nekoian

I actually finished something. I'm very proud and yet...utterly dissapointed at how not good it seems to be. -sigh- I hope it's at least a little good tbh. It'll need some large edits and some changes if I decide to publish it in a more public area since I think it's a bit...janky in places.

--

Romano remains quiet the next few evenings and Niall wonders if they're angry at each other. It's hard to tell since animosity coats any affection they might have for each other. Niall thinks he might be angry at Romano, if only for his hesitation when questioned on how he might treat Britannia once he comes to power. Perhaps it was too much to expect that he'd hold a different opinion to his grandfather, he certainly talks about him with enough reverence that Niall feels stupid for thinking the other mans loyalty might be any different.

 

But a man can hope.

 

"I'm getting engaged." Romano breaks their silent treatment abruptly while in the main living room, he'd been swirling at a glass of wine and muttering about the annoying sound of rain drops on the arched windows while Niall had sat on the windowsill and watched the sheets of rain dance in the gusty air.

 

"A sudden decision." Niall leans his head against the wall, it had seemed like Romano was content with his progress, but perhaps he'd simply been tired.

 

"Grandfather decided it was time. He's selected a few suitable candidates. They'll all have gathered at the Palace by now and in a few days I'll be engaged to one of them."

 

"Is that why we suddenly took off?"

 

Romano nods in answer, looking fifty years too old, "I'm not looking forward to it."

 

"I doubt anyone would be. Can't you just tell him you're not ready?" Niall shifts, sitting up to keep better eye contact, Romano refuses to meet his gaze.

 

"You don't just tell the Emperor you refuse to do what he says, even if he's your Grandfather."

 

Niall nods, he feels the distance between them expand into a gulf, as though they're two islands being shoved apart by unruly waves, "have you...decided?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh."

 

"Is that all you're going to say?" Romano glares at him, he at least looks younger and more vibrant even if he doesn't seem any less surly, "I suppose the future of the empire doesn't matter much to you. You made your feelings about it very clear."

 

"Your Grandfather is not one of my favourite people but it doesn't change how I feel about--"

 

"My Grandfather is a great man. Though I doubt you'd understand. You've never had one."

 

Niall gets to his feet; hands clenching, "fuck you!"

 

Romano sets his glass aside and rises, striding closer and gazing into Niall's face, "do you hate me?" the question drops Niall's guard, overriding everything as the question plunges through it all, "if you hate the empire, then you hate me."

 

Niall shakes his head, "I don't like the empire as it is, I don't like the fact it burned people alive for being magic users, or that your Grandfather is currently planning to go to war with us. I hate that, but I don't hold it against you." Niall folds his arms and bites down on the inside of his mouth, "I think you're better than your Grandfather and your brother and cousins and everyone else. Even if you're being really shitty to me right now."

 

Romano  reaches his hand out to touch Niall's arm, but stops himself, "I don't think I should be Emperor. How can I change anything when I can't even--"

 

"You'll be a great ruler."

 

Romano rubs at his eyes, until his whole face is a frustrated red colour, "you're just saying that."

 

Niall shrugs and lets himself grin, making Romano punch him lightly on the arm, his hand flexing open and sliding down Niall's arm, curling around his mutilated hand and studying it, then he lets the grasp fall away and he's back in his seat again.

 

"I'm sorry," Romano mumbles, barely audibly.

 

Niall sits in the chair opposite and leans forward to pour himself some wine, "an engagement party, sounds like...fun."

 

"I thought you said you'd stopped telling lies." Romano drains his glass inelegantly, a trickle of wine dribbling down his chin and getting savagely wiped with a sleeve that bleeds red with the stain. Niall can only grin and shrug and try to hide the pit that's forming in his stomach.

 

--

 

The last day at Westhall leaves Niall a better dancer and good enough in a fight that he thinks that playing fair might not actively kill him in real combat. What it doesn't do is give him the courage to ask all the questions he wants to, so he stays quiet and watches as their things are packed into the carriage.

 

It's very clear that all the rumours about him have circulated swiftly through the staff and now he feels an uncomfortable judgement in their gazes that didn't bother him before. He'd be tempted to speak up if he imagined it would do any good. Nothing good comes from arguing with a rumour.

 

He leans himself against the baluster, smiling and winking at the young ladies who scuttle past until he hears Romano's feet slam down the stairs, his heavy heels clicking when they hit the main floor.

 

"I have something to give you, for your service." Romano snaps his fingers and a delivery boy runs over with a large wooden box in hand, "it will serve you better than that cheap training equipment," he slides the lid aside and presents Niall with a ridiciously tiny shield and a small heavy looking blade with notches carved out on one side of the blade, "this is a buckler and a sword breaker. You'll move much faster with them."

 

"Thanks, Romano, but I don't really plan on getting into many fights."

 

"Just take them, trust me, any swordsman with half a brain will be terrified of these." Romano grins, pushes them into Niall's grasp and pats down his sleeves for no discernible reason, "with a little practice you'll be able to snap a rapier like a twig."

 

"Like yours?"

 

"Ci."

 

Niall shivers, he had wanted a different answer.

 

"If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?" Romano's face remains strikingly neutral, as though the question was as simple as 'do you want breakfast?' and Niall remains silent for a long time, looping the dagger into his belt and testing the weight of the shield, which is slight and delicate, he imagines it won't leave his arm feeling achy and useless.

 

"I don't know," he answers eventually, "it's...difficult to say."

 

Romano nods, looking satisfied. He extracts the jewellery box from his pocket and snaps it open, "this is an Imperial seal, only worn by those who marry into the Imperial family. In a few days I might ask you if you want it. I'd like it if you said yes." The ring is large and gold, with a strange looking crest of feathers and interlocked snakes, studded with a smatter of diamonds and rubies around the band, it's utterly hideous.

 

"You're asking me to marry you?'

 

The box clicks shut and gets shoved into Romano's pocket, "I might. If I can."

 

"But---I thought you'd already selected someone your Grandfather sent."

 

"You're really dense for someone so clever." Romano sighs, "I don't want someone my Grandfather picked out for me, like I'm some fucking dog he can selectively breed, but I'm giving you one last chance to say no and leave."

 

"I don't want to leave, I'm just not sure if--" not sure if...what?

 

Romano raises one shoulder, turns and begins to bark orders at the workmen handling his chests and boxes.

 

Niall watches him, wide eyed, that retreating figure that he wants to be so much closer to, constantly drifting further away. How does a common sneak thief belong anywhere near the throne of the empire and would he ruin Romano's chances of ever seeing it? Do they love each other or simply rely on this strange status quo they've developed?

 

He'll have time to ruminate on it on the ride back to the Palace.

 

--

 

They remain silent atop their horses as they walk them away from Westhall, back into a complicated world that Niall suddenly resents. He wishes they could have stayed there longer. He glances at Romano often, trying to pin down his feelings. Does he want to get married or is his urge to say yes simply some ugly thing sent to test him.

 

He prays a little, but no answers come. Answers never come when he begs for them.

 

"You look pensive." Romano says when they pause to admire the scenery from atop a grassy hill, Westhall can be seen amidst the trees and stones of the land and in the distance Deva is made pale by a mist rising from the river.

 

"I don't get asked to marry someone every day." Niall lets his fingers sweep through Storms mane, enjoying her warm dry heat, "every other day, maybe."

 

"A handsome twig like you? Shocking." Romano eyes him, cautious and confident all at once, "are you concerned?"

 

"Maybe." Niall looks away, back to Deva, it feels like everything has been drifting very far away, and there's nowhere to truly go now he's noticed, "why would you choose me instead of someone more suitable? I'm not a noble you know."

 

"I hadn't noticed." Romano glares at him, "there are more reasons for a Prince to get married than just political interest."

 

"Is it love then?"

 

The question isn't answered, Romano turns his horse and moves away. Perhaps he doesn't know either.

 

They continue walking, slower and slower as though to remain alone as long as possible. Romano eventually breaks the silence, "I asked because I enjoy your company, it's more than I can say about anyone. I can't promise more. Whether or not I'm strong enough to stand up to Grandfather on the matter is a different matter entirely."

 

"Is that a good reason to get married? I don't know anything about the subject." Niall admires the fine line of Romano's face, the way his hair swishes, he never wants to leave his side.

 

"If I get married we'll be separated forever. I can't exactly spend every second with some lowly Guardsman. You'll stay here in Deva where you belong and I will eventually go back to Imperium and get married to some fool I can't stand," A frown, "I'd sooner be married to a fool I can stand."

 

"I asked you not to make me choose."

 

"I don't have much choice." Romano's hand strays into his pocket, clenching around the jewellery box, "I'll give you this ring and if you accept it I'll take it as a yes. Then we'll see how things go."

 

"I suppose we will." Niall stops, watches Romano's retreating back, "I think I love you, a little, in my own way," that makes Romano startle to a stop and turn to stare, "I'm just not sure someone like me deserves a nice happy life, or if I'm built for it."

 

"Then say no."

 

Niall opens his mouth to promise he will or he won't but he shuts it and the moment is lost. They continue walking.

 

--

 

Arriving back at the palace is a surreal experience, it's been strewn with bountiful flowers, ribbons, banners, flags from all corners of the empire and everything has seemingly been scrubbed spotlessly clean even by the standards of Royalty, there are multiple beautiful new horses residing in the stables and more overly ornate carriages stuffed into the carriage house.

 

It hadn't seemed like such a big deal to Niall, until just now and upon Romano's return being broadcast he's quickly forgotten about as family and friends appear like maggots from a seaman's hardtack, he decides to keep an eye on the unloading the carriage as he brushes their horses down and promises Storm that her usual spot in the stables will be hers again soon.

 

All this seems so much bigger than himself that Niall can only slink back to Romano's side and hope to look imposing enough to pass as a real guard. He needn't have bothered, nobody looks at him twice except Romano who rolls his eyes and looks desperate to leave the busy ballroom, with it's multitude of new faces.

 

Thankfully -or perhaps unhappily- Francis appears and shepherds Romano aside, he seems delighted by the energy of the palace even if Alasdair's absence is very obvious, "I didn't think you'd ever come back. Did you have a good time at Westhall?"

 

"As good a time as anyone can in some filthy hovel with nothing but a maypole for company." he aims his eyes at Niall and smiles playfully, making Francis sigh, he's clearly missing the joke.

 

"I thought everyone here was going to declare war on us if you hadn't come back." Francis says, making Romano's expression darken slightly.

 

"I can't imagine."

 

"Will three days be enough time? I'd get this over with sooner but the kitchen needs time to prepare and doubtless you'll want to get something to wear." Francis glances in Niall's direction, then pretends to see right through him, "Your Grandfather sent this..." A letter is placed into Francis' outstretched palm and handed to Romano, "I notified him that all was in order and---" The conversation stumbles and tips over as Romano pulls the letter open, eyes furiously eating the words up. Romano looks terribly unhappy by whatever news he's received, but Niall has no time to ask, as the letter gets pushed into his grasp and an urging expression tells him to read.

 

'I have urgent meetings so cannot make it. Sending my love'

 

And nothing more.

 

"I'm weary from the long ride," Romano lies, "send some lunch to my room. Come on Niall."

 

"Are you sure it's wise to take...him. You're about to be--"

 

"I don't remember asking for your opinion." Romano and Francis exchange looks suggest they might devolve into a fight if allowed to and Niall is about to break it up when Romano strides away and calls for him to follow. Niall gives Francis a curt little bow then jogs after.

 

"You can't resist pissing him off, can you?" Niall chuckles when they're safely alone at the top of the stairs, "by the Gods, that's a lot of very rich, stuck up fuckers isn't it?'

 

"Far too many. Most of them are only here to get themselves or their children near the throne."

 

Niall, having no interest in the inner dealings and politics of the social elite merely makes a dismissive noise and opens the door to Romano's chambers, making sure the door is bolted and locked to avoid unwanted intrusion, "sounds like a pain in the arse?"

 

Romano's shoe gets thrown forcibly across the room, followed by the other one, it clatters as it rolls under the bed, "I'd never see hide nor hair of a single one of them unless there was some event happening that could help them step up the Imperial ladder. It's the same on our birthdays, everything is so fake and vapid. Have you ever tried to have fun at a birthday party when all the other children have orders to suck up to you?"

 

Niall shakes his head.

 

"Well, it's the fucking worst. It's like being all alone in a sea of---" Romano's mouth closes, his eyes slinking over to Niall as he upsets the bedding by flopping down on it, "we've...never celebrated your birthday, have we?'

 

"I don't have one, I just sort of get taller and hope not to die."

 

Romano sits beside him, "everyone has a birthday."

 

"They didn't know when mine was, since they found me. I have a found day but it wasn't much cause for celebration. So we didn't."

 

"When was that?"

 

"August, maybe? Don't change the subject. You were talking about some kind of--"

 

"How did they find you?"

 

Niall folds his arms and thinks back, "A man found my Ma dead in a river boat from Hibernia, I was with her I guess. And he handed me in to the orphanage. They named me after him, that's as much as I know. It doesn't really matter."

 

Romano sinks back onto the bed, his elbow striking Niall in the ribs and issuing a distracted apology before carrying on, "is everything in your past so traumatically sad?"

 

"I wouldn't call it traumatic."

 

"I've never even tried to find out about your birthday." Romano grinds his hands into his eyes, like a petulantly tired toddler, "I'm so fucking bad at this!"

 

"I'll consider the dagger my first Birthday present then." Niall closes his eyes and enjoys the familiar feel of the mattress and the smell of the linens, "would I get cake?"

 

"What?"

 

"If we did my birthday, thing?"

 

"Do you...want cake?"

 

"I really, really do."

 

"Then I'll get you a cake." Romano pats him on the hand and rises back to his feet.

 

"I'll get you one too. A little one. I might eat it." Niall rolls onto his side, "You should tell me all about your shitty birthdays while we wait for lunch from his royal pain in the arse."

 

"It seems petty after all the shit you've told me."

 

Niall waggles his hand to dismiss the notion, "I'm a very petty man, Romano."

 

--

 

The mirror looms far above, making Romano's reflection seem so small that he has to get right up to it, checking his posture and the lay of his clothes. His hair has been brushed to a near greasy looking lustre and his shoes are already pinching at every area of his feet. He'll worry about blisters later. He adjusts the fabric at his throat and tugs his gloves on as hard as they'll go. He hates gloves.

 

He takes a deep inhale, turns his back on his reflection and marches out the door, straight and proud and already feeling the skin of his feet begin to tear away.

 

The lavish ballroom is even more lavish than usual, it's been filled from top to bottom with hydrangeas and blue hyacinths. Flowers he recalls telling his grandfather he particularly liked when questioned, but secretly he hates them and hasn't the heart or courage to admit it. He doesn't like flowers at all and has to force himself to smile when they're brought up.

 

He turns his attention instead to the large cake in the middle of the room, it's white icing decorated with sugarpaste flowers of various kinds and bordered with delicious candied fruits at the bottom, at the foot of the table are stacks of gifts from the multitude of guests milling around, some who pause to bow to him and introduce their children.

 

He remembers that day because Grandfather and Feliaciano had worked together to make him a gift, a carved wooden soldier painted in a white and golden uniform, looking very proud and excellent in his tassels and buttons. Romano had loved it so much that he'd cried when he opened it, but he also hated it enough that he considered throwing it into the fire and watching it burn with relish, because Grandfather never made anything with him and it would serve Feliaciano right for the special treatment.

 

But for now he cried with happiness and hugged his brother and Grandfather and grasped the doll in both hands so tight that he thought his gloves might tear. He went on to dance with the various pretty little girls introduced to him, cousin Marie who talked far too much and said far too little.

 

He ate his meal and enjoyed it, it was crab and fresh lemons.

 

Soon the adults had retired to take to their cups and the children went to the nursery and Romano followed, looking around for his brother and finding him amidst the other children, all smiles and gaiety as they talked to him.

 

"I like your coat!" he'd say to another, "ah so pretty!" about some girls long thick curls, until it seemed each had been complimented to satisfaction. "We should play hide and seek!" Feliaciano declares loudly, "I'll be it. I'll count to fifty!" then he began counting and Romano lingered beside him, alone for a brief second.

 

"You said so many nice things about everyone," he feels his feet grow damp with burst blisters, they hurt, "what kind of nice thing would you say about me?" Romano had meant it conversationally, even if part of him craved the validation, but the silence had been telling, Feliaciano turned to look at him, frowned ever so slightly and then...

 

"I found you, you're it!" and run off.

 

Romano didn't stay to play the rest of the game, he'd retreated to his room; savagely removed his gloves and shoes and flung them asunder because he hated wearing them. Holding the soldier in his clawed hand and stared at the fire and wanted to see everything burn. But the soldier remained on his bedside, mocking him every morning with it's vapid, meaningless smile.

 

--

 

Three days.

 

Niall watches Romano slowly cut into a piece of meat, chew it delicately and swallow. Every movement he makes has a strange loveliness to it even as his brow crinkles in annoyance of being stared at.

 

Three days.

 

Is it just some repressed urge sent to test him or something deeper.

 

Three days.

 

How can he decide in just three days?

 

"Stop staring!" Romano saws savagely at his steak, almost cutting a canyon into his plate, "I don't like being watched when I eat."

 

"I know. Sorry." Niall pushes a slice of glossy, overly sweet purple carrot around his plate, "I was just thinking."

 

"Nothing too vexing I hope?" Romano slumps in his seat.

 

"About what I want to do." Niall pushes the carrot to the other side of the plate, "I can't think of anything. Crime was all I was ever good for."

 

"You polish my boots well." Romano glances under the bed, "I wouldn't call that a crime."

 

Niall nudges his plate away and rests his arms on the table, "I don't know anything about being somebody."

 

"That was a terrible sentence."

 

"I'm trying to say, being married to you. It'd be strange. I've been a bottom feeder my whole life. I have no idea how to be different."

 

"Good." Romano steals the vegetables off Niall's plate and gets to work chopping them into pieces, "I'm not interested in some boring politician or a goody two shoes. I'm considering you because I--" he pauses, stuffs his mouth full and chews excessively, even with one cheek bloated he looks ethereally handsome, "I want someone around me who's really there."

 

"Isn't the political stuff important? I'm sure there's more to all this than just us being..." Niall claps his hands together, "and what if  we don't really like each other that way?"

 

"Then we'll stay as we are and wear the rings and look nice at ceremonies." Romano sighs, "we both know I won't be emperor, Feliaciano will weasel his way into it and I'll be sent off to some backwater like Francis was...no offence."

 

"None taken." Niall taps Romano's foot with his toe and instinctively draws it away, yet wonders if the desire to let that touch linger means anything, "I want to support you in becoming Emperor, but all I'm good at is stealing and lying and cheating."

 

"That's mostly what the job entails, at least according to a number of Grandfathers braver court members. I think you're focusing on the wrong thing here."

 

"And I think you're not thinking about it enough."

 

"Being an heir to an Empire isn't everything that I am. Is it so wrong to want something outside of that?" Romano stands and brushes his jacket down, smoothing out the wrinkles, "I don't want to get swallowed up by it like my parents were." Romano's expression grows tense and pained, and Niall knows better than to pry, "I wouldn't blame you if you declined the ring but remember, an engagement can be called off."

 

--

 

Niall watches Romano go through the motions of familial politeness, greeting all the women his grandfather sent as prospective brides and making each one blush. Why only women have been sent is a baffling mystery but Niall is too lazy to question it and too focused on keeping his distance from Alasdair, who'll watch Niall like he's a puppy preparing to piss all over a new carpet and might need a good tap on the nose to discourage the behaviour.

 

Behaving well, however, is boring and it leaves Niall with thoughts that won't stop whirling. Yes or no? He has no life outside this bubble, and nowhere to go, but he's not a part of this world either.

 

He brightens when Romano turns to him and they have a deep conversation about the proper way to eat a lobster or pause for breath on the side-lines, watching the big dresses and high piled hair and wigs, and the way Francis and Alasdair smile so sweetly at one another.

 

Romano makes a gagging sound and decides he and Niall should excuse themselves under the pretence of taking a leak. Apparently that kind of language is too common and Romano laughs furiously about the look on Cousin Marie's face and Niall thinks he loves the sound.

 

Two days.

 

Niall dumps his jacket over Romano's head when the rain starts spitting and shrugs at the accusation that he'll catch a cold, smiling down at Romano's shivering body, he has the urge to hold him close and give him every bit of heat he can offer, and Romano glances up at him and frowns so exquisitely that breathing becomes somehow very noticeable.

 

It somehow feels like they've been kissing each other breathless without so much as touching and Niall feels comfortable with that.

 

A moment later Romano clasps his hand, declares it's far too cold and drags him back inside and into the fray once again, where Niall fades into the background of life, but watches with interest.

 

Unknown to him, somebody else is watching him too.

 

--

 

The day before Romano stays in his room, pawing through his clothing and rejecting all the advice Niall can think to give him. It's still drizzling and sad outside, but inside is warm and comfortable and wonderfully quiet. The fire crackles and the bread Niall had hidden away is still edible. Despite Romano's attempts to remove it from him he chews on it. Feeling a sort of comfort from the slight staleness of it. Fresh bread never tastes right.

 

Romano chooses his green jacket for the fifth time then wonders about the location of one of his shoes.

 

"Still under the bed. You kicked it under there, remember?"

 

Romano tuts and rolls his eyes, hunching down to paw for it under that big comfy bed, eventually he stands up, not with a shoe but with a familiar box in hand. The box of Niall's stolen cutlery, undisturbed until Romano upends it and they scatter across the floor.

 

"I had those how I liked them, prat." Niall can only pout as Romano stares at each one, concentration giving way to confusion.

 

"There's nineteen," he begins to put them back, "you've not taken anymore since we got back. Unless you changed your hiding spot. Packrat."

 

"You always find it, I stopped trying." Niall yawns and listens to the wind outside, somewhere between a whisper and a sigh, "what's your point, besides ruining the system I had?"

 

"You've never gone this long without giving in to---whatever it is." Romano hands him the box, but keeps a hold of it, "don't change too much, is what I mean. It'd be annoying."

 

Niall laughs and sets the box aside. He feels no desire to rearrange it, nor pluck up his bible, or even to fret, "the ball is tomorrow."

 

"It is."

 

"Looking forward to it?"

 

"I might pretend to be dead." Romano nestles at the far side of the seat and smiles, it's faint and flattering, "want to die with me?'

 

"Every day."

 

Romano raises his feet and rests them across Niall's lap, sighing as he shifts and squirms to get comfortable, Niall feels a familiar surge in his groin and through his legs that makes him remain very still. He'd think Romano did it on purpose if he didn't seem to fall immediately to sleep. Niall decides to nap too and in no time at all there's no time left to think.

 

Morning arrives with a fresh slice of bread and the smell of coffee.

 

--

 

Romano chose a different suit than he'd selected the day before, a dark blue one with a neatly folded frill at the throat, a cravat apparently, Niall has been told. They wait together in the library, pretending to read a book or commenting on the state of the weather to break up the tedium of Romano's nervous pacing.

 

Eventually he stops dead in his tracks and looks at Niall with a serious expression that demands his full attention.

 

"I want you to take this and deliver it to me when I ask you to." The imperial seal ring is held out on a golden chain, "it can't be stolen before then. Do you understand?"

 

"Guess so." Niall leans slightly, letting Romano slip the chain around his neck, it feels strangely heavy, "don't you need it in the box?"

 

"It has to go to the right person." Romano frowns, looking guilty, so guilty that a knot forms in Niall's stomach.

 

"Are you going to--"

 

"Ah, I'm sorry. I thought Francis would be here. He wanted..." Marie steps into the room and Romano shuffles away from Niall, away from that intimate closeness. "I guess I'll go look for him in the garden. I think I saw him go out there with his fiancé."

 

"Ci, I compliment you on your dress, Marie." Romano beams at her, practically swooning as she makes a flustered exit. When she's gone Romano's face is the very image of disgust, "I hate Marie."

 

"You just said her dress was nice!"

 

"She talks too much about very little." Romano gnaws his lip, "I have a confession to make, however." Romano doesn't suit an apologetic face, and quickly coughs and walks to the window, "things are different back home than they are in Imperium." another long pause that makes Niall's stomach churn afresh, "Grandfather won't approve of me marrying a man."

 

"What?"

 

"An emperor needs an heir. After all."

 

"Oh."

 

"I'm not sure I---" Romano's shoulders arch upwards sharply, he begins to savagely twist at his gloves as Niall feels his body chill, "promise me you'll be there for me."

 

Niall nods when Romano excuses himself and he's left behind, feeling desperately, pathetically alone, stuffing the ring under his blouse, the gems nip at his skin.

 

--

 

Marie finishes her talk with her mother, lifting her skirts and smiling when she see's Lovino exit the library, she's tempted to chase after him and let him know all the interesting things she's seen in Britannia since she arrived -so many funny looking hats!- but she pauses, noticing Francis' fiance hovering around the main door, he looks sweaty and unappealing.

 

"I was looking for you! I have bad news." She blinks her eyes and him and worries at her lip, "I just saw that weird dark haired man stealing something from his Highness, Lovino. I was too scared to say anything so I came to find you!"

 

She grins as she see's the familiar bristle of his face, anger so easily triggered, he strides over to her with heroic purpose, "you're sure?"

 

"Oh yes. I saw him duck into the library just now."

 

 

"That rotten bastard, I'll finally catch him..." then Alasdair strides off and Marie watches him go. With that, a plan begins to form in her mind.

 

--

Alasdair's angry face doesn't surprise Niall, he's not sure he's ever really looked at Niall with any other expression, but having done no wrong he feels secure remaining in the comfort of his seat by the small open window, letting the cool breeze and light rain cool his skin. Perhaps he will catch a cold.

 

"You finally fucked up." Alasdair's hand slams the window shut and wrangles Niall's arm painfully behind his back.

 

"Get off me, you lunatic!"

 

"You've been thieving again, I knew it was only a matter of time."

 

Niall rolls his eyes as Alasdair's hands pat him down, "listen, I haven't stolen a thing in at least a day. So get your hands off me."

 

The chain gets a soft yank and the ring knocks against his collar with a heavy thump, Alasdair looks satisfied, "not stealing eh? Then why do you have Lovino's ring around your scrawny neck?"

 

"He asked me to watch--"

 

"Likely story." Alasdair isn't listening, choosing to remove the chain and hold it away from Niall's grasping hand, "I'm sure we'll find out from Lovino what the truth is."

 

"Go ask him then."

 

Alasdair marches out of the room, returning almost instantly, "I've given the ring to Marie so she can give it back to Lovino while I watch you. Don't even try to get out the window.

 

Niall glances at the library window, it's large enough for him to fit through but terribly high up for even him to think of trying to escape through, the walls along that side of the castle are slick smooth and footholds so lacking that it'd be suicide to make an attempt, "what do you think I am, a spider?"

 

"I'm going to call for Francis so we can--" Alasdair rattles at the door, gently at first then with mounting frustration, "it's...locked?"

 

"What do you mean it's locked, let me see." The door refuses to budge when Niall tries, and even a hard thump of his shoulder won't move the intensely thick wood, "how did you manage to lock us in?"

 

"You're both staying in there until the dance is over." A deep voice from the other side of the door tells them, and Niall looks to Alasdair for some explanation, he looks just as baffled.

 

"Open his door or I'll--" his hand goes to his belt, but his sword isn't there, "oh for fuck sake, Francis."

 

"If you set a foot outside this door I'll shoot you. Lady Marie doesn't want to be interrupted."

 

"I wouldn't worry much about that, she talks too much." Niall nudges Alasdair with amusement, but he only looks baffled, "oh right, Romano must have only told me that one. Look, I don't know what she wants the Imperial seal for but keeping us in here is pointless." Niall sighs, rattles the door again and then flops onto a seat, "thank you Alasdair, you're very helpful."

 

"That was the...Imperial Seal?" Alasdair folds his arms, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his fingers arrhythmically on his arm, "Francis told me something about that while we were having a drink last night..."

 

"It's an engagement ring, Romano's asking some girl to marry him with it."

 

"Oh," Alasdair's brows knit together at the centre, he looks unconvinced, "that doesn't sound right. Francis said something about it let me think---" A long thoughtful silence is broken only by the distant thrum of music. Alasdair's eyes widen slightly, his head moving towards Niall, with skin starting to grow pale, "he GAVE you the Imperial seal?"

 

"Aye, to give to him when he needed it. You think you'd never run an errand before."

 

"Holy shit." Alasdair drops onto the seat beside him and manages to get even paler, "I think I just fucked up."

 

"No kidding. We're stuck in here and I won't even get to drink myself stupid."

 

"It's worse than that. Francis told me that only a member of the Emperors family or somebody marrying into it can ever even touch that ring. When he asks the person who owns it to step forward...that's the person he'll be stuck with. Apparently it's some ancient, completely nonsensical tradition."

 

"...what?"

 

"Didn't he tell you any of this?'

 

"No---are you sure about that, it sounds too stupid to be---" Niall feels the room spin slightly, followed by a surge of realisation, "that little shit lied to me, I'll fucking kill him!" Niall barges to his feet and slams his fists on the door, "let me out of here you fucking...fuckers!" The door gets a swift kick for good measure.

 

"Did...did Romano mention he was asking you to---" Alasdair's mouth closes when Niall nods.

 

"But he said he'd probably not. That he'd only be allowed to marry a girl. I didn't think I was good enough in the end..." Niall's hand rests on the door, "if I don't get that ring back, he'll be--" his breath begins to heave, he doesn't want to believe Alasdair's tall tale, it sounds so far fetched that it sounds like a bad joke, but the risk of it being even a little true.

 

"Pick the lock. I know you can." Alasdair whispers, "I can hold whoever's out there off long enough for you to try and get it back."

 

Niall blinks at Alasdair in confusion, then remembers the sun pendant under his clothing, pulling it loose, he slips over to the door and kneels, fiddling at the complicated lock as quietly as he can while Alasdair watches with an interest that's marred with mixed feelings. Mostly disapproval.

 

The lock refuses to budge, partly from a lack of use, everything feels too stiff and heavy for the thin metal of the pendant, Niall can feel it begin to bend and warp with the pressure. A desecration of the Gods, but one they'll have to forgive him for later. It takes so long that Alasdair begins to pace and question him more and more about his progress.

 

"I'm out of practice." Niall finally admits, "I don't do it as often, and you're not helping with your constant nagging."

 

Alasdair makes an aggressive but frustrated sound and mutters something about Francis being worried sick but Niall has no time for sympathy and no need of it right now. His fingers feel a little slick from sweat and it makes his grip slippery. He really should have practiced. Idiot.

 

"Romano really asked you to marry him?" Alasdair asks after some time has passed.

 

Niall nods.

 

"Did you said yes?"

 

"Maybe."

 

"Is it a good idea? You're not exactly--"

 

"Neither are you. Shut up."

 

Alasdair does shut up for a while, until the silence is frustrating enough that Niall wants to kill it.

 

"You really hate me, don't you?" Niall pauses and takes a breath.

 

Silence again, followed by, "I hate criminals. They ruin innocent peoples lives. Didn't you ever stop and think about all the hurt you caused?"

 

"I was innocent once. Hard to stay that way." Niall gets back to work, listening at the other side of the door for movement, the sound of the key or a familiar voice, anything. "You remember that ring you caught me stealing, all those years ago?"

 

"How can I forget...poor old woman was traumatised."

 

"My boss told me to steal it and I did what I was told."

 

"What difference does that make?'

 

"Do you like Angus, Llewellyn, Richard and Oliver?"

 

Alasdair shuffles around behind him, Niall hears a book open then snap closed, "I do; and if you loved them you'd never have--"

 

"They'd be dead now if I hadn't done the shitty things I did. I'm not proud of of it but I'm not going to apologise to you for a single one of them. Not ever." The lock slips, Niall breathes a sigh of relief,  "I think I have it."

 

Alasdair strides closer and kneels beside him, watching his fingers jerk and twist at the entrance of the brass lock, "Who exactly did you work for?"

 

"People much nastier than me. I left to protect my family and I never want them to thank me for it, because my life has been shit and it was worth it because they're happy now." Niall withdraws the pendant testing the handle ever so slightly, "I think I want to be happy too. Is that a crime?"

 

"No." They mutually decide this isn't the time and direct their attention to whoever might be guarding the doorway.

 

"The locks open, but there's no way we can get past someone with a firearm."

 

"Nobody with any sense would fire a gun in the palace, the Elite guard would be on them before they could reload." Alasdair taps his foot, looking a little lost in thought, "I can distract the guy at the door, think you can slip by and get that ring back?"

 

"You want me to steal it?"

 

"It's not really stealing if it was yours." A pause, then Alasdair forces himself to scowl, "I'll still be checking with Romano though, I don't trust you a jot."

 

"That's probably fair." The door handle is slowly lowered until the hinges can swing free, "if you die I'm going to your funeral and telling lies about you in the eulogy."

 

"Same to you, except I'll tell the truth." Alasdair looks happier now the status quo has mended itself and after cracking a few of his knuckles he dives out of the room in a thunder of threats and the sounds of punching and kicking, then Niall flinches as a gunshot blows the corner of the door off and when he peeks around it, Alasdair looks dazed, his suit stained with a little blood where it's caught his arm. He shakes himself back to his senses and pins his captor with one fluid movement before Niall can say he was joking about the funeral.

 

"Get going!" Alasdair orders, then slams the large mans head into the marble when he begins to fight back, "I'll have the guards seal the palace off!"

 

Niall nods and realises he has no clue where Marie might have gone and Alasdair isn't forthcoming with a hint. Maybe if he can find Romano he can--The music seems to get louder, telling Niall that time will start running out soon. He has no time to waste and no idea where to begin.

 

Where would a thief like Marie take a ring like that? Somewhere isolated and safe, where nobody would expect you to be, so her room is out. He narrows each option down then decides to quickly check each one, holds his breath and dives into the shadows, feeling himself fade like a mist into them. So long as he holds his breath she won't see him coming.

 

--

 

The green room is the last room Niall checks, feeling winded and low on energy from using up so much magic in one go, he slips in and tries to ignore the looming visage of the King of Britannia that glares down at him. A sweep of the room reveals Marie at the large arched window, staring out at the gardens with the chain in her hands, swinging it gently as she hums a tune.

 

Niall steps over carefully, one foot after another. He's about to swipe the ring when Marie turns, staring up at him with the same eyes as the man in the painting, a stern disapproval in her demure frown, "you are tenacious, I should have known a dirty little thief would break free."

 

"Give it back Marie. I don't want to hurt you."

 

"Hurt me?" She laughs, "there's no way I'm losing to some smelly commoner. Especially not when Mama just gave me this." A familiar handless clock is produced from the little satin purse at her belt. "I'll suck any of that filth out of you then cut you down like the dog you are."

 

Niall eyes flick to the rapier blade at her waist, secured by decorative satin ribbons with a complicated rose shaped knot. His eyes go back to the watch, the horrible feeling of his body crumbling without his magic, he's afraid of it, "I don't have magic." the word makes her eye twitch, "you're not going to frighten me into backing down."

 

His hand moves carefully towards the sword breaker in his hilt, without the shield it's less effective but it's better than nothing.

 

"let's really think about this, shall we?" Marie draws her blade and admires the gleam of the metal, "do you really think you're cut out to be the Prince Consort? You?" she laughs, "a little street rat married to an Emperors son? Lovino would be stupid to even think of marrying you."

 

"Romano can--"

 

She swipes the blade in warning, sending Niall skittering backwards, "you're not listening, the only reason he'd marry a nobody like you is so he has an excuse for when the Emperor banishes him. I don't want that to happen, with my family connections I can ensure he'll be on the throne and ruling the entire Empire. What can you give him? Fleas?" She smirks with amusement, "if he marries you I imagine the Emperor would have you swinging from the gallows the moment you set foot in Imperium. Is that really what you want? Pathetic little orphan boy, that's what everyone says you know, I'm not losing my chance at sitting on the throne because of some motherless bastard."

 

"Romano was right, you talk far too much." the remark breaks her focus, and Niall draws his blade, attempting to slash with the sharp end and disarm her, but her guard rises and the rapier swipes it aside, wrenching the muscles in Niall's arm.

 

"You've no right calling him that!" The rapier tip kisses the bridge of Niall's cheek, it stings but isn't bleeding when he rubs his hand there to check, "Lovino is mine, he has been since we were children!" a second swipe at his gut makes Niall jump aside, making him wobble and stagger for footing on the thick carpet, "I own the ring now, and there's nothing someone like you can do to stop me. Being able to take it off you proves I should be the Empress."

 

Her blade connects with the sword breaker, both blades quiver and snarl as they grind against each other, Niall might have gotten better at swordplay, but Marie is clearly better than her pretty looks and poofy dress might have led him to believe. He can't win in a fair fight, not when he's so drained.

 

So why fight fair. She certainly didn't.

 

"Romano, I'm in here!" he calls to the window, causing her to glance towards it with a cautious tilt of her neck, the sword breaker sinks it's fangs around the rapier and with a painful twist the blade bends then snaps asunder, the force of it spinning the hilt from her grip and hitting the floor with a dull, cushioned thump against that gaudy carpet.

 

His breath begins to heave, he needs this to end. To get back to normal, to protect Romano, no matter his decision regarding the marriage. He extends his hand out and rises to his full height, he's bigger than her, strong than her, she can't win without her sword.

 

"Give it to me, Marie. Romano is going to marry whoever he likes, even if neither of us are happy with his choice in the end."

 

"If you say so, I suppose I have no choice."

 

Her finger presses down on the button of the awful watch and Niall can taste sulphur, bile and blood, almost feel his body emptying as though his throat had been cut, that same sensation of bleeding to death, being sucked dry to his core. Before long he's slumped to his knees.

 

Marie kicks him aside and glowers down triumphantly, the watch shuts off, the weakness remains and when he's sprawled on the floor she steps on his chest, her heel stinging his guts, "in one hour, I win and you'll probably be dead. Addio, whoever you are."

 

--

 

Romano paces, trying to smile at the guests while wondering where Niall could have gone. Soon it will be time to make an announcement and he'd assumed Niall would appear when the music started. He isn't the only one who's concerned, as Francis has started glancing around as well, and soon wanders over, offering a bow and an invitation to dance that Romano declines.

 

"Have you seen Alasdair. I picked this song just for him." He sounds peevish, "we were going to dance."

 

Romano shakes his head, "Niall isn't around either."

 

"They better not cause a scene with their bickering." Francis shakes his head, "I tell him every time to just ignore Niall and get on with life and he never listens. Like a dog with a bone."

 

Romano thinks that if Niall was a bone, there wouldn't be much marrow in there to get at but decides not to say as much, because the song ends without either of the Britons showing their faces, bruised or otherwise.

 

Francis taps his foot and worries at a curl of his hair before marching away with what looks like a storm in his eyes. Romano doesn't imagine Alasdair will have a happy week if Francis is as invested in this dance as he suspects but Niall will have an unhappy lifetime if he doesn't get here in the next few minutes.

 

A few mouthfuls of canopies and two glasses of wine later Romano has shifted from seething rage to a stomach churning anxiety, one that isn't improved by Marie tottering up to him and bowing, she insists on a dance and practically drags him into it despite all attempts of trying to make excuses.

 

"You looked so worried, is something on your mind?" Marie beams at him, and Romano calms slightly with the very act of forcing a smile.

 

"I was waiting for somebody, my useless guard is--"

 

"That dark haired man I saw in the Library?"

 

"Yes, he's a--" His eye catches the glint of a familiar chain around her neck, but he dismisses the thought immediately, there's no way Niall could have lost it to somebody like her.

 

"I think he left already. I saw him walk straight out the door, he gave me this beautiful ring," Her smile chills Romano to his core, "I imagine it would be a shame if something happened to him out there, without your protection a sneak thief can only last so long."

 

They stop dead amidst the dancers, feeling the tightening grip of her hands, the subtle warning in her inflection, "have you...done something to him?"

 

"Only what he deserved. You really are foolish for putting any faith in someone so low on the foodchain, my love." She keeps a hold when he tries to pulls away, "It would look awful if you made a scene, don't you think? When everyone finds out I'm your beloved fiancé accusing me of something so awful would be a disaster."

 

"You're a cunt." The word is so foreign that Romano is shocked that it came out of his own mouth, but it at least makes that insipid smile fade from Marie's face.

 

--

 

The only reason Niall knows he isn't dead is that he can wonder if that's the case, how long he'd been out is a mystery, but Alasdair is the one to shake him back to life, an expression of concern on his eyes, it turns to relief as he drags Niall to sit up.

 

"Are you alright?" Alasdair grabs his shoulder to stop him falling sideways, "what happened in here?"

 

"I broke her rapier but she has that magic sucker." Niall looks over, seeing the broken blade still in two pieces on the floor, Alasdair's face wobbles in and out of focus but he looks baffled, "the watch without hands. She somehow got a hold of one."

 

"Shit." Alasdair presses his finger gently into Niall's neck, "she could have killed you."

 

"She wanted to." He wants to say something funny to lighten the mood, but the mood has a mind of its own and he can only lament the throbbing pain in his joints, and the pulsing discomfort in his veins. Was magic so deeply rooted to his blood that it's physically wounded him? He doesn't want to know. "I couldn't get the ring back, we need to--"

 

Alasdair stops him getting to his feet, though his own legs would have saved him the effort, "you're in no state to go anywhere. There's no time left."

 

"I'm not leaving him alone with that snake of a woman," talking makes his chest hurt, "there's no way I can sneak anywhere like this." Alasdair makes a sceptical noise.

 

"I hate this as much as anyone. But she's beaten you." Alasdair sighs and rubs at his face, his stubble makes a horrible scratching noise despite how clean shaven he had seemed, "if she uses that horrid thing again you'll die, you're looking kind of dead already."

 

"If it was Francis you'd have more conviction." Niall squirms, notices the blood on Alasdair's arm, "you're hurt."

 

"It didn't hit me, just grazed." They sit together and collect their thoughts, "listen, I want to help as much as you want to get the ring back, but I'm drawing a blank."

 

"I do have one idea. But you're going to hate it."

 

--

 

Francis brightens when he sees Alasdair enter the room, but forces himself to remain livid about the betrayal but is surprised when Alasdair marches right past him with Niall in toe, his arms bound behind him and being forcibly dragged and looking painfully ill, though Niall is well known for his severe lack of luck, it's still a surprise and one that pushes Francis to grab another glass of fortifying wine and push through the crowd.

 

"I caught this one stealing, your highness." Alasdair pushes Niall forward and stops him trying to dart away, "Her ladyship gave me some insightful information, you should thank her."

 

Romano stares at Niall with wide eyes and can't seem to find the words he needs, a sardonic and hesitant smile quivering at his lips.

 

"I had a bit of a miscommunication with her employee but we got that all sorted out."

 

"You're bleeding, Alasdair!" Francis can't help staggering over, now a ring has formed around the scene, "I knew something like this would happen. Are you alright?'

 

"A scratch. Niall had a dagger and made a run for it. Didn't you?"

 

Niall glares at them, or at least he tries to, he looks more pathetic than anything else.

 

"I'm so glad everything worked out. Aren't you, Lovino?"

 

"I would like you to come answer some questions, if you wouldn't mind. To clear things up a bit." Alasdair amiably places his arm around her shoulders in an effort to guide her away, a baffling show of physical contact that Francis wants to question further until he see's Alasdair snap the very small chain around her neck, then slip it into Niall's hand, where it vanishes.

 

"Alasdair, what are you..." Alasdair makes a confusing movement with his brows and a shake of his head that Francis can only assume means he'll explain himself when the time comes.

 

"This is ludicrous! Niall wouldn't take anything from me!"

 

"Don't be sad, Lovino," Marie smiles, but it looks off somehow, she's always been a strange girl but her behaviour seems far too bold, a little too-- Francis can't place it and decides that it's a display that's gone on far too long.

 

Francis holds up his arms in hopes of dispersing the nosey guests, "I thought we were here to celebrate, it appears everything is under control." then when they reluctantly get back to business as usual he looks to Romano, who's expression tells of a distress that will soon erupt into a fury if not quenched, "how about we get you something to calm your nerves, Lovino." Francis coos, urging him to step away from the scene.

 

Then it dissipates and Romano barges past him, staring into Niall's face, a smirk forming there. "I'd like a moment alone with him, if you don't mind."

 

"I'll call a guard to--"

 

"No need. Come along, Niall."

 

Then the two leave, the same they would at any other party Romano had decided he was tired of and rather bafflingly Marie places her hand to her neck, pushes herself free of Alasdair's grip and has to be forcibly restrained to stop her flying into a tantrum.

 

"I think you and the captain will have a nice long talk about it later." Alasdair assures her, but he looks physically angry. Perhaps at Niall getting away from him again? But that can't be right either. The two had seemed to be in cahoots?

 

Francis sighs and chugs down his wine, this is proving to be a very annoying day.

 

--

 

"What happened to you? You look terrible." Romano forces a small glass of whiskey into Niall's hand, which is trembling more than Niall had expected. He manages to drain it.

 

"Your darling cousin happened to me," Niall slowly explains the whole bizarre tale, watching Romano's face curl with varying emotions until the very end.

 

"You got the ring back?" Romano sighs with relief and rests against Niall's shoulder, finds him too weak for support and instead holds him upright, "I'd joke about what a shame that is, but Marie is terrifying."

 

"She is. But I heard something interesting about this ring." Niall avoids all eye contact, refusing to enjoy the feel of Romano's weight holding him steady, "you lied to me about how this was going to play out."

 

"I didn't." Romano refills the whiskey glass, then drinks some from the bottle, "I thought I was very clear."

 

"You said you were giving it to someone at the dance, that you'd be asking them then. Instead you foisted it onto me and tried to force me into marrying you."

 

"Force you!" Romano jerks to his feet and Niall struggles to stay upright, "I've never been able to force you to do anything! Weren't you listening when I said I'd give you the ring and if you accepted it, it meant you accepted my proposal?"

 

"You know as well as I do that that isn't how it sounded."

 

Romano slowly nods, "maybe you're right. I was just worried about asking again when you seemed so...unsure. I didn't want to---risk anything."

 

"Well you did. Romano I love you, I really do. I want nothing more than to be with you every day. But this is not OK."

 

"I didn't have a choice. Once Grandfather decided this was going to happen, it was going to happen. I don't want to lose---" Romano turns away and begins pacing, "is this a no then?"

 

"Promise me you'll never do something like that again. I'm tired of people doing what they like with me."

 

"I promise. I'm---sorry," the word is spoken so softly that Niall struggles to hear it, "that it ended up this way, but I'm glad you got the ring back. "I imagine this is a no, to the proposal."

 

"I never said no."

 

"You didn't say yes, either. How am I supposed to know what to do when you say nothing but 'maybe, maybe, maybe' I have to give that ring to somebody, and the one person I want to be with..." Romano shakes his head, takes another swig and slams it down on the wooden table of the study, "I can't disobey my Grandfather in this. It could be suicide. He's not above killing off family, even when he loves them."

 

Niall stands up, using the armrest to help him keep steady, "Romano, here," Niall passes the ring to Romano who gazes at it sadly, then shoves it into his pocket and begins to barge past, Niall topples over and needs to get dragged to his feet, "you should ask me again. Just in case."

 

Romano glares at him, slowly pulling the ring from his pocket and holding it up in tightly pressed fingers, "do you want this, you dirt bag?"

 

Niall takes the ring, closing his hand tight around it, "of course, it's mine, isn't it? Besides, i still really want that cake you promised."

 

Romano lets out a small laugh, then chuckles and finally presses his head into Niall's chest, and it's unclear if he's still laughing or perhaps crying but Niall gently hugs him, eventually they split apart and regard each other quietly, until the door opens and Francis pops his head into the study.

 

"Everyone has been waiting for you to make the announcement."

 

Romano grins, sweeps his hair out of his face and declares, "I'm ready."

 

--

 

The ballroom falls into an excited hush, mumbles and whispers as people ask each other if they're the ones with the ring on their hands or in a pocket. Niall watches with a glass of wine and a tiredness that he dearly needs to sleep off soon, to let his magic sink back into his bones and get what little colour he had back into his skin.

 

Alasdair wanders up and stands beside him, "You're a bastard, making me steal something for you."

 

"I know." Niall clinks their glasses together, "thank you."

 

Romano taps a wine glass with a small metal prong and clears his throat, "earlier I gave my families Imperial seal to the person I want to be with the most without letting them know the implications, and for that I can only apologise, even though it was his own stupid fault." A murmer of confusion, "I'd ask that that person step forward and allow me to place that ring upon their finger and begin their welcome into the Imperial family."

 

"That's my cue." Niall sets his glass down and feels Alasdair nudge him delicately on the shoulder.

 

"Go get 'em."

 

Niall saunters forward, the ring getting tugged from the pocket and held up, "you mean this ugly thing?"

 

His voice startles the silent room, and it stays that way when he reaches Romano and lets him slip the ring onto his finger, it'd be bulky and awkward on any hand, but looks exceedingly goofy with his missing fingers, Romano leans forward, lowering his voice, "it's tradition to put it on the left hand, but your right one is better anyway."

 

"So you do like to break the rules sometimes." Niall whispers back.

 

Romano flashes a grin, then raises his voice to the room again, raising their joined hands for all to see, "this is our choice, and we welcome any opposition, because I'll strike it down." he looks to Niall, "I'm supposed to say that part."

 

"I can agree with the sentiment." Niall tightens his grip, Romano's hands feel cold and wet, he wants to warm them, "so, when exactly is the big day?" he asks when the room starts to move again, people muttering and a few crying, Francis getting tapped from his wide eyed shock by Alasdair, Feliciano smiling that docile knowing smile and none of it mattering at all for now.

 

"Who knows." Romano shrugs, letting their hands fall apart and regaining his usual terse tone, "I'm not in any rush."

 

"Buisness as usual then. Sounds good to me."

 

--

 

 

 

When will I learn to check the formatting. dumbass. --

--


When Niall opens the door to Romanos room in hopes of resuming his bodyguardly duties and stepping inside with a smile and a proclaimation that Romano need not have missed him he's rewarded with the sight of Romano closing a small velvetly looking blue box and ramming it into his deep pocket, his face growing the firey red of ill temper.

"You should knock!"

"I don't normally have to knock." Niall wonders at this odd behaviour but decides to ignore it as best he can, "I can go out and knock if you want."

"No, just try and have some professionilism while we're here."

"I'm very professional." Niall plonks himself on the edge of the bed and grins at Romanos frowning reflection, "this room is very plush, I'm surprised you don't demand the same at the palace." he lets himself fall backwards, his body relaxing into a puddle at the softness of the sheets and mattress, he expects this is what beds are like in the afterlife for good souls, he turns his attention to the rolls of fabric by the bed, giving one a tug to see if they close like curtains or merely act as decoration, it refuses to yield and he thinks that breaking it might incite Romanos temper further.

"Get up and go see if there's any news of our belongings, I don't want to have to send Francis a message." Romano motions with a swift moving hand for Niall to hurry himself then turns back to the mirror and leans forward and gazes at his reflection, as though trying to determine the source of some flaw.

Niall rises and wanders closer, sensing the way Romano tenses himself as their proximity lessens without needing to see it, "I'm about fifty percent sure there's something the matter. Might be able to help if you told me."

"Can't. Not yet anyway." Romano sighs, his breath fogs the mirror, "just go look into getting our things. I doubt anyone will try and kill me the second you leave."

"Fine, but I expect you to tell me." Niall reprimands softly, swallowing down his discomfort again and washing it down with the soft promise of some later explaination.

"My grandfather once executed a servant who started getting ideas above his station."

"Good thing you're not your Grandfather then, I suppose." Niall grins at him again as he closes the door and lingers there to ensure nothing has managed to go amiss. He finds the hall empty of nothing but dry air and tempting items that are thankfully too large to slip into pockets, the large pot and the various tables and miniature sculptures would be too difficult to move and Niall can easier ignore his desire to pilfer them even if he does have to wrestle his hands not to lift them and look them over. Upon failing not to pluck up a small white statue of a naked man looking melancholic as he sits on a broken column and setting it back when it he's satisfied that stealing it would be far too risky. He makes his way  along the hall and down the stairs in hopes of bumping into some young dogsbody dragging one of Romano's heavy travel chests. He finds only the rising pulse of a house quickly coming alive, feet now scamper along the servants passages and heat stirs up motes of dust. He heads outside just in time to see the coach draw up the path. He waves a cheerful greeting to the driver as he steps off to report to Mr Warren.

"I'm so glad you got here so fast, Romano would kill me if I went back empty handed." Niall jokes as he watches several of the bags and trunks getting hoisted down by the burly driver who regards him with an unfamiliar coldness, a glassy unkind stare that Mr Warren shares before muttering to the man in his dapper coachmen's uniform.

"His Imperial Highness," Mr Warren says with a pointed sniff, "will have his items delivered straight to his room."
Niall ignores the detailed description of everything currently being taken inside and keeps an eye out for anything that could be regarded as his own.

"Was anything of mine sent along, I can carry it myself." Niall says when he can find no hint of anything with his name on.

"Ah yes, this was marked as being yours." The driver pulls out a small leather case and passes it to one of the movers as he slinks past as though he were passing an expensive wine to a picky duke. The case is small and slightly worn, but nicer than any of the bags he'd ever used while on the street.

"I said I can take it." Niall watches the case disappear and assumes he'll find it later, "Maybe I can lift one of those clothing chests."

"A fine gentleman such as yourself needn't worry his head about moving boxes." Mr Warren says, sharply enough that Niall gives in to his urge to back away and head back inside.  He realises too late that the eyes of the house are suddenly peering insidiously in his direction; he dislikes the sensation.

--

He finds his case in his room, absent any evidence of another soul even being in here. Niall had kept an eye on each of the five workers as they moved around and within a half hour the house had fallen to a busy lull once again. Upon popping open the brass lock Niall discovers the uniform he never wears anymore neatly folded around his bible, a single change of clothing and a night shirt. Apparently whoever did his packing had no idea of the articles of clothing stowed in the chest under the bed and simply had his drawer emptied and mailed out.

Niall frowns, knowing that Romano won't be happy if Niall wears a shirt two days in a row and this will become some excuse to dress him up like a child's doll. He wonders if he can get away with not admitting it for a while, as much as he loves studying Romano's thought process regarding clothes and style he feels a greater comfort in wearing the same socks every day and marinating in his own sweat.

Once the case has been safely slid under his bed Niall wanders across the hall and into Romano's room, finding him on his bed with a letter in hand, a familiar clutter of bottles and vials strewn across the dresser along with combs and razors, his favourite books have been lined up on the bedside table and a robe tossed across the bedsheet with careless abandon. A few cases have been left in a corner, a wooden chest Romano keeps his scarves and gloves in sits under one of his feet, both boots kicked off nearby.

"Took them long enough to get here." Romano doesn't look up but manages to focus his attention on Niall regardless, "Francis sends his regards." The letter is pocketed and Romano's eyes flick upwards, "how is your room?"

"Nice." Niall plops himself into a chair and helps himself to a glass of the wine left on the table ignoring Romano's chiding mutters, "I imagine you'll actually get a decent meal now things have picked up around here."

"I imagine so." Romano stalks over and pours his own wine, "I was tempted to get right down to work but it's been a long day." Romano nestles himself into the seat opposite Niall's and curls his feet up under himself, he looks like a cat that can't decide whether it's contented or not. His hand slides into his pocket as though making sure the letter is still deep inside. "I thought we might just settle in the library after dinner and find out what kinds of books might be worth reading."

"Sounds like a plan," Niall drains his glass and sets it aside delicately, raising an inquiring brow when Romano's lips curl into an amused smile.

"Francis says Alasdair is in a fury about you robbing all the steak knives. Says he's threatening to toss you in the gulag when he sees you next. Whatever that means."

"He's going to be really mad when he finds out it was more than just steak knives," Niall closes his eyes and lets himself dose in a comfortable, companionable quiet.

--

That night after Niall has stripped himself down, scrubbed his skin into redness with a damp cloth and pulled on his old sleepshirt he becomes aware again of how empty the room feels.  He curls up on top of the sheets and peers at his bible without reading it. He'd much rather be with Romano, his ability to sense danger from this distance seems achingly impaired, and the room feels chilled despite the fire still burning away.

Niall used to crave this loneliness because it mean an isolated safety. A way to avoid hurting his siblings and the authorities and himself if he was lucky. Now he wants nothing more than to feel that overbearing heat that radiates from Romano's skin and hear the comforting sounds of life he makes when he falls into a deep breathy sleep.

He tosses the bible aside and languishes in the shadows, trying to feel their embrace now that he's got nothing to prove by being in them. No locks to open and no job to do but stay in this room like Romano asked him to before leaving him in the hall. They need to get up early for Romano's many plans and Niall doesn't enjoy the sounds of any of them. Swords and dances and Romano's demands at a more refined existence don't come naturally to Niall, and he sees no value in them.

He closes his eyes, tucks his arms behind his head and attempts to fall into some dreamless void.

'I could take the box.' Niall thinks in a half asleep stupor and it makes his eyes crack open slightly to a darkened room, long dead embers and a feeling of such intense desire that his hands physically burn with it. It compels him to throw off the covers, place a foot on the floor with toes splaying out to help dull the noise. He's still half asleep when he reaches the door and finely tuned and alert  when he's sliding into Romano's room, into that cloud of clean smells from his oils and creams that leave his skin so soft and clean, the half snore that dribbles from his lips and the scuffle of covers as he seems to gesticulate in his sleep, talking in his dreams perhaps.

Niall feels a pang of guilt he's never allowed himself to acknowledge before but the infuriating itch that runs from fingertip to arm demands he satisfy his curiosity somehow and without a sound he slides his way over to where Romano's jacket is hung, his hand clasped around the box and his eyes squinting at it in the dim light.

He hesitates. Romano didn't want him to see whatever was in here and from the size and shape he can't deduce why, a little too big to hold a ring and too small for any necklace box he's ever taken. It's just a blue box with a fine fuzz that tickles his fingertips, urging him to open it and find out. Maybe even take it. Run off and never come back, to pawn it. It would be so easy.

Niall's mouth runs dry. He clenches his hand tight around the box and leaves the room with it still in his hand.

He sets it on his bedside and falls asleep with it in his line of sight, hidden in shadow and relieved of the insufferable itch of his hands, now replaced with a newer but much smaller one that lingers like a foul aftertaste.

The sun explodes through his dreamless sleep, the morning come to him in one blink and ready to kick his teeth in. The box remains on his bedside, taunting him. His bedclothes soaked in a cool sweat. He grabs the looted item, marches into Romanos room and finds him still deep in his dreams, the bed clothes pulled tight around his head and his eyes screwed shut against the mornings greetings.

Niall could slip the ring back and try to forget his misdemeanour, but the little tingle returns and he shakes Romano awake without thinking twice, his arse on the bed, his mouth tasting like something very dry crawled in and died there. He lets Romano blink himself awake and narrow his eyes when his senses come to him.

"Is it morning already?" Romano sits up, his hair is a matted tussle of reddish brown and his eyes are crusty at the edges, he wipes at them with a childlike balled up fist, "What are you doing in here? I told you to stay out--"

Niall extends his arm out, the box resting on his loosely uncurling fingers, not looking at Romano's face, "I didn't look inside, I couldn't help myself." He feels Romano snatch the box away with a vicious snake-like swipe.

"You stole from me?"

Niall nods, "My hands were on fire," he gazes down at them, they're as mutilated and awful as always, so skilled and delicate and yet so driven to, "I can't make them stop. Maybe we should cut them off or--" He sighs, rubbing at his nose.

"Get out, get washed and dressed and meet me in the hall in an hour." Romano demands with a slight quiver in his breath that Niall hates, "then we're going to do something about this."

Niall can only oblige without looking back. The taste of vomit and acid bubbles uninvited from the back of his throat.

--

Romano doesn't speak as they walk along the corridor and down the stairs, his steps are sure and Niall tries to ignore the hunger that had formed suddenly in his belly and the intense sense of panic that now pumps around his skull in a frantic wind, ripping out any suggestions of his he might apologise for his lapse. He can only follow obediently and frown up at the sky, so bright an hour before but now dulled with a moody grey.

Romano stands on the grass, the light breeze tugging the feather light strands of his hair as he seems to wait in an uncharacteristic patience, only for a young man to dash over, offering him up a pair of swords with a deep bow and then fleeing without a word. Romano's eyes soften when he glances in Niall's direction, perhaps noticing the look of fear that's swimming around there.

"Do you know what your problem is?" He says at last, waiting for Niall to try and answer only to cut him off by flinging one of the swords at him, "you never apply yourself. Those hands of yours beg you to use them yet you shy away from anything that requires actual learning." Romano sighs, "I can overlook a few stolen knives and forks, especially when it's amusing, but I need to be able to trust you."

Niall nods, already grudging the lessons he can feel are coming. Even now he can't muster up the enthusiasm and Romano's eyebrows knot together. "Do you want to stay with me?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then you need to outgrow that box you've let yourself get stuck in." Romano pulls his sword from its casing and whips it through the air, making the air hum an almost musical tune, "You dragged me out of mine all those years ago, it's about time I drag you out of yours."

The next few hours are spent working on Niall's stance, how to hold a sword in his hand -he can't decide which one is more comfortable which seems to please Romano as much as it annoys him into a teeth gnashing temper. It's all far too tedious and Niall can't say he's grateful for the lesson.

By the time brunch rolls around his hands are blistered, the muscles of his legs are sore and he's no better and certainly no more enthused. He is glad to help himself to bread and meat spread as they sit at the table, still a touch damp with dew and to nurse his aching hands on the cool metal of their frame between bites.

"I am sorry I took the case from you." Niall admits when there's a suitable quiet between them he feels he can interject into.

Romano nods and hums a sound of seeming disinterest, "did you look inside?"

"No. I guess I just needed to take something. I think it's all I'm good for." Niall peers up at the sky, it's starting to grow heavy with clouds and will likely put a stop to their lessons for part of the day at least, "I think Alasdair was right about me. I'm kind of a shitty person, aren't I?'

"I've seen and heard how you grew up. I'm impressed you weren't swung from the gallows years ago."

Niall nods, "I probably should have been. I think stealing from you might warrant a death sentence."

Romano hums as though he's considering it and then rests one hand atop Niall's in something akin to kindness then retracts it with a reluctant slowness, "you're a fucking idiot."

--

The days pass  into weeks and Niall still feels at odds with his sword hand and laments each time Romano manages to push past his defences, he feels a desire to toss the blade aside and to cheat his way into a victory but each time he resists the fire in his hands that curse his every movement, and each night he can't help stealing a fork or a spoon for some modicum of relief.

Two weeks of this agonising tedium roll past and Niall feels what little drive he had fade away, until the morning Romano decides they would be better not bothering at all. For a while it's a relief, yet soon his head begins that soft churning, one that drowns out the burning of his fingers and drives him to stand up.

"I want you to teach me." Niall says, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms, awakening the blisters that have formed between his earlier blisters, "it's stupid and I'm shit at it, but I need to..." Niall's lips press shut.

"Alright. But I'm going to request a little help." Romano leans his head on his hand, a soft smile gracing his lips, "I think you need a little more motivation."

--

Whoever Romano requested to help is very absent -Niall suspects foul play but hold his tongue for now- instead they turn their attention from intense sword play to a mix of that and various dances. While Niall hates that less than fighting he's still about as graceful as a goose when he's not fleeing for his life. All the elegance of his shadowing abilities, his manual dexterity and his manoeuvrability stripped to nothing by the mere act of waggling a sword around or attempting to remember where his feet are meant to go in time to non-existent music.

A long time ago when Llewellyn had started to become a more mobile child he'd taken to borrowing jars of water from the kitchen and arranging them in some specific order only he understood; Niall had realised after a few weeks that he was playing cute little tunes and mumbling the songs and rhymes he'd been taught. Niall on the other hand understands music in the same way a foreigner might learn a new language when they've no real talent for words in the first place. He wishes his grasp of the whole concept were a little more fluid, if only to impress Romano, who watches him with an unimpressed appraisal.

If Niall were throwing himself between Romano and some attacker or running away from the law then he'd be in his element. He almost wishes he were back in sword class, a least he can brandish a dagger if pressed hard enough. He's having to imagine his fingers on the fretboard of a fiddle just to judder along, it's making the stumps were his fingers used to be feel very ghostly.

They end the day later than expected. Niall can feel the bags forming under his eyes and the knots in his legs, he drops onto his seat at the dining table and accepts the cooked something with a thin veneer of appreciation. Some kind of fish? He'd normally turn his nose up at it but his hunger gets the better of him. His grimace softens as he chews, it's a soft salty taste -far better than expected- and he tucks in with a little more enthusiasm.

Romano seems pleased by that if nothing else, he watches with hooded eyes and the kind of smile that he's good at pinching away.

"You'd dance better if you loosened up." Romano tells him between courses, their conversation on the next book they plan to read haven fallen aside for now, they'd agreed on a combination of a book named 'the ideal courtier' and the latest tale of action, adventure and romance from a Gallian author that Niall has forgotten.

"I don't do loose." Niall pokes at a dumpling once a new plate has been placed in front of him, it turns out to be some kind of potato filled pasta in a mushroom and vegetable gravy and a healthy amount of red wine both in and along side. He eats that as well, "I think I'm starting to get used to this fancy stuff." He tells Romano when his plate is as clean as he can get it.

"Good, I like a man who enjoys his food," he swirls his wine and takes a deep inhale from the glass, "I suppose you'll be wanting something sweet."

"Aye." Niall says without hesitation, "not fruit though. Fucking gross."

Romano rolls his eyes regardless of the small smile, when they're alone saying, "I spoil you, you know."

"I like being spoiled."

--

'Motivation' means something very different to Romano than it ever did to Niall, as holds his sword in one hand, feeling a trickle of sweat slither down his brow in a warm sticky tickle of movement. Several feet away on the lawn Alasdair stands poised and ready with blade in hand, now and then their eyes will meet and that distinctive 'I hate you' glare drill through Niall like a blade through flesh.

"Romano?" He calls over his shoulder without breaking eye contact lest Alasdair try and lob his head off, "are you sure about this."

"Consider it punishment." Romano steps up beside him and studies Alasdair impassively, "I'm still mad about you stealing my jewellery box." Niall hasn't the time to restate his apologies, Alasdair's mouth flies open.

"I knew you'd be up to no good." Alasdair aims the tip of his blade at Niall, a humourless grimace of a grin stretches his lips away from his teeth. "I told you, you couldn't trust him, Lovino. He should be rotting in a prison cell."

"Duly noted." Romano nudges Niall's arm with his elbow, his voice edged in irritation at the familiarity in Alasdair's tone, "Niall, you've bested Francis' dog by running away each time. If you face him head on I'll forgive you for breaking my trust."

"If I can't?"

"You will. You already owned up to me about the stealing." Romano shrugs and begins to walk away, pausing to look at Alasdair again, "try not to kill him. I like him alive." Romano strides off, taking a seat by the various swords, shields and various armours he'd put together lest anyone need them. Alasdair has his own blade, however, and he brandishes it like an extension of his arm.

Niall's hands are sweating and he becomes aware of how heavy his breath feels as it huffs in and out of his chest in great surges, there's a numb tightness forming down his spine, making him feel stiff and unwieldly. He barely hears the signal to begin and struggles to block the downward swipe of Alasdair's sword, the metal makes an ugly hissing noise as the blades rush past each other. His legs bend in an effort to push forward but he's forced backwards in a panicked jigging movement. His hand tingles with needles.

He breaks into nervous laughter, "I'm really bad at this," he squirms slightly at Alasdair's lack of a response, watching Alasdair move like a wolf in a bid to pick out a weakness. The only positive Niall can think of is that he's all weakness in a fair fight, Alasdair might get a little spoiled for choice. Another step back, foot slipping slightly on a small divot, Alasdair surges forward, sword slicing a gash out of Niall's shirt, snagging the skin with a cat scratch of pain and startling his sword out of his hand with a dull thud.

Without a blade to hand the most he can do is go back to what he knows, sidestepping and dodging aside as Alasdair attempts to pin him down.

Romano watches on, difficult to read from the flashes Niall can see of him as he twists himself into a fall and rolls onto his knees, this feels easier, but he'll never keep it up long enough to win. He swings himself in Romano's direction, "I don't think this is working. I'm not a swordsman!"

"Are you running away then?" Romano asks, it stirs a coldness deep in his chest.

"I don't want to, but how am I supposed to face him head on. Alasdair is a blade with legs!" Niall hears Alasdair snort behind him.

"You have made running away into a life skill." Alasdair rolls his eyes and watches carefully, never dropping his guard, "and now you can't even do that right."

A flicker of irritation makes Niall's eye twitch, "listen, I know you and me aren't exactly on the same page here, but I am trying my best."

Alasdair spits, swearing under his breath with the same frustrated tone Niall feels swirling through his own head, "you're nothing but a thief who abandons his family at every opportunity he gets. Forgive me if I don't take you on your word about how hard you're trying."

The cold pain intensifies into something that feels like a thudding lump of ice where his heart should be, that sicking numbness bursts into his hands making them itch with a familiar sensation of pins and needles.

He grabs up a shield and deflects the full weight of Alasdair's sword crashing into it, surprised to find himself still standing, weak at his knee joints, arm shaking with the effort, he feels Alasdair's weight relent and bashes the shield into him, inelegantly upending himself onto the grass with heavy breaths, he lets Romano drag him to his feet, "you don't know anything about me." Niall tells Alasdair, though he suspects Alasdair knows plenty and he hates that Alasdair might be right.

--

The animosity between them has grown palpable as they train, Niall's shield absorbing a little of Alasdair's full brunt yet still leaving him with a bruised feeling in his arm and a few scratches where the blade has nicked his skin. He had always believed Alasdair's dislike of him had been some petty remnant of that first encounter they had so many years ago, a cocky young guard getting his first taste of defeat and never being able to spit it out, yet the realisation that it was deeper than that, hidden in the depths of Niall's perceived disloyalty to his kin, he can't help but feel as offended even as he thinks Alasdair is correct.

Niall finds that he can easily shift his shield between his hands and use his dagger with the other, though he can't push past Alasdair's defences -he's a talented bastard regardless of any other feelings- but Niall feels a stirring in his chest as he feels himself find some balance, block a little more, make every switch of his arms more fluid. The shield almost feels too big and clumsy now he's got a feel for it.

"I think that's enough for today." Romano says eventually, he plucks the shield out of Niall's clawed hands and frowns at the multitude of ugly dents in it, "I suppose you'll be wanting fed?" Romano asks Alasdair, whose hand drifts to his stomach as though he'd not noticed his hunger, he nods.

"There's an extra place set at the table." Romano hands Niall the shield back without thinking, "I hope you like stuffed peppers."

"Actually I think I'll eat in the kitchen." Alasdair folds his arms, refusing to meet Niall's eyes with his own, instead he watches as a few of the workers of the house start lifting the various items on the lawn and scuttle off with them, "I've had as much as I can take of being around a criminal."

"If you insist." Romano shrugs, "take him along with you and get him fed." Romano says to a young woman holding a sword in a brocaded hilt tight to her chest and soon Alasdair has wandered off with her, leaving Niall and Romano to wander along the lawn together, "you put on a half decent showing this time around."

Niall nods, holding the door open for Romano to pass, and allowing Romano to do the same when they reach the dining hall, their places have already been set, "this shield is heavy. I wish it were smaller." Niall frowns at the dented metal, "or maybe I just need to try harder."

Romano teases the shield out of Niall's hands and sets it on the table, leaving a small slash of dirt on the tablecloth, "you shouldn't act so mopey when you've had a breakthrough." Romano slips onto his seat, "we'll focus on dancing for a while, your arm looks badly bruised."

"I guess it is." Niall isn't sure how Romano can tell, with Niall's arm under his long blouse sleeve.

"I forgive you by the way."

"Hm?"

"For stealing my box." Romano begin to sup at the soup that's been placed in front of him, "I said I was angry about it. I was. Now I'm not."

Niall stirs at his soup without much inclination to out any in his mouth, it's thin and full of strange chunks and the most unappealing colour that food can be: Green.

"Alasdair was right though. I never even tried to see my family in all this time." he chews on a bread roll, "I doubt they'll forgive me as easily as you did if they find out I've been here the whole time."

"I assumed you had no family. You've said you were an orphan."

"I am, but I grew up with other orphans. My brothers."

Romano looks sceptical, "they're not your real brothers if they're not blood kin," he glances at Niall's bowl and frowns at it, "didn't you leave for long periods, regardless?"

"I had to. When I was a kid I...I messed up. So I had to leave. I didn't want to." Niall reconsiders, wincing as he attempts his first mouthful of slimy soup, he casually pushes the bowl away, "I mean, I did, but I didn't. It was complicated."

Romano's expression tells of a curiosity, he makes an urging gesture with his hand and Niall begins his story as he butters the bread on his plate, setting the knife aside without feeling the urge to steal it.

--

He's had a rough nights sleep, dreams interrupted constantly by the hoarse, strained coughs that fill the small riverside shack that he shares with his brother and sister. His eyes are crusty and half open when he's shaken roughly by a shoulder and finds himself staring up at Angus' gaunt, paled face. He's normally pale, but the sickness that's surged through the riverside and up into poor Quarter have made him seem so much worse.

"She's gotten worse," Angus says, his eyes darting towards the cot in the corner, where an inhuman breathing rasps and rumbles against Daria's ribs like a xylophone.

Niall rubs the grit from his eyes and staggers to his feet, another night on the floor has reminded him that he misses the fresh reeds they normally might have laid down there, but all hint of them has been thrown away on doctors orders. Apparently the river itself causes the Lung, and the reeds harbour it like some unseen fugitive.

"Has the healer been?"

"Even if he had been we'd never afford it. Everyone knows the medicine is getting sparse." Angus pushes a slice of buttered half green bread at him along with a cup of warm water that might have tea leaves in it if Niall is lucky. "if we don't do something she and the bairn won't make it."

Niall swallows his breakfast the best he can, trying to ignore the powdery, off taste and the metallic tang of the water.

"Go into town and see if you can talk the healer into helping. You've a way with words, he'll listen to you."

Niall nods, heartened by his brothers faith in him yet lacking any of his own. He claps his hands together in a swift prayer before departing, setting foot into a hellscape of disease, of men and women who are barely hanging on, trails of dark fluid flowing from eyes, nose and mouth. The healer stopped coming here, probably for his own sanity. He sets off as fast as he can, holding his breath and sticking to the shadows in a bid not to be seen. A old man lies dead, curled like a babe in a deep sleep but for the foaming black blood around his mouth and the strange bloated swampiness of his skin.

No time for pity, Niall steps around him and jogs into old town, taking care not to let anyone see him break this unspoken quarantine.

Up through Old town the signs of death are there, but life attempts to carry on. A man is selling herbs at a corner, a donkey pulls along several large barrels on a rickety little cart. A young lad with straw coloured hair brooms the stoop of the apothecary and shakes his head in nervous agitation at every inquiry at medicine for the plague. No hopes there.

Niall slinks into the Lost antler, bereft of all but one patron and finds Richard crouched behind the bar with half a meat pie and some watery ale.

"What do you want?" Richard drags himself to his feet, dusts his apron off and pours a half measure of the watery brew into a glass.

"Daria got sicker in the night. You know we can't afford medicine. Please tell me you have something going spare."

"Barely even enough to keep me fed. You can't keep expecting me to drag you out of poverty, regardless." Richard sighs and drags out his small wooden moneybox. "I have two coppers, that's all I can afford. Otherwise I'll be out on the street."

"I'll try and pay it back." Niall lies.

"Daria is going to be ok. Isn't she?"

"She's lasted this long." Niall attempts to be cheerful, but her coughs still ring in his ears, a death toll, "She'll have her baby and a true blessing will come upon us all. You'll see."

"Isabelle sent me this over, take it." the small scrap of the meat pie is thrust into Niall's hand, "I swear you three will starve at this rate."

"Do you suppose the Bard would help?" Niall drains his glass, knowing how deeply the old man resents their visits, "he's meant to be rich, right?"

"Aye, he is. But he always says his job is to watch and listen and never interfere. Llewellyn get's a half copper every bloody month and he already gave you what he had. Waste of time I'd say."

Niall nods, thanks his brother by ruffling his hair and then heads out to the jingle of the bell. Two coppers might get him a small spoon of the foul tasting medicine he needs, but there's never been harm in trying to haggle. He pockets the coin and avoids the main street, clambering and crawling his way to New Town bridge and feeling awed by the sight of the castle, the immaculate white buildings and the tall metal lamps that curl so elegantly into the sky.

He hates it here.

--

The healer had once lived in Old town, but the second the Lung showed signs of spreading he'd up and left, now residing in a spacious home in the centre of New Towns shopping district. It makes getting there a bigger pain for Niall than he'd like, he knows the guards here will be more than willing to accost him simply for existing in these ragged clothes and outrunning them might be difficult without a pair of shoes on his feet. He has to stick to outskirts and tight alleys.

One guard seems to notice him but when Niall holds his breath and hopes the armed woman shudders and moves along, claiming to have a caught a sudden chill that only a stout drink will fix.

By the time he arrives at the healers abode he's thirsty and a little footsore and faced with a dilemma. Many people go in and out, making it impossible for Niall to even imagine trying the front. Cursing his bad luck he decides to slither his way around back, hoping to find some conveniently open window or some house steward who might be talked into letting inside to make his case.

All he finds is a garden, strangely bare of greenery and with a line of white sheets strung along it's length, some of them stained with what looks like blood, piss and other unwashable areas that make Niall think these must be from the private care rooms. In these difficult times only the very rich can afford such a luxury and Niall yanks the sheets down in petty frustration before turning his attention once again to the building. Three stories with sizable yet barricaded windows on the upper floors and heavy locks and bolts on the lower.

He hears the door to the kitchen open and ducks behind a barrel of water in time to see a plump woman in a nurses veil and apron let out a frustrated clucking sound and march over to see the soiled laundry, "bastard birds," She chides as she throws down a fresh basket of washing.

Niall is quickly in the door and letting his eyes quickly scan the kitchen, where a tub of soapy half filthy water sits on the floor with a washboard still poking out, hooks of dried meats and dead birds needing plucked make a short line near the back, jars of jams and pickled this and that are propped in a larder and a pot of something sweet smelling and inviting bubbles on a metal cooker. He almost forgets his mission at the sight of such luxuries and allows himself the taking of a few spoons left to dry on the sink and a jar of marmalade that barely fits in his pocket.

The sound of the woman returning snaps his back to attention and he pushes in through the hall, hoping to hear the Healer in some other room. Locked doors and hushed voices from upstairs are all he can discern and he's about to call out for attention when he notices the small door near the stairs is ajar so slightly that it might as well be closed, with a slow push of his arm he enters, finding row upon row of large jars of what resemble medicine, all marked with the seals from various apothecaries around Deva and further afield. He lifts one, strains his eyes in the dim light at it's frustratingly long name -TourneSalve of Wolfsbane and fermented mint- no indication of what it might do beyond an abstract string of symbols on the waxed lid.

Niall sets it back with a louder clatter than he expected and is startled by a call of "father, is that you?" as a girl looks up from the little desk in the corner that Niall would have seen if not for the bookcase obscuring it. Her eyes widen in terror, her mouth forgetting to open so that she can scream for help; by the time she remembers to do so Niall has his hand clamped over it, feeling the strength in her as he shoves her down against the desk.

"Be quiet." he warns, carefully pulling a blade from his belt loop and holding it up for her to see, "I'm not afraid to use this. Do you understand?" She nods and glares at him when he withdraws his shaking hands.

"How dare you, you've ruined my notes." the girl frowns at the smudged ink on her arm and her wasted parchment, "what do you want?"

"I want medicine, obviously." Niall gestures at the bottles and jars, "which one of these is for Lung?"

"None of them. Father keeps that locked away in his office," her condescending tone earns a reminder of the knife in his shaking hand, she eyes it then folds her arms, "did you steal that marmalade?"

"Aye," Niall's teeth grind together, he can feel his body start to quake with the anxiety of his impending arrest, "your father is the healer. Get me some. Now!"

"Have you ever heard of the word, 'please?' At any rate you can't just take that medicine. Sick people need it. I'd rather die than let you have any." she squirms, but keeps her movements calm and cautious, "You might be filthy but you're not sick."

"I can pay for it." he uses his free hand to dig out the coppers, thrusting them at her, "this is all we have between us. So get me some!"

"That's not enough. Not even for a half dose."

"Would your father rather lose one bottle or keep his daughter?" Niall waggles the knife pointedly, "I am not a nice person and I will hurt you if I have to. Do you understand?"

"Someone you know is sick?" the girl frowns, her hand curling into a worried ball, "that's sad, but lots of people are ill. The syrup is hard to make this time of year and the apothecaries can't make enough to go around."

"I'm aware. But my sister and her baby will die if I don't get some and I won't leave until I get what I need."

The girl stares at him long and hard enough to dull the fire of Niall's temper, his quivering hand almost drops the knife, "I'll take you to fathers office, he might be able to help." She rises with her arms raised slightly, pushing Niall aside to pas her hands over her robe, "that's a butter knife by the way, it's not very threatening."

"It's all I have!" Niall bites his lips shut and feels himself heat up. "I'm still bigger than you."

"Taller, maybe." She takes hold of his arm and begins to tug, "I'm Gabriella
Carriedo, what's your name?"

"Niall," He replies, letting her strong grip pull him along, "Walsh." he adds after a long expectant pause.

"That explains a lot." She mutters, her socked feet padding along on the soft rugs, her short stride making Niall have to almost shuffle along, "You're not from Old town, right? I know most of the boys from Old town. You're definitely not from New Town either. You must be from the poor quarter. Daddy never lets me go there, he says it's too dangerous."

"He's not wrong." Niall mutters, feeling a sweat break his skin as they reach a majestic looking door, and Gabriella swings it open thoughtlessly.

"Daddy! I need to talk to you!" She beams into the empty room and blinks her confusion, "He must be upstairs with a patient. I'll go get him." She shuts the door behind her and leaves him in the presence of the desk with it's tall quill and the stacks of scrolls piled on the back shelf, a cabinet of unknown tools and writing supplies and in one corner a heavy wooden chest. The medicine will be in there if it's anywhere at all.

Niall tugs the amulet from under his shirt, slides the thin edge of the God Sun into the small gap and begins to twist, feeling the familiar exhilaration of the pins moving and the final click of the lock, letting him shove the lid open. He finds a few small jars of honey coloured liquid, helpfully labelled with the words 'Lung Syrup.'

Before he can pocket it he can hear the return of the Healer and in one small movement nudges the lock closed and steps away, feigning interest in a stick of sealing wax on the healers desk.

Gabriella bounces into the room followed by her tall majestic father, his healers robe a dark purple and his eyes filled with kindness that Niall can only distrust.

"Daddy, this boy needed medicine for Lung. It's for a girl and a baby. You can help them, can't you?" She tugs his sleeve, "Please?"

"Gabriella, I've told you before, all that medicine is spoken for. I can't play favourites." the healer looks at Niall sadly, "I'm sorry young man, I'm afraid there's nothing to be done. I can offer some sleeping tonic to help your sister sleep better and perhaps I can see about visiting in a month or two."

"She won't last a month!" Niall tosses the wax aside, "she might not even make it to tomorrow."

"I'm deeply sorry." The healer says, "I'll get you some sleep powder, rest might be the kindest thing." he sighs, exits the room and leaves Niall feeling numb, watched with a deep frown by Gabriella who reaches a hand out to tough him.

He barges away from her and forces the lock on the cabinet, ignoring the shocked gasp of betrayal and the call of, "you can't do that!"

"I said I wasn't a nice person."

"What about all those other sick people?"

"I don't care about other sick people! Especially not rich ones who keep it all to themselves." Niall pockets the jar, feeling the numb itch in his body begin to dim.

Gabriella bites her lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door as he slams the chest shut and swipes the lock shut, "it's one big spoon every mealtime, it tastes really bad so try and put it in water." She scrubs tears from her eyes and glares at him afresh, "I'll be a healer soon, so you better let me take care of that baby or I'll hate you forever!"

Niall nods, feels his arms want to embrace her, but holds back for fear of never letting go, he kisses her instead leaving her bright red and flustered when her father walks in with a tiny bottle of off white powder with a loop of string tied around it, he slips it over Niall's head and sighing to himself, "I will try and get to poor quarter soon. My heart aches for all the good I cannot do." He then walks over to his chair and slumps into it.

He and Gabriella leave quietly and though Niall refuses to apologise Gabriella smiles sadly at him, "I'll tell daddy it was me who took the medicine. But if you tell anyone you kissed me I'll have you arrested!"

"That's fair, I think." he says to her bright, expectant face, kisses her again in thanks and jogs off to her loud calls of 'Goodbye, tell me all about the baby!" 

--

Several long weeks pass of Daria being force-fed medicine, the shared need to move her and clean the bedding, if they're lucky Angus can get her onto the chamber pot and avoid having to deal with changing the straw and fabric on the small cot. Niall sometimes sits and reads to her and ignores the glassy stare or the way she might clutch his hand and whimper for her father if she doesn't outright confuse them as being one and the same.

Each day Niall awakes to that deathly rib rattle and attempts to scrape together some coin. He develops a cough and thinks he might die of fever in the corner only for it to pass and to have to drag himself out in search of coin for food, or to filter and boil the river water.

The weather shows signs of cooling when Daria seems to suddenly sit up in her bed, her dark auburn hair grown long and tangled and her smile so faint and beautiful that Niall weeps from the anxiety of seeing it. She sits up in bed and takes her own food with shaking hands or stumbles with heavy lungs to relieve herself and her sparkle returns, oh so slowly that each improvement seems like a miracle.

Daria begins to admire her expanding stomach and to return to her favourite task, knitting small articles for the baby and listing the names she thinks will suit either sex it ends up being, and the list changes suddenly and Niall thinks how strange it seems for a child to be named after a grandfather or aunt and not for some stranger who hands you over to the unwilling hands of an orphanage or after the street you're scrapped off or simply to replace some child who had died because it makes the papers easier.

Soon Daria has  started knitting proper once again and Niall can resume the task of taking her wares, cleaning them and selling them for what he can. It's not much, but it's consistent. The work isn't easy, Angus certainly can't do it, it requires a deep knowledge of the people of Deva and an ability to barter with them without upsetting or making some huge scene. Daria was always the bread winner when it came to consistency, however, especially now that the boats aren't pulling into the old dock and the poor quarter is isolated but for the sparse few able to sneak outside it or the unlucky guards cast into its pointless patrols. Angus finds work where he can, using what's left of his massive bulk to load carriages or move heavy barrels. He's cheaper than renting a mule, even if he's no less surly.

The bodies begin to disappear into pits or the river or somewhere deep in the temple. Normality comes, noit in a flood but in a slow drip.

• Life begins in winter.

Considering: Historical/Historical Alteration

001.	Times of War	002.	Times of Peace	003.	Royalty and/or Affluent Society	004.	Poverty	005.	Technological Advances
006.	Family Values and/or Expectations	007.	Transcontinental Travel	008.	Convicted	009.	News	010.	Marriage
011.	Superstitions	012.	Plague, or Illness	013.	Come Together	014.	Epiphany	015.	Charm

- Heaven/Hell/Purgatory

001.	Peace	002.	Freedom	003.	Boredom	004.	Ecstacy	005.	Unravel
006.	Denial	007.	Anger	008.	Bargaining	009.	Depression	010.	Acceptance
011.	Conversation	012.	Reincarnation	013.	Watching	014.	Identity, or Loss of	015.	Existence

- Clouds and Shadows 08

01.	Abuse	02.	Forced to Rely on Enemy / Rival	03.	Lacerations / Knife Wounds	04.	Wasteland
05.	Rejection	06.	Phobias	07.	Nausea	08.	Skeletons in the Closet
09.	Taking Care of Somebody	10.	Imprisonment	11.	Falling	12.	Kidnapping