AN: I have no excuses. But I do have this chapter. And—watch out! It looks like…Plot up ahead!

Disclaimer: do not own. For non-profit entertainment only! Enjoy!

He reached for Roxas, tying off the gauzy fabric. Lust sparkled in the emerald eyes. Roxas quickly forgot the strange behavior of his vampire and began to feel the tingling pricks of desire.

Gentle caresses on his arms and chest and belly soon had the blonde twitching impatiently, so much that even the vampire was surprised. Sweat began to form on the boy's soft, peach skin like dew drops. His milky throat flushed and the sweet pink nipples hardened into candy peaks.

Blue, blue lidded eyes met smoldering emerald, narrowed in excitement and desire and sheer pleasure at the undoing their sensuous owner was causing his mortal.

The blonde boy's breaths came short and shallow, requiring effort and memory to happen. One never knew what to expect with this great white vampire, but instinct and a little experience suggested to the youth that it would likely be…pleasant.

Axel reached for the waistband of the youth's bloodied leggings and...

"You need clothes...of your own, Roxy. Let's visit the tailor tonight. In town. You've earned a trip outside, yes?"

Minutes later found Roxas and his master traveling at a medium pace south, in a carriage pulled by two great stallions, black as night. After the great vampire saw to new bandages, the boy had been dressed quickly and simply in a pair of sheepskin leggings, rawhide boots, and a loose inner tunic, and bundled in a lighter fur blanket to combat the growing night chill that would harm his still too thin body. The vampire King himself sat beside him on the plush bench, dressed for function rather than formality—similar leggings, boots, and tunic graced his frame. His red hair was wild about his mischievously set face, a bright mane of color in the inky night.

Their coach, flanked by two guards on horseback (which Roxas decided must be a formality of sorts, for Axel had said the town that was their destination was populated by humans under his rule and the vampire could take care of himself quite well, the boy knew), was bound for the bottom of the great hill upon which the vampire King's castle sat. The path wove through expanses of field and little tree thickets that rained their petite leaves in swirling rivets every time a breeze blew by. Roxas was watching the land go by through the ornately carved windows and wished he could see it all by the light of the sun, for surely it was even more beautiful then.

Behind them, the imposing castle loomed proudly. Roxas had never seen it from a distance and was now being treated to a full view of the great structure. It was much larger than he had imagined, taller and broader. There was no center to it; instead, various towers and spires made up the main body, some tall and thin and spindly, others more stout and solid looking. There were differently sized windows peppered all around, some in patterns and designs. Roxas wondered which one had been his in the red room, and then he wondered where the room he awoke in last, Axel's room, was, for he had seen no windows.

And then there was one tower on the left that seemed to draw his eyes, though it was small and thin and nondescript. The only thing that set it apart was its literal aloofness: he could see no passages connecting it to the main castle, no bridges or anything else. It simply sat there to...the west...

The west wing the maid mentioned...Is that it?

A bump in the road and the pressure of a cool hard arm shook Roxas from his thoughts. He looked up to meet the eyes of the vampire King. His green eyes seemed to glow in the dark as they held the boy's captive. Roxas was going to ask something...something...but he couldn't seem to remember it. The question died on his lips.

Roxas shook his head as another bump jarred him. The youth imagined that the castle was much lovelier in the day, like the land, a thought that surprised him. He remembered the stones being various colors from the ground on that fateful day he had gone out with Sora. Now, the castle looked somewhat ominous silhouetted against the moonlight, but in the day, with the many colored towers, it must look like a patchwork of sorts and surely pretty. In was certainly pretty inside, that much he knew.

Long, cool fingers found their way into the youth's hair where they rubbed his scalp into bliss. Roxas felt himself relaxing, leaning more heavily on his companion as the sensations lulled him into a light sleep. Colors and shapes began to creep into his mind, faint and indistinct at first. Then they began to take forms. They danced and twirled and the boy thought them to be the vampires from the ball. Then they changed and they were snowflakes, twirling through trees and wind and tall spires...flames danced among them, and flowers, too. Sparkling sunshine set the scene aglow, golden leaves, golden vines, golden...threads...?

And then flashes of orange plunged it all into darkness.

Roxas was jostled out of his reflections by the sound of the carriage wheels going over wood, a wooden bridge—a river.

What...?

Rushing water briefly sounded in the boy's ears. Before them the sleepy town was growing closer and larger. Bells sounded in the near distance. Axel wasn't looking at him. He appeared to be listening to something.

"They've spotted us," he said offhandedly.

Roxas heard it then, too—cries in the distance:

"The king arrives! His Majesty is coming!"

"The King of Vampires is here!"

They were pulling into town then, the guards riding ahead to lead and prepare the way. Lights were flickering on inside houses and shops and the sleepy town came to life as doors opened and mortals of all ages spilled out.

Roxas watched in wonder as children lined the road, smiling and waving, some still in their night clothing. Behind them, men and women, young and old, shouted and gestured bright greetings of their own.

"They...are not afraid of you?" asked Roxas incredulously, thinking back to his own town and of the reaction such a visit would have received there.

For a moment, the boy thought the vampire looked strange...almost sad. But the moment passed and Axel laughed heartily beside him.

"Not at all!" he boasted. "And why should they be? I give them land and protection in my kingdom, and the richest trading caravans make the town a priority as my castle is supplied by goods that come through here."

"These people...you protect them...?"

Again the vampire laughed. "Did you think my vampires were free to come through here and snatch children from their beds each night? There are more than vampires under my rule, Roxas. I take the care of my many subjects quite seriously."

But then, where do your meals come from, Roxas wondered, but didn't dare ask out loud. Shuddering, he thought that perhaps he did not wish to know.

"Very wise, my Curious One."

The boy bristled at that. How difficult it was to keep ones thoughts private with a mind reader present!

He had no time to object, however, as the coach came to a sudden stop and a guard was rap-rap-rapping on the door a moment later. Axel donned his own cloak before moving to step out.

The door opened to a gathering of townspeople bowing reverently to their King. There were all sorts present, nobles and landowners at the fore with their servants and a mass of commoners and peasants behind them, many chatting amiably. Children played in cobblestone streets under freshly lit lights as though it were not the middle of the night. Shops looked warm and inviting and the brisk air and fair sky were pleasant for all.

The vampire monarch was greeted reverently with bows upon their stopping. He removed himself from the plush coach with feline grace and elegance, turning and reaching a hand to Roxas. The youth held the fur to him but reached a free, tentative hand towards the King. With inhuman speed, he was lifted and slung into the vampire's arms, fur and all. Axel cradled him possessively.

Whispers and low chatter arose among the human crowd. They had never seen the King take a mortal before, and it had not been for lack of offering, either. Inquisitive stares roamed the vampire's bundle.

A guard gestured with a bow to indicate a direction to his monarch. A lock of bluish hair peeked out from beneath his heavily ornamented helmet; Roxas thought he recognized him as one of the vampire elite from the party. A look was shared between the two vampires; the King nodded and the guards took the carriage away.

x.X.x

When Axel had announced that they would be going to the tailor, Roxas had been somewhat confused. He hadn't expected to be leaving the grandiose walls of the castle so soon. After the terrifying events that had transpired in the forest so recently, the boy imagined that he was confined to the castle now. Although, Axel had never really put him under house arrest, per se, Roxas was surprised that the vampire was already allowing him to travel beyond the great gates.

It was only after they had entered a modest looking house that Roxas understood.

Reds and yellows and blues, plush velvets, delicate silks, glittering trimmings. gossamer so sheer... Hundreds upon hundreds of fabric bolts were piled everywhere he looked, stacked floor to ceiling like a library of rainbows.

The tailor bid he pick out whatever he desired, and Axel nodded as well, giving him free reign. After some initial reluctance (such bolts were worth more than everything he had ever owned combined, more wealth than his tiny scope of existence could have ever dreamed up), Roxas revealed a refined taste hiding beneath his poor upbringing, pairing strong brocades with calming damasks, in colors both complimentary and analogous.

Axel sat back and observed. The boy had a keen eye for detail and subtlety. The vampire hadn't expected him to pick out garish hues or ostentatious designs, but the quiet refinement he saw surprised him a little. It was...pleasant, this unhurried mission. It was a bittersweet treat to see Roxas on the pedestal, measured and draped in fine cloths that flowed so naturally over the little form still swathed in bandages, a grim reminder of the boy's mortality, and yet, of his resilience as well; he had not died, and while perhaps he was not thriving, exactly, things were improving. Axel was pleased.

The actual process of being fitted for his new wardrobe was quite boring, as Roxas soon found out. He had to hold still indefinitely for the portly man wielding a numbered stick, and his torso ached somewhere beneath the gauzy material and all the measuring and counting and wrapping and matching was so tedious... Roxas was unsurprised that his eyelids dropped and he caught himself drifting several times. Not even the intense green stare of his master was working to keep him awake.

He was startled out of another near-nap by the bell, signifying the opening of the shop's door. Curious, Roxas turned his stare in the direction of the sound, only to be met with an equally curious azure gaze. It was a young girl—his age, perhaps?—with translucently pale skin over gangly limbs still forming, and long straight hair the color of wheat; all in all a ghostly scrap of she-child save her beautiful eyes that seemed all the brighter against the smudges of colors on her temples and cheek.

In her hands, she appeared to be holding a panel of wood in a cloth. It was pressed tightly to her chest, clad in a thin stained chemise and apron.

"Naminé!" the tailor coughed, resetting her attention.

She became flustered then, as though she had only then remembered why she had come there to begin with. She curtsied hastily towards the vampire lounging commandingly—"your Majesty"—then turned to Roxas in the center—"my Lord"—and back to the king, whose unreadable face she dared not meet.

"I have brought a gift," she said hushedly, yet steadily, with her head dropped, "in honor of the Lord Roxas, on behalf of my Master…and myself."

Her arms extended with the wood—a painting of a forest and a tiny tower in the distance under a great full moon. At Axel's feet she placed it.

The vampire said nothing, merely inclined his head. The girl Naminé backed towards the door, casting one last lingering glance at Roxas, and was gone.

The boy on the pedestal stood as though returning from a trance. Before he could process what had just occurred, Axel signaled to the tailor that that was enough for tonight, and made arrangements for a few sets of clothing to be delivered to the castle the following night, with the rest of the trunks finished and dispatched within the week. The vampire replaced the fur around his body and lifted him into his impossibly strong arms and left the tailor with a jingling purse of gold.

There was an urgency, an intensity buzzing about the vampire that had Roxas unsettled. They practically flew past the townspeople still lingering in the streets and into the carriage that was waiting for them, closed off from wondering eyes.

Roxas didn't have a moment to prepare. The fabric was drawn violently from his neck and suddenly the fangs were inside and Roxas was writhing, nerves prickling and dancing within him.

As usual in these encounters now, the sharp pain compartmentalized quickly and made room for electrifying pleasure. He couldn't remember Axel ever yet so intense in his feeding. There was a new element now: a fierce wanting that emanated from the vampire King.

And really, if he were brutally honest with himself, Roxas craved the great vampire's touches. He craved the nearness of the elegant, powerful body, the touch of those stone hands, the fleeting kisses that inevitably began the slow burn of carnal passion that culminated in the sharp pain of deadly fangs in his flesh and the violently beautiful release that accompanied the knife edge of agony/ecstasy.

It was all terribly surreal, like a too-convincing dream, and Roxas was still processing the whirlwind of confusion and fear that continued to dominate his mind. But he could not deny one thing at least: it was rather wonderful feeling wanted, desired.

Axel doted on him, kept him by his side constantly. Roxas did not understand why him, why all the attention, and how he would eventually—if he survived until 'eventually'—pay back the attention. Surely something would be expected of him?

There was too much to process. What had sparked this action in his Master? All seemed calm in the tailor's shop, them the girl stopped in…Naminé with the cobalt eyes and the wheat hair...

Roxas gasped as the pleasant draw on his blood returned to pain, a deep sting that echoed in his fingertips. Axel was holding him too tightly, hurting his wounds and drawing too fast, too much.

The fangs were torn from his neck violently.

"You are Mine," the vampire rasped, fury dancing in his eyes, upon his brow.

The blood on his lips scared Roxas; it was like being back in the woods again and he swore he could feel claws where the vampire's fingers were gripping him.

Feline eyes locked with his, and the youth shivered at the intensity between them.

He thought of the fevered kisses and touches his master bestowed upon him, tried to compare and contrast his experiences. He wanted to ponder this, this something that was between himself and the vampire. But he couldn't, his thoughts were drifting away in a swirl of emerald green now, a golden thread drawing him into the endless night within.

AN2: I'm here, it's not dead. I do apologize for the lack of updates. I've been pressed for time the past year, and personal issues have kept me busy, but I am still writing this story. I would rather take the time and wait to post something good than churn out poor quality nonsense quickly.