Devastation.

That's all Alfred had felt as he watched Ivan drag Toris away.

"Take care of him!" He told Ivan.

The look that Toris had given Alfred as Ivan dragged him away, betrayed Ivan's assurances that he would.

"Come hang out with me once things blow over!" Alfred smiled, waving. Behind that smile, he was falling apart.

Toris only yelled for him. But there wasn't anything Alfred could do. Not at the time.

What gods or forces graced them with such misfortune?

Their time together had been wonderful. The best that Alfred and Toris (especially Toris) had ever had.

And now?

He was back at Ivan's again. Under his "care".

If one could call it that.

…

Because of the lovers' misfortune, because of the situation Toris was in, every stolen moment was precious.

The chance meetings, the planned ones, the mere passing's by.

All valuable. All dear. All precious.

Alfred, however, tired of these secret or brief meetings. He desired to make it well known that Toris was his and no one else's. That anyone who thought to lay a finger on him would answer to Al. He wanted to shout it to the world. Scream it, screech it…

…Throw it in Ivan's face.

…

"I'm going to save you." He breathed softly into his ear, stroking his hair. "I'll be your hero."