Author's Note: The Game of Thrones soundtrack helped a lot through this second part, especially "Light of the Seven". That song really sets the mood of this fic.

Emptiness

Part 2

May, year 791.

Invel makes his way down the stony hallway, footsteps resigned but head held high. Alvarez' architecture characterizes itself for its open spaces and round windows that allow daylight and fresh wind to flow throughout the palace. The sun shines in a wonderfully blue sky; the palace is lightened up by the sounds of Spring life that stream from outside.

It's a sharp contrast with the somber man. Back arched into perfection, hands behind his back, eyes as cold as his magic, he is the personification of duty. Today he has a task to fulfill; a task he was technically forced to accept, but that is no excuse to fail its execution.

"You should tell the rest of the Spriggans about your trip to Ishgar soon." They still hadn't left the bedroom. Invel had been changing his clothes with pragmatic movement as his mind went over the daily agenda. "Today, if at all possible. His Majesty shouldn't delay it any longer."

"I shouldn't, right? Thanks for reminding me."

Resting against the windowsill, his eyes wandering around the gardens below them, Zeref distractedly peels a tangerine open. Invel had ordered to bring some breakfast earlier that morning.

"Brandish will be angry at me. She was excited because I promised to teach her a new type of magic."

"I'm sure she will understand. It's her duty to do so." After buttoning up the cuffs of his shirt, Invel is finished. He walks towards his Emperor and asks, "Shall we go?"

"Ah, Invel, you know." Eyes still exploring the world underneath them, Zeref bites into an orange slice. "I was wondering if you could do that for me."

Invel stopped and scowled. "Pardon?"

"Do you think you can tell them for me? I don't feel like facing them today," the Emperor says casually, as if he was talking about the weather and not about skipping his most basic responsibilities. "Don't get me wrong, the Spriggans are lovely company to be with. But they can get troublesome when faced with issues that discomfort them, especially the younger ones. And gosh, don't let me get started on Eileen. It's unpleasant."

Invel rises an eyebrow. "I don't know why, but you just described someone I know very well, Your Majesty…"

"Oh, come on Invel. I just don't feel like doing this today."

"So you are tossing the ball to me?" Invel asks, his tone overly unimpressed. "My Lord, pardon my boldness. I do not mean to tell you what to do, but it is your responsibility to guide your generals, the Spriggans."

"Ugh, I know. You speak with truth." His eyes finally leave the window to regard him, smirking. "But what's my second hand for, if not to take on the tasks I find more unpleasant?"

Invel's scowl deepens.

"Your Majesty," he begins, sermon prepared to be unleashed. "You cannot just waltz through life neglecting your duties. There is an image to maintain, a whole Kingdom to run, and your people have faith in you, that you will take these tasks seriously…"

Zeref turns to him, devious gleam on his eyes that cuts Invel off.

"Hey, Invel. Tell me if this is poisoned?"

Before he can react, something pulpy is being pressed against his lips. Surprise opens his mouth, letting the small tangerine slice slip in, Zeref's fingers resting over his lips for a bit. As soon as it is inside, the treat bursts, filling Invel's shocked mouth with citric flavor.

And then Zeref pecks him softly, his lips lingering, curved into the cutest grin.

"Just as I thought. You taste so sweet." He looks up through dark lashes, eyes dark and big and round, and says in a voice that is too low to be called innocent, "Please, Invel."

Invel is such a weak man. Disgraceful, truly disgraceful.

The Spriggans have already been summoned. They are all going to gather at the round table, the place where Invel is headed. A figure takes shape by the end of the corridor; he recognizes Lord August, probably heading to the same place he does. He quickens his pace and catches up easily with him.

"Lord Invel," the older man greets. "I see you are alone. Won't Our Emperor be joining us today?"

"I'm afraid he has urgent matters to attend to," Invel says without batting an eyelash. "I will be representing him in today's meeting. He expressed clearly what he wanted me to announce."

"Urgent matters?" August cocks his head pensively, his pace as unhurried as always. It forces Invel to slow down, something that irks his nerves just slightly but he makes no mention of it. "I wonder what those could be. Does he need any help?"

"If he does, he didn't mention it."

August hums. "He has always been a reserved man. But he does trust you a lot, doesn't he? In all the years I've known him I've never seen him be as close to anyone as he is to you."

Even though the nature of his relationship with the Lord Zeref is a secret to Alvarez, August has known for a while; he has been a one of the Emperor's dearest friends for years and Zeref opted not to keep it from him. Invel, as always, respected His Lords wishes. August was a reserved man anyway, who knew how to keep secrets quiet. Invel's trust on his silence was tacit and well-founded.

"You know," Lord August suddenly breaks the silence. "I do see him happier. Or less stressed, at least. And that's saying something. He used to be such a sulking kid when I met him."

Invel allows himself to enjoy the happiness warming his chest and smiles a bit. "You were able to see him grow as mage. That must have been such an enriching experience. Were you his teacher?"

"I was able to show him a couple of things but mostly, it was him doing the teaching."

"Such a young age and he already is the most powerful mage in the world. It's quite impressive."

"Young age." August chuckles, as if he was part of an inner joke Invel wasn't aware of. "Now that's funny. But yes. There's no man more powerful than him. It there was such a thing as a God walking amongst us men, that would indeed be the Emperor."

They enter the chamber – open, with high painted ceilings, marvel columns, opened windows and a polished round table with jars of water –, and Invel's eyes are quick to take in the lack of Spriggans in it. Whatever good mood the talking with August had set him at, he can feel it quickly vanishing.

"Where's the rest of them?" he wonders aloud, a vein pulsating in his forehead.

An appeasing hand sets on his shoulder. Invel turns to see August give him a calm, reassuring smile. "They'll be here. And if that's not the case, we can always tell them later. For now, let's take a seat. Start the meeting."

With a final squeeze, he releases Invel's shoulder and takes his place at the round table.

Dimaria is present and so is Ajeel. They are chatting amicably on the other side of the table, probably remembering battle victories or whatever the kids talked about nowadays. Surprisingly enough, Wahl Icht sits among them too – Invel was not expecting him. His forearm is opened in half; wires and bolts peek out as he works on it with a screwdriver. He says something that makes Dimaria laugh and Ajeel cringe, before cackling too.

On the other, far more silent side of the table, Brandish seats at her usual place and is she… painting her nails? The amount of disrespect in that girl never ceases to amaze Invel.

God Serena is standing besides one of the windows. At first look, it seems he is looking out towards the gardens but upon closer inspection… Invel confirms he is just admiring his reflection. Predictable.

Sighing, Invel lets go of the hope that more Spriggans will arrive. He walks to his place –next to the right side of the Emperor, of course– but does not sit. Instead, he clears his throat, demanding the attention of the room to himself.

"Invel, my man." Ajeel's feet fall gracelessly over the table, arms behind his head, making Invel wince with unconcealed disgust. "Aren't we waiting for more of our friends to arrive?"

"We will settle with the comrades that are currently present. God Serena, if you pleased, could you have a seat?"

Of course, God Serena turns around dramatically, flamboyant hair dancing in the wind, hand on hip, striking a pose.

"Ah, Lord Invel you know I appreciate you-" He whips his head around, hair flipping some more "-but I agree with Ajeel in this situation. Only half of the Spriggans are here. And where may our dear Emperor be?"

"He is not joining us today," Invel answers. "I am here as his representative. Now, if we shall-"

"Is he okay?" Brandish looks up from her nail polish. Is that true concern breaking through her usual mask of boredom? Now, that impresses Invel. "Where is he? What happened to him?"

"That's private. He has better matters to attend to. Now, if we could start- God Serena, please take your seat-"

"Better matters? I feel insulted." Dimaria is the one to interrupt this time. "Tell us what happened to him."

"That is unimportant. You have been summoned here for an announcement." Invel takes a deep breath, steels himself for what he knows is about to come. "The Emperor is leaving the country for an indefinite amount of time."

And as he predicted, his words bring uproar to the table. The Spriggans voice their protests without any restrain to their loudness.

"What do you mean he is leaving?"

"Where is he going?"

"Who is going with him?"

"Invel, what's the meaning of this?" Dimaria asks, with murder in her pinched brow.

The Winter General meets her stare with icy-cold eyes. "Well, I would have explained if you hadn't just made a ruckus."

"Lord Invel, please." August, as always the voice of wisdom, manages to appease the room a bit. "Would you care to explain?"

"Of course." Thank Heaven for Lord August. He doesn't do anything Invel can't (because he definitely can handle some angered teens), but he surely facilitates the job. "As you know, the Emperor is an avid researcher. His most recent investigations require him to go abroad, seeking answers. May the search be successful, the results will benefit Alvarez in unimaginable ways. "

Lord August shifts in his seat, laces his hands over the table with a thoughtful expression. "Has it got to do with the war we are preparing for?"

"Indeed. In fact, the destination of this trip is none other than the continent Ishgar."

The room is pushed into silence as the information sinks in. Finally, God Serena, who hasn't sat yet but at least has approached the table, announces, "I should go with him. Ishgar is my land. I know it as the back-of-my-hand~."

"This isn't fair! If Serena goes I want to go too!" Wahl Icht has risen his head from the work at his forearm and now speaks with an obnoxiously metallic voice. "How many men is he taking with him? We should optimize the level of security for him. I should definitely accompany him…"

"That's enough." Invel is definitely pissed off right now. His voice is sharp as a knife, leaving room to no more arguments. "Nobody is going. The Emperor has specifically requested for none of your presence."

The room is forced silent. He can see the disappointment in the younger faces. For a very short moment he feels sorry for them: he can understand it better than anyone, the inherent need to protect their Emperor. Of making sure he is safe.

That moment is short-lived.

"Is the Emperor serious?" Ajeel asks, agitated. "He can't be serious."

"Absolutely serious." Back to his coldest persona, Invel says the necessary words to finish this meeting as soon as possible. "He needs private time. Away from everyone, and that includes the Spriggans. Those were his specific words and why he requested to be left alone in this trip. The Emperor's decision is final and should not be questioned. He has also appointed me as his representative for as long as he is gone. Any further remonstrations will be considered going against his orders and punished as such."

They want to keep complaining, Invel can see it. Yet, wisely, they choose to hold their tongues. Invel starts to feel like he can finally relax… ah, but there's always a sheep that refuses to kindly follow the flock, isn't there? Dimaria, with the level of arrogance only people borned in royalty's bosom can muster, props her head on her hand, looks at him over her nose, a challenge in her gaze.

"This is bullshit."

Invel raises a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Bullshit. I'm calling bullshit."

"Dimaria. Watch your tongue, child," Lord August warns.

"What, are you seriously going to accept this?" She looks at August, and then to the rest of the Spriggans. "How can we even know this was the Emperor's actual will? How do we know he's not being swayed by… external influences?"

Invel squints. "I'm afraid I don't understand your question, Lady Dimaria."

"Yeah, Mary, what do ya mean?" Ajeel frowns.

"I only hold the utmost respect for Emperor Zeref. But he is as much human as any of us. And humans are weak to flesh." She eyes Invel, daring, oh so insolent, as she utters her words. "All of a sudden he decides to go to a foreign land, by his own, and let one of his advisers in charge? Why not the whole Council? Why Invel?"

Frost begins to crack on Invel's glass but nobody seems to notice this small slip of control. "You should be careful with what you imply."

"No, wait, I still don't understand…"

"Because your head is full of sand, that's why you don't understand." Wahl Icht cuts Ajeel off. "The Emperor is taking off in a holiday and conveniently, his pet is gonna be left to rule for him."

Wahl's forgotten screwdriver suddenly freezes to the table, but the ice doesn't stop there. It travels upwards to his arm, and the metal screeches under the compression the cold subdues it to. Wahl looks up to meet Invel's cutting gaze.

"You better watch your tongue and how you refer to me. You were done with technology and magic; and in the same way you can be undone."

"Oh, now we are threatening?"

"Wahl Icht. Silence." August's voice strikes the metal man like lightening, but Dimaria keeps speaking for him.

"Should we even listen to Invel? How long has he been fucking the Emperor? How do we even know he is on his post for his own merits?"

Invel flinches imperceptibly. Behind his mask of control, anger consumes his insides like fire does with thin sheets of paper. He feels insulted. He feels offended. Indignation doesn't even begin to describe it.

And worse than that… self doubt manages root in his heart.

"Dimaria…" August warns again, although by this point it's obvious no one in the room is hearing.

"I don't think that's the case, Mary… He's just a toy to the Emperor. You do know that, right?" Wahl, the keen sadist, sees the wound and doesn't lose time before poking it with his malicious finger. "It's actually kind of sad to see you running around like a puppy behind him. Humans are weird in that sense. Rolling around in the mud for things they will never truly have. Ah, but Tartaros folk were just the same kind of puppets and they were all demons…"

Invel wants to fight back. He wants to say something but no words are uttered. His traitorous tongue has rebelled against him and sits numb in his mouth.

"Hey, is that why the Emperor is not here today? Did you banged him too hard and now he can't stand up?" He giggles sounds artificial, distorted.

"Maybe he banged Invel and now he is just too tired to show up." Dimaria is enjoying this. Her eyes gleam. "Does your ass hurt, Winter General?"

"Dimaria."

The room trembles. The whole castle shakes. Chandeliers shiver, the table clatters against the floor. August speaks with a voice so full of authority, it stuffs up the room. The air thickens, vibrates with the magic radiating from the man. Everyone quiets instantly. God Serena sits down. Brandish, silent until now, shrinks in her seat. Ajeel gulps. The two offenders are left with eyes opened wide. Sweat drops from Dimaria's forehead; Wahl Icht would probably be in a similar state, if only he had natural skin instead of metal.

"That's enough." His voice steals any other noise in the room. It's left silently suffocating.

Nobody moves. A moment passes. The clock on the wall clangs suddenly; it bells ten times and with every ding dong, some of the fog escapes the room. Finally, Dimaria deems it safe enough to relax her posture. She stands up, her golden armor tingling with her.

"If His Majesty wants to go on a holiday then that's fine by me." She carries herself with the most delicate grace as she walks away from the Round Table. Before exiting the room she stops by the door and turns her head slightly to them. "Whatever. But I'm not receiving any orders from his bedwarmer."

And with that, she leaves.

Wahl Icht doesn't miss the opportunity to escape; he swiftly disappears behind her.

"Lord Invel?"

It's August. Invel turns to him. "Yes?"

"Are there any more matters to attend to this meeting?"

"Ah. No. No, you are dismissed."

Awkwardly, one by one, the remaining Spriggans stand. Ajeel files out as fast as he can; God Serena follows. Lord August gives him a look of apology, but Invel is too distracted to notice. He is left alone.

Or at least, that's what he though.

"Lord Invel?"

"What?!" he snaps. Brandish is standing behind him, shiny nails picking at each other. Invel forces himself to regain his composure. His tension deflates a bit. "Lady Brandish. Is there anything I can do with you?"

"Ah. No, not really."

His brow twitches.

"Then why are you still here?"

She huffs but doesn't say anything. Her brow softens once again, she bites her lips.

"You do know you no obligation to do what you are doing, right?" Brandish looks down, as if reluctant of the words she was saying. "Even if he is the Emperor. He can't force you. You are no toy of his. If you don't want to do anything-"

"Brandish." The girl closes her mouth shut and looks at him timidly, but Invel returns the stare with eyes as sharp as knives. "I said you are dismissed. Mind your own business."

She looks hurt. Invel can't find it in himself to care. She turns around to leave but stops, much to Invel's dismay, to utter some last words.

"Are you okay?"

Invel has never heard her speak to anyone with so much respect except, perhaps, the Emperor. There was something about the softness, about the carefulness, about the concern in her eyes, that had Invel's blood seething with fury.

"Fine."

Clack, clack, clack, clack.

Invel's boots echo eerily on the stone walls as he descends the spiraled staircase towards the dungeons. Two soldiers from the secret service follow behind him. With every step he takes downwards, the stench of scam and decay become thicker in the already stuffed air. His feet don't falter.

At the end of it an old, solid wood door awaits. Behind it, weak cries manage to be heard. Invel opens it without hesitation. The stench of urine that had been kept at bay until now hits his nose, sharp on his eyes but he doesn't flinch.

In contrast to the dark corridor he had just been at, this chamber is well illuminated. The specialists need light in order to work, after all. The cruel light leaves place to no secret. Everything is out to show. A girl, –young, twenty at most– is tied up to a wooden chair, her hands strapped up to the armrest, her head strapped by the forehead to the back. Her face, deformed by swell, is painted in a hue of blues and violets. Two fingers of the right hand are missing; fresh, bloody stumps left in their place. The white of her teeth is wetted red with her own blood.

Her hair is blonde and short, wavy. It must have been a beautiful sight at some point but right now, oily and dirty with blood, it just looks pitiful.

She is trembling. She looks scared.

"Lord Invel!" One of the torturer's, a dark haired woman, greets him. Her apprentice is waiting behind her, much younger and scrawny, his mouth respectfully shut. "We weren't expecting you for at least a couple of more hours."

"A change in the panorama has happened." With a sideway glance, Invel asses the prisoner. Even if her eyes were down, he could tell she was listening intently. "Has she said anything yet?"

"Not a word, sir, not a tweet. Not even screams, and that's saying something considering…" Her gaze trails off to her handiwork before returning to him. "Well, she's a tough one."

"I see." He walks one step towards the chair and takes the prisoner by her chin, lifting her head, to take a good look at her face. Dried crying paths plough through her cheeks. The green of her irises stands out against her swollen red eyes. She doesn't meet his gaze. "Unusual. Rebels never last too long. Their convictions aren't strong enough."

He sees how this affects her. Her nostrils flare in anger and she removes herself from his fingers with what little strength she has left. Invel remains unfazed. She might still have some fight left in her, but it won't be for long.

"We both know how these kind of deals unroll," he addresses her. "I certainly don't need to threaten you. You can speak now, tell us where your comrades are, and the pain will cease. It's more mercy than a traitor to the Emperor deserves."

"He's not my Emperor. Our people shall soon be free from his tyrannical empire," stubbornly, conceitedly, she says.

A confident, disgusting smirk let's her bloody teeth show. She meets Invel's eyes, unflinching. For a striking moment, Invel believes he sees another woman in the blonde locks, the arrogant green eyes.

"You know you are just a toy, right?"

Cold emanates from his heart, streams out through his ribs, hurts the girl in front of him.

"Bring our newest prisoner here."

One of the guards hurries to obey. He disappears behind the heavy wooden door and the girl, the foolish traitor, seems to realize something is about to happen. When the guard comes back he is dragging a chained man behind him. Invel steps aside when he throws the newest prisoner in the middle of the room, careful not to get any blood stain in his clothes. The girl perks up, eyes blown wide, and Invel allows himself a small smirk. Hopefully, this issue won't steal any more time from his schedule.

"This man right here. He is your brother."

The girl doesn't answer, probably trying to avoid releasing any information that might be used against her, but Invel hadn't been asking a question. The man barely looks like he can count a decade and a half. His factions are still boyish, innocent, with big eyes closed in unconsciousness.

Never one to unnecessarily lose time, Invel lifts his right hand and the boy's foot freezes over. He startles awake screaming loud enough to hurt Invel's ears, but it's nothing he can't easily withstand. The girl, on the other hand, seizes in the chair and screams as if the attack had been directed to her.

"Tom!"

The now woken up boy looks around with disorientated eyes and finds his sibling. "A-ari…"

Invel's fingers move again and the frost crawls up the kid's leg. The painful screams become unbearable. Invel doesn't twitch.

"Your brother has already lost his left foot to gangrene. Unless you want him to lose his whole leg, I suggest you to kindly cooperate with us." Invel's tone is firm enough to be heard above the screeches.

The girl glares up with a frantic gaze.

"He's just a kid!"

"A kid old enough to join the rebels. A kid old enough to become a traitor to His Majesty. He's as much of a sinner as your leader is."

With a quick gesture, the kid's leg freezes up to the knee. Cries ensue and pleading and screams of hatred, and Invel loses twenty more minutes before he gets the information he needs. The boy has lost one full leg and one hand. The girl gasps and hiccups, more broken than she was when the torture had been inflicted on her.

Invel signals for one of the torturers to approach and he says, "Keep them alive until her words are proved true. Then kill them both."

He turns around to leave but the voice of the woman stops him.

"But Lord Invel," she says, scowling. "She has spilled her guts already. Do you think it's necessary to kill them?"

For the first time since he entered the room Invel grimaces slightly, at the crude choice of wording.

"Two less rebels in the world mean two less threats to our Emperor."

He doesn't wait for her to answer and exits the room.

Invel would ensure the Emperor's safety by any means possible.

"Hnn… ah-"

Zeref's eyes are closed, body taunt, glistening with sweat. He claws at Invel's back, leaving hot red angry marks on the pale skin. Invel thrusts forward and buries his face into the nook of Zeref's neck. Zeref moans his name, locks his feet behind Invel's back, urging him to go faster. And Invel does, a little sloppily, but does.

Invel can't concentrate.

His hands fist as the sheets, angry (at Dimaria? Wahl Icht? Brandish? Himself? At something) and pours the feeling into his drive. The pace hurries, the thrusts deepen and Zeref lets out a choked cry.

"Ah! Invel!"

Invel keeps going, trying to focus on the beautiful black orbs currently lost to pleasure he has fallen in love with. He kisses Zeref's neck, bites it, leaves a trail from ears to his collarbone, worships every patch of skin his mouth can reach.

Zeref moans in his ear; Invel grunts. His eyes follow his Emperor's features, the disheveled hair, the lush lashes, the delicate skin that never seems to age. How can a person be this beautiful? God must have been truly inspired when he gave shape to the man Invel is currently making love to.

Zeref's eyelids flutter open and their gazes intertwine. He poses a hand on Invel's face, brings him close, kisses him at the same time he rolls his hips upwards so Invel can go deeper. Invel groans into the kiss.

"You do know you have no obligation to do what you are doing, right? You are no toy of his."

He breaks the kiss suddenly, looking aside, avoiding Zeref's piercing gaze.

"Invel?" he asks between pants, brows furrowed in slight confusion. But his eyes close soon again and a drawn out moan leaves his lips when Invel's hand reaches between them to grab his erection.

He pumps him in time with his pace, every thrust sharp and well-aimed, like staccato notes in a music sheet. It doesn't take much longer for the Emperor to reach his peak; they have been going for a while now. Invel's whole body resounds with the music of Zeref's moans. He lets go of his stamina and comes inside his Lord.

They have cleaned up and lied again.

Zeref gets talkative after sex. Unlike most people, drowsiness avoids him after coitus; instead, he comes out energized of it. But the Emperor being the Emperor, he is too lazy to stand up from the bed, so he lets his mind wander, and picks apart at some of his endless magic projects. He always describes out loud whatever path his mind is taking, and asks for Invel's opinion every once in a while.

Now, Invel is not a teenager anymore. Their sessions are usually late at night, after draining days packed with the duties of running a kingdom. Planning new public work, negotiating deals with the syndicates, sorting out economic crisis, crushing small rebellions at the borders of the empire… his body ends up tired, and after the relaxing sense of relief orgasm brings, it's difficult for him to fight sleep.

Still, he humors his Lord. He forces his eyes to stay opened. He stays awake, lucid enough to have a proper, rational conversation. It's all worth it to see the child-like excitement in Zeref's face whenever he is talking about magic theory.

Today is the exception.

Zeref babbles something about quantum physics. Invel only listens half-heartedly. His eyes roam the room, his vision just a tiny bit blurry without his glasses. His fingers drum on his belly, he bites distractedly on his lips. There are many things on his mind, so many things…

"Why did you let me stay the night?"

Zeref cuts his astrophysical monologue. He rises an eyebrow towards him.

"What's that?"

"All those years ago." Invel locks their eyes together, and doesn't look away. "I used to go to my own chamber to sleep after we were done here. And then, one day you told me to stay the night in your room. Why was that?"

Zeref's eyes asses him. His brows furrow slightly, in thought.

"I don't see how this has anything to do with the paradoxical problems the theory of multiple universes presents."

"That's because it has nothing to do with it."

"Why are you asking then?"

Invel purses his lips. He has many reasons to ask, but he is not feeling particularly inclined to confess any of them.

"I'm curious."

The Emperor's powerful gaze scrutinizes his face. Invel doesn't break the stare. He wonders if a God walking amongst men could possibly read his mind and find the true reasons behind his question. It certainly seems like a plausible possibility. But then again, why would a God want to read the thoughts of a mere mortal?

Zeref hums and smiles, eyes closing placidly. "What sense was there in sending you away every night only to have you back at morning?"

Moments pass. Invel finally looks away, eyes strangely hollow, lost in the room.

"That's practical," he says, tone flat.

"You are a practical person. You should understand."

"I am. I do."

The silence feels oppressive. It carves a hole into Invel's chest; makes him feel nauseated.

Until Zeref breaks it with a lighthearted giggle. "Stop doing that!"

Admittedly, Invel is taken completely by surprise, something that doesn't happen often at all. He doesn't know how to react. As the giggles keep streaming, a self-conscious blush spreads through his cheeks. He is out of his comfort zone here.

"What am I doing?"

"Over thinking." Zeref slides closer and snuggles against Invel, bringing warmth with him. "Stop doing it. It will spoil your head."

Of course, for the Emperor everything is easy. Invel almost wants to follow into that careless cliff. To fall with him and not worry about anything ever again. But heavy chains lock him on earth. He can't let go so easily.

"How can I know if you love me?"

The question is left in the air, waiting for someone to pick it up and yet no one does. It's left abandoned, forgotten. Seconds tickle by and Zeref doesn't bother to answer. Invel waits; for a heartfelt confession, for sloppy words of reassurance, for anything. He can feel his muscles stiffening, his heart thumping.

"Aren't you enjoying what we have?"

What?

"What?" he asks, taken by surprise.

"Aren't you happy?" Zeref isn't looking at him, but his body is relaxed, his fingers drawing circles on Invel's stomach.

Invel takes a second too long to answer, but Zeref doesn't hurry him.

"I… I am."

"Then why are you questioning it?" His head buries deeper into the crook of Invel's neck, contently, like a sleepy cat. "I am happy too. Isn't that enough?"

It's not the answer Invel had expected. But what had he expected, honestly?

"Don't think so much." Zeref leans over him to peck him chastely on the lips. "Get some sleep. You are tired, I can tell."

Yes, he is tired. His lids weigh down like hammers. His body feels made of lead. His mouth protests, wants to keep questioning, but Invel shuts it down and leaves it for tomorrow.

"Any more questions?" Zeref asks.

Still, there's this void sitting heavy in his chest. Invel wonders if maybe he is getting sick.

"No, My Lord."

"Good." Zeref snuggles deeper into the feathered pillows. "I'm sleeping. I think it was enough of magic theory for a day."

Before long, Zeref snores softly, his breaths tickling Invel's neck. The moon glows and continues its path through the sky. Cicadas sing outside. Inside, silence reigns. Invel's thoughts keep raging, refusing to be shut.

He doesn't get any sleep that night.

Greed.

Dark green and putrid, like a skewer. Greed. It runs through Invel's veins, spoiling everything inside. It tries to come out through his mouth, words taking the form of protests (because how long has he been by the Emperor's side? How many years has he been devotedly faithful? Doesn't he deserve more? He deserves more), but they are kept at bay before his tongue can betray him. The treacherous words clog his throat and tear it apart; his lips still remain tightly sealed.

But the questions remain and now Greed, unable to find a way out, travels up, corrupts his head until not even one of his thoughts survive. The questions swarm him: a continuous buzz inside his ears. He can't sleep anymore. Food is tasteless. Focus becomes impossible to grasp, pushed aside by poisonous concerns.

What is he? An assistant? A friend? A companion? A lover?

A toy?

A bedwarmer?

He wants more. He wants love.

He is greedy.

Weeks roll by. Plans are made and executed. The day the Emperor is to leave slithers closer. Before Invel realizes, everything for the trip is ready, and he has less than a day to spend with his Lord.

No suitcase is made. The Emperor has insisted on light traveling. He doesn't need much, he says. He can handle himself with little, he says. Company is unwanted; it would only get in his way, he says.

So many things Invel wishes he could say and yet, he keeps quiet.

Work usually keeps him away from the Royal Chamber until late at night, but today is one of those rare exceptions in which he is free to return early. He thanks the Heavens silently. He hasn't got much time left to be with his Emperor before he goes away for only God knows how long.

Twilight crowns the horizon. The Royal Chamber is washed by orange light, shadows stretched out on the floor. Zeref hunches over a book on one of the red velvet sofas, a usual position for him. Invel has poured himself a glass of gin, and now sips it slowly. His hands work on the Emperor's shoulder, undoing knots with practiced precision.

It's sort of a tradition between them. One fateful afternoon the Emperor collapsed on the bed, complaining about terrible back aches. Invel insisted on calling the Castle's medical staff, while grumbling under his breath that this was the Emperor's fault for always keeping such a bad posture while reading. Zeref had taken it lightheartedly, as everything else in life and before Invel could call for a chiropractor, he insisted on Invel giving him a massage himself.

Since that day, every once in a while Zeref would ask him to massage his shoulders. It would be in the quietness of late evening, after duties were finished and peace had settled. It didn't matter how much Invel would insist that a professional therapist would suit the Emperor's needs better, and the castle had plenty to offer, all to serve and please their Emperor.

Zeref would always answer the same thing, with a flirty grin.

"I know that, Invel. But I want you to do it."

And Invel would discreetly suck in a breath and get his hands to work.

It is stupid, the way his heart flutters at the opportunity of touching His Majesty's back. Nowadays he gets to touch much more every night. He has the privilege of seeing his beautiful face wincing with pleasure. And yet, every time his hand undo a particularly stubborn knot and Zeref sighs with relief, Invel's heart jumps a little bit in his chest. Gods, it's like he is a teenager again.

"You are tense."

Just like that, the fluttering of his heart stops. Wide black orbs pierce through him; Zeref looks at him curiously, pinning him with his gaze. Invel frowns, reluctant to admit how the question bothered him.

"That's ironic. You are the one with knots at the back."

"Ah, but I can tell that your hands are stiff."

"Please keep looking forward. It's difficult to work with you head twisted like this, Your Majesty."

It is a painfully obvious way to escape the weight of the younger man's gaze, but Zeref doesn't comment on it. He just smiles and turns his head around, freeing Invel from the spell of his eyes. Invel stifles the sigh of relief that wants to come out.

"We are in privacy," Zeref says conversationally. "You can call me by my name."

"I know that, Your Majesty."

Indeed, Invel knows. The Emperor has insisted enough times. It's among Invel's privileges: his lips get to utter what no one else in Alvarez can.

"Then why don't you do so? Don't you feel worthy enough to call me by my name?"

And there lies the question.

"That is not the reason."

"Then what is it?"

Invel searches himself, seeks the answer. He has already introspected about it; just another nagging concern keeping him from sleep at nights.

"Can't a man have his preferences?" he says, tone light and joking. It is almost painful, how common it has become for Invel to hide his true feelings from his Lord recently. He used to share everything with him.

"Invel. You are carrying my thoughts through unbecoming paths." Zeref's smile crooks into a sultry smirk.

But more painful than hiding his thoughts, is realizing that Zeref doesn't catch on the lies. Invel has always been a good liar, but never has he wanted so much for someone to see right through him. To call him out on his bullshit and demand him to tell the truth for once.

He says nothing to Zeref's insinuation. He just lets his hands travel upwards to the nape of his neck and thumbs at the vertebrae there. Zeref levels him, pinning him with his gaze, and for a heart stopping moment Invel thinks that maybe Zeref wasn't as deceived as he thought. But then that moment is over; his lids slip close and he practically purrs like a pleased kitten.

"You underestimate you massaging abilities. You are great with your hands."

Heart still beating fast, Invel wonders. Did he really managed to fool the Emperor, or was he the fooled one instead? ...But if the Emperor knows he is hiding something, why doesn't he say anything?

"You are stroking my ego, My Lord."

Birds sing outside, in the castle's gardens. Their happiness fills in what lacks inside the room.

"What's worrying you?" Zeref asks suddenly. "You haven't told me."

Invel winces and his hands still for a moment, before continuing.

"I'm worried."

"That much I guessed on my own."

"I'm worried that you are going to this trip unaccompanied."

"Oh. So that's what has been having you so tight lately. You don't need to get you anxious about it, I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

Invel's teeth grit. He can just let it slide, keep quiet like he has been doing this past month. But here lays an opportunity to stick some common sense into the Emperor's thick head. And as much as he would like to stick up to the routine -stop talking, get some fucking done and then go to sleep- his job is to ensure the Emperor's safety. No matter that he most probably won't listen to him.

"Speak your mind," Zeref says. "I know you have been keeping thoughts to yourself lately. It's not like you. Stop doing it."

Oh, well. Since he so eloquently asked for it.

"This whole idea, this trip. It's simply foolish." His hands become forceful with the skin they are rubbing.

Zeref winces. "You might want to be careful with that."

"Who has ever heard of an Emperor simply disappearing from his kingdom without Royal Guard or servants or anyone to accompany him?"

"It's not the first time I'm doing this."

"It's not the first time I have wanted to complain either." Zeref doesn't say anything. Invel keeps massaging. "Why can't I go with you?"

"I need you here. There's no one I trust more to take care of the Empire."

"Why can't someone go with you? Any of the Spriggans is better than nothing."

"It is unlike you to stand up for them," Zeref says with genuine surprise.

Invel's scowl has been etched to his face for a while. There are so many things he wants to say and he fears he might not be able to keep his composure.

"It's also unlike me to let you do something this stupid."

"Stupid?" Zeref ponders his words. "You are bordering disrespect. I would expect it from any other Spriggan but from you, Invel?"

"We all reach a limit. This is mine. Get into your senses. This trip is a idiotic idea."

"Invel." Zeref tone drops. "You are testing my patients. What has gotten into you?"

Invel feels the threat. He feels it and then promptly discards it.

"I won't let you do this. You have an Empire to rule. You cannot simply disappear."

"If this is my Empire then I can do what I want with it, can't I?" Zeref giggles. "It is my chess game. I can smack out the board if I feel like it."

"Stop playing games, please."

It is too much. A month worth of anger, frustration, beheaded words: they all simmer inside of him. He can feel them, bubbling up, wanting to outburst.

He bites his tongue, keeps his composure. His hands back off and he walks away, steps sharp on the floor. He hears Zeref standing up calmly from his chair; he turns to face him but what he finds only fuels the fire. That smile, that always so pleased smile, crowns Zeref's mouth and his eyes regard him like an adult does to a whimsical child.

"But the thing is, Invel, that this is all a game for me."

Invel freezes for a moment, before the anger spurs his tongue back to action again.

"Stop saying nonsense."

"You ask me to stop playing games but how could I?" Zeref blinks lazily, his face never changing from that condescending stare. "From the first moment I started building this Empire, centuries ago and up to now. It has never been more than a game for me."

The anger lets way to confusion and Invel is sure the struggle can be seen in his face.

"What do you mean?" A game? Everything? "So then the Empire, every citizen, the Spriggans. Don't they mean anything to you?"

"Of course they do." Their gazes have been locked for a while and even though it weights on Invel, he refuses to look away. "Pieces are valuable. Acquiring them is hard and losing them is a pain. But in the end that's what they are to me. Means to a purpose."

"The war." Invel meant it as a question, but it comes as a statement. "We are means for your war, aren't we?"

"You know, Invel, what makes me curious is how you keep talking in plural." Zeref laughs. "It's okay. I know you better than anyone else, I like to think. I know you don't really care about the other Spriggans. Earlier I told you to speak your mind. I meant what I said. Ask what your heart truly wants to know."

Invel's hands fist by his side. His heart drums as if he were in the middle of a battle, not the quietness of his own room.

No, he reminds himself. This is the Emperor's room. Not mine. Never mine.

The words that have been fighting to be uttered for a whole month are now cowering in his throat. When they finally manage to come out they do it as a small whisper, shying out.

"What am I to you?"

And now, Invel has to look down. His guts lay out in the open for the vultures to pick on them and play. His cheeks are warm, he can feel it. His glasses slip a bit down his nose and he realizes that he is sweating.

Zeref takes his good time to answer. The ground under Invel feels softer, malleable. With every second that ticks by, Invel is surer that it will swallow him up, like quicksand.

"So that's what it all comes up to?" It's not the words what make Invel look back up; it is the giggles that pour with them. Zeref is laughing at him, hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal it. Invel stares dumfounded. "You are more selfish than I thought!"

Invel wants to say something, but his tongue can't work past the humiliation he is feeling. The cackles go on and on and on and on... each one of them falling over Invel like a ton of bricks. When Zeref finally calms his laughter down, smile morphing into a smirk, he regards him with a cold and calculating stare.

"But you would leave all that behind for me, wouldn't you?" He cocks his head, eyes squinting. "Your pride, your dignity. Your own desires. Your life. You would discard them all if I asked you."

Zeref is not asking questions. Something in his tone is conclusive, overwhelming.

"You are so sure of it." Invel says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yes. I am." Zeref strolls to him as he talks. "I know you, Invel. I know you better than you know yourself. Can you deny that?"

And that is what disarms Invel. It leaves him open, vulnerable. Powerless. The words echo in his head and his logical mind looks for answers, options, ways out. It comes up empty. His eyes fall again, with his shoulders, and his soul.

Can he deny that?

In the desolation he is feeling, Invel wonders idly if the words a God says can become true simply because it's a God the one uttering them.

Zeref, now directly in front of him, sighs.

"I see I have let you too close. This isn't your fault, I was the one who committed the mistake here. But unfortunately, you are useless to me if you are emotionally compromised."

"So I never" -for the first time in his life, Invel interrupt his Emperor- "I never meant anything?"

His face tickles; he can feel the Zeref's eyes roaming through it. Looking for something, perhaps? He dares, just for a moment, to lift his gaze. Ice meets darkness. Those black orbs soften imperceptibly; Invel realizes that as much as the Emperor boasts knowing him, Invel knows him too. Any other person wouldn't have realized about the change.

Quietness.

And then, "Invel, you-"

Zeref looks at a loss of words, for the first time since Invel has met him. He bites his young lips. Surprisingly, he shies a bit under Invel's judging, unblinking stare.

Careful, like a child about to touch a wounded pet, he lifts a hand to Invel's face and poses it on his cheek. Zeref opens his mouth, searches for the right words. "I…"

But then, the moment is gone. Anger surges back up. Invel wretches his face away. His breath has quicken; his eyes betray him, watering a bit. He speaks over the knot tearing at his throat, "I don't need your pity."

As fast as winter falls on land and kills everything in it, the spark of warmth dies in Zeref's stony gaze.

"Then I won't pity you."

He moves away and it's a physical blow to Invel. He needs to fight to keep up on his feet.

Zeref keeps talking, with his back to him, voice hard as a steel knife and just as sharp.

"The moment a pawn disobeys the King's orders is the moment the game ends for it."

The shattered remains of his heart freeze inside Invel's chest.

A pawn.

Invel chuckles, humorlessly. "Not even a bishop? Just a lowly pawn?"

Zeref looks at him over his shoulder. All the mirth is gone. Invel can clearly see the fury he is not bothering to hide.

"Yes," he hisses. "A pawn." He turns again. Invel notices he is clenching his fists. "And I advice you not to disobey me."

So this is how things were all along?

Invel knows winter. Cold is the very filigree of his life. The fun thing about it, is that it hurts like hell at first. It cuts skin and stings muscles; makes you bleed as it kills everything, slowly, oh so terribly slowly. Miserable are those whose fate decides they should freeze to death.

But then, in that that moment when everything is burning and your body suffers as if a thousand needles were tearing it apart; in that moment when you are just lying wretchedly, whishing for the relief of death; you hit that point where it hurts so much, it just stops aching. It numbs you.

And then you don't feel anything else.

"His Majesty said it had been his fault that this happened. But he is mistaken." No emotion can be filtered from his voice. He is emotionless. Numb. "The Emperor shouldn't worry his conscience. This humble servant was the one who did wrong by forgetting his truthful place."

"You are dismissed!" Zeref shouts. Invel startles. He has never heard Zeref raise his voice before. "Get out of here!"

Invel can't catch anything but anger coming from him. He wishes he could see Zeref's face one last time before going but quickly discards the thought. Probably, he would only feel repulsion.

The room is deadly silent. Every step that takes Invel further away resounds like the boots of an executioner walking towards a scaffold. A sick smile twines his lips. If he is the executioner then he wonders, who is condemned one here?

An answer comes to him as he opens the door. Maybe he should ask himself, what has been condemned, not who. Anyway, he is not interested anymore.

The door clangs heavy behind him, leaving Zeref, and a piece of himself behind.

He doesn't bother to look back.

Left inside his room, hands fisted over his oak desk, shoulders hunched, head held low, Zeref fights to regain control of his breath.

A vase full of flowers that had been happily standing some seconds before now lay dead. Withered. Their lives having been stolen away from them.

The sky is of an astounding blue, cloudless. A fresh morning breeze rustles Invel's white bangs over his glasses. The weather is perfect for some plain sailing. No problems should arise on the way.

"Everythin' ready boss," one of the seamen says to Invel.

Invel flinches slightly at the lack of property. Zeref will be travelling to Ishgar with these people as his companions and then be left there to his own luck. A very reluctant part of him sits uneasy at the idea. Just picturing Zeref –young, delicate and beautiful– travelling with these people shoots a shiver down his spine. He tells himself he is just worried because, all things said and done, Zeref is still his Emperor and his main job still consists on ensuring his safety.

Nothing more, nothing less.

"Lovely day, huh?"

Zeref walks to his side and admires the view with him. The sound of waves, the cries of seagulls and the constant babbling of the shipmen fill the empty space Invel leaves by not answering. His face remains stoic as he feels Zeref assessing him; but soon enough, those scrutinizing eyes leave him again.

They haven't exchanged word since yesterday's… altercation? Invel hasn't put a name to it yet. After he exited the room, he returned to his old chamber, the one he hadn't used for years. Even though he found it exactly as he had left it, everything was frustratingly different and Invel, immerse in a state of anger, couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

The whirlwind of emotions demanded an outbreak. The walls ended up frozen, as did every piece of furniture inside the room. Invel had stood in an eerie palace of ice, alone.

"The ship is ready for sailing," he says plainly.

"Ah." Zeref regards the horizon with a fond expression. "Always so efficient."

"It's just my job," he says matter-of-factly, before he walks away to double-check on the last minutia of the trip.

He doesn't see the way Zeref looks back at him, shadows dancing in his eyes.

At last, not one detail is left unchecked and no tail end is left untied. The Emperor walks on the ramp that leads inside the ship. The Spriggans aren't present; they were specifically forbidden to come here today. Only Invel stands in the dock to see him part.

So when Zeref looks back, there's only one pair of that can meet his.

Zeref opens his mouth, as if to say something but no words come out. He closes it again and looks away, lids fidgety. None of yesterday's rage is present. Zeref is the image of jovialness and yet behind the façade, Invel can see the undertow of misery.

He might be just imagining it, though. His discernment has been obviously biased lately, whenever the Emperor is involved.

Something in the situation pushes him to fill in the silence.

"I do hope you find what you are looking for, Your Majesty." Zeref jolts with surprise; apparently he hadn't expected Invel to address him. "You needn't to worry your mind about matters in Alvarez. I'll make sure everything stands in order as long as you are gone."

A gust of wind passes between them. Zeref doesn't answer for a second, but then a smile says what his words can't.

"Ah, yes. Efficient. Always so efficient. And loyal." He closes his eyes, the odd fond grin back. "Turns out I was right. As always."

Invel frowns, not sure of what he means until old words whisper in his ears.

No matter what I'd do, you would forgive me… That's another reason why I keep you so close to my side.

He remains stoic. Posture tight, eyebrows set in a firm line.

Zeref's lids open. His smile is still the same, but there's sadness in his eyes.

"Good bye, Invel."

Or maybe Invel just imagined it?

But the Emperor has turned around and boarded. Invel doesn't know when he will see him again. His stomach knots upwards and tangles with his lungs, messes up his breathing. He forces his body to stay in line as he watches the back of the familiar old toga disappear.

People call him the Winter General for a reason. He would prove the rumors of his frozen heart true.

The mooring lines are set loose. The ship departs and Invel walks away without turning back. Ahead of him waits a kingdom to deal with, for an indefinite amount of time. He knows his place now, he knows what he is. He has stewed over it, in that frozen chamber, the whole night. His heart cried, but his mind settled. He has accepted it. So he keeps moving forward, the word pawn resounding in his ears.

If it hurt and ached and killed him inside, it wouldn't matter. Invel would always be happy to serve His Lord.

Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism feed this writer's hungry soul. Please tell me what you thought of the fic! I hope you liked it.

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