially since Kiku had left to live at home for a while. Yao did recall that he must attend a meeting today to discuss something that was probably important, but that was not until the afternoon. So, in the mean time, he decided to take a walk around the palace, in hope of finding something in his event log.

"Brother, I'm sorry!" Yao heard a girl yelling from down the hall, "Please forgive me, it won't happen again!"

Yao walked closer to investigate, hoping that whatever this was could occupy him for at least an hour or two.

"Stop running Bela," a boy's voice cooed, "You have done something wrong, so come here so I can punish you, da?"

The truth was that Natalia hadn't done anything wrong, other than having stolen a good portion of food from Ivan's plate when he had left for the washroom. Though Ivan, for the most part, was a kind, peaceful boy who loved his little sister enough to be a pushover, she had gone too far this time. No one touched his food, and if someone dared to, it was only fair that they get their hair cut off with a pair of scissors, right?

Yao saw the two pale children from yesterday running down the hall, knocking over flowerpots and even tackling into one of the newly hired maids, making her suddenly break into tears for having spilled the Khan's ginseng soup.

Snip.

A fistful of the girl's golden hair fell into a feathery puddle beneath her feet. The boy began giggling victoriously, despite that his sister had been reduced into a sobbing, wheezing, hairless mess.

Yao shook his head. Sometimes, children could be just as cruel as adults.

Quickly walking up to the girl, he helped her stand up, as she immediately hugged his legs and sobbed into the fabric of his robe. Not particularly fond of having mucous and tears slathered all over his outfit, he looked down at her uncomfortably. Her long hair had been reduced into a mere shoulder length, but still possessed that bright, sun-blessed colour that had amazed Yao the day before. Smiling, he bent down, and lightly dabbed her face dry with his sleeve.

"Come with me, little girl?" Yao said, taking her hand and giving her a wink, "I have a gift for you."

Natalia gave a few hiccups, and rubbed her nose before nodding slowly. As he began to lead her away, Yao turned back to the girl's brother. His heart gave a sudden jolt upon meeting those eyes again, but turned away quickly without noticing that the lovestruck boy was waving eagerly at him.

"There," Yao said, smiling sweetly at Natalia, who was sitting in front of his vanity desk, "You should wear your hair like this from now on."

Ivan, who was standing behind the door, pouted and stomped his feet.

Even though he knew it was bad to be jealous of his own sister, he just couldn't help it! How he wished that he was the one sitting in front of the mirror, getting his hair tied with a pretty ribbon by an even prettier lady.

Oh yes, she was so very pretty. She had long hair which seemed to flow eternally, like a black river leading into the underworld. Her face was as perfect and pure as the snow cones that his sister used to make him, and probably tasted like them too. Ivan bit into his fist.

He was too young to be a poet and too naughty to be a saint, but Ivan knew an angel when he saw one.

Ivan sighed. He'd never had much luck in winning the hearts of grown-ups. He was a "devil child", or so he had been told. The kind of boy that no good parent would want their son to play with. As the years went by, Ivan had come to accept the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he could never make people want to associate with him. And, he was fine with being alone.

But, for the first time in a while, he had begun to hate himself once more.

He hated that he wasn't cute enough to make the lady like him. Heck, seeing him chase someone down the hall with a pair of scissors probably scared her out of ever liking him.

As if Natalia had read Ivan's thoughts, she turned to him and stuck out her tongue. Ivan growled, and accidentally smacked the door frame a bit too hard.

After the grooming session was finished, Yao helped Natalia down the stool, and lead her back to Ivan.

Yao bent down in front of him. "Now, sweetheart, will you do me a favour?"

Suddenly, Ivan felt as if his heart was going to jump right out of his ribcage. He could feel sweat creeping down his neck, soaking his scarf. He thought he was going to faint soon, and he kind of wanted to, just so she could catch him in her arms.

Ivan couldn't believe it. He must have died and met Jesus.

"Anything," Ivan finally managed to croak, rather unattractively.

"I want you to be nicer to your sister from now on, and no more cutting her hair, okay?"

The boy's face was beet red. Yao wondered if he was sick.

"... Okay?" Yao asked again, a little worried.

After what felt like centuries of staring into Yao's eyes, Ivan finally blurted out, "So you're not mad at me?"

Yao chuckled, relieved that the boy didn't have a fever after all. "Of course not, and you two are welcome to visit me anytime!" He said, pinching the boy's cheek. He had always loved children, even strange ones like them. It was a shame that he couldn't have any of his own.

Kissing the two of them on the forehead, he bid them farewell and shut the door, leaving a satisfied Natalia and a grief-stricken Ivan by themselves. Congratulating himself on for a job well-done, he resorted to painting to waste the rest of his time.

That night, Ivan had a dream in which the pretty lady willingly got to be with him forever and ever. They did some really sexy stuff together, like taking a long walk on the beach and sharing the same plate of dumplings. She even agreed to bear his children, but sadly, he woke up before anything happened.

Next morning, the spot on Ivan's forehead where Yao had kissed still felt red-hot.

Yao opened another scroll from the many that laid upon his study desk, flipped through it, and was delighted to had finally found what he'd been looking for. It was a passage from the "Analects of Confucius" that he was going to read to Kiku during the first lesson after his return.

He did this, because the last thing he wanted was for his pupil to someday steer down the wrong path and stab him in the back. Which was why, he had always believed that moral discipline served best as a side dish to studying martial arts.

It was but a petty mechanism to control the young and mindless, after all.

Yao poured himself a cupful of light green tea. The tendrils of smoke rose from the steaming cup and into his nostrils. It did well to purify his lungs of bad air, and dispelled any notions of wanting to fall asleep early. He still had a bit more to read.

As his eyes scanned down the yellowing parchment, registering the words of the late philosopher in his mind, Yao gave a cynical chuckle.

To say that he himself upheld these moral codes of honour, selflessness, and fidelity would be telling a dirty, dirty lie. But, having the duty of being the teacher, it was mandatory for him to pass this knowledge onto Kiku, while maintaining stealth in his personal life. Yes, that was what must be.

Knock knock.

Yao shot his head and glared at the door. What kind of an insolent fool would dare knock on his bedroom door at such an ungodly hour? He was very tired, and was hoping to go to bed as soon as he finished reading. Mongolia knew better than visit him do late at night without an invitation, because the last time he did that, Yao had banned him from making love for a whole month. Apparently, physical torture wasn't enough, and he was at it again.

He marched to his door and flung it open. He shot up his hand with an intent to strike his lover in the face, but found that his visitor wasn't Mongolia. Instead, it was the same kid from yesterday and the day before, the one with those haunting amethyst orbs, who quickly shielded himself from the impact that never came.

Putting his arm down gently, Yao dared to take a long, deep breath. There was no need to lose his composure in front of a little boy. In response, Ivan had also put his arms down, and was back to smiling so widely that his whole face seemed to shrink in comparison.

Oh, he was such a dear, he even brought flowers for him! Figuring that he at least deserved at least some hospitality for his trouble, Yao lead him into his room, sat him down in front of his table and poured some tea. He eagerly snatched the cup and drank some, but, like all of the other foreigners Yao had ever entertained, he winced at the bitterness.

Yao, being a man of very few words, finally decided to break his code and opened his mouth to say something. Sadly, he was interrupted by an equally untalented conversationalist.

"You are really pretty," Ivan said dreamily, as if he was talking to fairies, "My name's Ivan, what's yours?"

"It is nice to meet you, Ivan, my name is Yao," he patronized, patting Ivan on the head.

"Yao," Ivan repeated, mouthing the name in his mouth multiple times, struggling with the odd pronunciation.

Yao's eyes scanned up and down his body, and couldn't help but think that if Ivan were a few years older, they probably wouldn't be sitting at the table and drinking tea right now. And, for the first time in a while, Yao inwardly smacked himself for having such indecent thoughts.

"So, how may I help you?" He asked instead.

"Um..." Ivan rolled his eyes up and down, from left to right, and back to Yao. "I just want to talk!" he finally said, shrugging.

This late at night?

"Very well, what do you have in mind?" He asked, shifting his posture to feign attentiveness.

"Well... hehe, Ivan was just wondering," he looked away, like a shy kitten, "are all the girls in Yao's country as pretty as she is?"

Now Ivan, that wasn't so hard, was it? So much for rehearsing this line in front of the mirror a whole hour.

Silence.

"I am a man."

Extended silence, plus a jaw which almost literally fell to the ground.

"Really?" Ivan asked despairingly. No! This couldn't be happening to him!

"Yes." Yao replied curtly.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he hopped down his stool and waddled over to where Yao was sitting. He extended his hand and gave Yao's chest a few unregretful pats. Yao frowned, a little insulted.

"Oh no," he wailed, "you are a man!" Now who is going to bear his kids?

Yao gave him an I-told-you-so look. "Do you believe me now, child?"

Ivan nodded, sadly, and for a while, refused to even look at him.

Yao blinked a few times, and decided that it was a good time to change the subject. He ventured to ask, "Well, Ivan," the name feeling oddly foreign on his tongue, "will you tell me about your life in Kievan Rus?"

Ivan also blinked a few times. "Okay!" He said brightly, deciding that it wasn't a good idea to look sad in front of his Yao for too long. Man or not, Ivan was still determined to get him pregnant someday.

He produced a box of sweets from nowhere, and set it on the table for his guest. Ivan clapped his hands delightfully, and took one without asking. He threw it in his mouth, and began his speech as he chewed.

"Um, I was born in the snow, somewhere really far away from here," he said slowly. His eyes stared dazedly into thin air, as if the memories he was trying to retrieve had been long lost. "Every year, when it got too cold, my father would come visit me and my sisters in our little cabin he had built for us, so we wouldn't be alone. They said that he was a really mean person, but I remembered him to be pretty nice. He left just before the Tartars invaded, and every year after that, the snowflakes always came back, but he never did..."

Yao nodded understandingly, and waited in silence until he was ready to continue.

"I love my sisters a lot!" He blurted out after a second or two, switching to his usual cheerful self as quickly as lighting a candle.

Yao frowned in slight worry. It was fire and ice with this boy, wasn't it?

He smiled giddily, and began kicking his legs up and down in a little dance as he spoke, "Yekaterina is my older sister. She has really huge boobs, and always yells at me. But, she is really good at cooking, and she even made me a scarf, see? " He waved the scarf around his eagerly in front of Yao's expressionless face, "Isn't it pretty?"

Not even giving Yao the chance to answer, nor giving himself the chance to breathe, he continued, "And you met Bela, my younger sister. She's weird and wants to hold my hand all the time, but I like her anyways."

Yao nodded, finding that his head was beginning to droop.

"And we all lived happily in our house until those stupid Tartars came, raped our women and killed our people!" He added in an unusually gleeful note, as if it had been an usual occurrence.

"And that happened when I was..." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "two hundred years old? Maybe three, maybe more. Okay, three hundred and fifty. Well, maybe three hundred and seventy-five... Definitely more than three and less than two... Okay, it is either two hundred, or eight..."

Apparently, no one ever taught him arithmetic.

Though they had just met, Yao wondered how Ivan's sisters had put up with him for all these years. He was an undeniably cute child, with chubby cheeks, sparkling laughter, and a smile that could melt anyone's heart. But, if only he could learn when to keep his mouth shut!

The boy hadn't stopped talking for over half an hour now. He spent over ten minutes on a verbal essay about why red was his favourite colour., while Yao had never thought that one could invest so much mental power into deciding something so trivial. Resting a cool palm upon his forehead, he realized how fortunate he was to have had to raise Kiku in his stead.

He thought of what he had to do tomorrow. Well, his boss did ask to accompany him to some annual horse-riding competition out in the country, which began early in the morning, and would last for most of the day. Which meant, unless Yao wanted his boss and all of his little friends to see his dark circles and crow's feet, he had better get to bed, now. So, Yao racked his mind of the most gentle, but efficient way to curtail Ivan's endless string of word vomit, while keeping those beautiful violet eyes tear-free. But, he couldn't find anything, and thankfully, Ivan beat him to it.

"Yao?"

"Yes sweetie?"

Ivan skipped over to him and grabbed his hands. Yao was surprised at how cold his fingertips felt. "Yao," he said again, batting his eyelashes in girlish charm, "I'm tired, can I sleep here tonight?"

And how could he say no to his puppy-dog face? He sighed and nodded. Picking Ivan up, he walked over and set him upon his own bed. It seemed that he and Yao's bed had a natural affinity for each other, since Ivan had immediately seized the bed covers and rolled himself into a cocoon.

"Take off your boots, Ivan," Yao scolded.

Ivan face grew irresistible again, but this time Yao equipped himself with a displeased pout and arms around his chest, tapping his feet impatiently.

Ivan humphed in defeat and kicked them to the floor. See? He could be a good kid too!

"Well," Yao said, carrying the head of the cocoon onto his pillow, and planting another kiss on his forehead, "Good night."

He turned and walked towards the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To the guest room, silly," Yao replied, "I am obviously not going to sleep here with you."

"Why not?" Ivan whined. His plan had been foiled.

Yao raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of the question, and wondered what he could possibly give as a cushioning answer. After searching through his head, and to no avail, he said once more,"Goodnight, Ivan," and walked outside, closing the door behind him.

A little voice in his head suggested that somehow, this had all been a really childish attempt at seduction. Yao quickly shook his head, and cursed his own dirty mind.

Though, on the off chance that it had been so, Yao made a mental note to someday teach Ivan how to do it properly.

A/N: Ivan is so cute... Though, I think if I met him in real life, I'd want to throttle the kid. xD

Notes:

- Dadu became the capital of the Yuan Dynasty 1272, and was the centre of the Mongolian Empire. It was located around modern-day Beijing.

- This applies to the next chapter as well- I am not trying to be racist, or looking down upon other cultures. It is Yao who is a little snooty. Just trying to be historically accurate here. ;) Thank you for understanding.

And, as usual- REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Teehee... :3