Silver Night

By: A Really Big Idiot

99 Years Ago


The first thing He remembered was…feeling.

He was floating between two realms. In a space that was as large as the dark universe, but felt as close as two sub-atomic electrons rubbing together. This was a space where light and darkness seemed to drift into each other like lazy sea waves upon a sandy beach. It was a place where dark creation and the bright void spiraled together in an endless lover's dance.

He felt.

Like a snake eating its tail, he felt the punishing darkness gradually gnaw into his soul. He felt everything, yet nothing as his core essence was slowly engulfed by the all-consuming blackness. He saw himself being created, then destroyed, then re-created again.

And he was here for it all.

Stuck forever between, until the time he was not.

But for now, he would float between the two realms. He would watch his beginning, middle, and end.

And he would watch it started all over again.

But his first feeling that he remembered feeling would not go away.


The second thing he remembered was the first time he opened his eyes.

And all he saw was darkness.

But it was not a frightening night. There was a strange comfort to it. For a single moment in this beginning, he felt as safe as a babe would feel in their happy mother's womb.

But then a door opened – a door of beginnings - and with it came a cruel light and hard vibration.

"Silver Night." A voice from the harsh, cruel light said. "I've come to make you mine."

He felt something very suddenly again. It was powerful, and it was angry. But it was something he could not remember.

And his first thought to himself was…

I should be afraid.

With his eyes focused, he saw the hand of shadow reach towards him…and then he remembered.

He remembered the word now.


He was born to suffer.

And then came the deep sadness, the bottomless guilt, and the eternal regret.


The third thing he remembered was taken against his will.

Unable to move.

Unable to breathe.

Unable to be saved.

Back arched. Shaking legs forced apart wide.

Arms bound. Head forced into a pillow.

Silent screaming. Tearless crying.

Flowing blood.

And he mattered not.

After a time, though, after a very long time…he fell a small hint of pleasure. An unexpected bliss.

He felt his defeated body rock. He felt his soul shake. And his mind couldn't remember.

Suddenly aware, he realized something.

Pleasure could help him forget his universal sentence of suffering sadness.

More blood, more sweat, and more waterless tears flowed like rain upon the bed. But he knew nothing – cared for nothing – but that single point.

Only pleasure could beat back his ever-expanding sadness. A sense of sadness that he did not know the genesis of. A sadness that trailed behind his shadow. That wrapped around his lungs. That impeded his steps. That whisper vile nothings within his ear. That made him thirst. That made him hurt.

But pleasure could never take away his soul's pain.


He remembered it clearly.

It was the fourth thing he remembered.

The first time he responded to that name.

"Silver Night, come to me." The man called.

But finally, he questioned, "But who are you?"

"I am your Master. Your beginning and your end."

And all he could say was, "Okay."


He could remember a lot of things now.

Some of them important. Some of them not. And what was not important was a lot.

To him, there was no different between night and day – dark and light – now and later.

For once he had discovered pleasure, he had put himself to studying its art. Like a madman, he studied its concept and rules like it was the only discipline in the world. All the sights, all the sounds, all the scents, and tastes where his to experiment and explore. He learned everything he could about it and then he learned some more.

Pleasure was something he could control. Something he could make his domain. If it were the only thing he could have, then he would rule it. Breathe it. Become it.

And perhaps if he mastered this high art, then his sadness and pain would finally go away.


Unfortunately, he discovered that a master is one who is fickle and easily bored with undisputed willingness.

He was rejected.

Nearly mad with rage, he did not understand how such a thing could be. He could not understand why such a thing would be rejected. It seemed so unrighteous to him.

How could he? He thought and thought. How could he be denied this one small act of grace?

It seemed so utterly unfair and diabolical to him. The very definition of evil. After all, it was only through the external pleasure he could he ignored his inner pain.

But all it takes is once to learn.

He made a vow.

He would never give another the chance to reject him again.

For he would be the one to reject all first.


It took a long time, but he who called himself his master had made a terrible mistake.

When one has enemies, even the smallest of bargains can cost one everything.

A quick decision, a witless choice, a forgotten declaration - these are things that start one's folly.

A covetous eye, a hungry hand, a forbidden taste – these are things that end one's folly.

But the biggest mistakes a person makes is the error that they can't see themselves making. Yes, the biggest mistake is the one they think is not an error because it disguises itself as wisdom and pretends to be the truth.

In his hubris, his master had offered him up as a lowly ribbon prize. For one night, the servant would serve him best could have him. He promised his servants that the winner of his challenge could do whatever he or she wanted to him – as long as he was still left alive after.

If he was normal, he should have been hurt by this. He had only known one body and had only known one touch. He had never expected to be traded as if he was an ordinary coin or bargaining chip in a game that was not his to play.

Fortunately, he felt nothing.

And nothing was better than pain.


Even though his long hair covered his eyes like a thick veil of silver, his body feel everything that needed to be considered.

Lying back, he realized that it was possible to disconnect one's mind from one's body's reactions. He discovered he could feel the heat of a touch, yet feel nothing for the one who ignited it.

He could control this.

He could have this.

"I've loved you for so long!" The winning servant panted into his ears like a revered whisper. "The first day I saw you…I've wanted so much. And to have you now…" Another thrust within him and his body rocked. "Masashi doesn't deserve you…he never did…and…I can't believe…I'm coming…I'm coming…fuck…it…I love you...I love you….."

He smiled a quite smile. It was so sweet and calm that only the shrewd of witches would see its vicious nature.

"I know." He lied. "I love you too."


In one night, a loyal servant can become a rude traitor.

Who would have thought such a simple phase had that much power?

He was not returned to his master the next night.

Neither was he returned for the second.

Or for the third.

But the one called his master had come for him in the fourth.

And on that fourth day, the walls had wailed to the heavens, and the floors had cried rivers of blood and dust. As he was being taken away, he silently watched the diamond dust of his master's once loyal servant float away.

A new question bloomed in him them.

The question of…Why?

Why had this occurred?

Why did his master come for him?

Why had a once loyal servant been so willing to die just to keep him?

Why did anyone want to keep him when he could not even keep himself?

"You are mine." The man called master said to him between sharp bloody kisses. "You are mine, my Silver Night." He repeated, and this was the first time he saw his real power in his master's eyes. "No one will ever take you from me again. You are my perfection. You are my comfort. You are my dream. I will never allow this to happen again."


After much contemplation and reflection, he realized the answer to his first 'why' question. It was contained in a strange word - a word that seemed to be the basis of all things yet meant nothing to him.


Despite seeing and hearing it a thousand times, the word never made sense to him. For if one were to ask a thousand different people they would get a thousand different answers. And for something to have a thousand different answers means that it has no meaning at all.

All he say was I love you too. He said it with purpose, but without meaning. And because of it, the once loyal servant had died.


Something about this four letter word triggered something inside him. For the first time in this existence, he remembered his first feeling. The endless, painful, bleeding, creating, and destroying feeling. It was a feeling that was nothing more than an all-consuming madness.

And thus, he decided he would hate that word for the rest of his life.

Closing the book, he would no longer try to comprehend or study it. And he would never accept it from another. And he would never speak its name in truth.

For that word was madness. It was nothing but a fascinating madness. And if he pondered more on that sinful word, he knew that the empty part would stay within him.

But a feeling could be buried.

A soul could be forgotten.

And for him to survive – this would have to be the way.

Chapter 125 – Fascination


Hanabusa Aido looked at the computer screen monitor with a wary eye. He watched as the electrical data spat out all information faster than the human eye could comprehend but a vampire eye could. He looked back down at his lab reports, then threw everything in the garbage. This made no sense.

Why wasn't Kaname-sama waking up?

Shaking his head, Hanabusa looked over at the figure in the bed. Physically, his king was fully healed. In fact, there wasn't a damn scar or nick on the man. Which was pretty damn impressive for a guy who took on a few dozen missiles to the head. But Kaname-sama was in a class on his own, so it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it could have.

Damn it, people. This kind of thing was definitely not in his pay grade.

How much was his paid, you ask?

Only a measly ten million a year. Like a peasant. Damn inflation. Hanabusa let out a deep sigh. Pish. No one appreciated his value anymore. Not nobody. So, note to self, ask (more like order or threaten) Takuma for a pay raise when all of this is over. Who only gets ten million dollars a year in this age?

But the question remained - Why wasn't Kaname-sama waking up?

He was fully healed, and his power levels were back to their legendary high. The only thing off was his neurologically monitor. In any normal situation, you would think he was just dreaming. But dreaming for nights now? Impossible for a vampire, let alone a vampire king. So, why wasn't he waking up?

And he needed to get up. If there was no other time they needed him, it was now. Yuki had disappeared, and the kids were still missing. So if it ever got out that the king was in some weird deep coma, the entire kingdom would be lost!

Come on, you ruthless bastard. Hanabusa thought. Where is that world-renowned resilience you have? Where is that mythical will? You are a man that can conquer the world, so why can't you conquer a dream?

(Sing Sing Island)

As if they were the stars of hell's demon parade, the small group of rough prisoners, helpless royal teenagers, and Silver marched towards the headquarters of the island. The leafless trees watched the near-silent marchers as they were each lost in their private world of thoughts. Each person's mind was pondering on the insanity that was their current situation, and what it would mean for their futures.

Well, all except his sister Juri that is. She was still knock-out from whatever that…creature…did to her.

Haruka marveled at her.

How is it that his twin always seemed to be unconscious during key times like these?

Haruka sighed.

Deep, deep, onion-layer deep down inside, Haruka loved his twin sister like any good brother could. But sometimes, he wished he could shake her until she got a brain cell or two. How the hell could she get herself knocked out…again? Particularly in this situation? Was her sense of self-preservation that dysfunctional? Haruka knew roaches that had a higher level of survival sense than she did!

Shaking his head, Haruka burned the image of the prisoner who was carrying his twin in his mind. While the prisoner was carrying her like his holy bride-to-be, Haruka was under no illusions. Hours (which felt like a lifetime ago) before all of this, he had nearly been raped himself. And if it hadn't been for Silver's timely arrival then - No!

Stop right there, man!

Haruka shook his head - violently. He can't think about that right now. Now was not the time. In the darkest twist of fate, the kidnapped trio was in the biggest danger ever, and he needed to have his head in the game. The time for processing all of his enraging emotions would come at a later time. When that time is who knows. Perhaps Haruka would calmly talk about his feelings to a super-cool therapist called Alfred who would give him a warm cup of tea and an understanding ear. Or, more preferably, he could trap himself in a soft-pillowed psychiatric ward was he could scream, cry, and tear everything to pieces until he felt better. The second option sounded way more manly to him because breaking things always made him feel better.

Haruka refocused.

So, what's the situation? Well, currently, he was cast over the shoulder of some nameless jailbird brute like a bag of old rotten potatoes. All insults to his pureblood ego aside, Haruka needed to make sense of this well, completely fucked-up situation, and come up with an escape solution. So he thought, and thought, and thought some more. However, the only thing that came to his mind was…

…Lady Fate was a bitch.

She was an evil, spiteful, old, smelly bitch.

She liked when things just got worst and worst, didn't she? He wished he could give her the middle finger as he pushed her off a high cliff!

By Darkness, how the hell was this even possible? How do you go from been drugged, nearly blown to bits, kidnapped by rebels, survive a super-yacht sinking, see two mega military-class zeppelins crash into the sea, be stranded in a row-less boat all by yourself for who knows how long, and then end up in a notorious prison that housed the worst criminals the vampire world has to offer?


Like really, really?

What exactly had Haruka done in his past life to deserve all this crap? Had he been some terrible villain from a fairytale? Did he rob a temple? Burn some poor village of priestesses to the ground? Had he stolen some candy from the world's first baby?


This is just too much.

But his situation wasn't the one Haruka feared most about. He was a pureblood vampire prince, so no matter what he could survive this…somehow. His dark eyes flickered towards his friend and his heart suddenly felt very heavy.

Silver looked completely lifeless.

And it made Haruka's heart ached.

Don't get him wrong though. To the average eye, Silver looked every bit as composed as the badass he was. But somehow, Haruka knew all that was an illusion. In fact, Haruka felt like Silver wasn't completely honest with him about something. But Haruka hadn't the slight idea of what that was. And that worried him. Really worried him. Because Silver was just a normal vampire, after all.

Well, maybe not normal normal. The dude was his father's sex slave (and wow, didn't that sound so wrong on so many different levels!). And Haruka strongly suspected that he had been some hybrid ninja-samurai-spy-assassin deity in his past life. But despite all his obvious talents, he still wasn't a pureblood vampire. And that, if nothing else, was enough for Haruka to worry. Which was ridiculous if you thought about it because Silver had been the toughest one of three throughout all the chaos.

But that was precisely why he was so worried him.

Silver had survived so much, perhaps more that Haruka could ever really know. And despite everything going to crap in a hand-basket, the man was always the one to keep a light heart and calm grin.

But Silver wasn't that person anymore. He looked as if his soul was dying a slow painful death.

And there was nothing Haruka could do about it.

"I look forward to how you will best please me."

Hate that Haruka never knew he was capable of was born within his heart for that redheaded scar-face bastard.

Haruka may be young, but he wasn't that young to not know what the scar-face bastard had implied with that statement. For a moment, Silver looked like he was on the verge of wailing, but something snapped in him, and he just went…lifeless. Yeah, he was moving and breathing, but the bright light that was always within his plum eyes was snuffed completely out.

That…was say the least.

What type of monster was this guy?

Haruka couldn't fathom it, but apparently Silver could.

After giving another vindictive warning to his lackeys not to touch his 'little bird,' the crazy redhead disappeared to an unknown direction. The minute he was out of hearing range, the entire group, prisoners included, had let out a huge sigh of relieved. All except Silver that is.

But you know what the worst part of it was? The real bad part?

Somewhere, deep inside Haruka's inner self, he felt…slighted.

Very slighted.

Highly slighted.

Because it was utterly insulting to his pride that such an evil dude didn't seem to care that much about the Prince of the Eastern Realm. That he mattered so little that any evil fool could threaten his friend right in front of him…but he could do nothing about it.

He was the goddamn royal pureblood vampire prince!

Shouldn't that mean something? Why did crazy-face act like Haruka was a mere afterthought? How was that even possible?

One can't imagine how offending that was to his true vampire nature.

Throughout Haruka's life, he trained to be the best fighter and the best leader in the world. For countless years, he had spent trying to hone himself to be the very best future ruler he could be. To be better than his father. To be better than any ruler that ever was. And for a longtime, despite his antisocial ways, Haruka had believed that he was on the verge of being ready for the throne at any time. Still young, he had thought that he was powerful enough, smart enough, and better enough than his cold father. Haruka saw how things were in their gloomy kingdom and frightful court. How their people feared his father and pitied his mother. How everything seemed to be soulless and without color at home. Haruka wanted to bring in a new age of warmth to his kingdom. He had truly believed that the time for him to rule would be soon despite all the bitter criticisms he faced from his father. His father was just old and bitter. A relic from an ancient time. But Haruka was new and fresh. He was the key to a brand new future. So, of course, they would clash. Of course, they would fight. But it didn't matter because Haruka believed that he would show him one day.

So you can imagine how difficulty it was to realized that his father was right about him all along.

Haruka was coming to the bitter realization that he was not the powerful male lion he thought he was. He was no warrior. He was no protector. He was no future king. He was just a cub – a crying snot-nosed little baby cub - and the dark jungle of this world was full of terrors he could not even give names too.

If it hadn't been for Silver's protective presence…

If he hadn't been with them through all of this…

…A dark chill of knowing went down Haruka's spine.

What exactly would have happened to him if Silver hadn't been here? He had always been his friend. His comforter when he was scared. And his fighter in his time of need. Silver was like a diamond-hard shield that prevents anything bad coming his way.

And Haruka, despite all his training and studying, couldn't help his protector. He couldn't even offer a finger, and his worthlessness rocked Haruka's soul like an earthquake.

Haruka realized just how truly inept and weak he was.

Thinking back, Haruka had never thought to question…never even thought to ask…how are you feeling, Silver? Are you okay? Is there something I can do for you to make this all easier?


Haruka hadn't even thought of those questions. He had been stuck in his sad pity party. And then he would grumble, whine, and complained about Juri's carefreeness. He had done nothing to help Silver, and such a realization was a major blow to the young pureblood's ego. Here he was, acting like he was the next king of the East, the future savior of the vampire world, but he was less than useless when it came to dealing with the real world.

Honestly, what use was he? Had he really just been nothing more than a burden to Silver? And would he be the reason Silver would take on the one another hit – another wound – that could surely break him?

Shame and self-disgusted never tasted so bitter to the young prince before.

Who protects the protector?

Haruka didn't have an answer to that.

And that was the saddest thing about all this mess.

He could do nothing. Nothing except to wait for it to be all over.

As he tediously hiked to the prison's headquarters, Silver casually observed his surroundings and atmosphere. For a group of nameless (but probably notorious) criminals, they were eerily subdued. But he could understand that. Kenichi was the type of monster that had that effect on people. Juri, bless her dear heart, was still unconscious, and Haruka looked like a nervous hamster. Normally, Silver would feel sympathy for the poor prince, but any comfort that he would give now would not be comfort sincerely felt.

In fact, Silver wasn't sure if he could feel anything at this point.

One step forward, a million steps back – such was his life. His cruel, wretched ugly little life.

Nevertheless, as the group got further and further away from the coastline and into the core of the island, the dark trees became denser and darker. Roots and rocks were scattered everywhere on the icy ground like vengeful traps - eager to slice and dice any unaware walker's foot. The countless naked trees looked like misshaped ink blocks, and if one were so foolishness as to not pay them respect, their branches would reach out and try to tear at your hairs while their roots would gleefully gnaw at your poor toes.

Silver thought this setting match his mental state quite perfectly.

I should have gone with Sosono when I had the chance. Silver mused slightly to himself. Master Kaname had turned off my self-destruct trigger so that I could have gone with her. But no. The one time I decide to be faithful to a master…this happens. When did I become such an idiot?

Or perhaps this karmic punishment for his wicked life?

Silver did not know what to think, let alone feel, above this twisted situation. Logically, he knew that he should feel something. But he felt nothing. Not one damn thing. A normal person would have felt something, Silver realized. A normal person would rage or curse or cry. They would have thoughts and emotions that were as strong as a tornado, as furious as a hurricane, or as chilling as a blizzard.

But he felt...nothing.

Not one damn thing.

The storm of destruction and devastation was upon him now. So, he wasn't going to fight the waves anymore. He was a drowning man finally caught within the chaotic waters, and he would allow them to take him under. Weightless and lifeless, he would float gently into the void of the true darkness – to true death. And when they finally met he would walk up to Death and give her a tender kiss. So, he was calm now. He was peaceful.

After all, why rage when there was no hope for recuse? Why curse when there is no hope for salvation? Why cry when there was no one to see or care?

Silver was before Death's door. All he had to do was wait till it was his turn to ring the bell to let him in.

Suddenly, Silver felt a persistent gnawing sensation sweep across his internal organs. It was not a pleasant sensation, but far from the screaming death croaks he had been expecting. It was more like a numbing burning ache. Quite manageable really. The snake's poison wasn't as terrible as he researched it to be. Death by Basilisk's Kiss wasn't as terrible as he thought it would be. At least, for now. Lady Mercy had given him this small gift. He could still function at least.

But I don't want to die. Silver blinked – utterly surprised at his rebelliously thought. I don't want to die here and in this way.

What a joke.

What a fucking joke.

Silver nearly let out a crazed laugh. The prefect liar couldn't even lie to himself.

He didn't want to die.

Why? Another voice that was not his own called out from him quite suddenly. It was a familiar one – Waxed Self. Oh, joy. Whatever did he want? Why do you not want to die? You failed your only purpose. You failed to survive. So, shouldn't you accept to die?

For a brief virulent moment, Silver refused to answer. Waxed Self was the one who kept him in the dark about everything. Even when Silver felt he was getting closer to the truth about himself, it was he that would take that hard-won piece away. Waxed Self was a barrier – a wall splitting him apart from True Self. Always there to prevent him from becoming who he was once - the man called Zero. A man he didn't even know but desperately wanted to be.

But he was tired of fighting. He didn't want to fight anymore, least of all with himself.

Because I want to live. Silver honestly answered to the only one who could listen. The silveratte glanced at the two pureblood children that were being carried along in front of him. I want to live instead of merely surviving. I found something…to live for. As he looked at them, he tried to see the person he wanted to see in them. But the second his image came to him as if in great pain, Silver averted his eyes away from them.

You want the master, don't you? The voice from the deep sounded incredulous. You want him near you…even now?

Silver didn't see the point in lying to himself right now.

I do. He honestly thought. I actually do.

No matter how fucked up it was, Silver realized that he desired Master Kaname's presence beside him right now. In fact, Silver would dare to admit that he wanted him - desperately. Abruptly, the thoughts and images of him were swirling so closer to Silver's mind that he had to shut his eyes to clear it.

How normal.

How absurdly normal.

Wasn't it so normal for a person to think of their beloved one before they died? That was normal, right? Of all the times to be normal, his so-coming death was the catalyst for it.

Isn't that so tragically amusing? He who is known to be the destroyer of all his masters finds himself desiring the presence of his last one in his final days


Master Kaname hadn't just been any old master to him. Silver finally admitted to himself. Silver didn't know how or when, but somewhere along the line Master Kaname ceased being just another master to him and become something…else.

Oh, don't worry. Silver wasn't under any illusions. He was perfectly well aware of his status and limitations. With just a few well-placed words, Master Kaname could have him on his knees ready to be taken like a dog in heat like any other Doll out there. He was little more than a slave – no, a toy. And his master was a king of an empire. So, how could there be anything between a Master King and Slave Doll?

But wasn't that why Silver had waged his war of seduction on the man in the first place?

He was equally aware of the many mental manipulations he had crafted against this man he called master. In the beginning, every plot, every play, every display was just another chess move in the battle to win his heart. Everything he had done was to help the man forget he had the powers of life and death over him and to fall madly in love with him. All the tricks, tips and emotional traps he had to his disposal were summoned to create their slow erotic dance. And if anyone had seen it, they would have marveled at how well he had weaved together the illusion of love between them.

But now, Silver wondered for the first time if he was the one to have fallen into his trap instead of his prey.

How did this happen?

What was it that made Kaname be the one to be different?

Was it the sex? Perhaps Kaname was so good in bed that it had perhaps clouded his thoughts? Maybe it was just a hold over? Silver never had a complaint about their various (and numerous!) bedroom tango dances. The second that they touched each other, everything seemed to blur and come together at once. And during it all, Silver didn't know or care what it was about his master that made his body ache with deep want for him. But ache for him, he did. And in those moments, even he forgot his cunning intentions and embraced the man like he was heaven's homecoming. His master was incredibly talented in the bedroom – that much was clear.

And that was saying something.

Despite being a Doll, Silver could classify himself as sex addict of some sort. Crazy, no? A Doll that was a sex addict? What a tragically perfect combination, indeed. But then again, not really if one thought about it.

One of Silver's earliest of memories was the pleasures of sex. Masaki had…introduced…him to the bedroom arts before he even knew his name. At first, he tried to resist then everything had become a blur, and he was utterly terrified of everything. It was only when Masaki had used his words of power that he had stopped fighting and laid there. And he laid there, and laid there, and laid there…until Masashi was finished.

He never fought such things again after that.

Not with Masaki.

And not with any other master after him including Kaname.

But sometimes, it felt good, you know. So, there was no point in saying no, when he could make it good. Where he could feel good about himself if only for a moment. Yes and no were not words he could use in such a situation and station, so all he could do was try to make the best of it. So, to him, it was a yes if it was pleasurable and just bad if it was not. And even if it was bad that didn't mean anything because bad for him didn't matter anyway.

So, you can imagine, how shocking it was to Silver that for the first time in his life that he wanted to say… no.

He did not want to have sex with Kenichi. He did not want anyone who was not Kaname to touch him in that way again. Absolutely not.

So, wasn't it so funny that the first time he actually wanted to say no

…was the only time that he couldn't.

If this had happened before he had been touched by Kaname, perhaps it would have been easier just to sit back and allow it. And perhaps, had Kenichi been someone else, Silver could close his eyes, do what needed to be done, and then simply block it out his mind forever.

But those two 'perhaps' was not what was. And Silver had to deal with what was.

But what if he did said no?

Kenichi was not his master, so Silver could freely refuse him. And if Kenichi wanted to force him, Silver would happy died before allowing that to happened. So, he could refuse, couldn't he? He could simply say no – and go about his business and died. The teens would have to look out for themselves. And that's that.

Silver glanced at the two children and felt the weight of the world fall on his shoulders.

Haruka and Juri were just teenagers. They didn't know anything about the cruel world. They were innocent, pure, bright. So damn brilliant. So, if he could protect them, then shouldn't he?

But a darker part of Silver wanted to curse them also. Why was he always filling in the gaps? Why was he protecting them so much? Why did he care about them so much? They were not his children. They were the children of the man who owed him and a woman he didn't even know. So, shouldn't they learn of this world's darkness now? Just like he had to learn it? At least they had each other. He was the one that was always alone, always betrayed, and always hurt.


They were Kaname's children, so in a way, that also made them his.

He couldn't stand the thought of them being hurt.

Or Kaname being further damaged than he already was.

In the quiet times between them, when they would rest together and talk about things that only bedroom lovers could, Silver realized that this man called Kaname was as broken as him in so many ways. Master Kaname hated himself in ways that only the Kami would know. He was a man full of hurts – full too many wounds. And despite his coldness towards his children, Silver knew that he deeply loved them as any parent would.

Coming to think about it, that was probably what started it all. This change in him. Silver was gifted in understanding people, but it would never make a difference to him until now. Everyone has their sad stories and songs. But for some reason, Silver saw the real man beneath his kingly master's mask, and it made Silver sad.

Kaname was the type of man that had to conquer the entire earth for his love ones. He ruled his court with an iron fist because he wanted to ensure that what was his would always be safe. He would sooner shake the world's foundations before he allowed anything bad to happen to what was his. So, if something did happen to his children – his blood, his flesh, his legacy - Silver knew it would hurt Kaname in ways no words could describe.

And Silver did not want Kaname to be sad.

So, he would say yes…even if it hurt him.

He would say yes…even if it broke him.

He would say yes…even if it destroyed him

Because for some strange, stupid, wondrous reason, Silver didn't want Kaname to experience another harsh pain if he could prevent it.

Whatever it takes, he would not die until Haruka and Juri were safe. Not Just for them, but for Kaname's sakes.

It was the least he could do for the man whose touches made him feel like the light.

Fascinating. Waxed Self whispered in the shadows. How truly fascinating.

To Be Continued

A/N: Well, now. I know it has been a very long time for an update, my dears! But first, leave a review and then head over to my author's page for an explanation! I love ya all!