He was nearing his limit. Give him a weapon and send him off into war, and he could last days without approaching this level of fatigue. But this work sapped him. He was so close to calling off any sort of alliance with the little brat simply because he didn't know if he could stand her long enough to carry out the mission without throttling her. Silence was a concept wasted on the princess, and he'd been exposed to more than his fair share of giggling that day.

Her saving grace was her usefulness. Turned out she really knew her way around the place like she'd promised. There was an intricate network of hidden passages that wound through the interior of the palace. It must have taken her years to discover them all, but for an inquisitive young woman with little else to do, seeking them out had likely become an obsession. Some of them appeared to be in use by servants as shortcuts. Many of them were thick with dust and for the most part undisturbed aside from the princess' footsteps. They were too numerous to memorize in a single trip, but he got the feeling that was the idea. The girl still had a preservation instinct, even if it was underdeveloped.

She introduced him to several figures of interest that day. There was the royal tailor (who seemed far too young for the job) and the head of the medical staff (who didn't seem nearly as old as his white hair would suggest). The former greeted him with a critical commentary on his appearance before taking his measurements; the latter only acknowledged them long enough to reach into his pocket, produce a wrapped sweet for the princess, and shunt them out of his office.

Their meanderings took them outside of the palace proper as well. She brought him to the Mercian library, a building with arched ceilings of marble and endless rows of burnished mahogany bookshelves. There were desks for people to sit and study at, all funded by the nobility. The public was even allowed to take books out of the building, provided they had a slip that granted them permission. How lucky they were, living in a country where literacy was a right and not a privilege. The whole place made his stomach churn.

There was another level of the library not open to the public eye, however, and it was there in the lamp-lit, underground archives that he met the head librarian. He wasn't sure at first why the princess was keen to introduce them. The man wasn't much to look at; fairly tall, with pale brown hair and chocolate eyes. Ordinary. He extended his hand to shake at the princess' prodding to "be polite."

The man just smiled.

"I'm afraid I can't return your greetings. The princess should know better."

"Oh! Oh dear, please forgive me Aaron. I'm sorry, I can be so forgetful."

The librarian's smile widened a little before he turned back to his work.

"You're many things, princess, but forgetful isn't one of them."

As soon as they were well out of eyeshot- and earshot -she drew a line across her throat and made a face.

"That's Aaroniero Aruruerie," she whispered, "Hardest name to pronounce ever, I swear. Anyways, that thing about not shaking your hand? He claims it's gimpy, so he never shakes anyone's hand. But someone once told me that he used to work at the palace, and that his hand wasn't always crippled."

"His hand seemed fine to me."

"That's his right hand," Yachiru explained, "He's originally left handed. Says that it would be improper to shake with his non-weapon hand. So he won't shake with his right, but he can't shake with his left. Therefore, he doesn't shake anyone's hand at all."

"But that doesn't make any sense. He's not a fighter. In his case, it's purely symbolic. And if his left hand is gimpy, then his right hand automatically becomes his 'weapon' hand."

"He's a librarian. It's like his job to be weird and nitpicky about historical details. Anyways, you're missing the big picture."

Nnoitra shrugged. "So what, he's a freak and a cripple. What's there to talk about?"

The princess looked like she was on the verge of having a conniption.

"I heard he tried to steal something from Szayel once, and that's how his hand ended up that way."

Huh. That... was a little more interesting. But it was still nothing more than hearsay.

"Rumors are rumors, princess," he said.

She shook her head emphatically.

"I don't think this one is. I think that's why he's no longer at the palace. I think that's why he's working here."

"Look," Nnoitra drawled, "If he tried ta fuck with Szayel, then he'd be dead. Or out of his mind. One of the two. He'd be more'n crippled."

"That's just the thing though. It's rumored he's crazy. Cracked. Touched in the head. Some of the librarians have told me that they've heard him talk to himself. Whole conversations, though they're never close enough to make out what he's saying exactly."

"So."

"So?"

"So supposing he did try to steal from Szayel… that still don't answer the question of why he's not dead."

"Right. Why isn't he?" Her eyes sparkled.

And suddenly he realized why she'd insisted he meet him. Because anyone who managed to piss Szayel off and not end up as fertilizer for his garden was worth knowing about.

"Oh," he said.

Yachiru bounced and clapped her hands delightedly.

"Yes yes yes! Finally! Thought you'd never get it. Gosh, you can be so slow Nnoi."

"Yeah, fuck you."

She lifted her chin and gave him a scandalized look.

"Why Nnoitra, must I remind you that you are in the presence of royalty?"

"Pfff. Kid, if you bothered to act like royalty, I might actually pretend to kiss your ass. But seeing as you're nothing more than a scrawny little brat in boy's clothing, I don't think you've got the right to demand I treat you like a princess."

"I bet you're just as rude to your king," she said, dropping the insulted act and returning to their usual banter. Except Nnoitra didn't respond in kind this time.

"No. Never," he said.

"Never?" Clearly not the answer she'd expected. Yachiru frowned.

"He is my king. He is a capable warrior in his own right. I would not show him disrespect," Nnoitra replied.

"So that's the only way to earn your respect? Power?"

"Real power. I don't give a shit about inherited power. The status quo exists to be upset. But if you can hold onto it with your own strength despite the odds, that's something worth respecting."

"Well, by that logic, you should respect us. Amistri invaded us, and we beat you. We defeated the most renowned military state in the world, and we don't even have a standing army. That seems worthy of respect," Yachiru insisted.

Nnoitra clenched his hands. Like hell he'd respect the Mercians. There were things about the merchant nation that he could appreciate now. They weren't as benign as they appeared at first glance, and despite their lack of a military, they had good organization. But he'd never, ever bring himself to acknowledge their victory as anything but a farce.

"Magic is not strength. It's a crutch," he bit out.

This seemed to irritate her, for she stopped and turned on him. She planted her hands on her hips and stared him straight in the eye, though she had to crane her head to do so.

"Magic is too a strength. It's another way to fight. You just refuse to use it. You deny the advantage it could give you in battle, and for what? So you can uphold some sort of stupid honor driven hierarchy?"

"It's not stupid."

"You lost. It's stupid. That's all there is to it."

"Take that back."

"No. You're all acting like a bunch of whiny, spoilt children just because you didn't win for once. You're just afraid of change."

"You'd call Amistri childish? You'd call us childish when you sent untrained civilians into a war zone to die? How irresponsible is that?"

"We pulled in favors and hired as many mercenaries as we could. We didn't just throw our people to the dogs. And in any case, what other choice did we have?"

"Surrender," Nnoitra growled, "Become part of Amistri. Supply us with technology and resources in exchange for protection."

"But would you protect us from yourselves? Would you let us maintain our culture? Or would you militarize us and turn us into another recruitment ground for your army? Would you use up all our resources to wage your endless wars? Would you let us teach our citizens to read and encourage learning, or would that be deemed a waste of money?"

"Do you ever stop yapping?" He snapped, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand was wrapped up in the front of her shirt and he had her pinned against the wall. She gasped a little as her head hit the marble and cracked against it.

It took him a moment before he understood just how badly he'd fucked up, but his first clue was the burning sensation in his body that quickly intensified to a searing pain. Nnoitra panted, knees locking as he only just managed to keep himself from crumpling into a fetal position. It was like his blood had been replaced with boiling oil. And his head… as if mirroring the princess' injury, it felt like someone had driven an axe into the back of his skull.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He'd fucking promised himself he wouldn't die for stupid shit like this. But his vision was blurring and his ears were ringing and his knees were giving up on him and his lungs and heart both felt like they were going to explode… and then he felt a pair of mercifully cool hands cup his face and the terrible heat began to abate. He opened his eye to see Yachiru standing in front of him, looking very intense. She let go of him and took a step back once he seemed stable again, and Nnoitra wiped the sweat out of his eye shakily.

Then he promptly keeled over with a strangled cry as she kicked him in the groin.

"Don't you ever handle me like that again you piece of shit, or next time I will let you die!" she yelled.

Nnoitra writhed on the floor, only vaguely registering her threat. Yachiru continued to fume for another minute before she finally plopped down next to him. A poisonous silence followed, broken only by his muffled groans. When he managed to pull himself together at last, he found her sitting with her knees tucked against her chest and staring sourly off into space.

"Princess-"

She stopped him with a look.

"If it's not an apology, I don't want to hear it," she said.

"Are you alright?"

"No. You smacked my head into the wall. It really hurts. In fact, I think it's bleeding a little."

Shit. Not good. That was going to draw some attention. Attention meant questions. Questions meant answers. Answers meant he'd get his ass thrown in a cell or killed for harming the Mercian princess.

"You're a real bastard, Nnoitra," she continued.

"An' yer just figurin' that out now?" he spat.

"No, but I thought you'd be better at controlling yourself."

"Been doing that all day, girly. You're enough to drive anyone up the wall."

"Don't blame this on me. You're the one who messed up." She gave him a pointed look. And she was right, of course. As annoying as she was, he was the one who'd lost his temper and jeopardized his mission. He was the fuck up.

He slammed a fist into the floor, frustrated with his own incompetence.

"So now what, princess? You're bleeding from a head injury I gave you. What happens next?"

She shrugged and looked away.

"I already told you. Now you tell me."

She'd already told him? No she hadn't. She hadn't told him jack shit. Except… to apologize? Was that seriously what she wanted?

"You want an apology?"

"Yes."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, Nnoitra. That's it. Just one sincere apology."

Ha. That was easy enough.

… except he didn't apologize. Ever.

"Sorry, princess." It was dry. Terse.

She arched a skeptical eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Not good enough.

"Er… I'm sorry for bashing your head into the wall."

"Yes, I imagine you probably are. It's caused you a world of trouble. Try again, Nnoi."

Fuck. Nnoitra growled to himself and tried to dredge up a sliver of sincerity. Did he feel bad for shoving her? Not really. She deserved it. She was a pest. And therein lay the problem. He couldn't actually apologize.

She knew it too. He could see it in her eyes. She knew it. This was her version of revenge.

"I can't do it. You know I fucking can't."

"Yeah," she said, and uncurled, "I know."

"So we gonna keep playin' this game?"

"Of course. But for the moment, I'll cut you some slack." She stood, then extended a hand to help him up. He took it, if only because he knew it would mollify her a little. And it did. She smiled faintly.

"I wouldn't mind hearing you try one more time though."

"I am not sorry for what I did," Nnoitra groused, "But I will avoid it in the future because I would not like to die killing you."

"Yes, yes. I know. I'm not worth dying for." She punched his shoulder. "Okay can you at least try not to be such an ass about that? Pretend I'm like a prince or something."

"You still wouldn't be the crown prince. So unless yer brother suddenly dies, killin' you would still be pretty pointless."

"Just think. If I was crown prince, you'd be my body guard."

That was a horrifying thought. Nnoitra suppressed a shudder.

"Princess, if you were the crown prince, I'd be hard pressed not to murder you- Amistri be damned."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we're co-conspirators instead, huh?"

"Hardly. We're not conspiring towards the same goal."

She contemplated this for a moment, then shrugged and set off again. They were near the stairwell that led back up to the library proper.

"It's true. I'm ultimately trying to foil your plans to kill my family and invade my country. But in the meantime, you're trying to stay alive, and I'm trying to help you stay alive so you can help me. So we are conspiring towards the same goal in the short term; your survival."

"Until it is no longer convenient for you to keep me alive."

"But Nnoitra, if you were the one in a position of power, you'd kill me in a heartbeat. It's only fair."

She reached up to touch the lump on the back of her head. After inspecting her bloody fingertips, she sucked them clean and made an effort to muss her hair and cover up the injury. It was still pretty noticeable, especially from his angle. "Really, don't do that again," Yachiru said as they began to climb.

"Yeah," he agreed. Yeah, he wouldn't be making that mistake again. "So what are we going to do about the head injury?"

"I really don't want to owe Szayel any more favors, even though he could probably fix this up real quick. So actually, I'm going to pay Ryuu a visit."

"Ryuu?"

"Ryuuken Ishida. You know. He gave me a candy when we visited him earlier."

Oh. The medic. The one whose disapproval he could feel the instant he set foot in his office, even if the man hadn't said more than three words to him.

"Are you sure he's… uh… the best man to go to?"

"Ryuuken is very professional. Besides, I'm always getting into scrapes."

"Doesn't your father find that concerning?"

"If he's aware of it, he hasn't commented on it. So it's not an issue."

Strange. Byakuya didn't seem like the oblivious type. He must have been aware of her habit of courting danger. Heh… actually, that was pretty apt. She seemed drawn to dangerous things, himself included.

"Still, I think it's best if I don't show up in his office with you, princess."

"Oh, certainly not," she replied, looking surprised that he'd even suggest such a thing. "I'll be dropping you off in your room. You're supposed to be sick, remember? It wouldn't do to taunt mother's spymaster too much. She gets a bit sensitive, especially where I'm involved."

He could only imagine how the queen's spymaster must have felt. Keeping tabs on the princess was a job unto itself. It couldn't have been easy, keeping track of a young woman who was capable of transporting anywhere with a door that she could visualize.

"So, we takin' another one of those… shadow walks?"

"Yes. Now hush a moment, there's the door at the top of the stairwell. I want to get out of the library without drawing any attention."

They crept up the remainder of the stairs and lingered in front of the door that led out of the underground vaults while Yachiru fished out her key. It was convenient that they wouldn't have to cross the library proper and find a more visible door. They had nothing to worry about unless one of the library staff happened to open the door at that moment. Considering his luck, it was a real possibility. But their escape went without a hitch, and he soon found himself walking through the lightless gloom of the shadow path.

It was a little more tolerable than it had been the first time. He knew what to expect and what the rules were. But he could never fully relax. There was a wrongness to this dimension. He was certain it wasn't a place humans were meant to set foot. Nnoitra had the constant sense that at any moment, the magic giving them access to this place could fail and they would be swallowed up by the darkness forever. Perhaps it was just paranoia. If given the chance, he'd use this magic without a second thought, but it still unnerved him.

A door finally materialized out of the blackness, and Yachiru led him up to it, never once letting go of his hand while she unlocked it. She held it for him again, though she didn't step out with him into his room.

"I'll find you later, Nnoi. We really do have to set up some sort of messaging system. I'll see what I can do about that. In the meantime, have fun figuring stuff out!" She grinned at him, then closed the door and vanished. It seemed that her spunk had returned. Even a knock to the head couldn't keep her down for long.

Ha. Haha. Hahaha…. fuck. Nnoitra shuffled over to his bed and flopped on his back. He'd come so close to messing up beyond repair. Because if he'd done the same thing to literally anyone else, he wouldn't be alive right now.

He dragged a hand down his face and exhaled heavily. Alright. He didn't know how much time he had until Ulquiorra came to fetch him. He had to figure out a way to talk to Kurotsuchi without ending up in pieces. He should probably try to figure out a way to interrogate the head librarian too. Aaron-something. Maybe he'd do that if things didn't pan out with Kurotsuchi. But the alchemist seemed like a good bet. According to Yachiru, Kurotsuchi had dirt on Szayel, and that was good enough for him.

Then there were his other obligations. The princess wanted him to train her. He had to put together some sort of training regimen for her that would satisfy her. He had no doubt that she'd be harassing him to jump straight into swordplay, but she'd have to fucking deal with the fact that she was too weak to lift a proper sword and she'd just trip and impale herself if she tried. Did the curse count it against him if one of the nobles accidentally killed themselves? Well, even if it didn't, the rest of her family would make sure he paid for it. So Yachiru could whine all she wanted, but she was going to have to do some strength and endurance training first.

And then there were outfits to pick up from the royal tailor and important people to schmooze and secret tunnels to memorize and some sort of secret communication system to hash out with the princess. Nnoitra groaned and turned over. No. Fuck this. He was too tired to deal with any of this right now. Until the prince came and dragged him out of his room, he was staying in bed and making the most of the rest of his "sick day."

He was left in peace until dinner. At that point in time, he was woken up by the same servant who'd come to fetch him earlier that day. He stared her down when he opened the door. She lingered long enough to deliver the royal family's orders to attend the evening meal since their poison taster was still out of commission, then promptly turned on her heel and left before he could deliver any verbal abuse. Nnoitra shut the door sullenly and went back to his bed to lie down, but after a few minutes, he hauled himself back up and slunk down to the dining hall to do his diplomatic duty.

Dinner was sumptuous. Spiced lamb stew over rice, tender roast chicken with gravy, potato mash with garlic and rosemary and butter, a veritable panoply of fruits, delicately sautéed spears of asparagus and mushrooms, freshly baked bread rolls, decanters of wine and juices … far too much for a family of four, plus one poison taster. He wondered what happened to the rest of the food and sincerely hoped that it wasn't wasted. He'd mostly recovered from his experience with Szayel the previous evening, and having missed breakfast and lunch, was now ravenous. Not even the prospect that the food might be poisoned was enough to deter him from serving himself a little of everything and digging in, though he did find himself avoiding the lamb stew. Ordinarily, it would have appealed to him, but it was still a bit too rich for his stomach to tolerate.

When the royals had finished their meal, the remaining food was taken away and replaced by a small assortment of desserts. The princess, who had eaten a modest plate of food, eyed the pastries with an expression of devout longing. She met his eye, and a silent order passed between them. No matter how full he was, he must sample each and every confection on the table. Nnoitra sank a little in his chair. They had their protective charms. Couldn't they leave him alone? He'd filled up on dinner, stupidly forgetting to anticipate that something else would follow. But no. He knew that look in the princess' eye. There was no getting out of this.

The desserts were rich and sweet; the bakers knew their princess well. Nnoitra felt ill by the time he finished consuming each little tidbit- cream puff, a spoonful of custard, strawberry cheesecake, dense chocolate torte, a section of a miniature berry pie, a chocolate that melted as soon as it hit his tongue. Once they were assured that it was natural nausea and the desserts were clean, the others served themselves. Yachiru in particular dove in with zeal. It made sense now why she'd picked over the main course; she'd been saving room for this. It was kind of sickening to watch her eat so many sweets when he just wanted to leave and sleep it all off. Still, he stuck around until he was officially dismissed by Ulquiorra. The prince seemed as indifferent towards him as he'd been in the morning. Good. Looked like he was going to get off lucky for now.

His room was cold again by the time he returned to it. The hearth in his room was dead, and for once, he kind of regretted not having let the maid kindle it. But he wasn't about to pander to an uppity bitch, so he settled in front of the fireplace and began to relight it and painstakingly coax it to life. When it was strong enough to burn stable, he lugged himself over to the bed, shucked off his boots, and slid under the chilly covers. This time, he crossed his fingers that he wouldn't be interrupted until morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Miraculously, he slept the whole night through. It was the dawn and not the maid who woke him, though she didn't put in an appearance to speak of that morning. That suited him just fine. He rolled out of bed and took a swig of cold water from his pitcher, then went to go fix his appearance. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes the night before, and they were now creased and disheveled. He smoothed some of the rumples out in front of a mirror, but he knew the prince wasn't going to find this acceptable. Heh. Well, that was Ulquiorra's problem. Not like Nnoitra had many changes of clothes at the moment. He took another minute to strap on his gear and weaponry- most of it concealed all nice and proper to cater to the nobles' sensibilities –then sauntered down the hall to collect his charge.

Just like before, the prince was already up, though he was fully dressed by the time Nnoitra entered since he was running a little late this morning. Ulquiorra's eyes lifted from the book he was reading just long enough to narrow slightly at what they saw.

"Your clothes are a wretched affair."

"My sincerest apologies. I'm waiting on replacements," Nnoitra replied, managing to keep a straight face somehow.

Ulquiorra made a dismissive sound, closing his book and setting it aside.

"Indeed. For all that you were indisposed yesterday, you managed to find the time to make an appointment with the royal tailor."

"Just seeing to the necessities. Wouldn't want to offend your royal sensibilities with the dismal state of my fashion."

"Care to explain how accompanying the princess counts as a necessity?"

A muscle in Nnoitra's jaw twitched. Just how tuned in to palace affairs were this lot?

"My company was requested. It's not my place to turn down a command from someone who outranks me."

Ulquiorra's eyes bored into his one, and in them, he saw the same darkness he'd encountered at the inn. His skin prickled at the sudden shift in mood, hands unconsciously moving for his weapons before he caught himself and forced them back down to his sides.

"I will make myself perfectly clear this once, Gilga. I do not approve of your consorting with my sister. If I find this becoming something habitual, there will be consequences. You are my bodyguard, not her playmate. Do we have an understanding?"

Fuck. Just like that, the prince had slipped another verbal noose around his throat. His hands were already tied. Yachiru wasn't going to let him off the hook. Girl had plans, and he featured in them. But playing along with her schemes meant bad things for him if Ulquiorra found out.

"I hear ya," he said through gritted teeth. Ulquiorra held his gaze a few beats longer, then his expression settled back into its usual frozen countenance.

"You will accompany me to my lessons today. I will grant you no leisure time since you had an entire day off yesterday. However, since I have no particular desire to spend every second of my day around uncultured trash like you, tomorrow may be a different matter depending on your performance."

Ulquiorra rose. The conversation was over. Whatever reply Nnoitra had prepared died on his lips as the prince passed him. He swallowed the low growl building in his chest and followed him. He had a performance to ace if he ever wanted to murder this upstart.

A/N: So I've actually been searching for this chapter because I could not find it in my fic folder or on any of my flash drives and I did not want to rewrite it. Turns out it somehow made its way into the recycling bin. Whoops. Good thing I never clean that thing out. Like everything I write, this chapter is long overdue. Y'all are masochists for following my stories. I'm a masochist for not dropping them. Let's suffer together I guess. Thank you for reading.

As ever, I dedicate this chapter to Xylexia, for whom this fic was originally written. Sorry I couldn't get a chapter to you for your birthday. Special mention also goes to Ryoko for being my Bleach muse. It's likely I'd take even longer to put things up without your inspiration. Have some heckled Nnoitra as a thank you.