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The Story of Evil
Tsubasa/Vocaloid fusion -- general spoilers for both all of TRC and the Evil series of Vocaloid songs by mothy (all the way up to Shiro no Musume).
23,678 words
VARIOUS PAIRINGS. The story of a spoiled prince and his lookalike servant.
Part I | Part II | Part III
+++++
Yuui wears the pearls with the silver settings and the silver circlet of Valerian royalty, settled with artful care in order to not crush or distort his pale hair. Along with the dark blue of his robes, he knows he makes an eminently dashing figure, and he is proud of himself, glad with the way all eyes turn towards him, admiring and enchanted; he is the center of attention not just for being the beloved prince, but for his looks and his style. He allows himself to preen just a little, smiling broadly whenever a nobleman approaches him for a murmured conversation or a lady brushes her fingers against his sleeve to ask him to dance. Yuui owns the entire ballroom, and he is glad for it.
As the night wears on, though, he allows himself to drift more freely, holding his own small court of true admirers as his other guests begin to mingle amongst themselves, separating off into their own small groups. Fay is his faithful shadow the entire time, never so close as to be irritating, but near enough that by the time Yuui starts to think he might be hungry, or thirsty, his servant is bringing him something to satisfy himself with. And if he is entirely honest, he thinks this party is more fun than those from previous years because Fay is there, wide-eyed and amazed at everything going on around him. The grandeur of the royal palace is such a simple familiar thing to Yuui, but he looks at Fay's shining face and lets himself pretend everything is new for him, as well. Whenever he can, he gives back bites and sips for Fay to try, and grins at how startled and pleased the other boy is.
If anyone notices how similar their faces are--and, Yuui thinks, there is no way anyone couldn't--no one comments on it. Fay keeps silent and his face turned downward whenever someone approaches to speak to Yuui, as is entirely proper, but Yuui finds it vexing, oddly; he wants to show off his mirror-self and say look, here is a pair of twins that will cause no trouble for the people of Valeria! but every time the impulse wells up in his throat, he glances and sees the statues of Day and Night, and finds his voice curbed.
"Your Highness," says Fei Wang, and Yuui turns to him with a frown that is halfway a pout--there are still papers he needs to sign, he knows, but it's his birthday and he doesn't particularly want to think about them right now. Before he can complain, though, he sees the other boy that is standing at Fei Wang's elbow, sandy-haired and bright-eyed, and entirely dashing, slightly shorter than Yuui is. He is dressed in fine green silks that compliment his sun-darkened skin and tousled hair, and though there are gems shining at his throat and on his fingers, those hands are rough with calluses and have dirt under the nails. There is a polite smile on his face--the "company" smile of nobility, always distinctly aware of the eyes following one's movements everywhere. He is poised and graceful and looks somehow completely out of place in the cold glittering beauty of Valeria's court on Midwinter's Night. Yuui looks him over thoughtfully, then turns to Fei Wang, who smiles and sweeps into a bow.
"If I may," he says, "I would like to introduce you to His Grace, Li Xiao Lang, the second heir to the Middle Kingdom's throne. I know Your Highness wished to visit there at some point in this coming summer season; I thought that perhaps the two of you would like to speak, before that time. His Grace is a great scholar of ancient history, and has expressed a desire to talk."
Xiao Lang smiles again now that he has been introduced. It's warmer than before and reaches his eyes, and Yuui smiles back before he can stop himself. "I have heard many stories about your kingdom, Your Highness," he says, his words rounded and soft with the accent of the Middle Kingdom. "I have wanted to come see your kingdom myself for a long time." He holds out a hand that is warm and broad, and Yuui takes it immediately, knowing he is grinning foolishly the entire time. Xiao Lang has a solid comfortable grip, and they shake like friends under Fei Wang's approving eye.
"Oh, me too," Yuui says. It's only halfway a lie: his tutors have been over the histories of each of the five kingdoms of the world very thoroughly--if he is to be king, and to be High King of Valeria, they have told him, he needs to "understand the lessons of the past." He does want to visit the Middle Kingdom, but it's more for the lovely pictures he's seen in books, and in the stories of the exciting marketplaces and the idea of being constantly warm, even during the long months of winter. "I'd love to hear anything you have to say."
Xiao Lang ducks his head a little, as if shy. The movement causes hair to fall into his eyes. It's absurdly charming, more than it has any right to be. Yuui hears Fei Wang talking in the background, briefly, and from the corner of one eye he sees Fay bow and scurry off, dismissed for the night. He thinks he will have to summon the boy later, to possibly talk about everything he is about to hear, because there is something shivery and excited moving under his skin, and he thinks that he will have to talk about it before he simply explodes with the force of his own nerves.
"There are many places I can start," Xiao Lang says. "I tell you a story, and you tell me one, does that sound right?"
"Please," Yuui says, and thinks that he has never been so eager to ask for something in his entire life. "You're interested in history? There's so much here, you're welcome to make use of the libraries while you're here in Valeria. I can give you access to the records--"
"Ah," says Xiao Lang, holding up both hands. "Not quite like that. I am interested, yes," he adds, when Yuui pouts at him, "but I am also interested in seeing things for myself. I like to work with my hands." He holds them out, palms up, as if for inspection. Yuui can see that there are rough patches on his palms to match the calluses on his fingers, and fine white scars long the curve of his palms: not so much the sign of old attacks as the everyday wear and tear on working hands. They would look like a peasant's hands, if not for the three heavy gold wrings that sit on the middle fingers of his right hand, and the ruby-set silver band on his left thumb. "I know that this is the wrong time of the year, when there is so much snow, but I have received permission from my Empress to remain for a while, and study."
"Oh!" says Yuui, and resists the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet like a child. "Well! If that's what you want, certainly we can see those. I'll show you all those places, and then, afterwards--" He ducks his head a little, glancing up through his lashes at Xiao Lang's good-natured face, "I'd like to go back with you to your kingdom, and see what you have to offer."
This time, when the other boy smiles, it's like the sun coming up for the first time after the months of midnight; he reaches out and clasps one of Yuui's hands again between both of his own, shaking it warmly. "I promise," he says. "In the spring, we will look at the things that are here. In the summer, we will look at the things in the Middle Kingdom, and it will be fair between the two of us."
"I'm looking forward to it," Yuui says, with a sincerity he cannot fake. The pit of his stomach coils with happy anticipation; his skin feels charged nearly electric. The dangerous desire to just whoop like a child tickles his throat and colors each word. "You have no idea."
Xiao Lang nods. His own expression is eager, and Yuui hopes that it matches his own. He points to the two ice statues, and says, "Tell me that story. One man said it was important to this kingdom, but he would not say why."
Yuui purses his lips. "It's not a very happy story," he says critically. "It's a fable about not giving up on your responsibility, and how twins are the misfortune that nearly doomed humans."
"Doomed?" Xiao Lang echoes; there is polite disbelief in his eyes. It is not a terribly unique response: Yuui has seen others, non-native to Valeria, react similarly to the legend and its warning. "How?"
"Come on, let's not talk about it now," Yuui protests. He gives into impulse then, and latches himself onto Xiao Lang's arm, which is solid and strong under the thin silk of his sleeve. The other boy looks startled, but just blinks at him then, as if bemused. "It's my birthday," Yuui adds, at that look. "I don't want to talk about boring unhappy things. I'll tell you later, okay? Right now, I want to hear more about Xiao Lang. What does he like to do? Other than looking at ruins, what does he like to do with his free time?"
"I study," Xiao Lang says, and his voice is just as bemused as his expression. "I am not the first heir, so I have more freedom. I sometimes sit in on court, and study with Elder Sister, but mostly I am a scholar. Sometimes, there are expeditions to ruins. If my Empress can spare me, then I go."
"Hmmm," says Yuui. He squeezes Xiao Lang's bicep, as if considering. "But he also is very strong, isn't he?"
"I am well-versed in the art of the sword," the other boy agrees. "It would be shameful, for any member of the Imperial Family to not be able to fight."
"But there are guards, aren't there?" Yuui starts tugging a little, guiding his companion away from the center of the ballroom floor, away from the curious looks of Valeria's gathered nobility. "Even if someone is silly enough to try hurting Xiao Lang or his family, that's what bodyguards are for!"
Xiao Lang shakes his head. "There are guards, of course," he says, "but it is disgraceful to not know how to defend oneself. If one only relies on others, then there is no way one can be truly happy."
Yuui frowns. His mouth twists as he considers this and he never lets go of Xiao Lang's arm as he does. "I don't get it," he decides finally. "That is what servants are there for. We have the responsibility of keeping order, and that's why they work for us. I don't like swords," he adds. "They're heavy and not very graceful."
Something changes in Xiao Lang's expression--subtly, but Yuui is looking straight at him, and so notices. "There is art in using the sword," he says softly. "And no one who has seen my sister at practice could ever call her ungraceful. We must be able to fend for ourselves, or else there's no way we can hold our heads up with pride."
"Of course there is," Yuui argues. He doesn't know what he's lost, but he can feel it slipping away. "My kingdom is prosperous, my people are happy, and it's because of me! Why shouldn't I be proud about that? I think it's a very good thing, any ruler should be envious!"
"As Your Highness says," Xiao Lang murmurs. "Perhaps this is a difference of customs."
"Oh, I see," Yuui says, grateful for that thought. "Well, our kingdoms are very far apart. Even if everyone else thinks you're silly, as long as you believe, that's all right! Right?"
"I think I would like something to drink," Xiao Lang says. He gently detaches his arm from Yuui's grasp. "I'll go fetch myself something."
"No, no, don't worry," Yuui says. "Fay can--" he looks around, then stops, chagrined; he can't see his lookalike-servant anywhere, and wonders if the party was simply too much excitement for a simple country boy to handle after his duties were finished for the night. "Ah--"
"I'll return shortly," says Xiao Lang. He strides off towards the tables groaning with food, and even his walk is purposeful: his back is straight and his head held high; he does not look down at his feet or falter, and even the people who aren't faced towards him part before his approach, leaving him a clear path to the table. Yuui watches him wistfully as he serves himself and frowns when a small slip of a girl--vaguely familiar, though he cannot quite place her face at the moment--drifts up and wins Xiao Lang's attention for a moment, as well as one of those bright warm smiles. It makes that shivery hopeful feeling in Yuui's chest shrivel, as though shrinking back from the cold--but then Xiao Lang is returning, and Yuui summons up his brightest smile, watching. He likes the easy confidence in Xiao Lang's stride and how real he seems, in the glittering ethereal beauty of the Midwinter's Night Festival.
He thinks: I'd like it very much if you stayed longer than a season, I'd like it if I could convince you to come back with me after the summer's over.
+++
The week after the festivities are finally over, Fay finally gathers enough courage to take the butterfly clip in one hand and thinks of Sakura's smiling face. At first nothing happens, and just as he's starting to feel horribly foolish, the clip in his hand gives a sudden, obvious lurch. He yelps and drops it--or rather, he jerks his hand away, and watches as the clip remains hovering in place, stiffly beating its little jeweled wings. It seems to rest on a cushion of white sparks, and Fay bends forward a little to get a closer look. It smells, very faintly, of flowers.
"Uh," he says, still feeling silly, "I was wondering, if you could--Miss Sakura?"
He half-expects it to answer him. Instead, it begins to move down the hall, slow and steady in its pace. Fay watches it go for a moment, fascinated, then starts to trail it. Most of the palace is silent and still again--he passes no servants, and he has to marvel at the change from just a week previous. The banners have been rolled up and put away, the crowds of people everywhere have trickled back into the city shadowed by the royal palace, and Prince Yuui spends most of his days courting the second prince from Clow, and, while Fay accompanies him at times, more often than not he is left to his own devices.
The clip leads him out into the gardens--the pride of the royal family, his uncle has told him repeatedly: one to represent each of the five kingdoms, maintained by a combination of magics and sciences both. The largest was for Valeria itself, of course, and the smallest was for the Witch's Wasteland, which was barely more than a tangled hedge between Valeria's own and Clow's rock and sand. The clip hesitates at the division for a moment, then continues its trek forward into Nihon's garden. The paths are lined by tall broad-trunked trees, each heavy with cascades of tiny pink and white flowers, and the air is soft with their delicate perfume. Fay breathes deeply as he possibly can, smiling in spite of himself. The jewels set in the clip's tiny wings sparkle and flash ahead of him, darting towards the largest tree in the garden, the one at the far end of all the paths. It stops, and when Fay catches up, it drops out of the air, inanimate again; he has to scramble to catch it, then hesitates, looking down at it. He wonders if maybe the spell wasn't exact, and then is startled by the sound of voices. The first thing he does is scramble behind a blooming tree, peeking out.
What he sees is Sakura, a large bunch of the tiny flowers tucked behind one ear; her dress is a simple white frock, embroidered with pink flowers. She is smiling, radiant in her joy, and something tightens in Fay's chest at the sight of it. Her small hand is tucked into the crook of the visiting prince's arm, and Xiao Lang's own expression is soft with wonder as he looks at the girl beside him. They walk with their heads close together, and Sakura is talking, excited, in a language that Fay doesn't recognize, but which is fast and musical and obviously more comfortable for her than Valeria's tongue.
Fay shrinks further behind the tree as they pass. His throat feels tight and his chest aches with each breath he tries to take. His fingers close so tightly around the jeweled clip that his palms hurt where the metal edges dig into his skin. He watches as they come to stand beneath the tallest tree, with barely more than a handsbreadth between their bodies; he watches as Xiao Lang places his palm against Sakura's cheek and how she leans into it, her green eyes soft and warm. He says something, too soft for the words to be heard, but the tone is clear, and she blushes sweetly, all the more lovely for that faint color. The visiting prince is red-faced as well, but there is a radiance in him that is unmistakable as he leans in.
I don't want to see this, Fay thinks, chewing a little on the inside of his cheek. I don't want to, I don't.
He doesn't move, and so he sees when Xiao Lang presses his lips to Sakura's cheek, how she throws her arms around his neck and presses herself close to them, how his hands settle carefully on her thin hips and cradle her like she is more precious than any of the thousand artifacts on display in the palace. He watches at how they part, and the prince pulls one of the rings from his finger and presses it onto Sakura's thumb--the only finger where it seems to fit--then kisses that finger as well, and Fay finally makes himself duck fully behind the trunk, pressing his back against it. He presses his fist over his heart, dimly aware at how his fingers hurt, and closes his eyes. He counts out long seconds until his shoulders finally relax and he can mostly breathe again.
When he ducks back out again, Sakura is still there, but Xiao Lang is gone. She is staring at the ring on her with a soft expression on her face, and Fay thinks that he'll never see her happier than this. The thought is oddly calming. He walks towards her, tucking the butterfly clip back into his pocket, and deliberately scuffs his feet against the ground to catch her attention. She jumps, but when she catches sight of him, she breaks into another smile--nothing of her joy dims at seeing him, and that helps to ease some of the ache in his chest.
"Fay!" she says. She comes towards him to meet him halfway. "Ah, I'm sorry, did someone need me?"
He smiles himself, shy. "No," he says. "No, I just wanted to see you."
"Oh!" she says, and claps her hands. "Oh, good--you're doing all right, aren't you? No one's bullying you or anything, right? If they are, you have to tell me, I--"
As she speaks, he reaches out and gently catches her wrist in his hands. Sakura falls silent, wide-eyed, as he pulls her hand forward and turns it so he can see the ring: it's heavy and gold, set with a bright, tawny topaz. He touches the edges of it with his thumbs, aware of the weight of her gaze.
"... It's very nice," he says finally. "It suits you."
Her expression melts immediately into one of relief. "You think so?" she says, shy. "It was a gift from someone."
"Someone who must like you very much," says Fay.
"That's what he says." Sakura turns her hand herself, smiling softly at the ring. "It's so strange. I feel like I've known him forever, not just a couple of weeks. We talk about ourselves and our families, but it's like I already know everything about him--and he knows everything about me. Isn't that funny?"
"I don't think so, Miss Sakura," Fay tells her. "My mother used to say that if you were really compatible with someone, then it would feel like that. So, if you really ... care about him, and he really cares about you, it would feel like that. And I think that's good."
Sakura touches the ring with the fingers of her other hand. She stretches up onto her toes and presses her cool lips to Fay's cheek, soft and smelling like the flowers all around them. Her smile is luminous and delicate; Fay wants to catch it in his hands and shelter it from the world. Instead, he watches her, and he waits.
"Thank you," she says finally. She looks up at him, pressing her lips to the ring. "You're very kind, aren't you?"
"Only sometimes," he says. He is the first to look away.
+++
It takes over a month before Fay realizes that something is wrong. His prince, capriciously kind, slowly turns sullen and quiet: the steady babble of confessions and secrets and idle thoughts dries up. He drapes moodily rather than stand on his own, and if he is not clinging to Fay, he is trailing after Xiao Lang, whose pleasant expression has turned strained over the course of his visit. There is a peculiar tension in the air, and Fay does his best to keep out of its way, sneaking extra sweets to his prince just to see his face light up with that fleeting wistful happiness that sits so well on his pale face.
("Do you like me best, Fay-puff?" Prince Yuui asks, chasing crumbs around his plate with a fork, crushing each under the tines when he catches them. "More than anyone?"
"Of course," Fay says, startled by the question. "You know I serve you above anyone else."
The prince sighs, but asks nothing else.)
When he can, he snatches time to spend with Sakura, and though he doesn't know everything about her, or her about him, she tells him stories about growing up in Valeria, and of the family she has in the Clow kingdom, and how very different the two countries are, and how she has studied the spells that sustain both kingdoms under her mother's tutelage--and he tells her about growing up in a tiny village that borders the Witch's Wasteland and Valeria, of his own mother's determination and how hard she worked, day after day, and the letters she sometimes sends him, thanking him for the money he sends back home.
("She tells me I shouldn't send as much, but she gave everything for me when I was growing up--and I don't really need that much money," he says, resting his chin on his knees. "You know?"
"I think that's wonderful of you," Sakura tells him. "It's good that you take such care of her; no mother could ask for more.")
And then, one moonlit evening, on his way back to his own rooms, he sees movement through the tall palace windows that overlook Nihon's garden. He pauses and watches as Sakura drifts, pale and lovely as drifting flower petals, to the one still-flowering tree of the garden. There is no mistaking the lightness of her step, nor the man who meets her there, tall and confident and reaching for her with his arms wide open. And in spite of himself, Fay stops to watch, wistful at how they draw close and press together.
"Oh," says the prince from behind him.
Fay whirls, startled, his heart lurching into his throat. "Your Highness--"
Prince Yuui moves past without looking, pressing both hands to the window as he stares down at the lovers. "You knew, didn't you?"
"I," Fay says, then looks down, his shoulders slumping. "I did, Your Highness. I'm sorry, I--"
"It's always like this," the prince murmurs. "Every time I think there's someone who might--every time there's a person who might be different, something happens. No one ever chooses me, Fay. When you're royalty, you have to be lonely. That's what Father liked to say."
"My prince--"
"I know they don't like me," he goes on. "They haven't since my mother died, maybe before that. I thought that since he was from somewhere else, maybe I would have a chance--he said that he liked me, you know? And I believed him. I believed him, and ..." He leans until his forehead is also pressed to the window, his breath fogging the glass. For a moment he says nothing, turned to cold silver and pearl by the moonlight. Fay looks at him and thinks of the legend of Day and Night, and of the woman who had enticed them both, and he doesn't know if the rolling ache in his belly is love or pity or both.
"Your Highness," he says.
"I'm going to bed," Prince Yuui says. He pulls away from the window and scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes for a moment. He turns and smiles at Fay, gentle and distant. "Good night, Fay."
He leaves before Fay can protest. The entire scene lingers in his memory until a day one week later, when he comes to the kitchens to fetch the prince's breakfast and finds them in an uproar.
People are rushing back and forth, and everything is a confused babble of voices; Fay hovers in the doorway because he's afraid of simply being trampled, if he tries to enter. Everyone is shouting at once, back and forth, and their voices come together into a cacophony that he can't unravel. He hears the prince's name, and Xiao Lang's, but the details are lost in the din. He hovers, watching, and finally, he catches the arm of one of the maids, pulling her out of the stream of people. She turns an annoyed frown on him, so he draws himself up as tall as possible, trying to look as commanding as he can.
"What happened?" he says. "What's going on?"
"You really haven't heard yet?" she asks, incredulous. "The entire Clow party is leaving today--right now! They're not waiting--there was a terrible fight between Prince Yuui and Prince Xiao Lang, it turned into an actual fistfight! Imagine! Our prince, in a fistfight!" She shakes her head. "Who would have believed it? But you're the prince's servant, aren't you?" She tugs her arm free and frowns at him. "Ask him yourself! You'd probably actually get an answer!"
Before he can catch her again, she disappears back into the chaos, leaving him with his hand outstretched, terribly confused.
+++
Fei Wang knocks once before he enters the prince's bedroom, not bothering to wait for the answer. The room is dark except for the faint gray light of early morning, but it's clear that the room has been devastated--most of the fine furniture has been overturned, and the large mirror facing the door sports a large spiderweb of cracks. The sheets of the bed have been ripped off and are scattered. The prince himself is curled in the single thing still standing: a high-backed, ebony-wood chair, turned to face the window. His pale hair is barely visible, leaning to one side.
"My prince," he says, and bows, though the boy doesn't turn. "The Clow delegation has left. I heard there was quite the commotion--should I send for a doctor?"
The prince doesn't answer.
"I will be drafting a letter immediately, of course," he says. "It will be weeks before His Grace arrives home. With our network, we will be able to speak to the King before they arrive. He's a reasonable sort of man, it shouldn't take much effort to convince him. You are the First Prince of Valeria, after all. Whatever you wish--"
"Destroy them."
Fei Wang waits five long beats before answering. "Excuse me, my prince," he says. "Forgive my presumption, but--would you repeat that?"
"Destroy them," Yuui repeats. His voice is faint, wavering. He moves a little, and the faintest reflection of him appears in the window: there is a dark visible shadow against his pale skin and pale hair. As he speaks, his voice firms, and it becomes as cold as the north wind. "I want the entire place razed to the ground. I want there to be nothing left. Not a building, not a person, not a single stupid cherry tree--" He pauses to take a deep breath. "And arrest the girl. She's a sympathizer for certain. If she resists, or tries to escape--"
Fei Wang bows low, so far that the floor is only a hand's breadth from his nose. "As my prince commands," he says.
+++
Fay wakes to the sound of his door softly closing.
It had bee a long and difficult week, one where Fay has hardly seen his prince at all. There are mornings where he goes in to wake him and finds the bed cold and empty; if he tries to urge his liege to sleep, he finds himself more often than not summarily dismissed. When he brings afternoon tea and then returns for the dishes, he often finds everything untouched and long gone cold. Ministers in dark blue robes crowd around the prince, until he's simply a pale spot in the dark, and their voices are low and anxious as they argue strategy and tactics. Clow is a kingdom that is also skilled with magic, and it will not submit without a fight. The hallways are full of noise and activity again, but the mood is grimly resigned rather than celebratory. Valeria is preparing for war, and there is no softening or disguising that fact.
The anxious atmosphere extends even to the servant's quarters--even Fay, who has his own small room, separate from the others, can hear their whispering and gossiping late into the night, all those voices following him into his dreams. Nervous, he presses his hand under his pillow for the small knife he keeps there, and then Sakura whispers, "Fay?"
"Sakura?" He reaches for the light instead, flicking it on and hardly flinching at the sudden glare. "Where--what are you doing here?"
She hovers with her back against the door; she looks tired and worn, and there are dark half-circles under her large green eyes. The hem of her green cloak is torn and stained. She looks terrible, and yet she still dredges up a small smile for him. "I don't have anywhere else go to," she says. "I've been trying to--oh, it doesn't matter. They've sealed the borders for everyone who isn't a messenger of the prince or his army." The girl ducks her head, wrapping her skinny arms around herself; he can see that her knuckles are red and raw as well. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here--if they find me ..."
Fay stares at her. She looks tiny and fragile and so tired; he wonders when she slept last. He thinks about his prince, stone-faced and so angry.
"They won't find you," he says. He gets up. "I won't tell."
Sakura's head snaps up. She looks startled, even if she must have gambled on his agreement, coming here. "Fay," she says, "no, I'm sorry, you don't--"
"I'll get you something to eat," he says gently. "I promise. You try to get some sleep."
She wavers again, looking torn. "If they find me here, you'll at least be arrested," she murmurs. "You might actually be killed."
He shakes his head. "You helped me, when I first got here," he says. "I'll help you find your way out."
Sakura bites her lip. Then, on quick light feet, she crosses the room, and she stretches up to kiss Fay's cheek briefly, with chapped dry lips. She smells like fear and sour hunger, but he sees a brief flicker of hope rekindle in her eyes, and that feels good. "Thank you," she whispers. "You really are very kind."
Fay wants to protest, but he steps aside instead, watching as she collapses onto his bed, unmoving; after a moment, he covers her with his blanket and slips out. He has to tiptoe past the communal bedrooms of the other servants, past the empty places where guards once stood--all soldiers have been pulled in for active duty, and the ozone smell of magic is heavy in the air, replacing them. He makes it down to the kitchens without incident and is grateful that rationing for the castle has not yet begun; he finds half a loaf discarded in the dust, and rubs it with his sleeve before tucking it into his coat and making his slow way back.
Halfway there, he sees a figure in the hallway and stops.
His uncle smiles at him, and the moonlight through the windows is so bright that they turn his glasses opaque. There is something unkind and unfriendly about his expression--something that is mean and hungry with the promise of war. Fay has never loved his uncle, but he has always at least believed in the man's benign interests; now, he finds himself suddenly unsure. The lump of bread in his pocket weighs as heavily as a stone.
"Fay," the man says. "What are you doing?"
"I," he says. He licks dry lips. "I was hungry, Uncle, so I thought I would go--"
"Fay," his uncle says. His tone is nearly gentle, but he moves forward, and his eyes are hard and cold and ice. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not--"
"Don't forget, I've known you all your life," his uncle continues on, his voice lowering to nearly a purr. "I know exactly how to tell when you're lying. When you're hiding something from me." He continues to advance, and Fay steps back automatically, again and again until he hits the wall. "You're not telling me something, Fay, and it's very important that you do. The security of the kingdom could depend on it. Your prince's life could depend on it. You know how hard he's been working, Fay. How much he needs someone he can trust right now." Fei Wang reaches out a hand, and Fay flinches back from it before he can quite stop himself. His uncle is undeterred: a moment later, long hard fingers grasp his chin and tilt it up. "Hasn't he trusted you?"
Fay blinks hard. His eyes sting. "Uncle," he says, "please--"
"No, Fay," his uncle says gently. "I should be telling you please." He takes Fay's wrist in his free hand and presses their palms together for a moment, pressing something into it. "You know what the command is, right now. She was supposed to be arrested, and if she tried to flee ..." He steps back, and Fay can only stare down at the knife in his hand: it has a long, slim, wickedly sharp blade, and the lines of it are clean and spare. He looks up at his uncle, despairing, and Fei Wang only smiles.
"Uncle, I can't," he whispers. "I'm a servant. I'm not--I've never been a soldier, I've never--I can't, I--"
"It is for your kingdom," Fei Wang says, and though his tone is indulgent, his eyes are not. "The girl is dangerous--she will rouse the people to rebellion, if she's allowed to continue as she has. Her very existence is an act of defiance against the prince, now. If they're allowed to think that a single girl can get away with defying the prince ..."
Fay swallows. He looks away.
"Prince Yuui is young," Fei Wang goes on, nearly gentle. "He is impetuous, but he has a kind heart. He will be a good king, you know that."
In spite of himself, he nods.
"And yet, there are those who are impatient with his childishness--they don't give him the credit of his youth, or how hard he has had to work, just to get where he is now. He was orphaned so young, and there was no father to lead him by example, no mother to care for him until he was strong enough to stand without her." Fei Wang's fingers touch his hair, as gently paternal as they'd been in his childhood. "He's already proven himself to be an impressive ruler, with how he is handling this war. But because that girl still lives--because she defies him with every breath she takes--she becomes a threat to him. Do you understand?"
Fay bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He thinks about the soft open look on his prince's face, that day on the tower, looking up at the stars; he thinks about the thousand small kindnesses he has been shown, despite having a face that mirrors his liege's so closely that they could be called twins--and the despair that would represent, if it was acknowledged. He thinks about the prince's pale face and toneless words: No one ever chooses me. When you're royalty, you have to be lonely.
He lets out a sobbing breath, and Fei Wang kisses his forehead.
"Good boy," he says. "Now go."
Fay goes. His vision is blurred and his entire body feels hot; his fingers are clamped so tightly around the hilt of the dagger that he isn't sure he could release it if he tried. Like a ghost he drifts through the hallways, past the closed rooms of the other servants, and back to his own chamber.
Sakura is still asleep. She lies curled on her side, knees tucked towards her chest. Her brown hair is limp and dirty on his pillow. She breathes slowly, gently, and does not wake when he closes the door behind himself. He goes to stand by her bedside, staring at her face for long moments before he lifts the knife up, high over his head.
"Think of your prince," his uncle's voice whispers in his ear again, so utterly sincere. "Think of all he will lose, if this girl escapes him."
He takes a breath, and then he is crying--quietly, undramatically, the tears welling up each time he tries to blink them away. Sakura, though, is still painfully clear in his vision: she rolls onto her back, and her slim chest is laid flat and exposed. He is frozen, too terrified to move just yet. If he moves, the moment will become irrevocably real.
Sakura opens her eyes.
She looks at him steadily, and she doesn't look surprised. Fay can only stare back in mute horror. His hands are shaking. There is no way to mistake his posture for anything but the obvious, but the apologies that crowd on his tongue refuse to come. The lack of surprise--or condemnation--in Sakura's expression only makes it worse.
"It's all right," she whispers to him. "I forgive you. I did a long time ago."
She closes her eyes. Fay lets out a single choked sob and brings the knife down.
+++
In a bedroom three kingdoms away, a picture frame falls from its place of honor on a bedside table. The glass of the frame cracks into spiderweb patterns.
A young woman picks up the frame, careful of the glass shards, and holds it for a long, long time.
+++
Yuui wakes to the sound of Fay's voice, soft and gentle: "It's time for breakfast, Your Highness. I've brought your meal."
He pushes himself up with a groan, dimly surprised to find himself on the bed. He remembers poring over maps the night before, but not moving--he's still dressed as he was the day before, he notes with distant distaste, plucking at his shirt. He sits up and blinks his sight into focus.
"Fay?" he asks. "Why are you crying?"
Fay shakes his head. Though his smile is fixed and gentle as always, his eyes are red, and every time he blinks, there are fresh tears on his cheeks.
"It's funny," he says softly. "I've tried and tried, but I can't stop. I'm sorry."
Yuui reaches out and takes the tray from his servant, his other-self, and puts it aside. And then, before Fay can pull back or protest, Yuui reach out and pulls him into an embrace.
"When all of this is over," he whispers, "let's go to the beach. It's really nice--it's all that moving water, going on forever."
Fay reaches and grasps his sleeve for a moment, silent. "That would be nice," he says, finally. "My mother always said if you told the ocean your wishes, they'd come true."
"Really?" Yuui almost smiles. "We'll go together, then, and we'll both make wishes. And then we'll be happy."
"Happy," Fay echoes, and is silent.
+++
In the way of all things that must be hushed up, rumors begin as soon as the smoke of the makeshift pyre begins to curl and rise in the morning sky. The prince's pet mage is dead by his own order--he killed her out of jealousy for the attention that the Clow prince showed her, when it was obvious he'd had his eye on the young man himself--he did it with a smile on his face, even laughing as she sobbed for mercy--the madness of his mother was finally manifesting in him, and he would drag Valeria down into the fire with him.
There had been something wrong with him from the beginning--wasn't the appearance of a doppelganger indication enough of his insanity? Even if he was not a twin by birth, to have one suddenly appear could only come to mean disaster--his parents had both died when he was so young, how could he have any true idea of the proper way to rule a kingdom as old and revered as Valeria?--he was so selfish, always carelessly taxing the poor just to have his silly parades and fancy displays; who cared about such things?--he had started this war over selfish reasons; what made his broken heart worth the lives of his people, and those of that other kingdom?
Up in the tower, immersed in his maps and the advice of his ministers, Prince Yuui heard nothing of this at all.
+++
War goes from Valeria; war comes to Clow.
Prince Yuui does not set out with his army: his adviser catches his arm and pulls him aside and says to him: My prince, you must not risk yourself. You are the only living member left of the noble bloodline which founded this kingdom and you have no heir. Should you fall, who will guide your people? Who will protect them? You must stay.
And so he stays. And when the army of Valeria marches, it is met by the army of Clow, headed by the kingdom's second prince, who rides beside a young woman in red armor. For the first clash, she wears no helm, and the long dark banner of her hair ripples behind her, her gray eyes as hard as steel. Yuui watches the battle from a spelled mirror in his chambers, and hardly eats even when Fay brings him meals, rebelling against being coaxed to his food.
The rumors continue to spread; they travel with the servants and down into the lower city, and from there to all of the capitol. Their prince is a coward and a fool; he is a spoiled child that will ruin the kingdom with his selfishness. They are losing a war that should never have been engaged: Clow's wizards are skilled and numerous, and they are fighting to defend their home from a spoiled tyrant--they are fighting for the memory of an innocent girl wrongly murdered through his whim.
These are the things Fay hears, though his prince does not, and they weigh like stones around his neck. No one in the palace or the lower city looks him in the eye any more, and he has learned to walk quickly and quietly, keeping his head down. And as the prince retreats to spend more time in his rooms, watching as his army is slowly pushed back, Fei Wang steps up to fill the power void. He is smiling and confident and conspicuous, and Fay watches him with something that is nearly like resentment uncoiling in his chest.
"It's terrible," he hears his uncle say one day to the head chamberlain, "if they proceed much further, we will have to evacuate the palace."
The other man snorts. "That will be chaotic enough," he says. "The lower city's already nearly empty. Why does the prince insist that we stay? It's useless."
"It will be fine," Fei Wang says. "In fact, I give you the authority now, to begin moving everyone out. There's no sense in staying in some suicidal display, is there?"
"There's not," the chamberlain says, and there's no mistaking the relief in his voice. "Bless you, sir, we'd be lost without your common sense."
"No, no," says Fei Wang. "I'm simply glad to serve my kingdom. I am, as always, her humble and devoted servant."
"If only you could do more," the chamberlain says. "Better a servant of the kingdom than a tyrant who doesn't care for his people--begging your pardon, sir, I--"
"You're kind," Fei Wang says, low and pleased. He pats the chamberlain's shoulder gently, conspiratorially. "But hush now. To say such things in these halls is treason. Not that I think you're incorrect, of course, but there are safer places to say it."
Fay can see the smile on his uncle's face as clearly as he hears it in the man's voice, and it makes him ill. He ducks his head and he flees to the end of the hallway, then slumps with his back against the wall. He wants to weep with what he's done, how that's added to the troubles of his kingdom. He wants to hide himself away in a corner, he wants to close his eyes and stop--
"Ah, there you are," his uncle says.
He opens his eyes and looks up. His uncle, Fei Wang, stands before him, hands tucked into his long sleeves, a knifeslash of a smile spread across his craggy face. It's very nearly a smirk. Satisfaction radiates from him in waves. "Heard that, did you?"
Fay hunches his shoulders, folding his arms behind his back.
"Will you run and tell him?" Fei Wang asks, smirking. "I never expected you to take to being his loyal dog as eagerly as you did. Perhaps I should've been paying more attention to you, but ..." He shrugs, gracefully. "I had more important things on my mind."
"Important," Fay whispers, his voice hoarse, "like taking over? Like committing treason?"
"In a few weeks, it will hardly be that," says Fei Wang. "The king is the one who decides what constitutes as treason."
"And that's Prince Y--" Fay's protest cuts itself off as his uncle's hand lashes out, long broad fingers closing around his throat and slamming him back harder against the wall. Fei Wang looms over him, his smirk now outright unkind.
"Go cry to him, if you'd like," he purrs. "He won't believe you. He's been mine since the day his mother died. You think that a servant who's been in the palace for six months is enough to turn him against me? I'd like to see you try." He lets go of Fay's throat then and steps back, smoothing his robes. He looks down at Fay with obvious smug pride. "This kingdom will be mine, and you've helped to give it to me."
Fay stares.
"Everything happens as it was meant to," he says, slowly, as if tasting each word. "Ever since you met that girl, her fate was sealed."
"Eh--?"
"From the moment you met her, she was doomed," Fei Wang says. "Your presence in this castle is what ruined her, and the prince." He laughs, maybe at the look on Fay's face, maybe at pleasure at his own success. He reaches out and puts his forefinger under Fay's chin, tipping it up further. "Because of you, everything has gone the way I wanted it to. For that, I thank you."
He whips away then, the long sleeves of his robe fluttering as he does. Fay stares at him, unblinking; his hands are still folded behind his back. His fingers brush the hilt of the knife he has kept in his belt for the past long three months.
"Uncle," he says softly. "Uncle, you know ... I loved her. Sakura."
"You did not," Fei Wang scoffs. He turns his back, drawn up stern and imposing. "You're at the wrong age for love, boy, and you'd know nothing of it."
"No," Fay says. "That's not true--I do know what it's like. I loved her. She was kind to me, and she believed in me, even after what I did."
"Then she was a fool," Fei Wang says. "And you are too, for believing her."
"Sakura's dead because of me," Fay murmurs. "All I have left now is my prince."
Fei Wang snorts. "If that's all that concerns you, put your mind at ease," he says. "I won't kill him. Why waste a perfectly good tower? It suited his mother, it'll suit him."
Fay lifts his head. "Prince Yuui is all I have left," he says, and his voice is almost gentle now. His uncle half-turns, frowning at him. "And if that's what it takes to protect him, I don't care what I have to do."
"What are you--"
"Everyone in the world sees him as the enemy, now," Fay continues, "but it's all right. Because I'll protect him. No matter what."
Fei Wang's gaze flickers down. His eyes go wide; he draws back, raising a hand that begins to glow. "Fay! You fool, stop--"
Fay lunges. His knife goes in smoothly, as if the heavy robes and the body underneath are thin as tissue; he aims up and shoves as hard as he can and feels something stutter and give way around the blade. Fei Wang makes a strangled noise, the glow around his hand flickering out like a match in a breeze. He coughs once and blood splatters dark and wet against his lower lip, dribbling across his chin. He stares down at Fay like one might a stranger, brow knitting together in confusion.
"I," he wheezes, his voice already reedy and thin, "no ..."
"It's all right, Uncle," Fay murmurs, still gentle. "I'm just doing what you told me to do: I'm looking out for my prince's safety."
He twists the knife then, hard, and this time, when his uncle coughs blood, some of it spatters against his face. The knife comes out as easily as it went in, and he waits until Fei Wang crumples to the floor in an awkward pile of limbs before he approaches and crouches down. Using the edge of one long sleeve, he cleans off the knife, then resheathes it in his belt. He uses a different clean section to wipe off his face, then gets to his feet.
It is nearly tea-time, after all; it wouldn't do to keep his prince waiting.
+++
"You are a fool," the man says.
He is younger than he was years ago, still all in black, his robes lined in red. His sash is patterned in black and gold, like the designs of a butterfly's wing.
Fei Wang stares up at him, eyes dimmed and fading fast. His breath whistles and wheezes ominously in his chest. When the other man crouches down beside him, his gaze follows slowly, upwards to the other man's mismatched eyes. His companion reaches out; he does not quite touch the dying man's waxy skin, but lets his fingers hover, a hairsbreadth away.
"I'm here as witness," he says softly. "Be at peace."
Fei Wang's lip curls up silently, a sneer or a scowl or both. A groan escapes him, the soft unformed beginning of words. Sprawled against the ground, one of his hands twitches weakly.
"There is no such thing as coincidence," the young man murmurs. "You set the stones into motion, and you could have seen how they would fall, but you chose to fight it. That's why you're a fool."
Fei Wang lets out another rough breath, which spatters dark red against his lips.
"She warned you too," the young man says, his voice low and sad. "I know she did. If I could see it happening, there was no way she didn't, and she would have said something to you. In the end, you brought it all upon yourself."
A long rattle finds its way from Fei Wang's chest. The curl of his mouth relaxes and the last of the light in his eyes snuffs itself out. There is nothing left but the echo of possibilities vanishing, leaving only the inevitable conclusion. The young man closes Fei Wang's staring eyes with his outstretched hand, then closes his own.
"I'm sorry," he says. "Sleep well."
Part I | Part II | Part III
au_bigbang, only then LIFE HAPPENED (there was life outside my apartment!) on the day I was supposed to post it. At the very least, I am posting it here, hooray. :BWITH MUCH LOVE AND GRATITUDE TO
enough_space and darknightrain who cheered me on, read it and told me it wasn't terrible, and were generally amazing folks. :(bThe Story of Evil
Tsubasa/Vocaloid fusion -- general spoilers for both all of TRC and the Evil series of Vocaloid songs by mothy (all the way up to Shiro no Musume).
23,678 words
VARIOUS PAIRINGS. The story of a spoiled prince and his lookalike servant.
Part I | Part II | Part III
+++++
Yuui wears the pearls with the silver settings and the silver circlet of Valerian royalty, settled with artful care in order to not crush or distort his pale hair. Along with the dark blue of his robes, he knows he makes an eminently dashing figure, and he is proud of himself, glad with the way all eyes turn towards him, admiring and enchanted; he is the center of attention not just for being the beloved prince, but for his looks and his style. He allows himself to preen just a little, smiling broadly whenever a nobleman approaches him for a murmured conversation or a lady brushes her fingers against his sleeve to ask him to dance. Yuui owns the entire ballroom, and he is glad for it.
As the night wears on, though, he allows himself to drift more freely, holding his own small court of true admirers as his other guests begin to mingle amongst themselves, separating off into their own small groups. Fay is his faithful shadow the entire time, never so close as to be irritating, but near enough that by the time Yuui starts to think he might be hungry, or thirsty, his servant is bringing him something to satisfy himself with. And if he is entirely honest, he thinks this party is more fun than those from previous years because Fay is there, wide-eyed and amazed at everything going on around him. The grandeur of the royal palace is such a simple familiar thing to Yuui, but he looks at Fay's shining face and lets himself pretend everything is new for him, as well. Whenever he can, he gives back bites and sips for Fay to try, and grins at how startled and pleased the other boy is.
If anyone notices how similar their faces are--and, Yuui thinks, there is no way anyone couldn't--no one comments on it. Fay keeps silent and his face turned downward whenever someone approaches to speak to Yuui, as is entirely proper, but Yuui finds it vexing, oddly; he wants to show off his mirror-self and say look, here is a pair of twins that will cause no trouble for the people of Valeria! but every time the impulse wells up in his throat, he glances and sees the statues of Day and Night, and finds his voice curbed.
"Your Highness," says Fei Wang, and Yuui turns to him with a frown that is halfway a pout--there are still papers he needs to sign, he knows, but it's his birthday and he doesn't particularly want to think about them right now. Before he can complain, though, he sees the other boy that is standing at Fei Wang's elbow, sandy-haired and bright-eyed, and entirely dashing, slightly shorter than Yuui is. He is dressed in fine green silks that compliment his sun-darkened skin and tousled hair, and though there are gems shining at his throat and on his fingers, those hands are rough with calluses and have dirt under the nails. There is a polite smile on his face--the "company" smile of nobility, always distinctly aware of the eyes following one's movements everywhere. He is poised and graceful and looks somehow completely out of place in the cold glittering beauty of Valeria's court on Midwinter's Night. Yuui looks him over thoughtfully, then turns to Fei Wang, who smiles and sweeps into a bow.
"If I may," he says, "I would like to introduce you to His Grace, Li Xiao Lang, the second heir to the Middle Kingdom's throne. I know Your Highness wished to visit there at some point in this coming summer season; I thought that perhaps the two of you would like to speak, before that time. His Grace is a great scholar of ancient history, and has expressed a desire to talk."
Xiao Lang smiles again now that he has been introduced. It's warmer than before and reaches his eyes, and Yuui smiles back before he can stop himself. "I have heard many stories about your kingdom, Your Highness," he says, his words rounded and soft with the accent of the Middle Kingdom. "I have wanted to come see your kingdom myself for a long time." He holds out a hand that is warm and broad, and Yuui takes it immediately, knowing he is grinning foolishly the entire time. Xiao Lang has a solid comfortable grip, and they shake like friends under Fei Wang's approving eye.
"Oh, me too," Yuui says. It's only halfway a lie: his tutors have been over the histories of each of the five kingdoms of the world very thoroughly--if he is to be king, and to be High King of Valeria, they have told him, he needs to "understand the lessons of the past." He does want to visit the Middle Kingdom, but it's more for the lovely pictures he's seen in books, and in the stories of the exciting marketplaces and the idea of being constantly warm, even during the long months of winter. "I'd love to hear anything you have to say."
Xiao Lang ducks his head a little, as if shy. The movement causes hair to fall into his eyes. It's absurdly charming, more than it has any right to be. Yuui hears Fei Wang talking in the background, briefly, and from the corner of one eye he sees Fay bow and scurry off, dismissed for the night. He thinks he will have to summon the boy later, to possibly talk about everything he is about to hear, because there is something shivery and excited moving under his skin, and he thinks that he will have to talk about it before he simply explodes with the force of his own nerves.
"There are many places I can start," Xiao Lang says. "I tell you a story, and you tell me one, does that sound right?"
"Please," Yuui says, and thinks that he has never been so eager to ask for something in his entire life. "You're interested in history? There's so much here, you're welcome to make use of the libraries while you're here in Valeria. I can give you access to the records--"
"Ah," says Xiao Lang, holding up both hands. "Not quite like that. I am interested, yes," he adds, when Yuui pouts at him, "but I am also interested in seeing things for myself. I like to work with my hands." He holds them out, palms up, as if for inspection. Yuui can see that there are rough patches on his palms to match the calluses on his fingers, and fine white scars long the curve of his palms: not so much the sign of old attacks as the everyday wear and tear on working hands. They would look like a peasant's hands, if not for the three heavy gold wrings that sit on the middle fingers of his right hand, and the ruby-set silver band on his left thumb. "I know that this is the wrong time of the year, when there is so much snow, but I have received permission from my Empress to remain for a while, and study."
"Oh!" says Yuui, and resists the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet like a child. "Well! If that's what you want, certainly we can see those. I'll show you all those places, and then, afterwards--" He ducks his head a little, glancing up through his lashes at Xiao Lang's good-natured face, "I'd like to go back with you to your kingdom, and see what you have to offer."
This time, when the other boy smiles, it's like the sun coming up for the first time after the months of midnight; he reaches out and clasps one of Yuui's hands again between both of his own, shaking it warmly. "I promise," he says. "In the spring, we will look at the things that are here. In the summer, we will look at the things in the Middle Kingdom, and it will be fair between the two of us."
"I'm looking forward to it," Yuui says, with a sincerity he cannot fake. The pit of his stomach coils with happy anticipation; his skin feels charged nearly electric. The dangerous desire to just whoop like a child tickles his throat and colors each word. "You have no idea."
Xiao Lang nods. His own expression is eager, and Yuui hopes that it matches his own. He points to the two ice statues, and says, "Tell me that story. One man said it was important to this kingdom, but he would not say why."
Yuui purses his lips. "It's not a very happy story," he says critically. "It's a fable about not giving up on your responsibility, and how twins are the misfortune that nearly doomed humans."
"Doomed?" Xiao Lang echoes; there is polite disbelief in his eyes. It is not a terribly unique response: Yuui has seen others, non-native to Valeria, react similarly to the legend and its warning. "How?"
"Come on, let's not talk about it now," Yuui protests. He gives into impulse then, and latches himself onto Xiao Lang's arm, which is solid and strong under the thin silk of his sleeve. The other boy looks startled, but just blinks at him then, as if bemused. "It's my birthday," Yuui adds, at that look. "I don't want to talk about boring unhappy things. I'll tell you later, okay? Right now, I want to hear more about Xiao Lang. What does he like to do? Other than looking at ruins, what does he like to do with his free time?"
"I study," Xiao Lang says, and his voice is just as bemused as his expression. "I am not the first heir, so I have more freedom. I sometimes sit in on court, and study with Elder Sister, but mostly I am a scholar. Sometimes, there are expeditions to ruins. If my Empress can spare me, then I go."
"Hmmm," says Yuui. He squeezes Xiao Lang's bicep, as if considering. "But he also is very strong, isn't he?"
"I am well-versed in the art of the sword," the other boy agrees. "It would be shameful, for any member of the Imperial Family to not be able to fight."
"But there are guards, aren't there?" Yuui starts tugging a little, guiding his companion away from the center of the ballroom floor, away from the curious looks of Valeria's gathered nobility. "Even if someone is silly enough to try hurting Xiao Lang or his family, that's what bodyguards are for!"
Xiao Lang shakes his head. "There are guards, of course," he says, "but it is disgraceful to not know how to defend oneself. If one only relies on others, then there is no way one can be truly happy."
Yuui frowns. His mouth twists as he considers this and he never lets go of Xiao Lang's arm as he does. "I don't get it," he decides finally. "That is what servants are there for. We have the responsibility of keeping order, and that's why they work for us. I don't like swords," he adds. "They're heavy and not very graceful."
Something changes in Xiao Lang's expression--subtly, but Yuui is looking straight at him, and so notices. "There is art in using the sword," he says softly. "And no one who has seen my sister at practice could ever call her ungraceful. We must be able to fend for ourselves, or else there's no way we can hold our heads up with pride."
"Of course there is," Yuui argues. He doesn't know what he's lost, but he can feel it slipping away. "My kingdom is prosperous, my people are happy, and it's because of me! Why shouldn't I be proud about that? I think it's a very good thing, any ruler should be envious!"
"As Your Highness says," Xiao Lang murmurs. "Perhaps this is a difference of customs."
"Oh, I see," Yuui says, grateful for that thought. "Well, our kingdoms are very far apart. Even if everyone else thinks you're silly, as long as you believe, that's all right! Right?"
"I think I would like something to drink," Xiao Lang says. He gently detaches his arm from Yuui's grasp. "I'll go fetch myself something."
"No, no, don't worry," Yuui says. "Fay can--" he looks around, then stops, chagrined; he can't see his lookalike-servant anywhere, and wonders if the party was simply too much excitement for a simple country boy to handle after his duties were finished for the night. "Ah--"
"I'll return shortly," says Xiao Lang. He strides off towards the tables groaning with food, and even his walk is purposeful: his back is straight and his head held high; he does not look down at his feet or falter, and even the people who aren't faced towards him part before his approach, leaving him a clear path to the table. Yuui watches him wistfully as he serves himself and frowns when a small slip of a girl--vaguely familiar, though he cannot quite place her face at the moment--drifts up and wins Xiao Lang's attention for a moment, as well as one of those bright warm smiles. It makes that shivery hopeful feeling in Yuui's chest shrivel, as though shrinking back from the cold--but then Xiao Lang is returning, and Yuui summons up his brightest smile, watching. He likes the easy confidence in Xiao Lang's stride and how real he seems, in the glittering ethereal beauty of the Midwinter's Night Festival.
He thinks: I'd like it very much if you stayed longer than a season, I'd like it if I could convince you to come back with me after the summer's over.
+++
The week after the festivities are finally over, Fay finally gathers enough courage to take the butterfly clip in one hand and thinks of Sakura's smiling face. At first nothing happens, and just as he's starting to feel horribly foolish, the clip in his hand gives a sudden, obvious lurch. He yelps and drops it--or rather, he jerks his hand away, and watches as the clip remains hovering in place, stiffly beating its little jeweled wings. It seems to rest on a cushion of white sparks, and Fay bends forward a little to get a closer look. It smells, very faintly, of flowers.
"Uh," he says, still feeling silly, "I was wondering, if you could--Miss Sakura?"
He half-expects it to answer him. Instead, it begins to move down the hall, slow and steady in its pace. Fay watches it go for a moment, fascinated, then starts to trail it. Most of the palace is silent and still again--he passes no servants, and he has to marvel at the change from just a week previous. The banners have been rolled up and put away, the crowds of people everywhere have trickled back into the city shadowed by the royal palace, and Prince Yuui spends most of his days courting the second prince from Clow, and, while Fay accompanies him at times, more often than not he is left to his own devices.
The clip leads him out into the gardens--the pride of the royal family, his uncle has told him repeatedly: one to represent each of the five kingdoms, maintained by a combination of magics and sciences both. The largest was for Valeria itself, of course, and the smallest was for the Witch's Wasteland, which was barely more than a tangled hedge between Valeria's own and Clow's rock and sand. The clip hesitates at the division for a moment, then continues its trek forward into Nihon's garden. The paths are lined by tall broad-trunked trees, each heavy with cascades of tiny pink and white flowers, and the air is soft with their delicate perfume. Fay breathes deeply as he possibly can, smiling in spite of himself. The jewels set in the clip's tiny wings sparkle and flash ahead of him, darting towards the largest tree in the garden, the one at the far end of all the paths. It stops, and when Fay catches up, it drops out of the air, inanimate again; he has to scramble to catch it, then hesitates, looking down at it. He wonders if maybe the spell wasn't exact, and then is startled by the sound of voices. The first thing he does is scramble behind a blooming tree, peeking out.
What he sees is Sakura, a large bunch of the tiny flowers tucked behind one ear; her dress is a simple white frock, embroidered with pink flowers. She is smiling, radiant in her joy, and something tightens in Fay's chest at the sight of it. Her small hand is tucked into the crook of the visiting prince's arm, and Xiao Lang's own expression is soft with wonder as he looks at the girl beside him. They walk with their heads close together, and Sakura is talking, excited, in a language that Fay doesn't recognize, but which is fast and musical and obviously more comfortable for her than Valeria's tongue.
Fay shrinks further behind the tree as they pass. His throat feels tight and his chest aches with each breath he tries to take. His fingers close so tightly around the jeweled clip that his palms hurt where the metal edges dig into his skin. He watches as they come to stand beneath the tallest tree, with barely more than a handsbreadth between their bodies; he watches as Xiao Lang places his palm against Sakura's cheek and how she leans into it, her green eyes soft and warm. He says something, too soft for the words to be heard, but the tone is clear, and she blushes sweetly, all the more lovely for that faint color. The visiting prince is red-faced as well, but there is a radiance in him that is unmistakable as he leans in.
I don't want to see this, Fay thinks, chewing a little on the inside of his cheek. I don't want to, I don't.
He doesn't move, and so he sees when Xiao Lang presses his lips to Sakura's cheek, how she throws her arms around his neck and presses herself close to them, how his hands settle carefully on her thin hips and cradle her like she is more precious than any of the thousand artifacts on display in the palace. He watches at how they part, and the prince pulls one of the rings from his finger and presses it onto Sakura's thumb--the only finger where it seems to fit--then kisses that finger as well, and Fay finally makes himself duck fully behind the trunk, pressing his back against it. He presses his fist over his heart, dimly aware at how his fingers hurt, and closes his eyes. He counts out long seconds until his shoulders finally relax and he can mostly breathe again.
When he ducks back out again, Sakura is still there, but Xiao Lang is gone. She is staring at the ring on her with a soft expression on her face, and Fay thinks that he'll never see her happier than this. The thought is oddly calming. He walks towards her, tucking the butterfly clip back into his pocket, and deliberately scuffs his feet against the ground to catch her attention. She jumps, but when she catches sight of him, she breaks into another smile--nothing of her joy dims at seeing him, and that helps to ease some of the ache in his chest.
"Fay!" she says. She comes towards him to meet him halfway. "Ah, I'm sorry, did someone need me?"
He smiles himself, shy. "No," he says. "No, I just wanted to see you."
"Oh!" she says, and claps her hands. "Oh, good--you're doing all right, aren't you? No one's bullying you or anything, right? If they are, you have to tell me, I--"
As she speaks, he reaches out and gently catches her wrist in his hands. Sakura falls silent, wide-eyed, as he pulls her hand forward and turns it so he can see the ring: it's heavy and gold, set with a bright, tawny topaz. He touches the edges of it with his thumbs, aware of the weight of her gaze.
"... It's very nice," he says finally. "It suits you."
Her expression melts immediately into one of relief. "You think so?" she says, shy. "It was a gift from someone."
"Someone who must like you very much," says Fay.
"That's what he says." Sakura turns her hand herself, smiling softly at the ring. "It's so strange. I feel like I've known him forever, not just a couple of weeks. We talk about ourselves and our families, but it's like I already know everything about him--and he knows everything about me. Isn't that funny?"
"I don't think so, Miss Sakura," Fay tells her. "My mother used to say that if you were really compatible with someone, then it would feel like that. So, if you really ... care about him, and he really cares about you, it would feel like that. And I think that's good."
Sakura touches the ring with the fingers of her other hand. She stretches up onto her toes and presses her cool lips to Fay's cheek, soft and smelling like the flowers all around them. Her smile is luminous and delicate; Fay wants to catch it in his hands and shelter it from the world. Instead, he watches her, and he waits.
"Thank you," she says finally. She looks up at him, pressing her lips to the ring. "You're very kind, aren't you?"
"Only sometimes," he says. He is the first to look away.
+++
It takes over a month before Fay realizes that something is wrong. His prince, capriciously kind, slowly turns sullen and quiet: the steady babble of confessions and secrets and idle thoughts dries up. He drapes moodily rather than stand on his own, and if he is not clinging to Fay, he is trailing after Xiao Lang, whose pleasant expression has turned strained over the course of his visit. There is a peculiar tension in the air, and Fay does his best to keep out of its way, sneaking extra sweets to his prince just to see his face light up with that fleeting wistful happiness that sits so well on his pale face.
("Do you like me best, Fay-puff?" Prince Yuui asks, chasing crumbs around his plate with a fork, crushing each under the tines when he catches them. "More than anyone?"
"Of course," Fay says, startled by the question. "You know I serve you above anyone else."
The prince sighs, but asks nothing else.)
When he can, he snatches time to spend with Sakura, and though he doesn't know everything about her, or her about him, she tells him stories about growing up in Valeria, and of the family she has in the Clow kingdom, and how very different the two countries are, and how she has studied the spells that sustain both kingdoms under her mother's tutelage--and he tells her about growing up in a tiny village that borders the Witch's Wasteland and Valeria, of his own mother's determination and how hard she worked, day after day, and the letters she sometimes sends him, thanking him for the money he sends back home.
("She tells me I shouldn't send as much, but she gave everything for me when I was growing up--and I don't really need that much money," he says, resting his chin on his knees. "You know?"
"I think that's wonderful of you," Sakura tells him. "It's good that you take such care of her; no mother could ask for more.")
And then, one moonlit evening, on his way back to his own rooms, he sees movement through the tall palace windows that overlook Nihon's garden. He pauses and watches as Sakura drifts, pale and lovely as drifting flower petals, to the one still-flowering tree of the garden. There is no mistaking the lightness of her step, nor the man who meets her there, tall and confident and reaching for her with his arms wide open. And in spite of himself, Fay stops to watch, wistful at how they draw close and press together.
"Oh," says the prince from behind him.
Fay whirls, startled, his heart lurching into his throat. "Your Highness--"
Prince Yuui moves past without looking, pressing both hands to the window as he stares down at the lovers. "You knew, didn't you?"
"I," Fay says, then looks down, his shoulders slumping. "I did, Your Highness. I'm sorry, I--"
"It's always like this," the prince murmurs. "Every time I think there's someone who might--every time there's a person who might be different, something happens. No one ever chooses me, Fay. When you're royalty, you have to be lonely. That's what Father liked to say."
"My prince--"
"I know they don't like me," he goes on. "They haven't since my mother died, maybe before that. I thought that since he was from somewhere else, maybe I would have a chance--he said that he liked me, you know? And I believed him. I believed him, and ..." He leans until his forehead is also pressed to the window, his breath fogging the glass. For a moment he says nothing, turned to cold silver and pearl by the moonlight. Fay looks at him and thinks of the legend of Day and Night, and of the woman who had enticed them both, and he doesn't know if the rolling ache in his belly is love or pity or both.
"Your Highness," he says.
"I'm going to bed," Prince Yuui says. He pulls away from the window and scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes for a moment. He turns and smiles at Fay, gentle and distant. "Good night, Fay."
He leaves before Fay can protest. The entire scene lingers in his memory until a day one week later, when he comes to the kitchens to fetch the prince's breakfast and finds them in an uproar.
People are rushing back and forth, and everything is a confused babble of voices; Fay hovers in the doorway because he's afraid of simply being trampled, if he tries to enter. Everyone is shouting at once, back and forth, and their voices come together into a cacophony that he can't unravel. He hears the prince's name, and Xiao Lang's, but the details are lost in the din. He hovers, watching, and finally, he catches the arm of one of the maids, pulling her out of the stream of people. She turns an annoyed frown on him, so he draws himself up as tall as possible, trying to look as commanding as he can.
"What happened?" he says. "What's going on?"
"You really haven't heard yet?" she asks, incredulous. "The entire Clow party is leaving today--right now! They're not waiting--there was a terrible fight between Prince Yuui and Prince Xiao Lang, it turned into an actual fistfight! Imagine! Our prince, in a fistfight!" She shakes her head. "Who would have believed it? But you're the prince's servant, aren't you?" She tugs her arm free and frowns at him. "Ask him yourself! You'd probably actually get an answer!"
Before he can catch her again, she disappears back into the chaos, leaving him with his hand outstretched, terribly confused.
+++
Fei Wang knocks once before he enters the prince's bedroom, not bothering to wait for the answer. The room is dark except for the faint gray light of early morning, but it's clear that the room has been devastated--most of the fine furniture has been overturned, and the large mirror facing the door sports a large spiderweb of cracks. The sheets of the bed have been ripped off and are scattered. The prince himself is curled in the single thing still standing: a high-backed, ebony-wood chair, turned to face the window. His pale hair is barely visible, leaning to one side.
"My prince," he says, and bows, though the boy doesn't turn. "The Clow delegation has left. I heard there was quite the commotion--should I send for a doctor?"
The prince doesn't answer.
"I will be drafting a letter immediately, of course," he says. "It will be weeks before His Grace arrives home. With our network, we will be able to speak to the King before they arrive. He's a reasonable sort of man, it shouldn't take much effort to convince him. You are the First Prince of Valeria, after all. Whatever you wish--"
"Destroy them."
Fei Wang waits five long beats before answering. "Excuse me, my prince," he says. "Forgive my presumption, but--would you repeat that?"
"Destroy them," Yuui repeats. His voice is faint, wavering. He moves a little, and the faintest reflection of him appears in the window: there is a dark visible shadow against his pale skin and pale hair. As he speaks, his voice firms, and it becomes as cold as the north wind. "I want the entire place razed to the ground. I want there to be nothing left. Not a building, not a person, not a single stupid cherry tree--" He pauses to take a deep breath. "And arrest the girl. She's a sympathizer for certain. If she resists, or tries to escape--"
Fei Wang bows low, so far that the floor is only a hand's breadth from his nose. "As my prince commands," he says.
+++
Fay wakes to the sound of his door softly closing.
It had bee a long and difficult week, one where Fay has hardly seen his prince at all. There are mornings where he goes in to wake him and finds the bed cold and empty; if he tries to urge his liege to sleep, he finds himself more often than not summarily dismissed. When he brings afternoon tea and then returns for the dishes, he often finds everything untouched and long gone cold. Ministers in dark blue robes crowd around the prince, until he's simply a pale spot in the dark, and their voices are low and anxious as they argue strategy and tactics. Clow is a kingdom that is also skilled with magic, and it will not submit without a fight. The hallways are full of noise and activity again, but the mood is grimly resigned rather than celebratory. Valeria is preparing for war, and there is no softening or disguising that fact.
The anxious atmosphere extends even to the servant's quarters--even Fay, who has his own small room, separate from the others, can hear their whispering and gossiping late into the night, all those voices following him into his dreams. Nervous, he presses his hand under his pillow for the small knife he keeps there, and then Sakura whispers, "Fay?"
"Sakura?" He reaches for the light instead, flicking it on and hardly flinching at the sudden glare. "Where--what are you doing here?"
She hovers with her back against the door; she looks tired and worn, and there are dark half-circles under her large green eyes. The hem of her green cloak is torn and stained. She looks terrible, and yet she still dredges up a small smile for him. "I don't have anywhere else go to," she says. "I've been trying to--oh, it doesn't matter. They've sealed the borders for everyone who isn't a messenger of the prince or his army." The girl ducks her head, wrapping her skinny arms around herself; he can see that her knuckles are red and raw as well. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here--if they find me ..."
Fay stares at her. She looks tiny and fragile and so tired; he wonders when she slept last. He thinks about his prince, stone-faced and so angry.
"They won't find you," he says. He gets up. "I won't tell."
Sakura's head snaps up. She looks startled, even if she must have gambled on his agreement, coming here. "Fay," she says, "no, I'm sorry, you don't--"
"I'll get you something to eat," he says gently. "I promise. You try to get some sleep."
She wavers again, looking torn. "If they find me here, you'll at least be arrested," she murmurs. "You might actually be killed."
He shakes his head. "You helped me, when I first got here," he says. "I'll help you find your way out."
Sakura bites her lip. Then, on quick light feet, she crosses the room, and she stretches up to kiss Fay's cheek briefly, with chapped dry lips. She smells like fear and sour hunger, but he sees a brief flicker of hope rekindle in her eyes, and that feels good. "Thank you," she whispers. "You really are very kind."
Fay wants to protest, but he steps aside instead, watching as she collapses onto his bed, unmoving; after a moment, he covers her with his blanket and slips out. He has to tiptoe past the communal bedrooms of the other servants, past the empty places where guards once stood--all soldiers have been pulled in for active duty, and the ozone smell of magic is heavy in the air, replacing them. He makes it down to the kitchens without incident and is grateful that rationing for the castle has not yet begun; he finds half a loaf discarded in the dust, and rubs it with his sleeve before tucking it into his coat and making his slow way back.
Halfway there, he sees a figure in the hallway and stops.
His uncle smiles at him, and the moonlight through the windows is so bright that they turn his glasses opaque. There is something unkind and unfriendly about his expression--something that is mean and hungry with the promise of war. Fay has never loved his uncle, but he has always at least believed in the man's benign interests; now, he finds himself suddenly unsure. The lump of bread in his pocket weighs as heavily as a stone.
"Fay," the man says. "What are you doing?"
"I," he says. He licks dry lips. "I was hungry, Uncle, so I thought I would go--"
"Fay," his uncle says. His tone is nearly gentle, but he moves forward, and his eyes are hard and cold and ice. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not--"
"Don't forget, I've known you all your life," his uncle continues on, his voice lowering to nearly a purr. "I know exactly how to tell when you're lying. When you're hiding something from me." He continues to advance, and Fay steps back automatically, again and again until he hits the wall. "You're not telling me something, Fay, and it's very important that you do. The security of the kingdom could depend on it. Your prince's life could depend on it. You know how hard he's been working, Fay. How much he needs someone he can trust right now." Fei Wang reaches out a hand, and Fay flinches back from it before he can quite stop himself. His uncle is undeterred: a moment later, long hard fingers grasp his chin and tilt it up. "Hasn't he trusted you?"
Fay blinks hard. His eyes sting. "Uncle," he says, "please--"
"No, Fay," his uncle says gently. "I should be telling you please." He takes Fay's wrist in his free hand and presses their palms together for a moment, pressing something into it. "You know what the command is, right now. She was supposed to be arrested, and if she tried to flee ..." He steps back, and Fay can only stare down at the knife in his hand: it has a long, slim, wickedly sharp blade, and the lines of it are clean and spare. He looks up at his uncle, despairing, and Fei Wang only smiles.
"Uncle, I can't," he whispers. "I'm a servant. I'm not--I've never been a soldier, I've never--I can't, I--"
"It is for your kingdom," Fei Wang says, and though his tone is indulgent, his eyes are not. "The girl is dangerous--she will rouse the people to rebellion, if she's allowed to continue as she has. Her very existence is an act of defiance against the prince, now. If they're allowed to think that a single girl can get away with defying the prince ..."
Fay swallows. He looks away.
"Prince Yuui is young," Fei Wang goes on, nearly gentle. "He is impetuous, but he has a kind heart. He will be a good king, you know that."
In spite of himself, he nods.
"And yet, there are those who are impatient with his childishness--they don't give him the credit of his youth, or how hard he has had to work, just to get where he is now. He was orphaned so young, and there was no father to lead him by example, no mother to care for him until he was strong enough to stand without her." Fei Wang's fingers touch his hair, as gently paternal as they'd been in his childhood. "He's already proven himself to be an impressive ruler, with how he is handling this war. But because that girl still lives--because she defies him with every breath she takes--she becomes a threat to him. Do you understand?"
Fay bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He thinks about the soft open look on his prince's face, that day on the tower, looking up at the stars; he thinks about the thousand small kindnesses he has been shown, despite having a face that mirrors his liege's so closely that they could be called twins--and the despair that would represent, if it was acknowledged. He thinks about the prince's pale face and toneless words: No one ever chooses me. When you're royalty, you have to be lonely.
He lets out a sobbing breath, and Fei Wang kisses his forehead.
"Good boy," he says. "Now go."
Fay goes. His vision is blurred and his entire body feels hot; his fingers are clamped so tightly around the hilt of the dagger that he isn't sure he could release it if he tried. Like a ghost he drifts through the hallways, past the closed rooms of the other servants, and back to his own chamber.
Sakura is still asleep. She lies curled on her side, knees tucked towards her chest. Her brown hair is limp and dirty on his pillow. She breathes slowly, gently, and does not wake when he closes the door behind himself. He goes to stand by her bedside, staring at her face for long moments before he lifts the knife up, high over his head.
"Think of your prince," his uncle's voice whispers in his ear again, so utterly sincere. "Think of all he will lose, if this girl escapes him."
He takes a breath, and then he is crying--quietly, undramatically, the tears welling up each time he tries to blink them away. Sakura, though, is still painfully clear in his vision: she rolls onto her back, and her slim chest is laid flat and exposed. He is frozen, too terrified to move just yet. If he moves, the moment will become irrevocably real.
Sakura opens her eyes.
She looks at him steadily, and she doesn't look surprised. Fay can only stare back in mute horror. His hands are shaking. There is no way to mistake his posture for anything but the obvious, but the apologies that crowd on his tongue refuse to come. The lack of surprise--or condemnation--in Sakura's expression only makes it worse.
"It's all right," she whispers to him. "I forgive you. I did a long time ago."
She closes her eyes. Fay lets out a single choked sob and brings the knife down.
+++
In a bedroom three kingdoms away, a picture frame falls from its place of honor on a bedside table. The glass of the frame cracks into spiderweb patterns.
A young woman picks up the frame, careful of the glass shards, and holds it for a long, long time.
+++
Yuui wakes to the sound of Fay's voice, soft and gentle: "It's time for breakfast, Your Highness. I've brought your meal."
He pushes himself up with a groan, dimly surprised to find himself on the bed. He remembers poring over maps the night before, but not moving--he's still dressed as he was the day before, he notes with distant distaste, plucking at his shirt. He sits up and blinks his sight into focus.
"Fay?" he asks. "Why are you crying?"
Fay shakes his head. Though his smile is fixed and gentle as always, his eyes are red, and every time he blinks, there are fresh tears on his cheeks.
"It's funny," he says softly. "I've tried and tried, but I can't stop. I'm sorry."
Yuui reaches out and takes the tray from his servant, his other-self, and puts it aside. And then, before Fay can pull back or protest, Yuui reach out and pulls him into an embrace.
"When all of this is over," he whispers, "let's go to the beach. It's really nice--it's all that moving water, going on forever."
Fay reaches and grasps his sleeve for a moment, silent. "That would be nice," he says, finally. "My mother always said if you told the ocean your wishes, they'd come true."
"Really?" Yuui almost smiles. "We'll go together, then, and we'll both make wishes. And then we'll be happy."
"Happy," Fay echoes, and is silent.
+++
In the way of all things that must be hushed up, rumors begin as soon as the smoke of the makeshift pyre begins to curl and rise in the morning sky. The prince's pet mage is dead by his own order--he killed her out of jealousy for the attention that the Clow prince showed her, when it was obvious he'd had his eye on the young man himself--he did it with a smile on his face, even laughing as she sobbed for mercy--the madness of his mother was finally manifesting in him, and he would drag Valeria down into the fire with him.
There had been something wrong with him from the beginning--wasn't the appearance of a doppelganger indication enough of his insanity? Even if he was not a twin by birth, to have one suddenly appear could only come to mean disaster--his parents had both died when he was so young, how could he have any true idea of the proper way to rule a kingdom as old and revered as Valeria?--he was so selfish, always carelessly taxing the poor just to have his silly parades and fancy displays; who cared about such things?--he had started this war over selfish reasons; what made his broken heart worth the lives of his people, and those of that other kingdom?
Up in the tower, immersed in his maps and the advice of his ministers, Prince Yuui heard nothing of this at all.
+++
War goes from Valeria; war comes to Clow.
Prince Yuui does not set out with his army: his adviser catches his arm and pulls him aside and says to him: My prince, you must not risk yourself. You are the only living member left of the noble bloodline which founded this kingdom and you have no heir. Should you fall, who will guide your people? Who will protect them? You must stay.
And so he stays. And when the army of Valeria marches, it is met by the army of Clow, headed by the kingdom's second prince, who rides beside a young woman in red armor. For the first clash, she wears no helm, and the long dark banner of her hair ripples behind her, her gray eyes as hard as steel. Yuui watches the battle from a spelled mirror in his chambers, and hardly eats even when Fay brings him meals, rebelling against being coaxed to his food.
The rumors continue to spread; they travel with the servants and down into the lower city, and from there to all of the capitol. Their prince is a coward and a fool; he is a spoiled child that will ruin the kingdom with his selfishness. They are losing a war that should never have been engaged: Clow's wizards are skilled and numerous, and they are fighting to defend their home from a spoiled tyrant--they are fighting for the memory of an innocent girl wrongly murdered through his whim.
These are the things Fay hears, though his prince does not, and they weigh like stones around his neck. No one in the palace or the lower city looks him in the eye any more, and he has learned to walk quickly and quietly, keeping his head down. And as the prince retreats to spend more time in his rooms, watching as his army is slowly pushed back, Fei Wang steps up to fill the power void. He is smiling and confident and conspicuous, and Fay watches him with something that is nearly like resentment uncoiling in his chest.
"It's terrible," he hears his uncle say one day to the head chamberlain, "if they proceed much further, we will have to evacuate the palace."
The other man snorts. "That will be chaotic enough," he says. "The lower city's already nearly empty. Why does the prince insist that we stay? It's useless."
"It will be fine," Fei Wang says. "In fact, I give you the authority now, to begin moving everyone out. There's no sense in staying in some suicidal display, is there?"
"There's not," the chamberlain says, and there's no mistaking the relief in his voice. "Bless you, sir, we'd be lost without your common sense."
"No, no," says Fei Wang. "I'm simply glad to serve my kingdom. I am, as always, her humble and devoted servant."
"If only you could do more," the chamberlain says. "Better a servant of the kingdom than a tyrant who doesn't care for his people--begging your pardon, sir, I--"
"You're kind," Fei Wang says, low and pleased. He pats the chamberlain's shoulder gently, conspiratorially. "But hush now. To say such things in these halls is treason. Not that I think you're incorrect, of course, but there are safer places to say it."
Fay can see the smile on his uncle's face as clearly as he hears it in the man's voice, and it makes him ill. He ducks his head and he flees to the end of the hallway, then slumps with his back against the wall. He wants to weep with what he's done, how that's added to the troubles of his kingdom. He wants to hide himself away in a corner, he wants to close his eyes and stop--
"Ah, there you are," his uncle says.
He opens his eyes and looks up. His uncle, Fei Wang, stands before him, hands tucked into his long sleeves, a knifeslash of a smile spread across his craggy face. It's very nearly a smirk. Satisfaction radiates from him in waves. "Heard that, did you?"
Fay hunches his shoulders, folding his arms behind his back.
"Will you run and tell him?" Fei Wang asks, smirking. "I never expected you to take to being his loyal dog as eagerly as you did. Perhaps I should've been paying more attention to you, but ..." He shrugs, gracefully. "I had more important things on my mind."
"Important," Fay whispers, his voice hoarse, "like taking over? Like committing treason?"
"In a few weeks, it will hardly be that," says Fei Wang. "The king is the one who decides what constitutes as treason."
"And that's Prince Y--" Fay's protest cuts itself off as his uncle's hand lashes out, long broad fingers closing around his throat and slamming him back harder against the wall. Fei Wang looms over him, his smirk now outright unkind.
"Go cry to him, if you'd like," he purrs. "He won't believe you. He's been mine since the day his mother died. You think that a servant who's been in the palace for six months is enough to turn him against me? I'd like to see you try." He lets go of Fay's throat then and steps back, smoothing his robes. He looks down at Fay with obvious smug pride. "This kingdom will be mine, and you've helped to give it to me."
Fay stares.
"Everything happens as it was meant to," he says, slowly, as if tasting each word. "Ever since you met that girl, her fate was sealed."
"Eh--?"
"From the moment you met her, she was doomed," Fei Wang says. "Your presence in this castle is what ruined her, and the prince." He laughs, maybe at the look on Fay's face, maybe at pleasure at his own success. He reaches out and puts his forefinger under Fay's chin, tipping it up further. "Because of you, everything has gone the way I wanted it to. For that, I thank you."
He whips away then, the long sleeves of his robe fluttering as he does. Fay stares at him, unblinking; his hands are still folded behind his back. His fingers brush the hilt of the knife he has kept in his belt for the past long three months.
"Uncle," he says softly. "Uncle, you know ... I loved her. Sakura."
"You did not," Fei Wang scoffs. He turns his back, drawn up stern and imposing. "You're at the wrong age for love, boy, and you'd know nothing of it."
"No," Fay says. "That's not true--I do know what it's like. I loved her. She was kind to me, and she believed in me, even after what I did."
"Then she was a fool," Fei Wang says. "And you are too, for believing her."
"Sakura's dead because of me," Fay murmurs. "All I have left now is my prince."
Fei Wang snorts. "If that's all that concerns you, put your mind at ease," he says. "I won't kill him. Why waste a perfectly good tower? It suited his mother, it'll suit him."
Fay lifts his head. "Prince Yuui is all I have left," he says, and his voice is almost gentle now. His uncle half-turns, frowning at him. "And if that's what it takes to protect him, I don't care what I have to do."
"What are you--"
"Everyone in the world sees him as the enemy, now," Fay continues, "but it's all right. Because I'll protect him. No matter what."
Fei Wang's gaze flickers down. His eyes go wide; he draws back, raising a hand that begins to glow. "Fay! You fool, stop--"
Fay lunges. His knife goes in smoothly, as if the heavy robes and the body underneath are thin as tissue; he aims up and shoves as hard as he can and feels something stutter and give way around the blade. Fei Wang makes a strangled noise, the glow around his hand flickering out like a match in a breeze. He coughs once and blood splatters dark and wet against his lower lip, dribbling across his chin. He stares down at Fay like one might a stranger, brow knitting together in confusion.
"I," he wheezes, his voice already reedy and thin, "no ..."
"It's all right, Uncle," Fay murmurs, still gentle. "I'm just doing what you told me to do: I'm looking out for my prince's safety."
He twists the knife then, hard, and this time, when his uncle coughs blood, some of it spatters against his face. The knife comes out as easily as it went in, and he waits until Fei Wang crumples to the floor in an awkward pile of limbs before he approaches and crouches down. Using the edge of one long sleeve, he cleans off the knife, then resheathes it in his belt. He uses a different clean section to wipe off his face, then gets to his feet.
It is nearly tea-time, after all; it wouldn't do to keep his prince waiting.
+++
"You are a fool," the man says.
He is younger than he was years ago, still all in black, his robes lined in red. His sash is patterned in black and gold, like the designs of a butterfly's wing.
Fei Wang stares up at him, eyes dimmed and fading fast. His breath whistles and wheezes ominously in his chest. When the other man crouches down beside him, his gaze follows slowly, upwards to the other man's mismatched eyes. His companion reaches out; he does not quite touch the dying man's waxy skin, but lets his fingers hover, a hairsbreadth away.
"I'm here as witness," he says softly. "Be at peace."
Fei Wang's lip curls up silently, a sneer or a scowl or both. A groan escapes him, the soft unformed beginning of words. Sprawled against the ground, one of his hands twitches weakly.
"There is no such thing as coincidence," the young man murmurs. "You set the stones into motion, and you could have seen how they would fall, but you chose to fight it. That's why you're a fool."
Fei Wang lets out another rough breath, which spatters dark red against his lips.
"She warned you too," the young man says, his voice low and sad. "I know she did. If I could see it happening, there was no way she didn't, and she would have said something to you. In the end, you brought it all upon yourself."
A long rattle finds its way from Fei Wang's chest. The curl of his mouth relaxes and the last of the light in his eyes snuffs itself out. There is nothing left but the echo of possibilities vanishing, leaving only the inevitable conclusion. The young man closes Fei Wang's staring eyes with his outstretched hand, then closes his own.
"I'm sorry," he says. "Sleep well."
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