Here's the last chapter. I apologize for the delay, things came up.

And thank you everyone. I'm sorry for how dark this got, it wasn't my intention, but I did quite enjoy writing this and have another RusAme in the works, but it's Nyotalia instead, that I should have up by maybe tomorrow.

–

The air is hot and sticky, but Alfred is used to it by now, hiding in the shadows and leaning up against the wall. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his other hand holding a half empty glass of wine. This is the last place he wants to be, but Isabel insisted he come. He'd known Isabel when he was a little child, meeting her through Arthur, who had explained that they hadn't ever really gotten along, but to trust her anyways.

His heart thuds in his chest, hard as he finds a familiar person. Too familiar, lingering and socializing with people, that stupid childish smile on his face.

A blink and he's gone.

Ivan has made it a point to haunt him every day, it seems. The bastard.

A woman walks up to him and offers to dance. Everything feels so fake, it feels as though everyone is putting on an act and it dawns on him that she's the one who hired him. So he accepts.

It doesn't take long for him to get into step with the waltz, twisting, turning, ducking. In tandem, easily. He's had enough practice (Arthur was always on his case, and there was once when nobody was looking, he and Ivan danced together in the ballroom) to know how to do it so a woman would be happy. This isn't his thing, though. It's too frumpy, to stuck up.

"Enjoying the party?"

"Much better now that you're here," Alfred easily says.

"Of course," She murmurs. She steps closer. "I know of your past, Alfred." He steps away and twirls her and she's close again, one hand on his chest. "I know what you've done."

"I don't want to talk about it."

They stop and she pulls him off the dance floor, leading him out to the balcony. Outside is no better than the inside, in fact, it feels much worse. She leans against the balcony's wall, peering out towards the vast garden. "I have a secret to share with you,"

After Alfred had killed Ivan, Abel found him puking in the snow. Things went crazy after that, and Alfred went underground for awhile, pretending to be someone else. He had joined the church for awhile, pretending to care about a religion he doesn't believe in, and after ten years, when things calmed down, he came out of hiding.

Nobody remembered, though he's quite positive those closes to Ivan do but can no longer do anything. Alfred would be more than willing to return and let Toris run him through with his sword or maybe shoot him with a flintlock. Life is miserable and Alfred just wants to escape.

"And what's that secret?"

"I know who hired you to kill King Ivan."

The humid air becomes chilly and Alfred steps away from the beautiful woman. "What?"

She stares at him with sincere green eyes, and the serious look is misplaced from her usual cheery demeanor. "I know who-"

"I heard you!" Alfred snaps, raising his voice a few octaves, and he struggles to keep his voice from cracking. "Who?"

Isabel looks away from now, and back out to the garden. "His mother." The admittance is out there. At Alfred's stunned silence, she continues. "She didn't really love her children,"

"Well, obviously, if she asks for his death." He hisses. "I'm guessing she wanted the throne?"

"Possibly," She murmurs. "By the time of Ivan's birth, she had fallen into a strange depression. When he was very young, she tried to drown him."

"That entire family is fucked up." Alfred pauses for a moment. "Royalty is fucked up."

"And finally, after the birth of the youngest daughter and one suicide attempt later, the king banned the queen to an estate far away. She grew bitter and miserable out there, she was very abusive towards her staff." Isabel continues, completely ignoring Alfred's remark. Isabel pulls her long brown hair out of it's hold, letting it flow down and over her slender shoulders. "I believe she wanted all three of her children to be there in the afterlife with her."

"What do you mean?" Isabel hesitates. "Damn it, Isabel, it's been ten goddamn years. Just tell me!"

With a small frown and now tactfully choosing her words, Isabel weakly continues, "When news of Ivan's death got to her, they found her dead a week later."

"So? That means nothing."

"You were not the first assassin there, correct?"

"Yes."

"Think for a minute. Was Ivan the only given target for you?"

"I was told to only kill the king,"

"The others were told to kill all three."

"So, she wanted tactics to be changed." He sees Ivan in the garden now. Perhaps it's the alcohol, perhaps it's the ever-lingering guilt, Alfred doesn't know but he feels sick. "His father tried killing him too."

Isabel offers her hand, "I believe this conversation is getting too dark for such a joyous occasion."

–

It wasn't hard breaking into the royal graveyard, snapping a neck or two and dashing across well kept graves until he finds the one he's looking for. It took him a month to travel back, since that party, but he doesn't care. He finds Ivan's grave, the large tomb is daunting and it makes him feel small.

Alfred sits down next to it, back leaning against the stone wall and he shivers a little. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, voice breaking the silence. "I'm so fucking sorry." Fingers dig in his pocket and he pulls out a small vile. "I asked Stefan to concoct a poison for me, but I didn't tell him what for. Never thought I'd stay in contact with that asshole," Alfred falls silent for a moment. "He hasn't aged, but I guess that comes with bein' a magic user, huh?" Another pause. "I dunno about the rest, or what they're up to. Natalia married Toris, and Katyusha—am I still allowed to call her that?-took the throne. The war did stop, but a few years after you died."

He digs in the dirt a little, "Me, I haven't been up to much, I guess. Just doin' my job. Killing people, protecting my sister. Pretending none of this hurts." Fingers curl up. "I got in contact with someone from my childhood, or well, I got in contact with a few people. Francis was Arthur's lover, you know? Well, I convinced Amelia to go live with him for awhile. I also started talking to Isabel again. Beautiful woman, a bit out there though. She's happily married to a woman named Chiara, I think."

Alfred stretches out, heel digging into the dirt a little. "I dunno. I guess I'm just a little lonely. Your death should not affect me so much, but what you did took me off guard I guess. Never, ever wanted to learn anything about my targets. Lesson learned, huh? In a manipulative way, I guess." He pops off the cap. "God, I hope this doesn't taste like shit." He downs the bitter, clear liquid, grimacing a little.

Time slowly drags on, and Alfred's body feels heavier and heavier. He panics a little as he feels his pulse slow down, heart beat going every few minutes down. It's hard to keep his eyes open and he struggles to draw in a deep breath as his lungs collapse.

The last thing he sees is a large shadow looming over him, looking down at him.