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Once upon a time, lying in another place; there stood a kingdom that no others dared to face. Or rather, no other could even think of going against. For atop the throne was what was once a pastor, now a king. His citizens had loved him dearly, but those who were once side by side with him had turned their backs against him and loathed him.
One might ask for the reason, and to that they’d tell One to guess. One might guess the reason to be jealousy, and to that they won’t be denying, but neither would they agree. “It was part jealousy, but something else was the core of it all”. One might ask for the core, and to that they’d spare One a solemn glance, before pushing One aside on One’s merry way.
Sure enough, not one was able to dig up to the core, and sure enough, everyone began losing interest in those against the king. If not jealousy, then what? What would a group of heavily religious people have against their brother in arms? Sure enough, they were only jealous of how the former king had chosen him instead.
Despite the mystery revolving around the present king, he still stood with confidence, and led them to a new beginning. One can call it a revolution, albeit a positive one. Crops grew at an astounding rate, livestock products were doubling more than ever. It’s citizens had learnt to call it a miracle of God, how choosing a pastor was the right move all along.
However, as the day was about to set, the winds sung a lonely rhyme, misfortune struck.
The king was found dead.
--..--
Makoto was just a newbie guard. Or a knight. Whichever he felt like labelling himself. Today, he felt more like an explorer. Venturing the dark woods at night. At least, that's how it felt like. How could it not? In a large, dark castle, built like a labyrinth meant to draw thieves out in confusion, even a knight stationed for a late night patrol would be feeling for walls in order to see daylight.
He wasn’t so sure of the time. He remembered it to be a little past nine when he started walking, but what was time in a never ending abyss of turns and corners? He could’ve sworn he went past the same drawing about three times, and if those decoratory armours were inhabited, they’d be rolling on the floor from the amount of times he went “eh?”.
He wasn’t sure of what he’d do now, though. The king was dead. Without an heir, nor a successor. There wasn’t a king on the throne anymore, and without one, they’re just wandering sheeps waiting for the wolves to strike. The kingdom was bound to fall, crash, and burn.
He turned on his heel a few times. A lot of times, even. He contemplated on bringing his whole family away from the kingdom, but decided against it once he thought of their wellbeing. Worrying that he’d stray too far, he decided on a little hunt across the castle. He had been here so many times, but he’d always been not far from his station. With no king to accidentally run into, nor any of the higher ups, he’s a prisoner on the loose. It’s about time he does a little ghost hunting.
He’s heard of a lot of stories on how the castle is haunted by the vengeful spirits of those who died in it, thieves, maids, even knights like him. Whether an accidental death or an execution, he’s heard of them all. How the eyes on the portrait seemed to follow you around, decoratory armours moving from its place, Scurrying footsteps inside the manor, they were all common stories told all over the place. One he heard of that he had found peculiar, though, was one of a secret room.
The tale was the least scariest, but was the most intriguing. It told of a young horseman who had gotten lost in the castle, and had seen a pale blur of a young man racing past. He had followed the blur, and was met with a spiralling staircase leading above. The young horseman, curios, had gone up the stairs, climbing for who knows how long, till he was met with a door.
He had tried opening the door multiple times, but was met with disappointment. Finally, he had given up, and decided to come back and try another day. Unlucky for him, that day never came. For he never saw those stairs ever again.
After what seemed to be a ceaseless roundabout, he was met with a spiralling staircase, leading to an abyss of doom. Or not. The knight couldn’t have recalled any staircases near his patrol station, and concluded that he might’ve wandered off a little further this time. Too far. He contemplated on going up the stairs, but recalled a certain saying.
Curiosity killed the cat.
He was a heel’s turn away from leaving, but decided against it and began climbing up the stairs. Yes, curiosity might’ve killed it. But hey, satisfaction brought it back, didn't it?
--..--
After what seemed like forever, he was met with a tiny door, a key hole not visible in any part of it. He tried pulling the door. Pushing the door. Even tried pushing it upwards, but to no avail. He was on the verge of breaking it through, but was met with a sudden creaking.
“You could’ve knocked..”
What greeted him was a boy, more beautiful than he ought to be. He wasn’t beautiful in an extraordinary way; no, in fact, the boy looked normal. Common even, if you could. There weren't any special features like a beauty mark, full lips, nor an attractive body, no. There was just something so ethereal about the absence of extravagance, richness, effort. He was just effortlessly magnetic.
“What are you doing here?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking? Besides, this is my room.”
“But this isn’t a place commoners could-”
“You dare mistake me as a commoner?”
He retorted, cold blue eyes staring deep into Makoto’s soul.
“No- it’s just.. Wait, your room? In the castle? Are you?”
“Am I..?”
“The famed blur! The blur that led to the staircase! The door that won’t budge open!”
Makoto could tell his excitement was leaking out just from his voice, but he couldn’t care less. He was meeting with a ghost! Having a conversation with one, even!
“S-so how’d you die? Are you here haunting this place based on your own will? Or is it like, karma?”
“Wh- slow down! I’m no ghost!”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m the king’s bastard.”
He said with a straight face. They stood in silence, before the boy’s eyes started widening.
“Pardon?”
He heaved a sigh, before cursing underneath his breath.
“You know. A child born out of wedlock. A bastard.”
“But wasn’t the king-”
“Religious? Holy? Pure?”
A moment of silence passes by. Makoto wasn’t sure on how he’s supposed to react to this, but he has to in some way. However, before he could even utter a word, the young raven haired boy had beaten him to it.
“It’s an irony, isn’t it? How the holy made a beast. Someone like me shouldn’t have existed at all..”
“Y-you’re wrong! I’m sure there’s a purpose to your existence! There’s a purpose to everyone’s existence! All of us, good or evil; liked or not; we all play a part in this beautiful world! We all have a place, a person, whom we call home.”
Blue eyes looked up to meet green.
“Even.. me? Someone as unwanted, unloveable as I am?”
“Of course you.. No, especially you.”
“But.. no one likes me. They call me a monster. They hate me. They say I’m the reason my mother died. They say I’m the reason my father’s acting that way.”
“A-acting what way?”
“You know.. Executions. Punishments. Torture. He’s been going at it for too long that it’s been days since I’ve last heard the creak of his bedroom door. Who knows how long he’d been in the torture chamber? Probably planning new ways to elicit screams of the-”
“How? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
That single sentence managed to draw out another reaction from the boy; evidenced by the sudden raise of his eyebrow.
“Wh- dead..?”
“Yeah.. a few days ago? Wasn’t he found dead in his own sleep chamber?”
“W-what do you mean?”
“But- wait, you haven’t heard?”
“T-that can’t be..! My fathe- that man! He couldn’t have died that easily! I-it must’ve been a mistake! There’s no way he’s dead!”
The boy was shaking. He had his face scrunched up in what Makoto assumed was confusion, with a hint of rage. He could’ve felt another emotion, but the young knight wasn’t much of a face reader to actually tell what feeling he was conveying.
“T-that disgraceful lump of cruelty- th-that sadist- is he- seriously..?”
He made a chopping motion over his neck with his hand a few times, looking at the green eyed boy in the eyes.
“Gone? I’m afraid so..”
A gulp resounded in their silence. It wasn’t a comfortable one, but instead a very, very, unsettling one. Makoto felt himself cringe from the lack of sympathy in the way he responded, but he knew there wasn’t any better way to put it. Besides, the solemn he felt from the king’s death wasn’t one comparable to the death of a loved one, no, but instead was nothing but the formal sorry he felt when an aristocrat was announced dead.
He had tried his best to actually express his sadness, yet the only emotion he felt was worry. Not for the king, but for the country. The only negative emotion he had felt for the king wasn’t a result of the man himself, but a result of the boy’s own patriotism.
Maybe that’s why he couldn't have dealt with the boy. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t have understood the boy. The sadness, the solemn, the grief the boy was feeling, was nothing but raw emotions produced solely for the dead, with no means or edge to be given to the country nor its people. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t have reacted to the boy’s screams. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t have reacted to the boy’s cries.
As the olive haired boy’s thoughts began screaming, so did the raven’s voice.
--..--
Haruka Nanase wasn’t sure of his emotions. He had always been jaded since the first day etched into his memories. He didn’t feel anything as he saw his mother’s hand’s clawing for air as she was dropped into the cold, bottomless water. He didn’t feel anything as his mother held back her cries, trying her best to choke through her words, mimicking the voices of the characters in his bedtime stories. He didn’t feel anything as he saw his mother’s head chopped off at the hand motion of what he was taught to call a father. Nor did he feel anything as he saw his father changing women every so often, whilst keeping one as for display in front of his people. And he wasn’t supposed to feel anything when he heard of the scum’s death.
Yet why won’t his tears stop? Why won’t his voice hush? Why won’t the ache in his heart quit? Why won’t his mouth smile? The only explainable emotion he could’ve been feeling at this moment was nothing but happiness. Joy. Ecstaticness. Not sadness. Not pain. Not grief. Why would he grieve for someone who was bound to be dead? Someone he had religiously prayed to be dead.
He doesn’t know. But he’s sure as hell that he wants it to stop. He tried clawing himself to stop. He had tried choking back his words. How he had wanted to swallow back every ounce of emotion he had felt for the man.. Yet was to no avail. He couldn’t have stopped it. And neither could the man in front of him. He was vulnerable. He was weak.
They stood in silence, no, not a quiet silence, but was one without a word. For it was impossible for it to be quiet, not with his painfully loud cries and sobs.
--..--
A few hours might’ve passed, yet the night showed no signs of ending, nor did the morning show any signs of starting. The blue eyed boy had ended his little pity party, and was now washing his face.
“S-so how’s the kingdom running?”
Makoto can hear the tremble in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. No matter how hard he tried to act, his facade was only a moment’s away from shattering.
“Terrible, if I might say..”
“Well that wouldn’t have been a surprise. A kingdom without a ruler is bou-”
“Bound to fall, crash, and burn.”
“Precisely.”
“What do you plan on doing, then? I trust you aren’t foolish enough to stay guard? Afterall, a knight without a lord is simply not a knight.”
“Oh, but you are here, your majesty.”
“Pardon?”
“I mean- you are technically the king’s sole and rightful heir, making you the next in-line, even without a crowning ceremony.”
“Wh- hold on- didn’t you say..?”
“The kingdom is bound to fall, crash, and burn? But your majesty, that was referring to a kingdom without a ruler. A kingdom with a ruler is simply a kingdom.”
The olive haired could feel the other burning holes through his skull, yet remained calm with a smile.
“It was already in ruins, wasn’t it? It was broken from the start.”
“Then you can fix it. We can. We can start over. Rebuild everything from scratch.”
A scowl decorated one’s face, before worry began etching into the other.
“How?? Generations have ruled and tried and fixed, but none of them ever succeed! Why would I, a child hidden by the kingdom, with absolutely zero knowledge about how to run one; let alone build one, achieve that?!”
He yelled, exasperated. He was tired. So damn tired. It’s been years since he last talked this much. He was confused. Why would a stranger who had tumbled upon his existence for no reason, be this invested in him? Why had he even run his mouth in the first place? He could’ve played maiden the moment this unknown man asked for his status. There was no reason to lash out as the king’s illegitimate child in the first place. Then why?
Maybe he was tired. Not by the man, not by their conversation, but of his current way of living. Maybe he’s tired of staying hidden. Maybe he’s tired of playing ghost. Maybe he’s tired of being a shadow. Maybe.. He had just wanted company.
“How was I supposed to make things better? I’ve learnt not one thing from that insect turd of a father, nor have I learnt anything from my days spent wandering. It was a sisyphean task in the first place!”
“Then we’ll learn together. I wouldn’t have been able to help much, but I do know the basics of a king’s schedule. There are books in the palace bibliotheque, biographies, guide books, we can both study the ways to run a kingdom.
“T-together?”
“Of course.”
“Then.. you’ll stay by my side..?”
“By all means necessary.”
“For..?”
“Forever, my liege.”