Sleep. It was pointless, elusive, and attractive to many all at the same time. It's a surprisingly turbulent affair as well. The dreams of unnoticed desires, the dark caress of temporary death, the nightmares that creep across your skin, heavy on your mind until it can't stand the torture it puts itself through, and brings you back to life. It was all so amusing and painful. There was nothing about it that reminded the man of peace.

He scribbled nonsense in his study, papers strewn across his desk of all sorts of things, mouths, eyes, what he would imagine screams would look like if you could see them, his rough and horrid handwriting belting out apologies, threats, his disgusts towards the color orange, and poems with no end. He was leaning against a drawing, hardly there as his ears barely listened to the overturned inkpot drip its darkness all over the already dark floor, his hair was a mess, his hands just under his chin as he looked out dazedly. His eyes hardly closed, bleary, bloodshot, trying their best to still stay alert as his empty gaze looked out at the mess he made.

He shut his eyes, the weight they held suddenly too great for him to resist as he slipped, for once, harmlessly under the spell of sleep.

Another figure appeared almost immediately as he drifted off. Gathering the papers tossed around soundlessly, examining them, reading them, absorbing the information on them, and the sorrow that spilled into quite a few. They held his interest in the moments he looked between them, just before he moved on forward to things of more importance to him at the situation at hand.

He placed the neat stack of papers besides the sleeping man's head. Listening to his shallow breaths as he lowered himself to examine him further. Long fingers gently brushing back the brown locks that fell over his face, the man, undisturbed as he traced his tired face.

'This isn't very healthy'  He thought to himself. He had come by, knowing he'd be here, knowing he'd be starving himself needlessly of what he never truly got enough of, to share something he found interesting. But this might've been the first time he's seen him with his eyes shut for longer than a few seconds. It was strange, for some reason that hadn't occurred to him before, he didn't realize he might actually need to sleep. A silly thought as it was. The man he spent his time pestering seemed... Above it in his mind. Silly, silly...

He stood back up to his full height, towering over the slightly pathetic scene played out before him, a grin curling at his lips as he dipped a finger in the puddle of ink, smearing a thick line of it across the man's forehead with a small laugh-

Which abruptly woke the other up.

It was far too quick for either of them to properly think about. Yet, both seemed surprised at how close the letter-opener actually made it to the tall man's throat before Octavian's eye's finally focused at who had caught his wrist in its grip.

"Victor-" He scowled. Already trying to pull his hand back only for the man to keep his hold. A teasing frown on his lips.

"Uh uh uh, not until you apologize." He tsked. Making Octavian start to thrash in his grip in refusal. The demon of a man pleasantly noting the fact that he was actually wearing his gift on the wrist he held tightly. He was almost sure it would help him sleep better than this. Apparently, the way it works isn't exactly how he gathered from his dearest cousin. Who would have thought he'd gain this much energy after a good five minutes of sleep though? It was an interesting effect regardless.

"Like hell, you startled the fuck out of me, and that's not my fault-" He thrashed more insistently.

"But you could have killed me. Scaring you isn't worth my blood." His free hand plucked the letter opener from his grip before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. "Apologize~"

"I rather you break my wrist." He seethed like an angry dog. Which of course, in the midst of a very hard tug, made Victor let go. The man falling back into his seat, nearly tipping it over from the force of his own weight as he cursed. Making Victor let out a sharp laugh. He reminded himself that he hardly had the time to entertain his childishness further, as much as it was fun to fuel both of their fires, given as he wanted to see how he'd handle the new development he had going on. Presumably, one he hadn't anticipated.

"Octavian." He started lightly as he watched him steady himself in his seat, swiping the hair out of his face, while also effectively spreading the ink smear there all the more. It took a bit to not smile at it. "Before you get too heated, I found something I think you might like to see."

"Does it involve you taking off your pants?" Octavian muttered as he finally settled down, massaging his ink smeared temple cluelessly. "Because I'm not really in the mood for your lewd jokes. Or ruining another marriage." He let out a heavy breath, going a bit slack now that his muscles relaxed from the lack of danger. "Bless to the last, but I rather like this one."

"No, not this time," Victor said nonchalantly, wondering what type of headspace the other was in to think of such things. "Something far less interesting I'm afraid, but surely something you'd want to know about nonetheless."

He sat on the desk as Octavian watched him through tired eyes, though his expression held solemnly, he trusted whatever Victor wanted to bring to him, there's hardly ever a time when what he had brought to the forefront didn't become important. One way or another.

"How long has it been since your mother passed?" His grey eyes peered down at the man from his place, it was an odd way to phrase it, given the fact that her passing wasn't exactly that. Especially since he was there to witness it. Or rather... Cause it.

Octavian's dark eyes narrowed at the question, hand instinctively moving to the last scar she could ever give him, but as his eyes flickered away, then back to him. He answered.

"4 months." He said curtly. That's how long it's been since the funeral he held for her, burying her right beside the gravestone of his father, and his own that he still hasn't chosen to remove. A grim reminder of how he was always lacking in favor every spare glance he caught of it.

"Why did she die?" Victor drawled. His voice giving way to the fact that he knew a lot about it.

"Because you wanted to win." He scoffed. Earning a small glare. "Fine... Because she tried to kill me. Nearly succeeded as well, not thanks to yo-"

"If it weren't for me, your most trusted and loyal confidant. Stepping in at the perfect time-"

"Yes, and letting my mother stab me for dramatic effect."

"Did you die?"

"No, but-"

"Then let me finish, Vian." Victor scolded as the other crossed his arms. Pouting in clear discontent when thinking back to that situation. "When I had stepped into the castle to meet the maid I was fancifully spending my time with here, I stumbled across something interesting."

He steadily rose from his spot on the desk. Walking over to the door and opening it. Only for a body to fall in right after him at his feet as he gave the other man a wolfish smile. "An idiot."

Squirming and muffled yelling ensued from the new person on the ground. Tied up neatly and tightly, as well as gagged for an extra touch. Octavian recognized this immediately.

"I know my advisor is an idiot. Why kidnap him for lacking brain power?" He said dully, the frightened look in the man's eye making him curious as he strode over. Squatting down as he tilted his head to look at him better. He was a pain in the ass, to say the least, so seeing him in this position, even if by somehow mistake, was quite satisfying.

"Because he was idiotic enough to speak of treason in your castle." His long fingers slipped into the man's hair as he knelt down alongside him. Pulling it back harshly as the man gave out another course and muffled yelp through the cloth wedged between his teeth. "Which I thought was a level of stupidity you might want to be told about."

Now, this was surely the sort of thing he was expecting Victor to create a ruckus about. He wiped at his bloodshot eyes, yawning like a tired cat before standing back up with an old man groan. Victor was just about to comment on it until he drove his foot as hard as it seemed he could into the powerless man's stomach. His face in its usual bland and disgusted expression as he watched him recoil and writhe in pain. Coughing as tears streamed down his face that was still held up by the hair in the other man's grip. Truly a pathetic sight to both powerful men.

"Tell me more." Was all Octavian said as he watched him. Victor letting go of him, his head falling down to hit the ground as he curled into himself, to stand up as well. Giving a simple head tilt in regard of the cockroach of a little human. Some choices are never to be made in positions like these. But to make them, one loses all sympathy and mercy, at least in his opinion, and apparently, that of the head of Wrath.

"Before you shift the title of ruler off to Prince Finn as you had made sure to keep quiet... He had intended to lure you into a trap of sorts. At least from what I heard. Something to do with Princess Robin's formal introduction..."

This now struck a chord on both men clearly with the way the man twitched and Octavian's frown twisted. And before Victor could even think about it the King's foot was driven forward again, and he was sure that the ragged coughing emitted from the advisor began to wet the cloth with blood. Merciless was he, something he quite liked.

"Assassins are useless when paired with loud mouths." He already seemed to dismiss the subject. "We keep my little sister's coronation... no food for her lest they try to poison it... and now that I have a warning, just kill the rodent." The advisor let out another pathetic scream as Octavian turned him over so he could watch his lips seal his fate.

"I'm still not done you impatient man-child." Victor's smoke colored eyes rolled as he watched the man glare down at the rat. His hand giving an impatient wave for him to continue so he could kill the bastard already.

"There's a reason I was talking about Soran to begin with. You're so hot headed you throw out trash before it's even properly used."

"Quit making fun of me and just hurry up already. I'm tired." He rubbed at his temple, his irritated gaze shifting up to him for a fleeting moment. Octavian actually looking a bit sleepy.

"Out of fear when I first pulled him off the ground by his hair, he began spouting interesting nonsense about how it was originally your mother's plan... Something about following his orders from a certain syndicate. One I'm a tad bit familiar with, fortunately for you old man." He said with no regard to the fact that he was centuries upon centuries older than him. "I want to know a little more. I thought this would be something fun to do in the meantime... seeing as you'll have much more free time once you renounce your title. Willingly for some reason."

"I might be able to live as long as you can now, but the last thing I want to be is stuck here in these walls to rule forever. Not enough good has happened here to make me stay any longer than I must." He hissed. Touchy.

"Of course, seeing as you'll run off to be the King of Pride's Queen instead-" He cut himself off with a laugh as Octavian launched the empty inkwell his way, which he caught, only to throw it over his shoulder and accidentally knock it into the advisors face.

"Bastard." He growled unsteadily with red blooming across his pale cheeks. Victor could only lean in with a grin on his lips as he grabbed his face to look up at him, breath fanning across his lips deviously. "Call me worse."

"Is that all?" He muttered as he tried to pull himself out of his grip like before. Of course, to no avail. He tried to remind himself Victor was worth more than the trouble he caused him. Or rather, irritation.

"Wish to ask him something before you cut out his tongue?"

Distaste spread across his features as the Castellano let him go. Both of them striding over to the advisor before Octavian sat him up, pulling the sullied cloth out from between his lips as he whimpered and groaned.

Almost immediately did the coward began pleaing with them both. Offering useless things in exchange for his life. Gold. Magic. Women. All things that lacked of any hold to either of the two as their faces let out only the decision they already made.

"Shut up." He said coldly. The advisor's trembling lips pressing firmly together as he nodded.

"Of all my subjects, you are not surprising in the least to be doing this. I was wondering why you were pressing so firmly for me to present Robin as a formal Princess. Even if she has no desire to rule after me, you wanted the world to shift it's focus on her rare appearance so you'd run off with my head hm?" He tsked like a disapproving parent. A move he practiced many a time on Harlow. Not that it did anything to her. "You should've tried to be less annoying, maybe then I would have possibly considered leaving you alive. Tell me all I need to know that's left. Names. People. Motives. Give it all before a swift death becomes anything but."

His dark eyes bore into the wet ones of the advisor with not a hint of the kindness he had grown in his years of happiness. He was regarded foolishly with much less severity. Those who know better still fear him, flinching at his wandering gaze, and holding their tounge as he speaks. Those who see him softening only growing slack when they find his hands wrung tightly aroung their neck.

A King of Wrath is just that. Wrath.

"T-The Archanide.... The A-Archanide sent me, my king-" A sharp crack sounded as Octavian sent the back of his hand into his face. Busting his lip as he made an almost squeal like sound neither man really enjoyed hearing.

"I'm your king now? Pitiful." He turned to Victor, tilting his head as he looked up at him. "Is that the name you recognized?"

He dipped his head in a nod. Growing bored at not being an active part in all this.

"Who from the Archanide?" Octavian pressed.

"T-They don't have n-names, O-Octavian please s-spare me..." His tears began to wet his cheeks again, running with the sweat and blood down to stain his rumpled clothing.

"Victor."

"Yes, Queen Octavian?"

A tight breath kept him from trying to throw something else at him as he boredly looked at his nails.

"I'll let you choose his fate." He knocked him back onto the ground with a push of his ink-stained finger to his sweaty head. Yawning before rubbing at his eyes like a tired toddler. 

"Thank you for being so keen. But I'm bloody tired out of my mind."