I am your king.

Chapter I | Part V

"So, let me get this straight," Grell clapped his hands together. "You've been here for about a day and you've slept with the prince, saved the Queen's life, and have been revealed to have some dark secrets relating to the Phantoms."

"That's about right," Vincent nodded. The two walked a rather secluded path to get to town. No threat of anyone overhearing their conversation.

"If you do anything else I might just fall for you. I love the bad boy type," Grell swooned.

"Falling for me could put yourself at risk. You're trusted to keep an eye on me, Grell," Vincent chuckled. "Don't trust me so easily."

"Why not?" he frowned. "The prince has a lot going on with you. Why can't I? Am I not your type or something?"

"The prince was a special circumstance and I wasn't in a position to refuse," Vincent admitted.

"How do I get me one of those special circumstances?" Grell huffed.

"Is your name Vincent?" a man stepped out of the shadows and stood before the two. Vincent took a step forward, in front of Grell, ready for anything.

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Diedrich," he offered his hand. "I am the personal guard of the princess that is to marry your prince," he explained. Vincent took his hand.

"Weren't you supposed to get here in a few weeks?" Grell grabbed Vincent's arm and hid behind him. He poked his head out just enough to glance at the stranger.

"We arrived early. The Queen did say she wished us to get here as soon as possible," he said. "Fear not, I have no interest in harming you. I simply-"

"Oh?" a female voice spoke. She came from the same direction as Diedrich had. A hood covering her face. She must be the princess. Her clothes looked expensive. "Are you the prince I am to wed?" she stood beside Diedrich and allowed her hood to fall.

"My name is Rachel Dalles."

"I'm flattered, Your Highness, but I am not the prince."

"Pity," she sighed. "You're my type. I hope this prince meets my standards of attractiveness."

"Princess Dalles," Diedrich frowned. "You shouldn't be so concerned with looks."

"Don't 'Princess Dalles' me. I know you were thinking the same thing. You think he is cute, admit it," Rachel snickered.

"I didn't think any such thing!"

"Diedrich," Rachel smirked. "Fight him."

The man moved as soon as the order was given. Vincent had little time to plan or retreat. Grell was still clinging to him so he couldn't move very swiftly. Diedrich didn't draw a weapon. He simply aimed a punch at Vincent's face. The male grabbed his hand with his, before he could reach him. He held it tightly, with such force, Diedrich cried out. Rachel appeared quite amused.

"It's true what they say."

"What do they say?" Vincent inquired.

"You were a Phantom." Rachel took a step forward, close to Vincent, and placed her hand on his cheek. "I find you very intriguing. I hope you remain interesting to me." She turned on her heel and walked back in the direction  she came from. "Come along, Diedrich, we have things to do before our grand entrance." Vincent released his grasp and the man hurried to follow the princess.

"That was so scary," Grell shuddered.

"The worst is yet to come," Vincent sighed. "Come along, let's go to the tavern. Maybe someone will find you pleasant company."

"Drinking? This early in the day?" Grell gasped.

"It's the only place I'm allowed to enter," Vincent explained. "My hair is a Phantomhive family trait. Which means..." Vincent looked off into the trees. His expression blank. He grabbed Grell's hand and walked a bit faster.

"What's going on?"

"It's better that you don't know," Vincent replied. "That way you can honestly answer that you don't know...when they ask you later."

"When who asks me?"

"Just keep moving," Vincent dragged Grell along.

"My, my," a snickering shadow appeared. Grell turned his head, much against Vincent's wishes, and saw a man with red eyes. He was mesmerized by him and stopped moving all together. The man grabbed his hair, tugging it, pulling him close.

"Forgive me," Vincent let go of Grell's hand to grab his dagger. He cut the long locks of hair and pushed Grell away. "You must run."

Grell was snapped out of his daze and ran as fast as he could. This time, not looking back.

"Still up to your old tricks I see," the male pressed the red locks to his lips and opened his hand. The wind took them away.

"Sebastian," Vincent put his dagger back in its rightful spot. "What are you scheming?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "But I can say that if I was scheming something...it would already be taking place..."

"What do you-" Vincent remembered the Queen's order to Grell. He had no alibi now. "Damn it all," he growled, running after Grell.