Of Regal Honor and Noble Misgivings - Seven: Ball
Title: Of Regal Honor and Noble Misgivings
Pairing: tezukafuji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: G for now
Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Angst
Warnings: sort of regency AU, shounen ai
Disclaimer: Since today is Tezuka’s birthday, Fuji gives himself to Tezuka. In a box. With pretty blue ribbons.
50episodes prompt: ball
Parts: I: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 || II: 8 |
A/N: This is not really the originally intended gift for Tezuka but seeing as I have no time to write the special something that I wanted to give him… I decided to update this one because it fits the occasion. I’m not sure if the writing changed though. Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TEZUKA! MAY YOU HAVE MANY MORE FUJIS TO COME.♥♥♥ No pun intended. (A bit rough because I need to study.)
Chapter Seven
----Keep thy heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues of life.----
Because of the recent grave event, the Queen promised that the ball for the Prince’s thirteenth birthday would be a simple one. The Prince would not have it any other way; in fact, if he were to decide, no ball would take place at all. In his opinion, such an occasion would be disrespectful to his grandfather. After all, not more than a month has passed since the former king’s death. So the Prince, with as much defiance as his stoic disposition allowed to show, said that they should still be grieving instead of celebrating. And if not for the Marquis’ help, the Prince would not have been convinced that the ball was important and, more than that, he would not have realized that the late king would glare at him from heaven if he tried to forgo such a strong tradition.
Thus, after much deliberation, the ball was set a full week after the Prince’s real birthday. Invitations were sent across the kingdom in a flurry with Queen Ayana’s hopes that she had given the guests enough time to prepare for a simple costume ball.
Garbed in a painter’s full ensemble - on which he dabbed streaks of blue, red, black, green, and yellow paint - the Marquis casually strolled into the Prince’s bedchamber. It was the day of the ball and he had been utterly excited to show his costume to the Prince. His eyes gleamed as they roamed around the room in search for Tezuka. When he found the Prince sitting near the fire, he paused, his smile cracking. For a full minute, he stood by the doorway. Eyes widening, he just looked at Tezuka feeling as though an invisible hand had snatched his breath away.
“Syusuke?” Tezuka called. Concern was etched all over his face. Evidently, he was puzzled when Fuji suddenly stopped to stare at him.
Fuji shut his eyes and took a deep breath, sending air rushing to fill his lungs. And then he grinned albeit crookedly. “I thought the point of wearing a costume is wearing something different, wearing something that isn’t quite like you.”
The Prince frowned and glanced down at his clothes. “Okaasan made me wear these,” he grumbled. “And if you think that’s what a costume should be…” He paused to raise a brow at the splatters of paint on Fuji’s clothes, Fuji’s arms and even Fuji’s face. “Then why did you choose to wear those things?”
At that the Marquis’ smile grew remarkably for he knew that the Prince meant for those words to be a compliment. He shrugged and unconsciously reached out to fix the collar of Tezuka’s silk shirt. “You look very much like a Prince.”
The Prince furrowed his brows quizzically. “Syusuke, I’m a Prince.”
“I know,” Fuji said, running his fingers on the silk. His head was lowered so that the Prince couldn’t see his face. Then, as though stung, he immediately dropped his hand to his side and lifted his head. “Let’s go. Your guests are waiting.”
Tezuka studied Fuji for a while, as if trying to decide what to make of the Marquis. When the latter beamed at him, he dismissed his doubts, nodded his assent, and led the way out of the room.
Upon seeing the great hall, however, the Prince’s lips formed a grim line of disapproval. When Fuji looked up at him he shook his head, refusing to take any further step down the majestic staircase. “I told Okaasan to make it simple,” he said tersely, sending a glare toward a small group of on-looking young nobles who were all standing at the foot of the stairs. The lot hastily turned and scurried away from the Prince and the Marquis.
Chuckling, having regained his usual cheerfulness, Fuji said, “Hm? But you’re a Prince. What’s simple to your family is different from the real simple, you know?” He gently squeezed the Prince’s left arm and nodded toward a pale girl down the steps. She looked her best, wearing a petticoat of rich midnight blue damask. Her lips formed a smile and her cheeks gained a blush when she saw the Prince. “Everyone’s waiting,” the Marquis whispered. “Chio is waiting.”
The Prince let out a sigh of defeat and nodded. Carrying himself with an august air, he climbed down the stairs and upon reaching the last step he offered his arm to the Marquise. She swept into a graceful curtsy before looping her arm around the Prince’s. As they walked to the center of the hall, eyes followed them and the orchestra began playing the long, traditional waltz.
While all these happened, Fuji managed to slip to one corner of the hall, near the table of refreshments. Wearing his usual smile, he watched everyone join the dance. The ones with better dance training paired off and encircled the Prince and the Marquise. The others who were less fair off gathered in groups and swayed along with the music.
Under his breath, the Marquis hummed quite contentedly. He did not really mind the lack of a dancing partner. After all, he was still just twelve and this ball was intended for the young nobles of age thirteen to fifteen - the age when, he vaguely recalled his sister’s words, one was no longer a child but not quite an adult either. He had only been invited because he was the Prince’s best friend.
For several minutes, he leaned against the wall and tapped his feet in time with the music. He would not have realized that his gaze was fully on the Prince and the Marquis if the Prince himself hadn’t called his attention.
“Syusuke,” the Prince said, approaching with the Marquis beside him. “Chio would like to dance with you.”
Fuji hung his head, his face displaying a hint of surprise. He cast a questioning glance at the Marquise, who smiled feebly but hopefully at him. Curious, he gave her an affable smile and held out his left arm.
Timing his steps with the music, Fuji led the Marquise to the dance floor. “Did you want to talk to me about His Highness?”
The Marquise blinked at first but after deciding that blinking was unladylike, she nodded her head. “Yes, my lord,” she said in a soft voice. “I - well, how did my lord know?” The Marquis felt cold sweat on her palm.
Fuji smiled reassuringly down at her. “I just guessed,” he said thoughtfully. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“Er. You see, I’m rather apprehensive. I know that His Highness likes practical things so I thought to give him something useful as a present. But I’m not sure if he’ll find it good enough,” she said slowly.
The Marquis bit his lower lip but continued to smile. “Yes… he does like useful things,” he said in contemplation, his smile sagging a little. When he saw Chio frown, he quickly fixed the smile. “What are you going to give him?”
“Do you think he’d like a book on woodcraft?” The Marquise blurted out. “I mean… well…” she said, checking her manners, “I heard that His Highness likes spending his time carving wood so -“
“You could have asked him,” Fuji remarked with a thin smile.
The Marquise blanched. “But he’s so…”
“Intimidating?” Fuji supplied. The Marquise blushed. “Don’t worry though,” he said vaguely. “I think he’d like it.”
Her eyes growing round with delight, the Marquise said, “Oh! Truly? Thank you very much.”
The Marquis only replied with a smile and they did not exchange any more word until the dance ended. When the next song started, a boy asked if he could possibly dance with the Marquise and Fuji pleasantly said yes.
Once again, Fuji retreated to the corner of the hall. He scanned his eyes around him until they fell upon the Prince. Tezuka was dancing with one of the nobilities and Fuji couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed that the Prince was frowning heavily. The Marquis could only guess that the Prince had been cornered into dancing with the lady.
Feeling that he should avoid being likewise cornered, he ambled to one of the balconies and escaped to the garden.
A soft breeze brushed against his face as he sashayed toward the fountain in the middle of the garden. He sat on the marble edge of the fountain and began dipping his hand into the freezing water, watching the water trickle down his fingers. As a huge drop of water fell from his palm, he silently hoped Yuuta was there too, enjoying the ball and dancing with the other nobility. He also silently hoped that he could have given the Prince a good gift, something useful.
While he played with the water, another breeze came, causing him to shiver.
“You’re cold.”
The Marquis quickly looked up when he heard the voice. “No, not really,” he said, smiling reassuringly at the Prince. “How did you escape from your guests?”
The Prince noticeably pursed his lips. He took off his coat and handed it to the Marquis. “You’ll catch cold.”
“No, I drink a lot of citrus, and if I wear that, you will catch cold,” Fuji said matter-of-factly.
But the Prince, looking unconvinced, placed the coat around Fuji’s shoulders and said, “Aren’t you enjoying the ball?”
An automatic smile crawled to Fuji’s lips. “I am.”
“I’m not,” Tezuka said frankly. He sat beside the Marquis and said reprovingly, “You’ll catch cold if you keep playing like that.”
“Hm… I already told you, I drink a lot of citrus,” said Fuji with a laugh. All the same, he lifted his hands off the water and dried it on his trousers. “But you know you should enjoy this ball; it’s for you after all,” he said softly.
The Prince knitted his brows together and inclined his head, discerning Fuji’s face. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Knowing that he couldn’t really lie to Tezuka, Fuji nodded. “I was wondering if I could replace the gift I gave you last week.”
Baffled, the Prince asked, “Why?”
“I thought I should give you something more useful,” Fuji said with a grin. “I don’t think a portrait is quite -“
“Portraits are treasured by some people,” Tezuka reminded. “And isn’t a portrait used to hang on the wall and to show what people look like?”
“But,” the Marquis tried to argue, “That’s not much of a use.”
The Prince sighed heavily, sounding as though he was being forced into a decision. “Let’s go.” He took the Marquis’ left hand and began walking slow enough to let Fuji keep up. They entered the castle again but the Prince made sure to stay away from people. They climbed three flights of stairs and walked down a deserted corridor. When they finally reached the Prince’s room, Tezuka pushed the door ajar and pointed to the portrait of himself that hung near the head of his bed.
Fuji looked the portrait, the one he gave the Prince as a present a week ago. He sketched it, painted it, framed it even. He felt not so much as dazed but dazzled at the sight for the Prince’s hair billowed with the wind and the Prince wore a small smile as he waited for the fish to catch the bait.
“If it pleases you so much, you can give me another gift,” the Prince said sternly. “But I’m not giving it back to you.”
Hiding his broad smile and flushed cheeks behind the collar of Tezuka’s coat, Fuji nodded in understanding.
-tbc
A/N: Yes, the angst officially starts here. And now I will study. Again. T_T
Pairing: tezukafuji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: G for now
Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Angst
Warnings: sort of regency AU, shounen ai
Disclaimer: Since today is Tezuka’s birthday, Fuji gives himself to Tezuka. In a box. With pretty blue ribbons.
50episodes prompt: ball
Parts: I: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 || II: 8 |
A/N: This is not really the originally intended gift for Tezuka but seeing as I have no time to write the special something that I wanted to give him… I decided to update this one because it fits the occasion. I’m not sure if the writing changed though. Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TEZUKA! MAY YOU HAVE MANY MORE FUJIS TO COME.♥♥♥ No pun intended. (A bit rough because I need to study.)
Chapter Seven
----Keep thy heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues of life.----
Because of the recent grave event, the Queen promised that the ball for the Prince’s thirteenth birthday would be a simple one. The Prince would not have it any other way; in fact, if he were to decide, no ball would take place at all. In his opinion, such an occasion would be disrespectful to his grandfather. After all, not more than a month has passed since the former king’s death. So the Prince, with as much defiance as his stoic disposition allowed to show, said that they should still be grieving instead of celebrating. And if not for the Marquis’ help, the Prince would not have been convinced that the ball was important and, more than that, he would not have realized that the late king would glare at him from heaven if he tried to forgo such a strong tradition.
Thus, after much deliberation, the ball was set a full week after the Prince’s real birthday. Invitations were sent across the kingdom in a flurry with Queen Ayana’s hopes that she had given the guests enough time to prepare for a simple costume ball.
Garbed in a painter’s full ensemble - on which he dabbed streaks of blue, red, black, green, and yellow paint - the Marquis casually strolled into the Prince’s bedchamber. It was the day of the ball and he had been utterly excited to show his costume to the Prince. His eyes gleamed as they roamed around the room in search for Tezuka. When he found the Prince sitting near the fire, he paused, his smile cracking. For a full minute, he stood by the doorway. Eyes widening, he just looked at Tezuka feeling as though an invisible hand had snatched his breath away.
“Syusuke?” Tezuka called. Concern was etched all over his face. Evidently, he was puzzled when Fuji suddenly stopped to stare at him.
Fuji shut his eyes and took a deep breath, sending air rushing to fill his lungs. And then he grinned albeit crookedly. “I thought the point of wearing a costume is wearing something different, wearing something that isn’t quite like you.”
The Prince frowned and glanced down at his clothes. “Okaasan made me wear these,” he grumbled. “And if you think that’s what a costume should be…” He paused to raise a brow at the splatters of paint on Fuji’s clothes, Fuji’s arms and even Fuji’s face. “Then why did you choose to wear those things?”
At that the Marquis’ smile grew remarkably for he knew that the Prince meant for those words to be a compliment. He shrugged and unconsciously reached out to fix the collar of Tezuka’s silk shirt. “You look very much like a Prince.”
The Prince furrowed his brows quizzically. “Syusuke, I’m a Prince.”
“I know,” Fuji said, running his fingers on the silk. His head was lowered so that the Prince couldn’t see his face. Then, as though stung, he immediately dropped his hand to his side and lifted his head. “Let’s go. Your guests are waiting.”
Tezuka studied Fuji for a while, as if trying to decide what to make of the Marquis. When the latter beamed at him, he dismissed his doubts, nodded his assent, and led the way out of the room.
Upon seeing the great hall, however, the Prince’s lips formed a grim line of disapproval. When Fuji looked up at him he shook his head, refusing to take any further step down the majestic staircase. “I told Okaasan to make it simple,” he said tersely, sending a glare toward a small group of on-looking young nobles who were all standing at the foot of the stairs. The lot hastily turned and scurried away from the Prince and the Marquis.
Chuckling, having regained his usual cheerfulness, Fuji said, “Hm? But you’re a Prince. What’s simple to your family is different from the real simple, you know?” He gently squeezed the Prince’s left arm and nodded toward a pale girl down the steps. She looked her best, wearing a petticoat of rich midnight blue damask. Her lips formed a smile and her cheeks gained a blush when she saw the Prince. “Everyone’s waiting,” the Marquis whispered. “Chio is waiting.”
The Prince let out a sigh of defeat and nodded. Carrying himself with an august air, he climbed down the stairs and upon reaching the last step he offered his arm to the Marquise. She swept into a graceful curtsy before looping her arm around the Prince’s. As they walked to the center of the hall, eyes followed them and the orchestra began playing the long, traditional waltz.
While all these happened, Fuji managed to slip to one corner of the hall, near the table of refreshments. Wearing his usual smile, he watched everyone join the dance. The ones with better dance training paired off and encircled the Prince and the Marquise. The others who were less fair off gathered in groups and swayed along with the music.
Under his breath, the Marquis hummed quite contentedly. He did not really mind the lack of a dancing partner. After all, he was still just twelve and this ball was intended for the young nobles of age thirteen to fifteen - the age when, he vaguely recalled his sister’s words, one was no longer a child but not quite an adult either. He had only been invited because he was the Prince’s best friend.
For several minutes, he leaned against the wall and tapped his feet in time with the music. He would not have realized that his gaze was fully on the Prince and the Marquis if the Prince himself hadn’t called his attention.
“Syusuke,” the Prince said, approaching with the Marquis beside him. “Chio would like to dance with you.”
Fuji hung his head, his face displaying a hint of surprise. He cast a questioning glance at the Marquise, who smiled feebly but hopefully at him. Curious, he gave her an affable smile and held out his left arm.
Timing his steps with the music, Fuji led the Marquise to the dance floor. “Did you want to talk to me about His Highness?”
The Marquise blinked at first but after deciding that blinking was unladylike, she nodded her head. “Yes, my lord,” she said in a soft voice. “I - well, how did my lord know?” The Marquis felt cold sweat on her palm.
Fuji smiled reassuringly down at her. “I just guessed,” he said thoughtfully. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“Er. You see, I’m rather apprehensive. I know that His Highness likes practical things so I thought to give him something useful as a present. But I’m not sure if he’ll find it good enough,” she said slowly.
The Marquis bit his lower lip but continued to smile. “Yes… he does like useful things,” he said in contemplation, his smile sagging a little. When he saw Chio frown, he quickly fixed the smile. “What are you going to give him?”
“Do you think he’d like a book on woodcraft?” The Marquise blurted out. “I mean… well…” she said, checking her manners, “I heard that His Highness likes spending his time carving wood so -“
“You could have asked him,” Fuji remarked with a thin smile.
The Marquise blanched. “But he’s so…”
“Intimidating?” Fuji supplied. The Marquise blushed. “Don’t worry though,” he said vaguely. “I think he’d like it.”
Her eyes growing round with delight, the Marquise said, “Oh! Truly? Thank you very much.”
The Marquis only replied with a smile and they did not exchange any more word until the dance ended. When the next song started, a boy asked if he could possibly dance with the Marquise and Fuji pleasantly said yes.
Once again, Fuji retreated to the corner of the hall. He scanned his eyes around him until they fell upon the Prince. Tezuka was dancing with one of the nobilities and Fuji couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed that the Prince was frowning heavily. The Marquis could only guess that the Prince had been cornered into dancing with the lady.
Feeling that he should avoid being likewise cornered, he ambled to one of the balconies and escaped to the garden.
A soft breeze brushed against his face as he sashayed toward the fountain in the middle of the garden. He sat on the marble edge of the fountain and began dipping his hand into the freezing water, watching the water trickle down his fingers. As a huge drop of water fell from his palm, he silently hoped Yuuta was there too, enjoying the ball and dancing with the other nobility. He also silently hoped that he could have given the Prince a good gift, something useful.
While he played with the water, another breeze came, causing him to shiver.
“You’re cold.”
The Marquis quickly looked up when he heard the voice. “No, not really,” he said, smiling reassuringly at the Prince. “How did you escape from your guests?”
The Prince noticeably pursed his lips. He took off his coat and handed it to the Marquis. “You’ll catch cold.”
“No, I drink a lot of citrus, and if I wear that, you will catch cold,” Fuji said matter-of-factly.
But the Prince, looking unconvinced, placed the coat around Fuji’s shoulders and said, “Aren’t you enjoying the ball?”
An automatic smile crawled to Fuji’s lips. “I am.”
“I’m not,” Tezuka said frankly. He sat beside the Marquis and said reprovingly, “You’ll catch cold if you keep playing like that.”
“Hm… I already told you, I drink a lot of citrus,” said Fuji with a laugh. All the same, he lifted his hands off the water and dried it on his trousers. “But you know you should enjoy this ball; it’s for you after all,” he said softly.
The Prince knitted his brows together and inclined his head, discerning Fuji’s face. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Knowing that he couldn’t really lie to Tezuka, Fuji nodded. “I was wondering if I could replace the gift I gave you last week.”
Baffled, the Prince asked, “Why?”
“I thought I should give you something more useful,” Fuji said with a grin. “I don’t think a portrait is quite -“
“Portraits are treasured by some people,” Tezuka reminded. “And isn’t a portrait used to hang on the wall and to show what people look like?”
“But,” the Marquis tried to argue, “That’s not much of a use.”
The Prince sighed heavily, sounding as though he was being forced into a decision. “Let’s go.” He took the Marquis’ left hand and began walking slow enough to let Fuji keep up. They entered the castle again but the Prince made sure to stay away from people. They climbed three flights of stairs and walked down a deserted corridor. When they finally reached the Prince’s room, Tezuka pushed the door ajar and pointed to the portrait of himself that hung near the head of his bed.
Fuji looked the portrait, the one he gave the Prince as a present a week ago. He sketched it, painted it, framed it even. He felt not so much as dazed but dazzled at the sight for the Prince’s hair billowed with the wind and the Prince wore a small smile as he waited for the fish to catch the bait.
“If it pleases you so much, you can give me another gift,” the Prince said sternly. “But I’m not giving it back to you.”
Hiding his broad smile and flushed cheeks behind the collar of Tezuka’s coat, Fuji nodded in understanding.
-tbc
A/N: Yes, the angst officially starts here. And now I will study. Again. T_T