Ivan spread his hand. Although his sense of touch was dulled, he could feel the fibers of the sheet. The thin fabric rippled as he moved his fingers across the mattress, smoothing it flat.

"Big Brother."

Braginski stood from the bed and kneeled as the Queen came before him. She was nude. Flaxen hair glittering like champagne over her petite frame.

"My sweet, Baby Sister." His lips graced the top of her foot. "I missed your company."

"Did you?"

She was apathetic. Ivan peered upwards into her discontent gaze.

"Da."

Tilting her head, she lowered herself to her knees. In comparison, Ivan appeared as a giant next to the tiny woman.

"That idiot will not give you up." She said, dropping crumbled paper into his lap. "He says, he loves you, what do you say?"

Braginski glanced down at the precious shredded letter.

"His suffering, is none of my concern." He said bleakly. "He is a fool."

"Da." Said Natalia, taking one of his hands. She caressed her lips against the the flesh, licking at Ivan's finger. "Unfortunately, fools do not listen to words."

Eyes blazing with vengefulness, she bit down. Mouth filling with sweet iron and gushing from her lip. Braginski watched numbly, as the digit was gnawed off and spit onto the floor.

"What is given, can easily be taken away, Big Brother." She said, smiling. Her teeth were stained. "I bet the moron will understand this, da? Matthew, take this to the doctor and send him on his way."

Ivan's eyes widened.

"Please, do not." He begged. "Please, baby sister!"

"Nyet." Natalia's smile remained. "This is punishment. He must see the consequences of his actions."

"Yes, my Queen."

William's shoes clacked, echoing, as he entered and slowly bent to gather the severed appendage in a hankerchief. Ivan stared, watching as it began to saturate with blood. He found himself unable to look away from the growing blotch.

A loud crash awoke Alfred. He hurried from his bed and down the hall, where he was met by Arthur at the staircase.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" Kirkland asked. He held a loaded pistol in his hand.

Panting, Alfred shook his head.

"I don't know."

They both, slowly, ventured down the steps. Arthur took the lead, the gun at the ready. A flapping noise came from the dining hall. Jones peered inside. The window had been smashed and the curtain blew wildly in the wind. He reached for the light switch.

"Stop."

The command came from neither Arthur nor Alfred.

"Who is there?!" Called Kirkland, stepping through the door frame.

In one of the chairs sat a hunched figure, his head upon the table. Without his glasses, Alfred was unsure if it was actually a man or just shadow.

"Mon ami, I wish not to be seen like this." Spoke a familiar voice.

"Francis?"

Arthur placed his gun on the table and went to Francis' side. Even in darkness, his injuries were apparent. Arms lacerated, blood, trickled onto the floor.

"Alfred, bring the first aid kit." Demanded the Englishman, slinging Francis' over his shoulder. "Quickly, to my study."

With haste, Jones went to retrieve the medical supplies, while, Arthur struggled to move the larger man. Alfred had completed his task first, returning to help. In the study, Francis' was placed in the chair behind the desk. Kirkland turned on the lamp.

The man was a wreck. Both his eyes were swollen shut and blackened. His clothing was torn to ribbons.

"I warned you, it is not pretty." Francis said, voice cracked.

Arthur rolled up his sleeves and began to tend to his wounds.

"It was her goons?" He asked.

"Oui." The Frenchman winced. "Can I speak with Arthur, in private."

Kirkland looked to Alfred.

Reluctantly, he left.