AN: Hey everyone! Finally got this chapter up! Sorry for all of the delays, but I'm sure all you fangirls out there will enjoy this one...

Have fun!

Chapter Eight: Burgers And Magic

The hammer pounding on his bedroom door had finally ceased. Arthur sighed as he let his head flop back onto the edge of the tub he was soaking in. The blindfold still tied around his head, since he had company in the tower. The blond sorcerer made sure to reinforce his barriers on the bedroom door and the windows just incase Alfred actually decided to escape. Yet Arthur couldn't understand why he was being so lenient to his captive for Coracinus' sake. He closed his eyes, the questions that Alfred had asked still ringing in his ears. He didn't understand at all, why he was being so illogical. When he tried to bring himself to lock the Guard up, he could do nothing but that, lock him up. A strange pang of an indefinable emotion rose in his chest whenever he thought of perhaps just killing the boy.

Arthur sighed at his confusion, disappointed at his lack of wisdom in something that seemed so simple. What was living for 200 years for if I can't even figure out a blond, brash, and loud Guard like him? The man was naïve, there was no denying that. He blatantly attempted to save his life, a wretched, rather undeserving soul like him.

A splashing sound was heard as Arthur dunked himself in the cooling water, his blindfold staying dry because of the enchantments surrounding it; He tried to prevent self-pitying thoughts from forming. You are repenting for your sins, Arthur, old boy. Repenting is all that is required. He lectured himself for getting caught up in a depression that was too old for his own good. Heh, I really am an old man. But as he continued to ponder, his thoughts strayed back to Alfred, and those strikingly blue eyes.

'I'll take care of your door,' he says, Arthur scoffed in his mind. He's the one who broke my door in the first place. Coracinus knows why Alfred hadn't tried to escape. Perhaps it was for the same unknown reason Arthur had been so lenient? Whatever… The sorcerer thought to himself, and decided to get up, frowning at his pruned fingers.

He stepped over the edge of the bath, and reached for a towel. He did not expect the door to suddenly slam open.

"Hey Old Man! I fixed your…" Alfred trailed off, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him. The sorcerer stood in full view, nude, water droplets trailing off his surprisingly lean, pale, and toned body, the silk black ends of the man's blindfold hanging over his shoulders and tied to wet blond locks. It turned out that much of his body was littered with scrapes, and a few healing bruises here and there; some old, some quite fresh. There was an old, long scar that trailed from his hand up his arm and ended at his shoulder. A wicked winged tattoo curled itself on the right side of his waist… Alfred couldn't resist staring at the man before him.

They acted at once, both flushing bright red. "What the hell!" Arthur quickly shouted snatching the towel he was reaching for to cover below his waist. The shout seemed to snap Alfred out of his stupor; he scrambled back, stuttering, "S-sorry!" and slammed the door shut.

Alfred's back slammed into the stone walls, feeling his heart trying to pound out of his chest.

When Alfred had tried the bedroom door to see if he could actually open it with the barriers he knew Arthur had placed on it to prevent him from escaping, he didn't expect it to suddenly unlock itself. Alfred grinned at the prospect of the fixed and functional door, brushing away the thought that he should escape while he had the chance. He still had to figure out Sinistra's problem with the orphans, he reasoned with himself. Alfred had been exploring the level of the small tower he was in, turned out that he was on the second level. When he heard the sound of splashing coming from the room down the hallway, he had walked up to the door, curious as to what the room was. Probably a bathroom, he had half-reasoned. But it seemed that today was the day his brain wasn't working as well as he hoped, for when he heard the cranky sorcerer mumbling something from within the room, he had naïvely slammed the door open to be greeted with the shockingly sexy—er, horrifying image of sorcerer's toned body.

He smacked his head against the wall, and then yelped, forgetting the bandages wrapped around his skull that covered his wound from their fight previously. The pain made him momentarily forget about the image of the grumpy sorcerer and another ache made itself known. His stomach grumbled loudly. Loud enough that he could hear a low chuckle coming from inside the bathroom. His cheeks dusted red, but he willed down his embarrassment as he sat outside the door waiting for Arthur to come out. Why am I sitting here anyway? I'm no pervert, like Francis. He couldn't resist the urge to stick a tongue out at the imaginary image of Francis blowing a kiss his way.

Arthur was greeted by his antics as he walked out clad, strangely, in a Shungese robe. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow as he watched Alfred quickly suck his tongue back in his mouth, blushing.

"So I take it that you're hungry?" Arthur started, red dusting his cheeks as well as he passed the Guard still leaning against the wall. He made no mention of the just passing incident, so Alfred didn't as well, choosing to nod and start up a conversation as they headed towards the bedroom side-by-side.

"Old man?" The sorcerer cocked his head as they walked, showing that he was listening, he was used to that name from the children calling him that. "I fixed the door I punched a hole through," He started, cursing himself for his awkward conversation starter.

"Ah, I know that already from the first time you decided to…tell me." The emphasis on "tell" played on Alfred's ears and he turned red once more. An awkward pause and suddenly Arthur stopped, causing Alfred to take a few steps forward before noticing his cease of movement.

"How did you get out of the bedroom, Alfred?"

"Oh, if you want to know, I didn't punch a hole through it."

"I would have heard that, so yes."

"Oh, right." Alfred itched his head, trying to get under the bandages but then stopped when he saw Arthur glaring at his scratching hand, clearly telling him to stop irritating the wound, "well it just unlocked itself." Arthur scowled to himself, there was no way that would happen. He rushed forward to check the bedroom door as they reached it, and when he was proven wrong by the absence of his barrier, his scowl turned more frustrated. What was wrong with his magic lately? Normally his magic was quite destructive, but recently, it had started to act more…playful than usual. Really, it was if it had a mind of its own sometimes. He flicked his magic to test his control and the door swung open neatly. He heard an excited gasp beside him as he allowed a smirk to play on his lips, commanding his rosemary scented magic with ease to float the plates and some of his freshly baked scones on the table; the eating utensils levitating themselves to the table, and cabinets opening on their own. Arthur turned to an ecstatic Guard. His blue eyes shone brightly and he was acting almost like a kid with a new toy. Arthur laughed mentally as his magic provided the clear image of Alfred watching a cup twirl itself in the air and do a little summersault following the gesture of Arthur's finger. The Guard was so easily amused with magic. The blindfolded man smirked at the still gaping Alfred and he walked into the kitchen, the floating items placing themselves neatly onto the clothed table. The playful, pleasant atmosphere was broken, however, when Alfred plopped down into his seat and pointed rudely at one of his scones.

"What is that?" His head snapped to the Guard, glaring at him.

"What do you mean by 'what is that?' It's a scone! Made by myself." Alfred had the nerve to poke at the blackish lump that had settled itself on his plate.

"Don't play with your food," he growled, grabbing a scone for himself and some jam to spread onto his homemade pastry.

"Are you sure it's food?"

"Yes!" He slammed the jar of jam with force, causing the small table to shake.

Alfred glanced at the 'food' cautiously, well generally he could stomach most things; he had even survived some of the worst food poisonings when Francis's food went amok (although that rarely happened). He gave a mental shrug as he picked up the black lump and took a bite out of it.

He spit it out immediately, the chunk flying across the small table and hitting the vase holding the dried roses. The resilient piece of scone bounced hardily off the vase and bounced a little on the floor.

"It's not that bad!" Arthur stood up; already ready to defend his cooking. He was used to this kind of reaction, but by Coracinus, he couldn't understand why everyone thought his cooking was so atrocious as they acted. "Have some manners at least and swallow it!" He pounded a fist on the table and winced slightly from his still sore, healed hand. He cradled it slightly, forgetting his anger to deal with his pain.

Alfred stood up, concerned. Remembering he was the one that caused that wound, he found himself reaching towards the sorcerer, his hand outstretched. It was then that Arthur's robe slipped slightly, and Alfred got a glimpse of his chest, littered with more scars that reminded him of the image freshly imprinted in his mind from minutes before. Arthur chose this moment to look up and saw the Guard staring at his scarred chest, he blushed, odd since he was never this self-conscious about his body, and backed away slightly, only to back into the chair and he fell into it with an "oof." Arthur avoided the embarrassed gaze of the Guard, and he wondered fleetingly why he was so easily angered by this soldier when he had spent years of solitude and then having to deal with….him. He shuddered for reasons totally unrelated to the Guard living in his tower. There was no way that Arthur would ever compare Alfred to that man.

Arthur glanced up, suddenly remembering the leftovers he had from his guest's last visit. He got up, getting the attention of Alfred sitting in his chair, strangely quiet and… was he blushing? Arthur cocked a head, half-curious and then walked to his cabinets, searching for the strange modern food his guest had brought over last time.

"The kids seems to love it these days," he had said. Well, if that were true then maybe his gue—er, hostage, would like them as well. He pulled out the food, magically preserved, and presented it to his guest. As Alfred's eyes widened, he had to wonder what was so great about this new food, what did they call it? A hamburger? He stared at the plain sandwich and the grilled, finely diced meat that made up the "patty." Really, he thought they weren't that amazing, it certainly did not look like it received the shimmering stars he could practically see in Alfred's sky blue eyes.

"Hamburger?" The Guard suddenly dived towards him, completely throwing off his previous bashfulness. Some part in Arthur's mind preferred him blushing, but for the love of Coracinus, Arthur scowled at this part and pushed it away. More focused at the man that literally had just dove over the table and landed at his feet just to drool at the sandwich in his hands.

"Here, I had some left from…" Arthur trailed off, deciding not to mention his last guest to Alfred in case he knew him. The naïve warrior took no notice as he snatched the hamburger from his hands and beamed at the sorcerer so blindingly Arthur would have thought the bloody sun was smiling at him.

"Thank you!" He felt something warm fill his chest, and he stumbled back slightly, not understanding what was going on. He just nodded and watched with slight disgust as the man before him inhaled the burger with gusto.

"Hell, you eat that thing too quickly." He commented, recovering from his stunned behavior.

"Mnrphm?" He tried to speak with his mouth full; Arthur just looked away with a grimace.

"Do not talk with your mouth full, bloody fool." The Guard nodded happily and continued to chew.

"You act like a content cat when you eat these things, are they really that great?" Alfred opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped when he saw Arthur wince at his mouthful of food. Swallowing, the Guard exclaimed, as if he were a religious fanatic of Coracinus rather than a burger.

"You don't understand how awesome this is?" He yelled, amazed at Arthur's ignorance. "Here! Try it!" He rudely pulled out another burger from Arthur's cabinet without permission, and the man before him scowled when Alfred smiled a silent apology before brushing off the sorcerer's anger and shoving the burger in his face. The blindfolded man snatched the burger from his hand and unwrapped it slowly, wincing at the far too excited Guard before him.

Taking a bite, his thick eyebrows rose in surprise, it was actually pretty good.

"This is…" he hesitated, his magic seeing Alfred grin even wider, "alright." He finished lamely, but the blond Guard wasn't swayed by his lackluster response.

"Isn't it awesome?" he started to blabber on as Arthur snuck another bite of the hamburger in his hands when the Guard wasn't looking, there was no way that Arthur would boost Alfred's already inflated ego.

"This actually tastes a lot like the ones that Francis makes." He heard a noise coming from Arthur, but didn't make much of it as Alfred continued to praise his favorite food. The gentleman chewed his food at a slower rate, half-listening to the Guard as he ate the food.

He wondered, just briefly, how the orphans were doing.

It was suspicious; everything was very suspicious. Kiku wondered why the Royal Court did nothing to investigate Sinistra's hatred for orphans before.

He stood in the grand library that Sinistra held, thick old tomes piled on top of each other covered him as if the dusty books had imprisoned him. The books were filled with fairy tales, history, diaries, and anything that mentioned Sinistra's past.

He stared at another diary, its pages conveniently torn right before it spoke about a horrid sorcerer that ravaged their town.

He sighed, placing the book on one of the precarious stacks standing around him, the dust forming a cloud and he rubbed his nose, irritated.

Again and again, the Legend of Sinistra was retold, yet Kiku could find neither personal accounts nor anything that told the story in great detail.

He flipped through another book half-heartedly, not expecting anything as he watched the old pages blur past.

Wait. Kiku paused; he frantically turned back the pages, the tan colored paper smudged here and there with ink, the sound of paper crinkling in on itself.

Here. It was here.

He's a monster, a horrid monster.

The neighboring hut was chosen for the annual Umbreus ceremony. Little Mary looked so excited when she was told that she was going to be the guest of honor, her precious blond head and hazel eyes dressed in all white. A beautiful angel. She was so excited for the ceremony, and her parents—her parents were so proud.

Angelo Arthur, they called him… that beast doesn't deserve a name!

Mary's parents, Samuel and Molly, had invited me to their home that night. It was snowing rather hard, so I wore my heavier leather boots. When I arrived, the hut seemed incredibly silent. By now, Molly should have lit the ceremonial candles, Samuel should have brought out the alcohol, and presented the white robe little Mary would wear—It should have been a raucous celebration. But that night, it had been quiet, as if sound itself had been muted.

I was cautious when I stepped through the snow, something felt horribly wrong.

When I opened the door, I found—

The ink was smeared here, blots of black bled through the next couple of words and Kiku cursed as he squinted, trying to make sense of what was left. He caught a few words, trying to distinguish the blobs from the letters. After a few moments, the Shungese man decided to read the rest of the entry after the smear.

—Mary had gone missing, the ceremony was only in a few hours, the hut was silent, so I searched for the family in the back of the hut. What I found I still see in my nightmares:

Blood pooling into the snow, two bodies hung. Samuel and Molly; impaled by the branches of the trees. Their intestines hung out of their stomachs, faces twisted in uncontrollable agony. Their eyes rolled to the back of their heads so all that was left was the whites of their eyes.

Bits of their skin had been peeled back, skinned. The red flesh underneath revealed.

I immediately vomited. I still cannot get the image to depart my mind. It lingers in the forefront of my imagination, their expressions staring down at me, haunting me.

Kiku placed the diary down, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, resisting the urge to do the same as the narrator once did, the bile rising to his throat. He took another deep breath, and the swordsman steeled himself. He continued to read.

When I had finished purging, I averted my eyes and turned to go back into the hut, tell the others, get their bodies down. But I heard a rustle, and some strange strangled sound, and when I turned to face the bodies again, I saw him. A man in a black, tattered cloak, darkened even further by the blood that dripped from his clothing, into the pure snow below. He was turned to the side, holding some old book with strange writing on the binding; the hood of the cloak obscured his face, but I remember. I remember so well: his gleaming golden hair, highlighted by the moon. His other hand holding Mary's, her blond locks loose around her shoulders, a small smile on her face. But her beautiful hazel eyes were vacant, unseeing, as if she had lost her soul.

The man let go of her hand, and muttered something I couldn't hear; yet I saw his lips move. He glided back into the forest, into the shadows. I tried to charge after him. Kill him. I remember screaming as I ran at him. I tried to do something, anything. But before I could reach his retreating shadow, there was some sort of explosion, and the bodies of Mary's parents caught on fire. I had whipped my head around to the burning corpses, and by the time I turned back to the forest, the man was gone, and Mary still stood, the smile still on her face.

Kiku stared at the torn diary in his hands, eyes wide in horror. He gripped the pages and taking a deep breath, he calmed himself from the images in his head.

This horrid tale… Kiku looked up, the sunset pouring into his old, dusty corner. As he flipped through the paper, his fingers stopped at some of the torn parts of the diary. The edges frayed and seemingly ripped off in a hurry. He stopped, noticing something strange. Why would they take out the actual historical accounts of such an act? Wouldn't these kinds of stories be crucial to the history of Sinistra?

Kiku's brows furrowed, and he flipped back to the man's account. "The neighboring hut was chosen for the annual Umbreus ceremony…"

"The Umbreus Ceremony?" He voiced aloud, and leaned closer to the book to reread the smudged writing.

A large explosion sounded from outside, shaking the library and Kiku with it. Dust fell from the ceiling, powdering his hair as Kiku coughed. Shaking his head of debris, he heard a distinct shout, "All Serviants report to duty! Capture a man with longish brown hair, of Cherbian ethnicity, blue eyes, wearing a green military uniform!"

Bells were rung outside, warning the rest of the force to be alert for the man. "He should be carrying a red bundle, make sure he does not get away with it!"

The sound of footsteps pounding on the cobblestoned road echoed into the library through the windows. Brushing off some dust, Kiku made his way out of the library, sneaking the torn diary into his bag as he walked among the shelves.

He opened the door, stepping over a fallen stack of books, when a man ran straight into him.

"Oof!" He felt the air rush out of him, but he caught the desperate looking man.

Kiku noted the man's features, long brown hair, with Cherbian ethnicity (something uncommon during this age as the Cherbian empire had collapsed a century ago), and green military uniform.

"Excuse me—"

"I'm so sorry!—"

They started at the same time.

"Excuse me," Kiku began again, "but are you the one—"

"I am truly sorry for this but could we perhaps talk inside?" The man interrupted, pushing them both back into the library.

Kiku let himself be pushed back, confused at the situation.

"Are you not the man the Serviants are looking for?"

"Please don't tell them I'm here!" Kiku gazed at the disheveled man before him, just as he stared back. The man's eyes suddenly widened in recognition, as if he just realized he had run into him. He opened his mouth, slightly agape, before asking in a quiet voice, "Are you, perhaps, Kiku of Dextris?"

AN: So, what did you think? Review and comment on this chapter!

A few quick notes that should be noted:

1) I plan on starting to explain people's pasts, along with a bunch of the other subplots, so hold onto your hats!

2) I love all of the support I've been getting through the reviews! All of you are adorably sweet! :D

Love you all and review!

-Petaldancer