Title To a Good Home

Rating R-16 ( caffcusFFwon'ttakeanythinghigher )

Category Tales of the Abyss/ Slight AU

Paring - GuyxAsch

Warnings – Not kiddie friendly but if your mature go ahead, mentions of abuse, rape, played down smex, swearing, and most importantly- slash. Look guys, you have been warned so no bitching after you've been scarred for life, kay?

Author's Note Van provided the plot. I provided the no point. So bascially, if your looking for plot, goooo elsewhere XD if your looking for GuyxAsch, HERE YOU GO. In reality, I could have waffled on and on and on because I had lots of ideas, but then I thought screw it.

Disclaimer Hm. Not mine XD funny that

Most of Asch's days consist of getting up, training, going to classes, training, doing drills, doing extra study and homework then one last training session before he can even think about crawling into bed and painfully sleep the night away until it starts all over again. Asch has no free time. But he likes it that way. Free time means sitting back and letting his mind wonder. He doesn't like it when he starts to think. If it's thinking about Classics or Physics he doesn't mind, but when he starts to think about faces, or feelings then it's something to worry about.

Today has been one of those days. For nearly four and a half years he's put up with Van's running commentary of how badly he fails at handling a sword, or enduring hits to the back of his' legs whenever he misses a target or can't keep running just that bit further- and hey, he'd like to see him try running in full battle armour thank you very much- or the sleepless nights of studying with the fear of being hit or worse if he even dared to think about getting a problem wrong.

So right. One of those days. Asch had thought he'd grown out of the days when his soles physically bled from training, or his palms blister from handling a sword for too long. The only good thing is that it's finally over, and he can spend the next hour and a quarter recuperating in his barn sized en suite- until Van gestures to him to come over, himself standing by the weaponry sheds in the courtyard.

"I have something for you, Asch," he says in that infuriating- everything is right as rain- voice. But Asch, being the perfectly obedient child he is, holds back his painful limp and grants Van that rare smile of his.

"What is it, Master?"

"I put it up in your adjoining room for safe keeping. I'll show you."

For some reason, Asch doesn't feel very comforted when he tells him this. Van's surprises are never good. A few birthday's back he had given him a sapphire ring, the jewel as big as his thumb nail. It had some special power, and was worn by a noble, and the noble's finger was still attached to the ring when he'd taken the lid off. At least after all these years Asch has built up a high tolerance level for squeamish subjects.

Leading him through the fortress- and Asch still manages to get lost even after four years. There are rooms had hasn't even stepped foot in yet. It's just that big and ridiculous. However he does know the way to his room, Van's normally unoccupied one, most of the other General's rooms, the dining hall, the library and his many study classes; and the way out the gates or to the courtyard. His room is up a flight of tucked away stairs, and down the end of one of the thousands of corridors.

As Van opens his double oak doors, Asch is still in the dark of what could be behind the second out of three doors that are in his room, because up until this point it was just used as a storage room.

And out of all the bizarre scenarios he has been playing in his head, Asch isn't surprised to find a bloodied cadaver on the bed. He spares a moment to pity the butchered person, then on the ruined bed sheets then the room itself. Even though it's literally on top of his own room, he hardly ventures inside. It has the smell of being unused and the tang of recently killed flesh which is something he's grown used too. The four poster takes up the middle of the hexagon room, a large cupboard dominating up the right wall and the carpet is littered with boxes and crates, all sealed up with tape. Then the four poster's slates grind together and Asch is mildly surprised to see the person isn't as dead as he first thought. And- yes. The person is male- and alive- though it was hard to tell at a glance because he's practically covered in his own blood and torn up clothes. The only splash of colour is his hair which- waitaminute.

Asch is ashamed to say he jumps when Van puts a hand on his shoulder. He'd quite forgotten he was there. "I know you've been lonely. So I arranged for him to be brought here for a while. He won't be missed."

And what pray tell did that mean? Another replica, or some ridiculous lie of having "time off". What the hell was Van thinking, deciding to drag up Asch's past and lay it out in the form of his old servant having been wrung through what looks like a meat grinder then practically strapped him down so he wouldn't run off anywhere. For a moment he's grateful the hand is on his shoulder, because Asch is quite sure that any second he'll double over and vomit, and it's not because of the horrible smell.

Hand. On his shoulder. Van's expecting something. Van's expecting something? What. To grin and thank him. Yeah right. But. . Asch wavers for a second, in one mind to spin and yell in his face and the other thinks further down the track. If he does that he'll get punished. Badly. And maybe that seems ridiculous when he is facing an act of cruelty, but Asch had learnt over the years to not get on Van's bad side, or you'll end up face down in a river somewhere, sack over your head.

". . Thank you, Master. How thoughtful of you," there you go. That wasn't so hard, now was it? Had just the right level of detachment and coldness.

Clapping the hand once more on his shoulder, Van finally leaves him alone. Asch quickly shuts the door and- and does not slide to the ground, or curl up into a ball or cry hysterically. He also does not limp over to the bed. Reaching over, Asch rips the poor substitute of a gag off the man's mouth. Looks like they both have the pride to not cry out when it hurts.

"What are you doing here? Why are you here?" Asch demands, scrunching the tape up and tossing it aside. "And for God's sake, would you look at me when I'm talking to you."

For a horrible moment Asch thinks Van might have done away with his tongue to, but Guy finally lifts his head and replies in a voice that should come out of a healthy person, not a beaten black and blue one. "I can't."

"Can't?" Asch repeats angrily, raises a hand as if to strike him, then finally notices the problem. Deep marks are running diagonally down the lids of Guy's eye, and save for the few flickers of movement in the concealed sockets- he's totally blind.

"Lucky for me, he said I should be able to see in a matter of weeks," waitwait. He's going- planning- to stay that long. Asch will not have this. He- he- no. This goes against everything he's been striving for -for years. And one little flicker of the past is not going to ruin the walls he's managed to build up. Yulia damned. "Do you know me?" Guy asks, earning him a curious stare.

. . .


Asch momentarily forgets about the other Luke. The "proper" Luke. His fucking replacement. So of course Guy wouldn't know who he's talking to- as far as he knows, the real Luke is hundreds of miles away from here. Maybe Van even blinded him on purpose. Asch knows, understands this, but it still makes the depleting human part of him ache just a little. How can Guy not know who he is, he spent most of his childhood with the man for God's sake!? Guy wouldn't even have to turn around to know it was him sneaking up to jump on him, just the sound of his footsteps and voice could alert him to anything he did. He can't see, you idiot he reminds himself, but even with that he still blurts out in a small voice- "Don't you know who I am?"

Confused, Guy tilts his face as if the dimming light through the windows will make him see better through the membrane of skin. After a moment he shakes his head. The burst of anger makes Asch grab Guy's bound hands so he can make the blonde god damn remember- but just as quickly as it comes, it ebbs away when he sees the fearful look on Guy's face. Even though his eyes are covered, the pull of his eyebrows and tightening in his cheeks gives him away. Carefully, he frees his arms, the ropes damp and bloody.

". . I should clean you up," he goes for the next best thing, gauntlets sticky from the still bleeding cuts on his wrists. He tug's on the hand in a silent indication to follow him, and no sooner is Guy off the bed-he's falling back down again. Asch is unlucky enough get caught in the tumble, Guy's upper body heavy on his legs.

"What do you think you're doing, you idiot?" he snaps, and he should have seen this coming. A prisoner would always attack when your back is turned. Though this appears not to be the case, because Guy's face is contorted, tongue clamped sharply between his teeth to stop the yelp. Peering down his body, Asch can make out that something is wrong with his foot, his right boot is bent at an odd angle- maybe the ankle is broken. "Get up," he orders the quivering man, deciding to make up for the momentarily lack of weakness beforehand. When Guy doesn't do as he's told, Asch kicks out with a metal toed boot, hitting his injured leg and this time Guy makes a sound.


"I said get up," Asch says with even more force, well aware that he's the one at a disadvantage as he's trapped beneath Guy. But a bit of bravado goes a long way. Shakily, Guy leavers his torso up with his arms, good leg bent under him and pushes his full body weight up and onto that one leg. Without a word, Asch takes his hand back in his and tugs him towards his room, ignoring the gasps for breath and slow hops, deliberately making them background noise- like out on the battle field.

The bathroom really is too large for the few items it holds. The standard lion claw bathtub is right in the middle, water system hooked up to a hand held hose. Then there's a sink, with built in cabinets and a huge mirror. The walls are lined with seven foot high windows, the glass tined opaque for privacy. And that's it.

Leaving Guy, Asch drags a wooden chair from his room, the heels scraping painfully on the lino as he takes it to Guy. "Okay, sit down so I can have a look at you," he says, like he's inspecting a horse he wants to buy. Guy decides that more kicks to his leg would be bad, so does so without complaint, first having to grope for the back of the chair, then sitting down hesitantly, not wanting to topple off.

Guy doesn't ask why he's here, so Asch respectfully doesn't ask what happened to him. To him it seems that Guy was sliced head to foot by repetitive blows with a rapier. Probably kicked a few times too when he didn't stay down.

"H-hey, what are you doing?" Guy asks nervously, and Asch hasn't even realised he's started to try and get the remains of his vest off. Right. Blind.

"I need to see the extent of the damage. And I won't allow you to clean up with your clothes on. Or at least what's left of them," Asch adds with a smirk, pulling out a switch blade because he soon realises Guy's arms won't bend that way right now, and everything is stuck to him like glue thanks to the dried blood and shit.

The only acknowledgement Asch get's that Guy's even heard him is the faint rise of colour in his cheeks- Asch sympathises briefly. He wouldn't want to be stripped in enemy hands either. Standing behind Guy, he positions the blade to Guy's collar, then rips right down, letting the thick fabric fall down either side of his arms.

"Can I at least have your name?" The blonde grumbles, shifting his arms to let the vest slide the whole way off.

"Asch th-" e Bloody he almost blurs out, then thinks better of it. "Asch. Just Asch."

The blouse isn't as easy. The whole back sticks to his spine, coated in crimson. Cutting more careful, Guy's skin flinches each time the material tugs mercilessly at him. The once fine material is now cut to ribbon like strips, and getting fed up with all this beating around the fucking bush, Asch gives the back strip a mighty tug, enjoying the curve Guy's body makes as he practically doubles over in pain.

Bastard deserves it.

"C-could just. . wet it," Guy manages to choke out, then straightens up at once when he feels Asch's breath and voice much closer to his face. He's now moved from behind him, and is kneeling on the ground in front of Guy's face.

"Now where's the sadistic pleasure in that?"

The sleeves and chest half of the blouse come off easier, indicating to where Guy was hit the most and that he isn't totally incompetent when it comes to wielding a sword. The only thing left on his upper body is the choker around his neck, and Asch's eyes linger on it, knowing of its important and wonders if Guy remembers it to. He moves the blade to Guy's neck to slice the thin green fabric in half.

Sensing Asch's purpose Guy instinctive pulls his body backwards, just the threat of the tip is enough to make him move.

"Wait. You don't have to cut it off, it has a clip at the back."

"This way is faster," Asch argues, pressuring Guy into talking more. "It's just like any other article of clothing- it can be replaced."

"No it can't," Guy says, voice bouncing off the cavernous roof and walls angrily. Asch hadn't thought Guy would have enough blood left to flush any deeper. A smile spreads across the red head's face, and it's possibly the only time he's smiled that brightly in all his four years of rebirth. He's not too sure if he should be grateful or not that Guy can't see his expression.

"Alright then," Asch reaches around Guy's neck and unclasps the choker. As it comes away, it reveals unmarked skin contrasting to the blood splattered chest and neck. He stows it away in his back pocket for safe keeping. Guy's expression is slightly wistful when he realises the accessory is now gone.

As hot water hisses out of the lion mouth taps, Asch is back on the ground, trying to work out how to take his boots off without doing further damage. He's no paramedic, but a foot probably shouldn't stick out at that angle. He can't cut the thick leather either. He's about to pack it in, when something touches his head. Glancing up, Asch finds the taunt face of Guy and his fingers brushing at his long hair.

"Just get it over it," he says, managing to not go up the octave as he speaks. Gaining a little respect for the man, Asch glances around as if looking for something, then takes off his left gauntlet and folds it over.

"I'm putting this in your mouth," Asch warns him. "When I pull, bite down."

Wishing he had a second set of hands so he could block his ear, Asch breaths out slowly, dimming the world and it's noise like he's been told a thousand times to do in his training, takes the heel of the boot in his palms and pulls hard. He has to tug three times to loosen it and a fourth to get it fully off. Each time Guy makes a sound like a wolf being bunted hard in the side. His' gloves are going to be ruined after this. With a quick inspection of the foot, Asch notices it's dislocated, having suffered many of these himself. The skin has ballooned out over the ankle and it's too bad had hadn't caught Guy earlier but he still grabs it and twists hard to the right. Guy chokes silently as the bone is suddenly pushed back into place, the gauntlet falling from his lips.

Wordlessly, Asch pulls Guy up and he wobbles alarmingly and for a moment Asch is afraid he'll pass out. Grimly he hangs on to consciousness. Guiding him into the crisp white tub, Asch puts the hose on full blast, soaking Guy head to foot in seconds before bundling into the tub. He remembers to turn the lion heads off before water gushes over the sides. His former servant hisses and flinches as the hot water cleanses his numerous cuts, staining the water and sides of the ceramic tub as red as Asch's hair. Now vaguely more human looking, Asch switches off the hose, and silence quickly follows, only the occasional splash of Guy moving or the drip of water from the taps splinter the quiet.

Guy's head and shoulders are bent, rivulets running down his nose and face and looking as miserable as he must feel, up to his stomach in ruby red water. Taking a face cloth from the golden rails drilled into the side of the tub, Asch tilts Guy's face so he can check for lasting damage. Apart from the usual inflaming and blooming bruises one normally gets from being kicked around, the only other damage is the slaughter of his eyes. It looks like it will be impossible for him to even open them up at this stage with the massive swelling it's caused him.


Having the need to break the silence, Asch wasn't even aware of how close he was to the man. Leaning back a pinch, his answer is a few strokes with the damp cloth to Guy's eyes- anything to cause some form of relief to the wound. Droopily, Guy starts to slip further down the slippery sides, movements lessening behind his eyelids as he drifts away from the land of consciousness.

"Guy. . come on. Stay awake," he chivvies him, pinching his cheeks softly.

"How'd you. . know my name?" Guy asks hazily, dead weight in Asch's arms as the smaller boy heaves him out and onto his feet, water splattering hard from his sodden pants and rocking up and over the sides after he's gone. Somehow he manages not to slip and fall over.

"You told me it before," Asch lies, thinking that Guy's probably too plastered to deny it. Finger's quickly locating the clasp on Guy's belt buckle it takes one smooth pull to get rid of it. Now that everything is wet, it makes it easier for Asch to pick the dropped blade off the floor and cut cleanly through the fabric and right down Guy's thigh, knee and ankle.

". . did I?"

It seems rather ironic that now he is taking care of Guy when it used to be the other way around. Asch drapes a bathrobe over Guy's shoulders and steers him back into his room. He gone hardly five minutes in his hunt for the first aid kit that's buried unused in his trunk at the foot of his bed, and as he emerges with dust on his nose, Guy is snoring peacefully on his four poster bed.

He wakes with the feeling of having gotten no sleep what so ever, and makes to turn over but something solid and warm stops him. Still in the state of half conscious, Asch tenses, hearing the distance chirp of birds and the hit of thick velvet curtains on the window pane he'd left open last night; the awareness of the mattress and the dead weight of still wearing full battle armour and not having cleaned up, and the soft breathing and feel of arms around him.

Realising that nothing threatening has happening yet, Asch slowly opens his eyes, memories coming back when he notices a still sleeping Guy curled up next to him. He doesn't remember falling asleep himself. Only wrapping up the worst of Guy's injuries, slipping a set of black garments on him, thinking of tidying up, but must have dropped off before he'd got the chance to worry about his own health.

It feels. . strange. Nostalgic. Apart from sparring, he's never been this close to a person in a long time. It reminds him of how things used to be- in his "other" life. The fuzzy warmth vanishes as Guy's arm constrict around him, and Asch's defensive instincts kick back in, hands up and ready to push him back- until Guy's neck rolls and his chin rests on top of his head and he says something so horrible it makes Asch's stomach contract sharply.

". . Luke."

So mentally buried is his previous life, it takes a gut punched moment to realise why he's reacted so badly to one simple name.

His name.

Asch has never been one to control his temper, but over the years of kneeling in the mud and being told of his worthlessness, years to brood and hate everything around him and what he used to know, it has grown quicker and more violent. Though a small voice whispers that Guy isn't aware of what he's saying, Asch still grabs a fist full of golden hair and twists it aggressively. Disorientated by his forgotten blindness and being brought roughly awake, Guy takes the assault with a confused yelp which is silenced by a savage kick to his stomach, leaving him gasping and clutching the tender area.

"Never say that name again!"

"Wh-what?" Guy wheezes, head bowed as he's unable to detect where Asch is.

"Luke," Asch says with such contempt Guy visibly flinches, hands clenched in the bed covers and paralysed with new fear of the suddenly vicious boy. Snatching up Guy's wrist, he drags him up and off the bed, ignoring the stumble of Guy's still on the mend ankle. He wants Guy out.

Being the good little servant boy, Guy doesn't say a word and the sharp tap tap tap of Asch's steel boots fill the corridor as he marches them quickly away from his room and down two flights of stairs- down into the dungeon area.

He's halted by a guard. "Young Sir?"

"Out of my way!" Asch snarls, shoving passed him and feeling the blind man bumping into him. On second thought. . . "Where is the Commander?"

"The Commander left early this morning," the guard squeaks at once, well aware of Asch's little mood swings and not wanting to get on his bad side. Too late. He's just told the boy the wrong thing.

"That's unacceptable! When will he be back? I want this useless cripple out of my sight!"

The guard runs his eyes over Guy- whose "looking" dejectedly at the floor, a shameful blush started to creep over his cheeks. He's covered head to toe in Asch's black garb, some of the fabric tightly clinging to parts of his body, frankly leaving little to the imagination, because the little red head is just that- little. Hm.

"If that's what you want, we'll be happy to take the boy off your hands," the guard offers, referring to the other vassals in the fortress. Asch is tempted, then feels the hand in his tug. He glances at Guy, who wordlessly shakes his head at him, and that just fuels Asch's drive to shove the man away from him.

"Sure," taking some detached smugness in watching Guy's face turned white, Asch lets the guard take Guy by the upper arm, smile once at him, then leave, having to drag the struggling blonde away.

Asch's isn't stupid. He knows what's going to happen to his former servant down here. The guards, servants and vassals will go for anything new, pretty and helpless.

Now that Guy is no longer his problem, Asch's thoughts go to more pressing matters. Such as running himself a well deserved bath.

Rather ironically, he feels, the matter of Guy catches up with him no fewer than a week and a half later as he takes an afternoon bath, still aching from fencing practise. Van still isn't back, and not that he's dwelled very much on the Guy issue, he was starting to wonder when the Fabre's would notice something was amiss. He feels it very appropriate that Van blinded him- Guy will probably never know who kidnapped him, where he is, or who Asch is.

The bathroom doors shake as someone pounds on the door.

"Busy!" Asch yells, shoulder deep and hair down to his waist in water.

Even so the doors bang open and- Asch is sure it's the same guard who had first taken Guy- appears, throwing the boy himself down on the ground. He catches himself on all fours- and this is progress- his eyes are now open, though are filmy and hazy; still on the mend. Guy's clothes are in a right state- or more specifically Asch's clothes- looking almost as bad as when Asch first met him. He hopes this whole, beaten up Guy then cleaning him up in a bathroom, doesn't become a trend.

"Hmfp," without giving a reason, the guard turns and storms away, and the red head can't be bothered asking for the problem either. Though he can guess. Either they all got bored of the little blonde, or he was a real brat. He thinks the latter.

"What am I going to do with you?"

He muses out loud, hooking both arms around the tub and giving his left foot a kick, splashing water at Guy. Guy positively glares at him, getting off the floor and walking towards him. It looks like his sight is already improving, because he doesn't stumble once and looks Asch in the face this time. Or rather he looks at Asch's nose, but hey.

"I suppose the only good thing about being down there was that I got to learn a bit more about you," he states coldly. His eyes wonder to Asch's hair, and he doesn't even have to squint to see. "You have red hair."

"I know. All the better to wrap around people's hands, my dear," he laughs lewdly, a sound that shouldn't be coming out of a child's mouth. This hits a nerve, and makes Guy bend down, hands supporting himself so to not topple in the water. Asch doesn't feel too threatened, because he is naked and in a bath, so how much more defenceless could you get? "Do you know who I am, Guy?" he whispers, leaning up to speak in Guy's ear.

With a growl, Guy is literally on top of him and shoving his head down into the water and that's all the answer Asch's needs. Luckily, he's expected this form of, frankly, typical attack, and had taken a gulp of air before hand. All he needs to do it- aha. Struggling just makes it worse so instead, Asch moves his hand down Guy's leg, and finds his bad ankle. . and twists. He doesn't hear the noise of pain, but a second later he comes back up for air, gasping and lets his fringe plaster to his face with the knowledge of- I'm not down yet burn strong in his mind.

Coughing, he glances at Guy, whose now dripping wet and amorously rubbing at his ankle and glaring at him. The fights all but gone out of him.

"Luke," he says, making Asch wince and draw up his knees so he doesn't have to touch Guy.

"Don't. . say that."

"I'm surprised you haven't killed me yet," Guy adds, mopping his hair out of his eyes. "I'm sure you must know all about me now."

Asch stares at him like he's an idiot. He was talking about wanting to kill him as a child. God was that-

". . idiot," Asch huffs, hunching his shoulders and flushing slightly. "I only hate you because I was a fool thinking you were actually my friend- then it turns out not even your family can decipher a real person from a fake one."

The blonde blinks slowly, water dripping from his lashes. "Well," he says, just as slowly and deliberately. "Things make a little more sense now I know there are two Lukes. I always knew something was wrong with the one back home- even though he has no memories. . sometimes even a person with amnesia can subconsciously remember things. "

"So. I still won't forgive you," Asch pouts, though his heart isn't really in it anymore. It's like an invisible weight has been dragged off his chest. . finally. Someone knows the truth about him. He's been so alone for all these years, having to live a hand-me-down life, knowing someone out there is living his real life.

Sensing this as well, Guy smiles and leans in with a coy- "Someone needs a hug," which deserves an eyeroll on Asch's behalf. Snuggling close to Asch, the boy wonders about his grudge. Guy was always so happy and playful, he'd never pegged him for the type of harbouring such dark feelings. And maybe on some primal degree Guy will always hate Asch just a little, but Asch knows he's a good, and better person under all that.

Brushing back his dark red fringe, Guy kisses Asch on the forehead, just like he used to when they were kids, when Asch needed comfort or Guy was a little too drunk. As Guy moves down to his cheeks, Asch gets a small flare of want- of any form of human contact, having lost it for so long now. So. . really- in Asch's logical state of mind he's really very justified in shifting his face just so, resulting in Guy kissing him on the lips.

And-and no amount of childhood abandonment issues will cover this up, and knowing Guy's about two seconds away from freaking the hell out, Asch drapes his arms around Guy's neck and pushes him back, tasting the remains of the fragranced water and bubbles on his lips as he drags his tongue across and into Guy's mouth.

It still takes a great deal of persuading with the likes of licking the sensitive roof of Guy's mouth and tongue to earn a lease than satisfactory response.

Coming away with a quick gasp of air and saliva trail Guy pretty sure he can't get any redder. "Asch- wait."

"Hm?" What? Wait? He's been waiting long enough, he wants to snap back, and it's not like he's planned this before hand or anything- but fuck it. If his past is going to spit in his face, he'll spit right back. Deciding not to respect Guy's wishes he moves down his jaw line. . at least he called him Asch.

"Mm, I - no wait!" roping back his libido, Guy shoves Asch backwards and holds him back at arms length, trying and failing miserably to look stern.


"Asch, are you even thinking?"

". . no. Isn't that the point?" Asch scowls, licking his lips dejectedly. He sees Guy mentally counting backwards. He suddenly stands up and steps out of the bath and dodges the grab Asch makes to drag him back.

"Get dry, get dressed then we'll talk."


"Yes, Asch. Talk."

Guy has that expression that used to make Asch wince as a child. The I mean business kind of frown. Asch discovers that it still makes him wince as he comes out with still damp hair and rolling up his cuffs.

"If murder was really in your heart, Guy, you would have drowned me and not have noticed the blow to the ankle," Asch decides to cut right to the chase.

"That wasn't-"

"It is," Asch insists, perching on the edge of his bed and staring sourly at him. Guy runs his finger nervously against the window ledge. "Just- look. Discussing moral ethics isn't exactly. . " he shrugs his shoulders, leaving the sentence hanging.

"But I have- need to talk about it," Guy makes and fist, glaring thoughtfully off to one side. "It makes me feel awful that I haven't avenged my family, like I don't think or care about them enough. I have every right to-"

"But you don't."

"Oh? And what makes you so knowing. I think losing my family gives me enough credit for it."

"But nobody gave you the right to say- you have to kill the son of the murderer to be fully satisfied. Maybe there is some unspoken justice of killing the actual murderer- but you couldn't even do that," Asch sneers, leaning his back on the bed head and not feeling very sympathetic for the man. "Were you scared? Realising you couldn't even dream of touching one of the most untouchable people in the land , so you settled for the constellation prize? You're absolutely pathetic, Guy."

The muscles strain in Guy's arms as he grips the windowsill, and Asch can see him visibly shaking in anger.

"And what bullshit did you feed yourself, hm? That daddy loves me?" Asch asks, making his voice go up an octave- just as mocking and infuriating. "That he'll be so heartbroken when his failure of a son winds up with his throat slit one morning, that he has to follow him by heroically hanging himself because he can't bear the thought of living without him; and then all the villagers rejoice because the evil Duke is de-gik."

And- okay. Maybe he is pushing it on the levels of dryness because Guy has his hands round his neck- nails digging into his trachea- and shoving him hard against the wooden frame. He can't breathe, but over the years of training he's learnt that struggling only makes things worse, so he narrows his eyes in a silent challenge stating very clearly that Guy doesn't have the guts to finish the job. It looks like he might just win that bet too. Guy's arms trembles with the effort of making himself put more pressure on Asch's neck- willing himself to kill a person on cold blood even though he has been baited.

After a terrible second, where Asch contemplates that he should start to kick and thrash, Guy releases him with a spit of contempt. "I hate you so much."

". . figured," Asch manages to get out, panting just a little and wishing Guy would move back a pinch so he could breathe a bit easier. In fact he crowds him even more, and it gets to the point where Asch is about to blow up at him again when he notices the devious glint in his opaque eyes. "Thought you were supposed to be hating me right now."

Guy considers for a beat. "I like to think "hate" and "why the hell not" go hand in hand," Asch manages to get a stupid oh in before Guy sets his mouth to better work. It feels rather ironic that hate and hormonal lust go hand and hand too. Both emotions are strong and require no thinking whatsoever. Stupid things happen. And neither boy's wanted to question why because then that leads to a path of logic and uhoh and you just didn't go there. One moment Guy was set on strangling him, and the next was ramming his tongue down his throat. At the end of the day, it just came down to pure need of human contact both boys deprived themselves by pushing others away.

The inside cheeks of Guy's mouth are bitten raw, and nervous habit since he was a child and Asch wishes his brain wasn't so hijacked so that he could remember what he'd just done to make Guy groan like that and made his hands less polite. He senses Guy's amusement as he drags a hand up his calf and recognises the feel of netted stockings- they breathe thankyou very much, and you try wearing full armour and not suffocate in it- and they also work wonders in situations like these. He also senses the burning question and possibly torment on Guy's tongue, but nips him hard on the bottom lip to stop him.

Pulling back with a 'pwhu' of not entirely needed breath- they do have noses- Guy pauses only once when the voice of logics whispers he's just a kid before he locks away the voice and throws away the key as he bends down and noses aside the hem of Asch's tunic to lick down Asch's thigh and screw the stockings they can stay on because the meshing is foreign and strange but not unpleasant to touch.

Asch isn't ignorant. He was on the run to get back to the castle for a few weeks, and had to survive somehow. He supposes the only shameful thing about that knowledge of not being completely innocent is that he was only ten at the time.

He can't see what Guy is doing because his tunic is in the way, but that doesn't stop the feeling of heat and wetness and the killer cramp his thigh in under going to stop it shaking. Asch isn't surprised at all to know the leggings will be ruined by the time's Guy's finished- but that's what back ups are for when you. . get right down to it.

Letting himself moan and flush the same shade as his hair, Asch grabs a fist full of Guy's shirt in an impatient gesture as the blonde finally stops his fascinated exploration of his inner thigh. Someone needs to focus here.

"You know," much to his displeasure Guy emerges, sitting back up and smirking like the evil sadist Asch is sure he secretly is underneath. "I could probably make you come like this," and Asch is so used to a warm and soft touch of a tongue his eyes narrow in a wince as Guy literally kneads him through the stockings. Asch opens his mouth to throw a curse at him, but his body disobeys and makes him pant and groan instead. Traitorous body.

Asch manages not look Guy in the face- not that he would know- and didn't think it was possible to clench his thighs any tighter or grip the bed covers till the point all blood stops flowing into his fingers- he will not give Guy the satisfaction of pushing back with his hips. Guy retaliates by not taking his working hand out of the fist it is balled up in, making it hard and painful and so fucking good, you son of a bitch Asch thinks hysterically, making him want to kick Guy.

Making it even harder for the boy, Guy lean up and nips down Asch's jaw, then settled on biting and licking up the red head's sweat on his neck and tasting the strong after taste of bubblebath liquid and under that the odd scent that only a child gives off. Asch's head falls weakly against the elder's shoulder, giving a small whimper of pleasure, blushing and feeling like a useless squeaky toy.

"F-fuck you," Asch is somewhat glad he can still string a two sentence phrase together, and feels the smile and hot breath of Guy against his ear.

"Mm, no complaints here," he says ambiguously, and Asch's is annoyed to admit that's probably the thing that tips him over the edge. His damp hair sticks to his cheeks as his shoulder's hunch and his legs sigh in relief as he lets them relax as he dazes into the fan-fucking-tastic afterglow that only happens after a bout of fabulous sex, and comes back round when he's aware of Guy nuzzling his cheek against his own, and an arm around his waist while the other sticky hand strokes down his thigh in a relaxation method rather than a feeling up one.

Though Guy is having troubles of his own, and being the insufferable gentleman he is doesn't say anything as Asch's more stable mind insists of things like - tired, warm, soft, bed damnit- but slides down lazily because any handjob deserved reciprocation in some form.

It feels odd having a part time lover. They don't really talk, but sometimes they just don't have to. It seems the invisible lie has been crossed- and oops can't go back now. It's like a mutual agreement has settled over them. Don't think just act. Asch thinks this is some form of punishment. He's not back to his old self- never will be- and he hasn't really opened himself in any way to Guy, but the suggestion is there. Asch is no fool. Guy will be gone soon, because he doesn't belong here. And when he goes, Asch probably won't cope, and oh look, Guy will, in some ironic way, get his revenge on him. Don't kill him with hatred, but kill him with a form a human contact that nobody else in the fortress will give him.

Not that Asch will ever say it, but whenever he runs down a corridor- late for classes or just for the sake of being freed from training- and more often than not, get's grabbed from behind; he feels a thrill of satisfaction of just being wanted so badly which only lasts a couple of seconds before he get's pulled behind a coat of arms, in the shadows of alcoves or wherever the heck Guy tucks himself away, and he kisses, gropes or touches him in some way then shoves him back out with a cheeky laugh and runs away before Asch can compose himself enough to maimed the servant.

Whenever Guy needs a little more, Asch is very rarely happy about his timing. The blonde deliberately waits until the young General is late for a test, or right after training then snatches him away into one of the hundreds of small utility rooms that harbour drainage or heating pipes, and it literally takes five strokes of Guy's expert thumb to send Asch down to his knees and tremble with pent up emotion of being beaten black and blue by training, stress of work, anger at everyone and everything and over whelming sadness from an unknown origin. If he's not down on the ground, he's seen thrashing, and kicking at Guy, whose bites his bottom lip savagely until he gets his way by shoving the younger against the steel piping and won't spare a thought of taking his gauntlets off when he jerks Asch off until he cries bloody murder and spits at him, all the time knowing he probably deserves this in some funny old way. Times of when he feels like being particularly cruel, Asch will be down on the floor, licking hard at Guy through his pants, then abruptly pushes him backwards and usees the time to escape and lock the door behind him, because he has the master key and not Guy, and will leave him half turned on and furious.

Over the next few weeks, Guy's eye sight returns ever so slowly. Before it was a Picasso painting of lights and shapes, gradually growing more solid the more rest he gave them.

The day he knows this is when he wakes one morning to find Guy watching him, expression so sad Asch thinks that maybe he's still asleep because Guy never looks sad. His eyes are that clear teal blue he remembers, the odd mist that has hung over them finally gone, the only sign he had even been blind in the first place are the twin scars running down his eyelids as he blinks.

"You haven't changed at all," he tells him, which is a surprise because when ever Asch looks in the mirror he sees a stranger. His body has lost that childlike roundness it used to have, face sharp and hard and even paler from lack of time in the sun. He's grown out of his fringe and even his hair colour has decided to change with the new him. Then there are his eyes, which always manage to scare even himself, because they look so endless but hollow at the same time.

He tells Guy this, but in laymen's terms.

"I know you. Trust me. You haven't changed," Guy finally grins, and snuggles against him, and that's the end of that conversation.

After days of toying with the idea, Asch finally gives Guy his choker back. Over the days he had given Guy to the guards, he had spent some time mending it back to its former glory. Though the green is a shade darker than his old one, strip more thinner, and his sewing skills aren't the best, it compensates with the gold pendant shining like new as he shyly hands it over at the end of a long day of pouring over books in the library and vaguely wondering where Guy goes whenever he's not hanging around him.

Guy stares in wonder as it winks up at him from his palm, obviously having forgotten about it as he hasn't worn it for so long now. "I couldn't save the original one- the blood stains were too hard to get out an-"

He's cut off as Guy unexpectedly reaches up from the chair he sits on and kisses Asch. It's a simple kiss, and Guy draws back after a moment and pulls Asch down onto his lap and wraps his arms around his waist, his right hand grasping at the choker.

"I thought you might have thrown it out," the blonde explains, rubbing his cheek down Asch's upper arm. "When I couldn't see who you were- I just assumed you would bin it so I forgot about it over time."

Asch feels like there's a symbolic message hidden in that sentence, but doesn't comment. Instead he blushes faintly and takes the choker out of Guy's hand and fastens it around his neck then slings his hands around to brush at his back. "I thought about it a few times. When you made me really angry. But then I remembered," he smirks smugly, giving the golden pendant a flick with a nail. "My mother told me to give this to a person I wanted to be with. So you're mine and nobody else's."

"I'm not a possession, Asch," Guy grouses in good humour, though is slightly humbled by the gesture.

". . of course you are. You sit in the corner and look pretty and when you've been good, I play with you."

"Ha ha," Guy drawls sarcastically, pulling Asch closer still, one of the hands that have been knotted behind his back slide smoothly under his shirt earning him a small shiver. Bringing his face up, Guy gives the tip of Asch's ear a nip and asks cheekily. "Will you play with me now?"

"You haven't exactly been good, hmm?" Asch rolls his eyes, pushing Guy's face away with the palm of his hand. The blonde gives the callused appendage a lick, right to the tip of his middle finger where he sucks for a moment before pulling off to watch Asch's face turn from amusement to half lidded pleasure.

"I can make it up to you now," he purrs instead, his answer coming in the form of Asch leaning in to kiss up Guy's exposed chest and lips lingering over the choker, the cold metal a strange sensation and Asch can finally acknowledge Guy's odd fascination with the texture of his leggings- it's just out of the ordinary and appealing to run your teeth and tongue over something new.

"Aaasch," Guy groans impatiently, rolling his hips in an obvious gesture. Asch wants to tell him that he always makes him wait, but screw it.

"I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me?" he chuckles, before giving Guy a teasing push back with his own hips, driving Guy to the edge of losing his self control and pride of Asch getting one over him.

The day Asch wakes up and finds the four poster empty and cold he knows Van is back.

Nothing has gotten out of bed faster, jerking his tunic on and- screw everything else- picks up his sword and sheath and bolts from the room. His bare feet skid on the tiling, soon replaced by wood as he sprints out of the main doors and across the draw bridge. Van is talking to a coach driver parked by the side of the road. A servant holds a drugged and tied up Guy by the wrist, and throws him into the back of the carriage.

"Master, what are you doing?" Asch asks, bewilderment turning into alarm as Van smacks the horse's rump and the carriage trundles off, taking Guy with it. Taking Guy. Fuck! With a screech of hatred Asch tries to lunge after the swiftly moving coach, but Van catches him round the waist and holds on as he kicks and thrashes widely, biting Van's hands and clawing madly. "Guy! Fucking God damnit it, Guy!!" he screams until his voice croaks and when the horse drawn carriage doesn't slow in anyway-

"You knew it would happen eventually, Asch," Van says, patronisingly stroking his back and Asch burns with anger and shakes uncontrollably.

"Don't fuck with me, Van!" Asch snarls, wriggling out of his grasp and stepping away from him, and he will not cry in front of him. "I hate you. I fucking hate you, why the hell did you do this to me?!"

"To teach you a lesson," Asch stops dead, sucking in a breath and feeling his braided hair tickling the back of his bare neck. Even though he's grown these past few years, Van still looms above him and now Asch feels positively tiny. "Do you understand now, Asch?"

Understands? He fucking understands alright. He's not allowed to have anyone. He cannot be dependent on anyone, because sooner or later they vanish and leave you feeling even more miserable than when you first started off. He had built up a wall to defend against such attacks, but then Guy had come back. And he was a stupid moron and thought why not give him one more chance? Asch won't be so naive the next time they cross paths.

". . yes Master," he says pathetically, hanging his head and waits to be dismissed.

Numbly, Asch walks back up to his room, hardly caring that Dist will have a field day that now he's two hours late to his classes. Closing the door, Asch throws his scabbard down, restlessly going to the bed, then thinks better of it. He opens the cupboard room instead, not having touched it since Guy had arrived. Nothing has changed, the blood smears on the bed now tinged brown at being weeks old.

Rifling through a draw, Asch pulls out a box of matches, and strikes the end. For a brief moment the flame flickers in the end of the stick, then he throws it onto of the bed, where fire spreads at once, running over the sheets and climbing up the timber and down onto the carpet. He watches the room burn until it fizzles out and only ashes are left behind.