Fic: Ever After (11.2)
Title: Ever After
Characters/Pairings: Characters abound from the multiverse, and if you think you spot a pairing, it’s probably there.
Rating: T
Summary: ‘Fairytale’ is a very trying place. Children get abandoned; loves fall under evil spells, and various members of royal families get abducted on an almost regular basis. Even with a witch on-hand all ills can’t simply be wished away - but then, if it’s really the ‘happy ever after’ you’re looking for, it’s quite obligatory to start with ‘once upon a time…’ AU, with heavy reference to canon.
A/N: Posted in two parts. My apologies this second bit took so long.
The first part is here.
“Good day to you.” The voice was low and warm, familiar to her from days of drifting conversation, nights of curling dreams.
“Good day to you as well,” Tomoyo smiled when Yuui extended his hand to her, an aid as she padded down the worn stone stairs of his dreamscape in her slippered feet, coming to a delicate stop beside the tranquil pond at the bottom. “Or should I say good morning?”
Yuui only smiled - time really meant nothing to him, only sparing a thought to it for how it affected those who walked through his sleep. The pond was a perfect mirror of the cloudless blue sky; the prince’s mind was mostly at peace. “I am honoured - usually Tomoyo-hime reserves her visits for the afternoon and evening alone.”
“I had a dream.” Tomoyo liked it that Yuui didn’t leap in to question her, taking a seat on a large rock nearby and waiting for her to express herself as she wished. He had all the time in the world. “About my special someone.”
“Was it a good dream?”
“She seemed happy.”
“Was it a good dream?”
“She seemed happy,” Tomoyo repeated, and carefully sat on a nearby rock herself, spreading her ornamental robes about her. “So it was a good dream.”
“I dreamed too.” It was questionable as to how conscious the unconscious Yuui was when his dreams remained separate from others’ - who was Tomoyo to say it seemed strange to dream whilst truly living only in dreams?
“Of your brother?” Yuui smiled slightly and nodded, and the princess raised a hand to touch her eyes, her companion’s form blurring before her, two figures seated on the rock where before there had been one. Both blond, both blue-eyed and smiling, but only one focused on her; the other twin was looking at the sky, at the unending blue. Tomoyo clapped her hands. “Is that Fai-shi?” Yuui had given her his brother’s name, the name of Kurogane’s fiancé.
“My vision of him, anyway.” The image of Fai rose from his seat, stepping forwards, walking out onto the pond. He didn’t sink; he didn’t even disturb the surface. “He isn’t real.”
Tomoyo watched the illusion, the smooth, absent flow of his limbs, the distance in his smile. “Few things truly are.” She closed her eyes to think for a little while and opened them to see another form morphing from nothing, a pretty brunette dressed in a simple gown of pale rose, the image blushing when the Fai bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing it. The blond smiled and said something and the girl smiled back and laughed, and the two looked happy.
Yuui looked content. “I’m happy they seem to get along.”
#
It was an accepted fact that there was a direct correlation between just how frustrated one Watanuki Kimihiro was feeling on any particular day and the amount of noise said youth made banging pots and pans together in the kitchen as he prepared food. Watanuki could summon up quite a racket (without even opening his mouth) when he deemed it necessary, Yuuko forced to send Maru and Moro to inspect the boy twice within one hour to check her employee hadn’t put a hole in one of her walls, or something equally as destructive. Even Mokona was staying away that morning, chased off by the oppressive atmosphere lurking wherever Watanuki went.
“Oi,” Doumeki had not been at the boy’s side for Watanuki waking - the moment Watanuki’s lashes had fluttered with the first signs of rousing the eagle had left, flapping his wings to get out of the room and for a quick flight outside. Watanuki banging around in the kitchen, however, had eventually called him back inside, and he perched carefully on the back of a kitchen chair, eyes intently fixed on the back of Watanuki’s stubborn head. “Oi.”
Watanuki (if it were at all possible) banged his pots a bit louder.
Doumeki was unrelenting. “Oi.”
“My name is not ‘oi’.” Watanuki refused to turn and look at him, but at least he stopped whacking things around so loudly.
Doumeki was quiet for a long while and Watanuki seemed satisfied the bird was contemplating his words, returning to what he’d been doing. “Oi,” Watanuki twitched, “idiot.”
“Who do you think you’re calling an idiot?!” Watanuki whirled on him, tone forced. “I, the great Watanuki-sama, should be lauded and praised for - what?!” The youth flinched slightly as the eagle hopped closer; shrewd gold gaze focused firmly on the bandage Watanuki was wearing over his right eye, beneath his glasses.
“What did you do?”
“I’m making breakfast -”
“What,” Doumeki said clearly, coolly, rigidly still, “did you do?” The question was far too direct for Watanuki to feign ignorance of what the bird was asking about.
Still, he tried. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The spiderweb on my eye fell off.”
“Great.” Watanuki couldn’t get any more unenthusiastic.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t -” Doumeki swept out one of his large wings at the other’s face, Watanuki throwing up an arm, both actions jostling the glasses from his face. They clattered on the kitchen floor, noisy in the sudden silence. Watanuki glared at the eagle before him.
Doumeki looked stoically back. “I can only take off the bandage with my beak.” Which would probably hurt, as the eagle’s beak was quite noticeably sharp.
Cornered, Watanuki took off the bandage himself. He leaned forwards as he did so, his fringe shadowing his face, dark against his pale skin, but Doumeki waited until he straightened up again, looking at the eagle almost defiantly, one of his eyes the same dreaming blue as always, but the other -
Doumeki’s beak seemed to snap as he closed it, the beat of his wings terrifically loud as he took to the air, forcing his way out of the kitchen and making Maru and Moro squeak as he went past them, the two girls having been sent to check Watanuki hadn’t somehow managed to kill himself since their last inspection.
Watanuki ignored them, and went back to his food preparations, yanking the bandage back on with more force than was necessary, covering up his blank right eye. “Stupid bird.”
#
Despite the slight oddness of his choice of sleeping quarters the night before Fai was perfectly comfortable as he sat down to breakfast with the Faerie Regent, having been led to some baths and given a change of clothes before coming to eat. He was no stranger to the Court’s elaborate style, as much at ease as he possibly could be in the elegant robes, making small talk with Ashura as he waited for Syaoran to come in.
The boy, when he finally arrived a little later, came in looking somewhat ruffled and self-conscious, pulling at his Court robes and trying to quell the bickering that was going on on either side of his head, Mokona and Primera already in the middle of what sounded like a heated debate over Mokona’s apparent inability to be brought into decent company, one sitting on each of Syaoran’s shoulders.
“You try to eat people!” Primera really did have quite an impressive voice for someone so little.
Mokona wasn’t to be outdone, piping out her protests in a slightly giggly fashion. “Mokona already explained that was an acci-dent-!”
“I was right there! How did you not see me?!”
“Good morning.” Ashura’s smile was pleasant, looking to the human boy in the middle of the bickering. “I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Syaoran went to take the free seat at Fai’s side, the elder man giving his own smile in greeting. Mokona hopped down on to the table but Primera stayed on Syaoran’s shoulder, sulkily trying to hide herself in the edges of his hair.
“Syaoran-kun, this is Ashura-sama,” Fai offered a brief introduction, “the Faerie Regent and heir.”
“Your Highness,” Syaoran bowed his head as much as he could without disturbing the faerie who was using him as her select perch and defence against magical meatbuns. “My thanks for your kind hospitality.”
“Feel free to make yourself at home during your stay here.” Ashura brushed the comment delicately away, pouring a thin stream of some fruit juice into a cup. “Nowhere is barred to you, save, of course, the private quarters of individuals.”
Syaoran looked a little taken-aback. “That’s very kind of you, Your Highness.” There was a lull in the conversation.
Fai picked it up again, breaking a sweet cake into smaller pieces and popping one of them in his mouth. “How was the banquet, Syaoran-kun? It was your first taste of fey food, right?”
The boy coloured slightly. “It was…memorable.” To say the least.
“Syaoran got druu~uuunk,” Mokona’s words were a croon, and she giggled into one paw. Syaoran went redder. “Lord Yasha had to carry Syaoran to bed; Mokona heard some of the faeries talking.”
If anyone saw Ashura flinch slightly at the mention of the name no-one said anything, distracted as Primera offered her agreement to the situation. “Syaoran-kun is such a silly drunk!”
“Silly drunk~! Silly drunk~!” Mokona took up the chorus, bouncing giddily all around the table.
Fai opened his hands to the little creature, Mokona bounding immediately into the amused blond’s hold and letting out a strange burbling purr, snuggling into Fai’s grasp. “I think Mokona might still be a little drunk herself.”
“NoooOOOoooo~,” protested Mokona as she hiccupped - and then promptly fell over, beginning to snore.
As one, those at the table sweat-dropped.
#
“Good morning, Kurogane-san, Yue-san!” The princess Sakura was just as cheerful as she’d been the night before, bright-eyed and welcoming as the shinobi stomped his way into the hall in the morning, human, an almost-smirking Yue a few paces behind him. When all Kurogane did was mutter something under his breath and take a seat close to her, the princess looked at Yue inquiringly.
“I went to escort Kurogane-san to breakfast, afraid he might have gotten lost otherwise.” Yue folded his wings demurely, and took a seat of his own.
“That was good of you, Yue-san!” Sakura smiled brilliantly - Kurogane muttered something again.
Keroberos, seated at Sakura’s side, looked at his created sibling slightly suspiciously. “…You’re looking happier than usual this morning.”
“I merely wish to make myself useful to the Mistress.” Yue had a cool charm about him - most sane people fled. “The new guest had to be suitably attired for breakfast, did he not?”
Sakura only nodded innocently, but Kereberos allowed his eyes to slide to their guest once more - to the tight pants and high boots Kurogane was wearing, the elegantly impractical courtier’s jacket with puffed sleeves and tassels. Ah.
Sakura clapped her hands. “You look very pretty, Kurogane-san!”
Kurogane twitched, and muttered something under his breath about how he’d almost preferred being a wolf.
#
It was heading on towards late afternoon when Watanuki sought out Mokona, the black creature tucked away in some corner of the shop doing the-gods-only-knew-what whilst Yuuko took an afternoon ‘nap’ - the witch was well on her way to developing another one of her infamous hangovers for when she opened her eyes again, sprawled out in the main lounge on her favourite couch.
“Wata~nuki~!” Mokona seemed pleased to see the boy, jumping down off the high shelf he’d been sitting on, poking one of Yuuko’s many ‘treasures’ (Watanuki affectionately referred to the collection as ‘the great pile of junk that was only useful for collecting dust’), and landing on Watanuki’s head. Watanuki promptly shrieked (in a rather girly fashion), flailed, and dropped the tray of food (bribery) he’d been carrying on the floor. “Mouuuu,” Mokona leaned over the boy’s forehead to assess the damage, “Watanuki ruined it.”
“I did not - GET OFF OF MY HEAD!” Watanuki pulled the giggling meatbun off of his head with both hands when the creature laughed at him, huffing loudly and wondering just why it was he subjected himself to that kind of torture. It was necessity alone, really. “…I wanted to ask a favour.”
Mokona wiggled out of Watanuki’s grip, hopping down onto a nearby table and looking up at the human. “Watanuki should tell Yuuko, so she can add it to his tab. Yuuko can do lots more than Mokona can, and Mokona is amazing already!” (The sad thing was, Mokona was being perfectly truthful.)
Watanuki bent down, beginning to pick at the mess on the floor. “Yuuko’s asleep right now - I’ll tell her when she wakes up.”
“Ooooo~,” Mokona sat and watched him unhelpfully, “Watanuki’s being sneaky.”
“I’M NOT BEING SNEAKY!” Mokona only chortled at him, singing ‘sneaky, sneaky’ under his breath. Watanuki pulled a face and dumped the remnants of what he’d brought as a bribe/offering on the table beside the witch’s creation, taking a deep breath. “…I want to talk to Syaoran-kun.” Mokona stopped chortling, long ears perking slightly. “You can do that, right? Through the white Mokona?”
“Mokona can call Mokona wherever Mokona might be in the whooole world.” Mokona toddled forward on the table a few steps. “Why does Watanuki want to talk to Syaoran?”
“I -,” Watanuki coloured a little, and looked away. “He saved my life, the other night. He left before I could say thank you or goodbye.”
Mokona was quiet for a few minutes, processing the information. “…Mokona would be glad to help.” The gem on his forehead began to flash.
“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean now-!”
“Calling Syaoran~!”
“Yuuko-san?” It was too late. A large, circular image of Syaoran had appeared in mid-air, the brunet clad in some strange style of clothes, a garden in the dying colours of autumn at his back. Syaoran’s face eased into a smile. “Watanuki-kun.”
“Syaoran-kun -” everything Watanuki had been planning to say stuttered and died. “Er -”
“…How is your eye?” Syaoran’s gaze seemed concerned. “I apologise for leaving so quickly; I wanted to stay around to see how you were when you woke up, but -”
“Your wish is more important.” Watanuki’s smile was slight, but it was pleasant, understanding. If it was for Himawari, he would’ve done the same. “Where are you now?”
“The Faerie Court in the spirit mountain - Yuuko-san and Fai-san think the fey here may know something about the location we’re looking for, and the Regent has offered to help us with our search.” The boy fidgeted, and pulled at the jacket he was wearing with one hand, still a little uncomfortable in it. “They’ve been nothing but kind.”
Watanuki bowed his head, and tried not to feel too awkward. “…I hope it goes well for you. About the other night, Syaoran-kun…” Syaoran began to look discomfited as well, “I wanted…to thank you. For saving me.” Both boys were going red, embarrassed. “So thank you.”
“…I’m glad I was able to help.”
There was a painfully awkward silence. Syaoran was a determined boy who only really knew how to talk about his goals, slightly ill-at-ease in social situations, and Watanuki, in general, was rather socially inept. (Yelling at spirits that could only be seen by a handful of individuals tended to gain one social alienation from the majority of the populace, be it human or fey.) Both boys were as bad as each other. They were kind and good and well-meaning, but not terribly renowned for their stimulating conversations.
Watanuki poked the mess on the table, and tried vainly to ignore the fact Mokona looked like he was laughing at him again. “I should get going.”
“You’re probably busy.”
“Yuuko-san leaves me work to do even when she’s asleep.” Watanuki griped, back on safe ground when it came to complaining about his eccentric employer/slave-master. “Work, work, work - and she never appreciates it anyway -”
“Um -”
“- always, ‘more sake, Watanuki!’ Or ‘bring more snacks, Watanuki!’ Honestly, I don’t know where she puts it all -”
“Watanuki-kun -”
“Why me?!” Watanuki slumped to his knees and wailed as Syaoran laughed a little nervously on the other end of the connection. After a while the witch’s employee trailed off, sighing and rising to his feet once more. “…I should go - Yuuko-san will probably be waking from her nap soon, and she’ll want her hangover cure.”
Syaoran smiled. “Of course.” A pause, “I’m glad you’re well, Watanuki-kun.”
Watanuki smiled back. “Good luck with your wish.”
#
Syaoran was still smiling as the portal image of Watanuki faded, the red gem on Mokona’s forehead losing its light, the little creature bouncing enthusiastically into Syaoran’s arms.
“Watanuki and Syaoran are good friends!”
Syaoran smiled down at her, the expression small but sincere. “I hope so.”
“Mokona and Syaoran are friends too?” Syaoran nodded. “Mokona and Syaoran are friends! Mokona will give Syaoran an extra-special kiss that Mokona only gives to friends!” Mokona jumped up out of the other’s hold onto Syaoran’s shoulder, placing a quick kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Now it’s official~.”
Syaoran was still smiling when they were interrupted, a familiar smooth-smiling face moulding itself from the shadows and offering a cursory nod of the head in greeting.
Mokona pressed herself into Syaoran’s neck. “Lord Seishirou.”
Syaoran himself had tensed the faerie had made his presence known, the magical aura morphing almost out of nothing, out of the natural walls made of petals and bark and stone. He nodded back, wary of the one who had made the smiling Fai flicker. “Lord Seishirou.”
“Our noble Regent would have it that you are kept entertained during your stay in this Court.” Seishirou’s tone was laconic, utterly apathetic to the effect he was having on the human boy and his pet. “Having heard of your interest in history and sociology -” Syaoran didn’t want to know how Ashura had come by the information, “it was strongly suggested I act as an escort for our new guests for at least a day or so.”
Syaoran wavered, unsure of what to say, but Mokona leaned up against the boy’s cheek, whispering into Syaoran’s ear. “Syaoran, Mokona knows it’s really rude to say no when a faerie offers a gift.”
“Very rude?”
“Very, very.”
Syaoran looked up at Seishirou, the faerie’s face blandly blithe. “I’d be honoured to take you up on your kind offer, Lord Seishirou.”
The older male nodded in acknowledgement, and extended a hand. “Shall we?” Syaoran didn’t take the hand, but moved to stand beside the faerie. Mokona was silent, ears flat along her body and unusually subdued.
It quickly became clear Lord Seishirou knew what he was talking about when it came to the Faerie Court - he seemed to be an endless supply of information and, despite himself, Syaoran found himself slowly becoming interested in what his guide had to say. The fey had a rich and complex history, a story behind every item, person, belief and Seishirou seemed apparently able to recite any and all of them off the top of his head, words tinged with a touch of cynical realism.
“This is one of the libraries.” Seishirou pushed open yet another door in his tour, ushering Syaoran into the decent-sized room ahead of him with an easy hand. The lights strewn along the wall began to glow softly as the human boy approached them, sunlight slanting in through artfully-placed windows onto the living bookshelves, growing branches moving as Syaoran watched them, wide-eyed, covering up some of the tomes, pushing forward others to receive better attention. Mokona made a small ‘ooo’ noise, poking one of the branches with her paw. (A small tendril immediately shifted, growing out to poke her back.) “They’re enchanted shelves,” Seishirou explained, taking a seat at a nearby desk. “Our king charmed them to amuse some of his favourites - this room was a gift to them. That’s why this library is unique in all the Court.”
Syaoran pulled a book from one of the many shelves, curious, the branches seemingly satisfied by his choice, falling still as he flipped the text open. “Unique in what way?”
Mokona piped up. “Did Ashura-ou love them very much?”
Seishirou didn’t answer either of the two visitors to the Court, his gaze intent as he looked at Syaoran. “Can you read that?”
“Only a little,” Syaoran admitted, moving forward a few steps towards the other at the desk. “Is it written in a fey language? The origins seem a little strange…”
“Human,” Seishirou told him. “From a dead kingdom where words were everything. A country of magicians.”
His companion considered the library. “Are all these books written using that language?” Seishirou only smiled at him. “How did the king come by this much literature?”
“I didn’t say the kingdom was far away, did I?” Seishirou sounded indulgent, resting his elbow on the wood table beside him, his chin on his hand. “It used to exist just beyond the trees of the forest beyond the mountain; I was around when it fell into ruin.” He picked up a small journal-type book lying on the desk with his free hand, flicking it open and perusing it for a few seconds before tossing it at Syaoran. “That one will probably interest you.” Seishirou seemed uncomfortably familiar with a room that had apparently been reserved for particular individuals - but then, maybe he’d been acquainted with the ones who’d used it?
Syaoran opened the smaller book, putting down the larger one he’d been holding beside the smiling Seishirou. Mokona leaned forwards curiously to see the new text, her ears flicking thoughtfully. “Mokona thinks the writing is different.”
“It is…” Syaoran was studying the new language, seemingly entranced. “The origins are quite similar to the other one, but the use is different.” He looked up at Seishirou. “This one is written in the fey tongue?”
The other nodded. “That is correct.”
“Syaoran is really clever!” Mokona burbled.
“My father taught me a lot of what I know,” Syaoran smiled and coloured a little a little at the praise.
“Then Syaoran’s father must be really clever too!”
“He’s dead now.”
Mokona wilted a little. “Mokona is sorry; Mokona didn’t mean -”
“Mokona meant well.” Syaoran raised a hand to his shoulder and let Mokona cuddle into it, petting the little creature gently. “Thank you, Mokona.” The boy went back to the book Seishirou had given him. “…What is this?”
“A story,” Seishirou told him laconically, “about a rather inept faerie who fell in love with a human and gave up everything for him, running away from Court, leaving behind family and friends.”
Mokona sounded happy. “It’s a love story!”
“The human dies,” Seishirou continued smoothly (Mokona made a small, distressed sound), “and the faerie waits for a hundred years for the human’s soul to come back to the living realm so that they can be reunited.”
“That’s ro~man~tic!” Mokona defended her ideals. Seishirou made a noncommittal noise, and Mokona looked to Syaoran for support. “Syaoran, isn’t it romantic?”
Syaoran wasn’t really listening to her, absorbed in the writing before him, part of the tale, translating it in his head. 'The most beautiful things are the most tragic.' In the margin beside there was a childish scrawl, a looping script in a different language - the same human one Seishirou had pointed out before: ‘Yuui is the most beautiful thing, because we're not the same anymore.’
Syaoran looked up at the faerie beside him, interest piqued again. "Whose books were these?" Seishirou had said the library was a gift for the king’s favourites, but Syaoran hadn’t heard of anyone the king had particularly favoured in the Court gossip he’d overheard. Then again, the fey seemed pretty careful with what they said around him - there was a bigger picture Syaoran was missing somewhere, and it was mildly infuriating to have it hidden from him. Still, if it wasn’t directly his business… Everyone was entitled to their secrets.
Seishirou smiled back at him, adept at keeping those secrets. "A stray's."
Syaoran closed the book, and put it down. There were too many things he didn’t understand. “Lord Seishirou…why is it that you chose to take me on this tour?” For all his words at their first meeting Seishirou hadn’t been particularly interested in Syaoran - that much had been obvious, the faerie’s gaze sliding over Syaoran swiftly to the bristling Fai. It was clear that Fai deeply disliked the faerie; perhaps Seishirou was doing it just to irritate the man?
Seishirou considered him for a long while, before smiling again and looking away, removing the glasses from his face to wipe them on his fine jacket. “There are certain types of kindness in this world we live in, Syaoran-kun, and there are certain souls who are kin in their kindness - they have the same rash recklessness, self-sacrificial for the sake of others to their last breath.” Seishirou’s smile twisted, darker than before, and Syaoran found himself staring, Mokona pressing herself back into the boy’s neck. “It makes them ridiculously predictable.”
“I -” Syaoran still didn’t quite understand. Something plucked at his thoughts, but failed to gain a good grasp without enough support in the way of further knowledge.
Seishirou put his glasses back on again, all sunshine, and stood, ruffling Syaoran’s hair with one hand and messing it up thoroughly. “Don’t worry about it, Syaoran-kun. Come,” Syaoran tried to see through the hair then in his eyes, “I’ll take you to Fai-bocchan. He’s probably wondering where you are.” Seishirou headed for the door without any confirmation from Syaoran - he had to follow him, or else get left behind.
Seishirou led Syaoran through the Court like he knew exactly where he was going, following some unseen signal straight to Fai. When Syaoran closed his eyes he could only feel the barest pinprick of Fai’s presence, the mage’s brand of magic blurred in his senses by all the fey magic in the air. Seemingly, Seishirou didn’t have the same problem.
Fai was sitting at a table on a crafted balcony, adjacent to a communal room and accessed through a great set of coloured-glass doors pushed open, above the training grounds. He was absently watching the sparring below as servants whispered about him, offering refreshments, taking used items away, a few faeries of the Court milling around the room leading to the balcony, but none going too near it.
Syaoran paused for a second when he first saw Fai, suddenly uncomfortable, feeling a little small, a little awed - feelings strongly akin to when he’d met the princess Sakura for the first time. After all, the girl was royalty - but then she’d smiled at him, rushing forward to take his hands -
“Fai~!” Mokona leapt down from Syaoran’s shoulder and bounded over the mage, scattering the faerie’s gathered around the blond and drawing Fai’s attention immediately.
“Mokona,” Fai smiled and it was incredibly warm, Syaoran’s knot of strange feelings easing up and loosening so that he could approach the table beside Seishirou. This was Fai, after all - just Fai, who he knew, who was helping him find Sakura, who was his friend. “Syaoran-kun,” Fai looked just as happy to see the boy, catching Syaoran’s eye as Mokona began to bounce on the table and rattle the china upon it in her enthusiasm.
“Fai-bocchan,” Seishirou made up for the greeting he didn’t get, pleasantly impervious to the narrowing of Fai’s eyes at him. “How are you today?”
Fai wasn’t keen to offer much by way of an answer. “Perfectly fine, Seishirou-san,” now go away. (Syaoran had to wonder where it was people learned to smile even when they hated one another.)
Seishirou went to the edge of the balcony, looking over at the faeries on the training grounds, identifying the two who were in direct line of sight. “Our lord Regent asked whether you would care to oversee his skill with a blade?” Fai nodded, short. “…He spars with Lord Yasha.”
“I know of the man.”
“He is one of the Court’s best warriors - not that we have ever held a contest to place us in rank.” Seishirou’s tone was casual, blasé. “That could cause contention, after all, and it would never do to have that, would it?” Fai, Syaoran and Mokona all looked at him. “Syaoran-kun, have you seen Lord Yasha? I heard tell he carried you to your chambers last night, but you were apparently unconscious then, so you probably didn’t see him.”
When Syaoran (blushed and) shook his head Seishirou motioned for the boy to come stand beside him. Fai stiffened, but didn’t say anything, so Syaoran compromised and went to stand closer to Seishirou, but not in the closer space that had been originally indicated.
Seishirou pointed to two faeries fighting in the very centre of the grounds, the ringing sound of their swords drifting up to the balcony. The first fighter was very obviously the Regent, Ashura, slim and flowing with their high-bound hair and delicate, sharp grace, though the second was unfamiliar, taller and broader in build. He was a good swordsman - both faeries were, and their sparring was fascinating to watch, a magic all in itself.
“Good, aren’t they?” Syaoran could only nod. “It’s hard to believe that Lord Yasha is dying.”
Syaoran stared. “What?” The faerie on the grounds looked fine to him.
“That’s what they say.” Seishirou was still smiling, Fai listening thoughtfully. “He’s sick, some wasting illness without cure. You see the scar over his eye? He stumbled in a spar in a spell of dizziness and the Regent accidentally slashed him - his magic has been strange ever since.” When Syaoran looked vaguely perplexed Seishirou elaborated. “Many say magic is the soul of a person, that’s why you can see it, steal it and destroy it in the eyes. It’s in the blood, shifting through your body with every breath you draw into your chest, but it’s focused in the eyes.”
Mokona looked distressed, but Syaoran couldn’t tear his eyes away from the doomed fighter. “How long until-?”
“Who knows?” Seishirou gave an elegant, inhuman shrug - who cares? “The Regent may know if Lord Yasha has spoken of it to him - I heard tell it was a forbidden subject between them, but who can tell if the reports of a lovers’ row are true? People can gossip so.”
Fai considered the news. “…Ashura-sama and Yasha-san are lovers?”
“Sweethearts, at the very least.” Seishirou seemed to dislike the title. “The great rumour is that our Regent wished to have him as the future consort - but, of course, our law dictates that the Regent cannot take a consort without the King’s permission, and since His Majesty has been absent from the Court for such a very long time…” Seishirou trailed off delicately. “Such a tragic mess.”
It explained a lot. It explained a terrible lot, especially to Fai. To Syaoran it was an interesting fact; to Fai it was another weight to be added to his lot of guilt.
Seishirou left after some time, disappearing with a smile and a bow and a particularly facetious wave. Syaoran took a seat at Fai’s table after the faerie was gone, one of the servants pouring him something to drink into a silver goblet. It sent curls of steam into the air, hot and sweet and tasting vaguely of cherries when Syaoran raised it to his lips and took a tentative sip. Mokona began to brightly recount tales of the tour to Fai and Fai listened to her, nodding and asking questions at all the appropriate parts, but his eyes were distant, lost somewhere no-one could follow him.
There was a burst of conversation from beyond the glass doors, a sudden throng of noise as a small group of faeries entered the room the balcony was attached to, their voices carrying in the air to the trio outside.
“I’m tellin’ you, the only thing we lost when she left was maybe a decent meal.” The loudest was medium in height, slim, dark-haired and wild-eyed with great, black wings rising out of his back. He was flanked on either side by twin giggling, mewing girls, and seemed to be speaking to a taller male beside him, ignoring the gaggle of hangers-on around them. “Nobody would’ve touched her anyway; she was spoiled goods.”
“She was of royal blood,” his companion replied evenly, his own great wings flat against his back. “She held rank higher than both the Sumeragis and the Sakurazukas in terms of royal inheritance, and her child would’ve been the same.”
“The brat would’ve been a half-breed bastard,” the original scoffed, the girls beside him mewing agreement. “Prob’ly cursed too - everyone knows fey blood and human blood mix something strange. We should be thankful she vanished out of shame before the kid was born - that way they both ended up out of our hair. Both of them are probably dead, which is a plus. Seriously, this place has enough issues as it is.”
“Maybe if she’d stayed and given birth here there might be a few less issues.”
“Huh?” An intelligent noise.
“It’s a toss-up as to who’s getting the crown after Ashura-sama now, isn’t it? Bastard or not, Koryuu, the Monou child would’ve been a clear heir.” There was a clamour of consensus from the group around them, a giggle that perhaps Koryuu or Kokyou should try for the crown -
“Is that the only reason you care?!”
There was a stunned silence, the heads of the fey swivelling around at the sudden cry from the balcony, staring at the glaring human boy rigid with blazing, righteous anger, his hands in fists at his side. When there was no answer immediately forthcoming from the stunned fey, Syaoran demanded a reply once more.
“Is that the only reason you care about whether a baby is alive or not?” The youth sounded disgusted. “Because it might be a little less of an inconvenience to you if they were still around?”
“…I couldn’t care less either way, kid.” It was ‘Koryuu’ who spoke, hands tucked behind his head and expression bored. “The high nobles can bitch about it to their hearts’ content - but at least without a half-breed brat around here we’ll be spared the inherent curse that comes with their type. We’ve had enough of curses and the mess they cause around here.” What curses?
Syaoran felt rather than saw Fai come up behind him, the blond a solid presence at his side. He couldn’t see the older man’s face, didn’t know what Fai’s response was to the situation, but Fai was there, and that was enough to spur Syaoran on. “It doesn’t matter. Whether someone is human, fey or both - it doesn’t matter. Whether they’re cursed - none of that matters! How can anyone be blamed for things that aren’t their fault?!”
Mokona’s voice, behind him, was small. “Syaoran…”
Koryuu frowned at Syaoran. “Why should we be saddled with a cursed brat? Better they die quickly than bring misfortune on everyone else.”
“People should have the right to live, to be helped to live.” Syaoran was still angry, determined to stick at his argument. “People define themselves; they’re not defined by the things that happen to them. How can you make a decision about someone before you even know them?”
“Indeed, Koryuu,” a new voice spoke from the room’s entrance, faeries whirling around and making quiet sounds of distress, the mewing girls suddenly changing into cats and hiding behind Koryuu’s ankles. It was Ashura, still a little breathless from the spar, thin-lipped and cold-eyed. No-one had been paying enough attention to realise the ringing of the swords down in the training grounds had ended, and Ashura had finished his duel with the Lord Yasha. “Tell me, how is it that you can judge someone without truly knowing them?”
Koryuu clenched his jaw, but bowed his head. “My apologies, Your Highness.”
Ashura stepped forwards, breezing past the group of faeries and heading for the balcony, without sparing them another glance. “Leave.”
The faeries left, wings, cats, ire and all.
“Your Highness,” Syaoran quickly bowed when the Regent approached the balcony and them, the royal running a vaguely weary hand back through their long hair.
“My apologies if they distressed you,” Ashura looked wan, devoid of most jewellery so it would not catch during the swordplay, but still somehow regal, still austere. “For all the warnings they have been given, some here still do not know when it is best to mind their tongues. It shows the state affairs have fallen into with my father absent, to have people gossiping about the royal family so freely.” A sigh, the faerie coming forward to take a seat at the table, Fai following suit and taking the chair opposite. Syaoran hovered, uncomfortable again. “I am not sure whether this current situation is the best, or whether things were more preferable when they muttered their discontent only behind our backs. Regardless,” Ashura looked up, and met the boy’s gaze with gold eyes, “you have my thanks for your heated defence.”
Syaoran shook his head. “I didn’t mean -” He hadn’t really been defending the royal family, per say, just -
“Syaoran-kun is a good boy,” Fai murmured, looking of into space once more. It was the sort of phrase that called for a smile but Mokona just looked at the blond, pensive, touching one white paw to the back of Fai’s hand.
“Syaoran is really clever,” Mokona said simply. “Mokona thinks everybody should listen to him, so the world would be a happier place.”
“Er -” Syaoran was beginning to flush slightly, “I’m really not -”
Fai glanced back at that, grinning. “Syaoran-kun is very modest too.”
Pink began to slowly turn into a dull red, creeping up Syaoran’s cheeks. “F-Fai-san -”
Mokona decided to do a stage-whisper for the benefit of the table at large. “Mokona thinks Syaoran is just shy.”
“Mokona -”
“Shy, shy, sh~y!” Mokona giggled, and Ashura covered a smile behind one hand. “Mokona thinks Syaoran is very cute when he’s bluuuu~shing!”
“Mokona-!”
Fai had to chime in. “A very cute little puppy indeed.”
“A puppy?” Mokona was entranced by the nickname. Inwardly, Syaoran groaned.
“Well, you see, he and Kuro-wan-wan got along extremely well…”
A pretty shade of crimson Syaoran sat down at the table, and barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his folded arms as Fai began to recount to Mokona the many tales of ‘Kuro-pui the great and his noble sidekick Syaoran!’ Barely one story in and Mokona had already insisted that she and Fai turn them into a great ballad together, an epic beyond all epicness sung by the multi-talented and oh-so-amazing Mokona Modoki. Of course, they’d have to get a picture of Kurogane’s reaction, and they could send that to Yuuko.
Ashura, amused, poured the poor boy another goblet of juice. It was safe - the cup was far too narrow for Syaoran to attempt to drown himself in.
A/N: Sorry for the general lateness of this chapter - but hey, it’s up before New Year? *is shot*
Points and cookies to those of you who know what I’m referring to with the story in the book Seishirou tossed Syaoran.
Characters/Pairings: Characters abound from the multiverse, and if you think you spot a pairing, it’s probably there.
Rating: T
Summary: ‘Fairytale’ is a very trying place. Children get abandoned; loves fall under evil spells, and various members of royal families get abducted on an almost regular basis. Even with a witch on-hand all ills can’t simply be wished away - but then, if it’s really the ‘happy ever after’ you’re looking for, it’s quite obligatory to start with ‘once upon a time…’ AU, with heavy reference to canon.
A/N: Posted in two parts. My apologies this second bit took so long.
The first part is here.
“Good day to you.” The voice was low and warm, familiar to her from days of drifting conversation, nights of curling dreams.
“Good day to you as well,” Tomoyo smiled when Yuui extended his hand to her, an aid as she padded down the worn stone stairs of his dreamscape in her slippered feet, coming to a delicate stop beside the tranquil pond at the bottom. “Or should I say good morning?”
Yuui only smiled - time really meant nothing to him, only sparing a thought to it for how it affected those who walked through his sleep. The pond was a perfect mirror of the cloudless blue sky; the prince’s mind was mostly at peace. “I am honoured - usually Tomoyo-hime reserves her visits for the afternoon and evening alone.”
“I had a dream.” Tomoyo liked it that Yuui didn’t leap in to question her, taking a seat on a large rock nearby and waiting for her to express herself as she wished. He had all the time in the world. “About my special someone.”
“Was it a good dream?”
“She seemed happy.”
“Was it a good dream?”
“She seemed happy,” Tomoyo repeated, and carefully sat on a nearby rock herself, spreading her ornamental robes about her. “So it was a good dream.”
“I dreamed too.” It was questionable as to how conscious the unconscious Yuui was when his dreams remained separate from others’ - who was Tomoyo to say it seemed strange to dream whilst truly living only in dreams?
“Of your brother?” Yuui smiled slightly and nodded, and the princess raised a hand to touch her eyes, her companion’s form blurring before her, two figures seated on the rock where before there had been one. Both blond, both blue-eyed and smiling, but only one focused on her; the other twin was looking at the sky, at the unending blue. Tomoyo clapped her hands. “Is that Fai-shi?” Yuui had given her his brother’s name, the name of Kurogane’s fiancé.
“My vision of him, anyway.” The image of Fai rose from his seat, stepping forwards, walking out onto the pond. He didn’t sink; he didn’t even disturb the surface. “He isn’t real.”
Tomoyo watched the illusion, the smooth, absent flow of his limbs, the distance in his smile. “Few things truly are.” She closed her eyes to think for a little while and opened them to see another form morphing from nothing, a pretty brunette dressed in a simple gown of pale rose, the image blushing when the Fai bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing it. The blond smiled and said something and the girl smiled back and laughed, and the two looked happy.
Yuui looked content. “I’m happy they seem to get along.”
#
It was an accepted fact that there was a direct correlation between just how frustrated one Watanuki Kimihiro was feeling on any particular day and the amount of noise said youth made banging pots and pans together in the kitchen as he prepared food. Watanuki could summon up quite a racket (without even opening his mouth) when he deemed it necessary, Yuuko forced to send Maru and Moro to inspect the boy twice within one hour to check her employee hadn’t put a hole in one of her walls, or something equally as destructive. Even Mokona was staying away that morning, chased off by the oppressive atmosphere lurking wherever Watanuki went.
“Oi,” Doumeki had not been at the boy’s side for Watanuki waking - the moment Watanuki’s lashes had fluttered with the first signs of rousing the eagle had left, flapping his wings to get out of the room and for a quick flight outside. Watanuki banging around in the kitchen, however, had eventually called him back inside, and he perched carefully on the back of a kitchen chair, eyes intently fixed on the back of Watanuki’s stubborn head. “Oi.”
Watanuki (if it were at all possible) banged his pots a bit louder.
Doumeki was unrelenting. “Oi.”
“My name is not ‘oi’.” Watanuki refused to turn and look at him, but at least he stopped whacking things around so loudly.
Doumeki was quiet for a long while and Watanuki seemed satisfied the bird was contemplating his words, returning to what he’d been doing. “Oi,” Watanuki twitched, “idiot.”
“Who do you think you’re calling an idiot?!” Watanuki whirled on him, tone forced. “I, the great Watanuki-sama, should be lauded and praised for - what?!” The youth flinched slightly as the eagle hopped closer; shrewd gold gaze focused firmly on the bandage Watanuki was wearing over his right eye, beneath his glasses.
“What did you do?”
“I’m making breakfast -”
“What,” Doumeki said clearly, coolly, rigidly still, “did you do?” The question was far too direct for Watanuki to feign ignorance of what the bird was asking about.
Still, he tried. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The spiderweb on my eye fell off.”
“Great.” Watanuki couldn’t get any more unenthusiastic.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t -” Doumeki swept out one of his large wings at the other’s face, Watanuki throwing up an arm, both actions jostling the glasses from his face. They clattered on the kitchen floor, noisy in the sudden silence. Watanuki glared at the eagle before him.
Doumeki looked stoically back. “I can only take off the bandage with my beak.” Which would probably hurt, as the eagle’s beak was quite noticeably sharp.
Cornered, Watanuki took off the bandage himself. He leaned forwards as he did so, his fringe shadowing his face, dark against his pale skin, but Doumeki waited until he straightened up again, looking at the eagle almost defiantly, one of his eyes the same dreaming blue as always, but the other -
Doumeki’s beak seemed to snap as he closed it, the beat of his wings terrifically loud as he took to the air, forcing his way out of the kitchen and making Maru and Moro squeak as he went past them, the two girls having been sent to check Watanuki hadn’t somehow managed to kill himself since their last inspection.
Watanuki ignored them, and went back to his food preparations, yanking the bandage back on with more force than was necessary, covering up his blank right eye. “Stupid bird.”
#
Despite the slight oddness of his choice of sleeping quarters the night before Fai was perfectly comfortable as he sat down to breakfast with the Faerie Regent, having been led to some baths and given a change of clothes before coming to eat. He was no stranger to the Court’s elaborate style, as much at ease as he possibly could be in the elegant robes, making small talk with Ashura as he waited for Syaoran to come in.
The boy, when he finally arrived a little later, came in looking somewhat ruffled and self-conscious, pulling at his Court robes and trying to quell the bickering that was going on on either side of his head, Mokona and Primera already in the middle of what sounded like a heated debate over Mokona’s apparent inability to be brought into decent company, one sitting on each of Syaoran’s shoulders.
“You try to eat people!” Primera really did have quite an impressive voice for someone so little.
Mokona wasn’t to be outdone, piping out her protests in a slightly giggly fashion. “Mokona already explained that was an acci-dent-!”
“I was right there! How did you not see me?!”
“Good morning.” Ashura’s smile was pleasant, looking to the human boy in the middle of the bickering. “I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Syaoran went to take the free seat at Fai’s side, the elder man giving his own smile in greeting. Mokona hopped down on to the table but Primera stayed on Syaoran’s shoulder, sulkily trying to hide herself in the edges of his hair.
“Syaoran-kun, this is Ashura-sama,” Fai offered a brief introduction, “the Faerie Regent and heir.”
“Your Highness,” Syaoran bowed his head as much as he could without disturbing the faerie who was using him as her select perch and defence against magical meatbuns. “My thanks for your kind hospitality.”
“Feel free to make yourself at home during your stay here.” Ashura brushed the comment delicately away, pouring a thin stream of some fruit juice into a cup. “Nowhere is barred to you, save, of course, the private quarters of individuals.”
Syaoran looked a little taken-aback. “That’s very kind of you, Your Highness.” There was a lull in the conversation.
Fai picked it up again, breaking a sweet cake into smaller pieces and popping one of them in his mouth. “How was the banquet, Syaoran-kun? It was your first taste of fey food, right?”
The boy coloured slightly. “It was…memorable.” To say the least.
“Syaoran got druu~uuunk,” Mokona’s words were a croon, and she giggled into one paw. Syaoran went redder. “Lord Yasha had to carry Syaoran to bed; Mokona heard some of the faeries talking.”
If anyone saw Ashura flinch slightly at the mention of the name no-one said anything, distracted as Primera offered her agreement to the situation. “Syaoran-kun is such a silly drunk!”
“Silly drunk~! Silly drunk~!” Mokona took up the chorus, bouncing giddily all around the table.
Fai opened his hands to the little creature, Mokona bounding immediately into the amused blond’s hold and letting out a strange burbling purr, snuggling into Fai’s grasp. “I think Mokona might still be a little drunk herself.”
“NoooOOOoooo~,” protested Mokona as she hiccupped - and then promptly fell over, beginning to snore.
As one, those at the table sweat-dropped.
#
“Good morning, Kurogane-san, Yue-san!” The princess Sakura was just as cheerful as she’d been the night before, bright-eyed and welcoming as the shinobi stomped his way into the hall in the morning, human, an almost-smirking Yue a few paces behind him. When all Kurogane did was mutter something under his breath and take a seat close to her, the princess looked at Yue inquiringly.
“I went to escort Kurogane-san to breakfast, afraid he might have gotten lost otherwise.” Yue folded his wings demurely, and took a seat of his own.
“That was good of you, Yue-san!” Sakura smiled brilliantly - Kurogane muttered something again.
Keroberos, seated at Sakura’s side, looked at his created sibling slightly suspiciously. “…You’re looking happier than usual this morning.”
“I merely wish to make myself useful to the Mistress.” Yue had a cool charm about him - most sane people fled. “The new guest had to be suitably attired for breakfast, did he not?”
Sakura only nodded innocently, but Kereberos allowed his eyes to slide to their guest once more - to the tight pants and high boots Kurogane was wearing, the elegantly impractical courtier’s jacket with puffed sleeves and tassels. Ah.
Sakura clapped her hands. “You look very pretty, Kurogane-san!”
Kurogane twitched, and muttered something under his breath about how he’d almost preferred being a wolf.
#
It was heading on towards late afternoon when Watanuki sought out Mokona, the black creature tucked away in some corner of the shop doing the-gods-only-knew-what whilst Yuuko took an afternoon ‘nap’ - the witch was well on her way to developing another one of her infamous hangovers for when she opened her eyes again, sprawled out in the main lounge on her favourite couch.
“Wata~nuki~!” Mokona seemed pleased to see the boy, jumping down off the high shelf he’d been sitting on, poking one of Yuuko’s many ‘treasures’ (Watanuki affectionately referred to the collection as ‘the great pile of junk that was only useful for collecting dust’), and landing on Watanuki’s head. Watanuki promptly shrieked (in a rather girly fashion), flailed, and dropped the tray of food (bribery) he’d been carrying on the floor. “Mouuuu,” Mokona leaned over the boy’s forehead to assess the damage, “Watanuki ruined it.”
“I did not - GET OFF OF MY HEAD!” Watanuki pulled the giggling meatbun off of his head with both hands when the creature laughed at him, huffing loudly and wondering just why it was he subjected himself to that kind of torture. It was necessity alone, really. “…I wanted to ask a favour.”
Mokona wiggled out of Watanuki’s grip, hopping down onto a nearby table and looking up at the human. “Watanuki should tell Yuuko, so she can add it to his tab. Yuuko can do lots more than Mokona can, and Mokona is amazing already!” (The sad thing was, Mokona was being perfectly truthful.)
Watanuki bent down, beginning to pick at the mess on the floor. “Yuuko’s asleep right now - I’ll tell her when she wakes up.”
“Ooooo~,” Mokona sat and watched him unhelpfully, “Watanuki’s being sneaky.”
“I’M NOT BEING SNEAKY!” Mokona only chortled at him, singing ‘sneaky, sneaky’ under his breath. Watanuki pulled a face and dumped the remnants of what he’d brought as a bribe/offering on the table beside the witch’s creation, taking a deep breath. “…I want to talk to Syaoran-kun.” Mokona stopped chortling, long ears perking slightly. “You can do that, right? Through the white Mokona?”
“Mokona can call Mokona wherever Mokona might be in the whooole world.” Mokona toddled forward on the table a few steps. “Why does Watanuki want to talk to Syaoran?”
“I -,” Watanuki coloured a little, and looked away. “He saved my life, the other night. He left before I could say thank you or goodbye.”
Mokona was quiet for a few minutes, processing the information. “…Mokona would be glad to help.” The gem on his forehead began to flash.
“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean now-!”
“Calling Syaoran~!”
“Yuuko-san?” It was too late. A large, circular image of Syaoran had appeared in mid-air, the brunet clad in some strange style of clothes, a garden in the dying colours of autumn at his back. Syaoran’s face eased into a smile. “Watanuki-kun.”
“Syaoran-kun -” everything Watanuki had been planning to say stuttered and died. “Er -”
“…How is your eye?” Syaoran’s gaze seemed concerned. “I apologise for leaving so quickly; I wanted to stay around to see how you were when you woke up, but -”
“Your wish is more important.” Watanuki’s smile was slight, but it was pleasant, understanding. If it was for Himawari, he would’ve done the same. “Where are you now?”
“The Faerie Court in the spirit mountain - Yuuko-san and Fai-san think the fey here may know something about the location we’re looking for, and the Regent has offered to help us with our search.” The boy fidgeted, and pulled at the jacket he was wearing with one hand, still a little uncomfortable in it. “They’ve been nothing but kind.”
Watanuki bowed his head, and tried not to feel too awkward. “…I hope it goes well for you. About the other night, Syaoran-kun…” Syaoran began to look discomfited as well, “I wanted…to thank you. For saving me.” Both boys were going red, embarrassed. “So thank you.”
“…I’m glad I was able to help.”
There was a painfully awkward silence. Syaoran was a determined boy who only really knew how to talk about his goals, slightly ill-at-ease in social situations, and Watanuki, in general, was rather socially inept. (Yelling at spirits that could only be seen by a handful of individuals tended to gain one social alienation from the majority of the populace, be it human or fey.) Both boys were as bad as each other. They were kind and good and well-meaning, but not terribly renowned for their stimulating conversations.
Watanuki poked the mess on the table, and tried vainly to ignore the fact Mokona looked like he was laughing at him again. “I should get going.”
“You’re probably busy.”
“Yuuko-san leaves me work to do even when she’s asleep.” Watanuki griped, back on safe ground when it came to complaining about his eccentric employer/slave-master. “Work, work, work - and she never appreciates it anyway -”
“Um -”
“- always, ‘more sake, Watanuki!’ Or ‘bring more snacks, Watanuki!’ Honestly, I don’t know where she puts it all -”
“Watanuki-kun -”
“Why me?!” Watanuki slumped to his knees and wailed as Syaoran laughed a little nervously on the other end of the connection. After a while the witch’s employee trailed off, sighing and rising to his feet once more. “…I should go - Yuuko-san will probably be waking from her nap soon, and she’ll want her hangover cure.”
Syaoran smiled. “Of course.” A pause, “I’m glad you’re well, Watanuki-kun.”
Watanuki smiled back. “Good luck with your wish.”
#
Syaoran was still smiling as the portal image of Watanuki faded, the red gem on Mokona’s forehead losing its light, the little creature bouncing enthusiastically into Syaoran’s arms.
“Watanuki and Syaoran are good friends!”
Syaoran smiled down at her, the expression small but sincere. “I hope so.”
“Mokona and Syaoran are friends too?” Syaoran nodded. “Mokona and Syaoran are friends! Mokona will give Syaoran an extra-special kiss that Mokona only gives to friends!” Mokona jumped up out of the other’s hold onto Syaoran’s shoulder, placing a quick kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Now it’s official~.”
Syaoran was still smiling when they were interrupted, a familiar smooth-smiling face moulding itself from the shadows and offering a cursory nod of the head in greeting.
Mokona pressed herself into Syaoran’s neck. “Lord Seishirou.”
Syaoran himself had tensed the faerie had made his presence known, the magical aura morphing almost out of nothing, out of the natural walls made of petals and bark and stone. He nodded back, wary of the one who had made the smiling Fai flicker. “Lord Seishirou.”
“Our noble Regent would have it that you are kept entertained during your stay in this Court.” Seishirou’s tone was laconic, utterly apathetic to the effect he was having on the human boy and his pet. “Having heard of your interest in history and sociology -” Syaoran didn’t want to know how Ashura had come by the information, “it was strongly suggested I act as an escort for our new guests for at least a day or so.”
Syaoran wavered, unsure of what to say, but Mokona leaned up against the boy’s cheek, whispering into Syaoran’s ear. “Syaoran, Mokona knows it’s really rude to say no when a faerie offers a gift.”
“Very rude?”
“Very, very.”
Syaoran looked up at Seishirou, the faerie’s face blandly blithe. “I’d be honoured to take you up on your kind offer, Lord Seishirou.”
The older male nodded in acknowledgement, and extended a hand. “Shall we?” Syaoran didn’t take the hand, but moved to stand beside the faerie. Mokona was silent, ears flat along her body and unusually subdued.
It quickly became clear Lord Seishirou knew what he was talking about when it came to the Faerie Court - he seemed to be an endless supply of information and, despite himself, Syaoran found himself slowly becoming interested in what his guide had to say. The fey had a rich and complex history, a story behind every item, person, belief and Seishirou seemed apparently able to recite any and all of them off the top of his head, words tinged with a touch of cynical realism.
“This is one of the libraries.” Seishirou pushed open yet another door in his tour, ushering Syaoran into the decent-sized room ahead of him with an easy hand. The lights strewn along the wall began to glow softly as the human boy approached them, sunlight slanting in through artfully-placed windows onto the living bookshelves, growing branches moving as Syaoran watched them, wide-eyed, covering up some of the tomes, pushing forward others to receive better attention. Mokona made a small ‘ooo’ noise, poking one of the branches with her paw. (A small tendril immediately shifted, growing out to poke her back.) “They’re enchanted shelves,” Seishirou explained, taking a seat at a nearby desk. “Our king charmed them to amuse some of his favourites - this room was a gift to them. That’s why this library is unique in all the Court.”
Syaoran pulled a book from one of the many shelves, curious, the branches seemingly satisfied by his choice, falling still as he flipped the text open. “Unique in what way?”
Mokona piped up. “Did Ashura-ou love them very much?”
Seishirou didn’t answer either of the two visitors to the Court, his gaze intent as he looked at Syaoran. “Can you read that?”
“Only a little,” Syaoran admitted, moving forward a few steps towards the other at the desk. “Is it written in a fey language? The origins seem a little strange…”
“Human,” Seishirou told him. “From a dead kingdom where words were everything. A country of magicians.”
His companion considered the library. “Are all these books written using that language?” Seishirou only smiled at him. “How did the king come by this much literature?”
“I didn’t say the kingdom was far away, did I?” Seishirou sounded indulgent, resting his elbow on the wood table beside him, his chin on his hand. “It used to exist just beyond the trees of the forest beyond the mountain; I was around when it fell into ruin.” He picked up a small journal-type book lying on the desk with his free hand, flicking it open and perusing it for a few seconds before tossing it at Syaoran. “That one will probably interest you.” Seishirou seemed uncomfortably familiar with a room that had apparently been reserved for particular individuals - but then, maybe he’d been acquainted with the ones who’d used it?
Syaoran opened the smaller book, putting down the larger one he’d been holding beside the smiling Seishirou. Mokona leaned forwards curiously to see the new text, her ears flicking thoughtfully. “Mokona thinks the writing is different.”
“It is…” Syaoran was studying the new language, seemingly entranced. “The origins are quite similar to the other one, but the use is different.” He looked up at Seishirou. “This one is written in the fey tongue?”
The other nodded. “That is correct.”
“Syaoran is really clever!” Mokona burbled.
“My father taught me a lot of what I know,” Syaoran smiled and coloured a little a little at the praise.
“Then Syaoran’s father must be really clever too!”
“He’s dead now.”
Mokona wilted a little. “Mokona is sorry; Mokona didn’t mean -”
“Mokona meant well.” Syaoran raised a hand to his shoulder and let Mokona cuddle into it, petting the little creature gently. “Thank you, Mokona.” The boy went back to the book Seishirou had given him. “…What is this?”
“A story,” Seishirou told him laconically, “about a rather inept faerie who fell in love with a human and gave up everything for him, running away from Court, leaving behind family and friends.”
Mokona sounded happy. “It’s a love story!”
“The human dies,” Seishirou continued smoothly (Mokona made a small, distressed sound), “and the faerie waits for a hundred years for the human’s soul to come back to the living realm so that they can be reunited.”
“That’s ro~man~tic!” Mokona defended her ideals. Seishirou made a noncommittal noise, and Mokona looked to Syaoran for support. “Syaoran, isn’t it romantic?”
Syaoran wasn’t really listening to her, absorbed in the writing before him, part of the tale, translating it in his head. 'The most beautiful things are the most tragic.' In the margin beside there was a childish scrawl, a looping script in a different language - the same human one Seishirou had pointed out before: ‘Yuui is the most beautiful thing, because we're not the same anymore.’
Syaoran looked up at the faerie beside him, interest piqued again. "Whose books were these?" Seishirou had said the library was a gift for the king’s favourites, but Syaoran hadn’t heard of anyone the king had particularly favoured in the Court gossip he’d overheard. Then again, the fey seemed pretty careful with what they said around him - there was a bigger picture Syaoran was missing somewhere, and it was mildly infuriating to have it hidden from him. Still, if it wasn’t directly his business… Everyone was entitled to their secrets.
Seishirou smiled back at him, adept at keeping those secrets. "A stray's."
Syaoran closed the book, and put it down. There were too many things he didn’t understand. “Lord Seishirou…why is it that you chose to take me on this tour?” For all his words at their first meeting Seishirou hadn’t been particularly interested in Syaoran - that much had been obvious, the faerie’s gaze sliding over Syaoran swiftly to the bristling Fai. It was clear that Fai deeply disliked the faerie; perhaps Seishirou was doing it just to irritate the man?
Seishirou considered him for a long while, before smiling again and looking away, removing the glasses from his face to wipe them on his fine jacket. “There are certain types of kindness in this world we live in, Syaoran-kun, and there are certain souls who are kin in their kindness - they have the same rash recklessness, self-sacrificial for the sake of others to their last breath.” Seishirou’s smile twisted, darker than before, and Syaoran found himself staring, Mokona pressing herself back into the boy’s neck. “It makes them ridiculously predictable.”
“I -” Syaoran still didn’t quite understand. Something plucked at his thoughts, but failed to gain a good grasp without enough support in the way of further knowledge.
Seishirou put his glasses back on again, all sunshine, and stood, ruffling Syaoran’s hair with one hand and messing it up thoroughly. “Don’t worry about it, Syaoran-kun. Come,” Syaoran tried to see through the hair then in his eyes, “I’ll take you to Fai-bocchan. He’s probably wondering where you are.” Seishirou headed for the door without any confirmation from Syaoran - he had to follow him, or else get left behind.
Seishirou led Syaoran through the Court like he knew exactly where he was going, following some unseen signal straight to Fai. When Syaoran closed his eyes he could only feel the barest pinprick of Fai’s presence, the mage’s brand of magic blurred in his senses by all the fey magic in the air. Seemingly, Seishirou didn’t have the same problem.
Fai was sitting at a table on a crafted balcony, adjacent to a communal room and accessed through a great set of coloured-glass doors pushed open, above the training grounds. He was absently watching the sparring below as servants whispered about him, offering refreshments, taking used items away, a few faeries of the Court milling around the room leading to the balcony, but none going too near it.
Syaoran paused for a second when he first saw Fai, suddenly uncomfortable, feeling a little small, a little awed - feelings strongly akin to when he’d met the princess Sakura for the first time. After all, the girl was royalty - but then she’d smiled at him, rushing forward to take his hands -
“Fai~!” Mokona leapt down from Syaoran’s shoulder and bounded over the mage, scattering the faerie’s gathered around the blond and drawing Fai’s attention immediately.
“Mokona,” Fai smiled and it was incredibly warm, Syaoran’s knot of strange feelings easing up and loosening so that he could approach the table beside Seishirou. This was Fai, after all - just Fai, who he knew, who was helping him find Sakura, who was his friend. “Syaoran-kun,” Fai looked just as happy to see the boy, catching Syaoran’s eye as Mokona began to bounce on the table and rattle the china upon it in her enthusiasm.
“Fai-bocchan,” Seishirou made up for the greeting he didn’t get, pleasantly impervious to the narrowing of Fai’s eyes at him. “How are you today?”
Fai wasn’t keen to offer much by way of an answer. “Perfectly fine, Seishirou-san,” now go away. (Syaoran had to wonder where it was people learned to smile even when they hated one another.)
Seishirou went to the edge of the balcony, looking over at the faeries on the training grounds, identifying the two who were in direct line of sight. “Our lord Regent asked whether you would care to oversee his skill with a blade?” Fai nodded, short. “…He spars with Lord Yasha.”
“I know of the man.”
“He is one of the Court’s best warriors - not that we have ever held a contest to place us in rank.” Seishirou’s tone was casual, blasé. “That could cause contention, after all, and it would never do to have that, would it?” Fai, Syaoran and Mokona all looked at him. “Syaoran-kun, have you seen Lord Yasha? I heard tell he carried you to your chambers last night, but you were apparently unconscious then, so you probably didn’t see him.”
When Syaoran (blushed and) shook his head Seishirou motioned for the boy to come stand beside him. Fai stiffened, but didn’t say anything, so Syaoran compromised and went to stand closer to Seishirou, but not in the closer space that had been originally indicated.
Seishirou pointed to two faeries fighting in the very centre of the grounds, the ringing sound of their swords drifting up to the balcony. The first fighter was very obviously the Regent, Ashura, slim and flowing with their high-bound hair and delicate, sharp grace, though the second was unfamiliar, taller and broader in build. He was a good swordsman - both faeries were, and their sparring was fascinating to watch, a magic all in itself.
“Good, aren’t they?” Syaoran could only nod. “It’s hard to believe that Lord Yasha is dying.”
Syaoran stared. “What?” The faerie on the grounds looked fine to him.
“That’s what they say.” Seishirou was still smiling, Fai listening thoughtfully. “He’s sick, some wasting illness without cure. You see the scar over his eye? He stumbled in a spar in a spell of dizziness and the Regent accidentally slashed him - his magic has been strange ever since.” When Syaoran looked vaguely perplexed Seishirou elaborated. “Many say magic is the soul of a person, that’s why you can see it, steal it and destroy it in the eyes. It’s in the blood, shifting through your body with every breath you draw into your chest, but it’s focused in the eyes.”
Mokona looked distressed, but Syaoran couldn’t tear his eyes away from the doomed fighter. “How long until-?”
“Who knows?” Seishirou gave an elegant, inhuman shrug - who cares? “The Regent may know if Lord Yasha has spoken of it to him - I heard tell it was a forbidden subject between them, but who can tell if the reports of a lovers’ row are true? People can gossip so.”
Fai considered the news. “…Ashura-sama and Yasha-san are lovers?”
“Sweethearts, at the very least.” Seishirou seemed to dislike the title. “The great rumour is that our Regent wished to have him as the future consort - but, of course, our law dictates that the Regent cannot take a consort without the King’s permission, and since His Majesty has been absent from the Court for such a very long time…” Seishirou trailed off delicately. “Such a tragic mess.”
It explained a lot. It explained a terrible lot, especially to Fai. To Syaoran it was an interesting fact; to Fai it was another weight to be added to his lot of guilt.
Seishirou left after some time, disappearing with a smile and a bow and a particularly facetious wave. Syaoran took a seat at Fai’s table after the faerie was gone, one of the servants pouring him something to drink into a silver goblet. It sent curls of steam into the air, hot and sweet and tasting vaguely of cherries when Syaoran raised it to his lips and took a tentative sip. Mokona began to brightly recount tales of the tour to Fai and Fai listened to her, nodding and asking questions at all the appropriate parts, but his eyes were distant, lost somewhere no-one could follow him.
There was a burst of conversation from beyond the glass doors, a sudden throng of noise as a small group of faeries entered the room the balcony was attached to, their voices carrying in the air to the trio outside.
“I’m tellin’ you, the only thing we lost when she left was maybe a decent meal.” The loudest was medium in height, slim, dark-haired and wild-eyed with great, black wings rising out of his back. He was flanked on either side by twin giggling, mewing girls, and seemed to be speaking to a taller male beside him, ignoring the gaggle of hangers-on around them. “Nobody would’ve touched her anyway; she was spoiled goods.”
“She was of royal blood,” his companion replied evenly, his own great wings flat against his back. “She held rank higher than both the Sumeragis and the Sakurazukas in terms of royal inheritance, and her child would’ve been the same.”
“The brat would’ve been a half-breed bastard,” the original scoffed, the girls beside him mewing agreement. “Prob’ly cursed too - everyone knows fey blood and human blood mix something strange. We should be thankful she vanished out of shame before the kid was born - that way they both ended up out of our hair. Both of them are probably dead, which is a plus. Seriously, this place has enough issues as it is.”
“Maybe if she’d stayed and given birth here there might be a few less issues.”
“Huh?” An intelligent noise.
“It’s a toss-up as to who’s getting the crown after Ashura-sama now, isn’t it? Bastard or not, Koryuu, the Monou child would’ve been a clear heir.” There was a clamour of consensus from the group around them, a giggle that perhaps Koryuu or Kokyou should try for the crown -
“Is that the only reason you care?!”
There was a stunned silence, the heads of the fey swivelling around at the sudden cry from the balcony, staring at the glaring human boy rigid with blazing, righteous anger, his hands in fists at his side. When there was no answer immediately forthcoming from the stunned fey, Syaoran demanded a reply once more.
“Is that the only reason you care about whether a baby is alive or not?” The youth sounded disgusted. “Because it might be a little less of an inconvenience to you if they were still around?”
“…I couldn’t care less either way, kid.” It was ‘Koryuu’ who spoke, hands tucked behind his head and expression bored. “The high nobles can bitch about it to their hearts’ content - but at least without a half-breed brat around here we’ll be spared the inherent curse that comes with their type. We’ve had enough of curses and the mess they cause around here.” What curses?
Syaoran felt rather than saw Fai come up behind him, the blond a solid presence at his side. He couldn’t see the older man’s face, didn’t know what Fai’s response was to the situation, but Fai was there, and that was enough to spur Syaoran on. “It doesn’t matter. Whether someone is human, fey or both - it doesn’t matter. Whether they’re cursed - none of that matters! How can anyone be blamed for things that aren’t their fault?!”
Mokona’s voice, behind him, was small. “Syaoran…”
Koryuu frowned at Syaoran. “Why should we be saddled with a cursed brat? Better they die quickly than bring misfortune on everyone else.”
“People should have the right to live, to be helped to live.” Syaoran was still angry, determined to stick at his argument. “People define themselves; they’re not defined by the things that happen to them. How can you make a decision about someone before you even know them?”
“Indeed, Koryuu,” a new voice spoke from the room’s entrance, faeries whirling around and making quiet sounds of distress, the mewing girls suddenly changing into cats and hiding behind Koryuu’s ankles. It was Ashura, still a little breathless from the spar, thin-lipped and cold-eyed. No-one had been paying enough attention to realise the ringing of the swords down in the training grounds had ended, and Ashura had finished his duel with the Lord Yasha. “Tell me, how is it that you can judge someone without truly knowing them?”
Koryuu clenched his jaw, but bowed his head. “My apologies, Your Highness.”
Ashura stepped forwards, breezing past the group of faeries and heading for the balcony, without sparing them another glance. “Leave.”
The faeries left, wings, cats, ire and all.
“Your Highness,” Syaoran quickly bowed when the Regent approached the balcony and them, the royal running a vaguely weary hand back through their long hair.
“My apologies if they distressed you,” Ashura looked wan, devoid of most jewellery so it would not catch during the swordplay, but still somehow regal, still austere. “For all the warnings they have been given, some here still do not know when it is best to mind their tongues. It shows the state affairs have fallen into with my father absent, to have people gossiping about the royal family so freely.” A sigh, the faerie coming forward to take a seat at the table, Fai following suit and taking the chair opposite. Syaoran hovered, uncomfortable again. “I am not sure whether this current situation is the best, or whether things were more preferable when they muttered their discontent only behind our backs. Regardless,” Ashura looked up, and met the boy’s gaze with gold eyes, “you have my thanks for your heated defence.”
Syaoran shook his head. “I didn’t mean -” He hadn’t really been defending the royal family, per say, just -
“Syaoran-kun is a good boy,” Fai murmured, looking of into space once more. It was the sort of phrase that called for a smile but Mokona just looked at the blond, pensive, touching one white paw to the back of Fai’s hand.
“Syaoran is really clever,” Mokona said simply. “Mokona thinks everybody should listen to him, so the world would be a happier place.”
“Er -” Syaoran was beginning to flush slightly, “I’m really not -”
Fai glanced back at that, grinning. “Syaoran-kun is very modest too.”
Pink began to slowly turn into a dull red, creeping up Syaoran’s cheeks. “F-Fai-san -”
Mokona decided to do a stage-whisper for the benefit of the table at large. “Mokona thinks Syaoran is just shy.”
“Mokona -”
“Shy, shy, sh~y!” Mokona giggled, and Ashura covered a smile behind one hand. “Mokona thinks Syaoran is very cute when he’s bluuuu~shing!”
“Mokona-!”
Fai had to chime in. “A very cute little puppy indeed.”
“A puppy?” Mokona was entranced by the nickname. Inwardly, Syaoran groaned.
“Well, you see, he and Kuro-wan-wan got along extremely well…”
A pretty shade of crimson Syaoran sat down at the table, and barely resisted the urge to bury his face in his folded arms as Fai began to recount to Mokona the many tales of ‘Kuro-pui the great and his noble sidekick Syaoran!’ Barely one story in and Mokona had already insisted that she and Fai turn them into a great ballad together, an epic beyond all epicness sung by the multi-talented and oh-so-amazing Mokona Modoki. Of course, they’d have to get a picture of Kurogane’s reaction, and they could send that to Yuuko.
Ashura, amused, poured the poor boy another goblet of juice. It was safe - the cup was far too narrow for Syaoran to attempt to drown himself in.
A/N: Sorry for the general lateness of this chapter - but hey, it’s up before New Year? *is shot*
Points and cookies to those of you who know what I’m referring to with the story in the book Seishirou tossed Syaoran.