Matthew was a brat. He always was. You could say that it wasn't his fault, with his older brother getting the spotlight, or say that he was a prince, but it still wasn't much of an excuse. Especially for the way he treated his servants. Especially for the way he treated his personal butler Ivan. But somehow, Ivan still fell for him, unconditionally.
   They lived in an unhealthy relationship, where Ivan would do anything Matthew wanted, and Matthew would command him and just plain treat him badly. He would yell and insult him, then expect him to comfort him when he was upset. He would belittle him. He would even hit him at times. But Ivan never seemed to care.
  Ivan. The mysterious child from a corrupted and collapsing kingdom, one who had grown as tough as nails with all his suffering. He didn't talk about his past, and what he did say was only revealed to Matthew, who, for once, showed an act of kindness by never telling a soul unless Ivan told him he could. Like how Ivan was an orphan, his entire family killed in the war. Or like how he had once had to kill someone at seven years old because they were about to kill him first. But the rest belonged to Ivan or Matthew, most belonging to the both of them. But this Russian boy, tough as nails, had fallen for the bratty Prince who'd never felt true physical pain, but, a secret given only to Ivan, had felt way toouch mental pain.
   Maybe that's how they first connected, where Matthew stopped hitting so hard, and where Ivan gave him secrets. Their pain. Ivan's scars along his back, arms, legs, and chest, and Matthew's scars, invisible and unable for anyone to see except if you looked in his eyes. Maybe that's where the ribbons connected, and Matthew started to love him back. And you might think that everything would have a happy ending? That everything might at least end contentedly? Not with a sword from stomach to back? Well I'm afraid you're wrong.
   Things were good for a short amount of time. At fifteen, Matthew was denied to be crowned king because he was younger, and lost all hope of ever being recognized by his parents. But Ivan comforted him. And Ivan got the telegram that his home country was coming after him. Matthew comforted him. It was good, in a bad way. They spent time enjoying each other's company while denying that anything was happening outside Matthew's bedroom, where they would never come out, Ivan having moved his bed in there, and having the chefs bring their meals to them inside.
   But who would comfort who when Matthew tried to tell his feelings and Ivan didn't understand the wording? Who would be the one to comfort when Matthew told him, 'You can go die for all I care!'?
  And who would be the one to comfort when the now reluctant friends set off on a journey to protect Matthew while the kingdom fought? Matthew had made Ivan come along. He still loved him. Ivan didn't want to. He thought Matthew still hated him. What did he do to make him hate him? It was a question that no one could answer because it was a false question. They stilled loved each other.
   Assassins from the Ivan's country came while they were traveling. The other guards? They weren't a problem for a fleet of one hundred assassins, all well trained. Ivan was instructed to hide. But when a knife was thrown at Matthew, he jumped in front, sword going from stomach to back, still standing loyally behind him.
  And as it went through his head turned to Matthew with a smile. The same smile that Ivan had showed him the day they met. Innocent, sweet, trusting. It had unnerved Matthew then, and it brought him to bitter tears now.

"As you wish, your highness."